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“Babe, where’s the last place you’d seen it?”

You had been searching for twenty minutes, tearing apart Eddie’s bedroom to assist him in his frantic hunt for his missing guitar pick- his lucky guitar pick. The one that he couldn’t go on stage without. It was a bad omen, a tragedy, and a complete disaster if he played without it that night. So now, here you are, taking part in your boyfriend’s two-person search party.

“Jesus, I don’t know…” Eddie groans “I can’t fucking remember.”

“You know, babe, if you maybe cleaned up every once in a while like Wayne tells you to-“

“Sweetheart, I know, okay?” Eddie sighs “Can you please just spare me the lecture? Pretty please? I’m already stressed.”

“Okay, Eds.” You reply “Just calm down. We’ll find it. Have you looked under your bed?”

“No.” He shook his head “Could you? I’m gonna go check the laundry basket in the bathroom. Maybe I left it in one of my pants pockets.”

As Eddie walks out of his bedroom, you sink to the floor- getting on your hands and knees to search underneath his bed. You tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of what was underneath his mattress- feeling around for anything that could be his guitar pick.

Your hands felt around several miscellaneous items. A few comic books that had surely ended up abandoned after Eddie had fallen asleep reading them, sending them to a graveyard housed between his wall and the mattress. The further you dug underneath the labyrinth of junk under his bed, the more disturbed you became.

Old condom wrappers from your past hookups, a beat up spiral notebook, a Dungeons and Dragons manual, dirty socks, a yo-yo, and- to your horror- a pizza box that housed hard, stale pieces of crust. You wrinkle up your nose in disgust, dragging it out from underneath the bed as you slid it across the floor. You would definitely be giving him a lecture later about how disgusting he was.

As you kept digging, you used your arm to reach further- your fingertips brushing up against something hard and rectangular. Your interest was piqued. You pressed the side of your head down onto the floor, trying to get low enough to get a peek. Down further, almost out of reach was a beaten-up black shoebox. You knew that it probably wasn’t where his guitar pick was hiding but you were curious.

You stretch the tips of your fingers, using them to inch the box closer to you so that you could grab onto it- sliding it out from underneath the bed. The lid was well-worn. You wondered what was inside, knowing that it was neither his white Reebok sneakers or his black boots. Really, it was probably where he stored his old acrylic paint sets that he used to paint his DnD miniatures.

You stared down at the box in front of you, knowing that you shouldn’t snoop through your boyfriend’s stuff. You and Eddie were completely open with each other and shared a lot in your relationship but you still couldn’t help but feel guilty about potentially violating his privacy. You should put it back where you found it. You should leave the lid closed. You should forget that you had even found it in the first place. But that damn shoebox was like a siren’s call to you.

Open me.

Open me.

Open me.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Before you could stop yourself, you pluck off the lid- setting it on the floor beside you as you peer into the box. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but you weren’t expecting what you saw. Several copies for something called Heavy Metal.

They looked just like every other comic that Eddie owned, adorned with colorful illustrations in various art styles, genres, and characters. Just like his favorites; Uncanny X-Men, Saga Of The Swamp Thing, The Warlord, and Dragonlance for example. However, you found it odd that these ones were stuffed away in a box and not on his bookshelf where he usually kept them.

Maybe these ones were rare? You thought. But that couldn’t be it because all of his rare comics were carefully stored in protective sleeves and categorized by series- it was the only thing in his life that was organized. Why would these ones be here and not with the others?

Your eyes sweep over the cover of the issue that was on top of the stack. Pictured was an illustration of a woman. She was dressed (if you could even call it that) in a thin, barely there black fabric that only covered her breasts and her crotch- the rest of the material flowing behind her like a cape. Otherwise, everything else was exposed. You’ve never seen any of the female heroines in Eddie’s comics drawn this scantily clad. It took you aback.

Your eyes continue to sweep over the cover, ignoring the way that the heroine was wrapped up in a fierce green dragon. This was definitely on par for Eddie. However, when your eyes traveled further up, you caught sight of the text at the top near the magazine title. In yellow text it read, “the adult illustrated fantasy magazine.”

Adult.

If you weren’t intrigued before, you definitely were now.

You open the strange magazine, beginning to thumb through the pages as your eyes skimmed over the contents. You didn’t know what you expected but it certainly wasn’t what you ended up finding on the pages.

Your eyes widen in shock as you are met with comic strip pages filled with naked women. Their nude bodies drawn in crude situations and perverse sexual scenarios. The pictures were so graphic, hypersexualized, and over-exaggerated to the point that your face began to heat up. Not only did your boyfriend own one of these dirty magazines but he owned several.

Your head was reeling as you continued sifting through the box. Issue after issue after issue. Six in total. Way more than what he needed. As you lifted them out of the shoebox, you were greeted with something worse; a VHS porno tape. It lacked its cardboard cover sleeve but you could read the title on the front of the tape; Wet and Messy Vol. 2.

Was this really the shit that your boyfriend was into?

“Hey, baby, I found it! It was in the pocket of my-“

Eddie walks into the room, holding up his lucky guitar pick in triumph. When his eyes landed on you, he went speechless. The last thing he expected to see when he walked back into his room was his girlfriend kneeling on the floor with his “secret stash” box open in front of you. But as soon as he noticed the VHS tape clutched in your hand and his collection of dirty mags in a pile on the floor, his mouth went completely dry.

“Shit.”

The apartment's living room was shrouded in a whitish haze, filled with distorted guitar riffs and vocals indistinguishable amidst a symphony of screams and guttural growls. Eddie was currently sprawled across the vintage red velvet sofa, legs dangling over the armrest and head tilted back against the cushions; he looked like a marionette that had gotten too close to the fire — melted and then discarded.

His limbs lay heavy and loose, sprawled across the sofa almost like the exaggerated pose of a body at a crime scene, while his eyes were half-closed and his mouth twisted into a scowl that looked like disgust as he gave his head a subtle, minimal shake — it was just his own peculiar way of showing he was enjoying good music — specifically, the guitar riff that made the floorboards vibrate and would almost certainly earn him a complaint from the downstairs neighbor within minutes.

The weed had hit both of you harder than usual, turning the apartment into an almost slow-motion sanctuary where the only things that mattered were the rhythmic pulse of the bass and the way the sun filtered through the loosely closed blinds in irregular golden bands.

"Pass the lighter, please?" Eddie murmured, his voice hoarse and drawling. He didn't move his head; he simply extended a tattooed hand, the ink snaking up his forearm in sharp, geometric patterns. He had a way of moving that was always slightly dramatic, even when he was practically unconscious from a joint.

He smiled, the dimples beside his mouth deepening as he met your gaze, while dark brown curls tumbled over his shoulders in a chaotic tangle. You leaned forward, sliding the lighter across the coffee table, feeling your limbs as if they were made of hot, softened wax on the verge of turning to liquid.

You had spent the last three hours in exactly that state — talking about everything and nothing, arguing about vinyl records, and sinking deeper into the cushions until you almost merged with the furniture. There was a comfortable weight to the silence between you, the kind that exists only between two people who have seen each other at their worst and decided they still liked the view.

"Have you ever thought about how we’re basically just ghosts inhabiting flesh suits? No… aliens in a robot suit made of flesh, just like in the movie MIB," Eddie asked, his voice drifting as if he were narrating a documentary only he could hear.

He shifted his position, turning onto his side to face you in a slow, languid movement; the light caught his ear gauges, the silver rings glinting as he propped himself up on his elbow. The metal music shifted to something slower, a dense, hypnotic rhythm that seemed to sync with the pulsating heat beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach.

He didn’t pull away when you stepped closer, your shoulder brushing against his. Instead, he reached out, sliding his hand along your shoulder with a tenderness that anchored you amidst that haze of smoke and metal. His fingertips were calloused from guitar strings, yet they grazed the curve of your breast with a light, teasing precision that made your breath hitch.

"Speaking of 'meat suits'…" he murmured, his brown eyes darkening, "I’ve been thinking of a few reasons why you should finally let me put this meat inside you."

You let out a low, breathless laugh, but the sound died away when you felt movement against his jeans. Eddie wasn't just talking; he was touching himself, his other hand sliding down to stroke his length right over the fabric.

He was in no rush, moving at a slow, deliberate pace that accentuated the thick, heavy outline of his cock. He pressed lightly against you; the friction of the denim created a low, thumping in your chest that competed with the bass of the music.

"Reason number one," he whispered, dimples appearing in a predatory, playful smile, "we’re already halfway there. The vibe is perfect. Reason number two…" He paused, his hand squeezing tighter, shifting the angle so you could see exactly how much space he took up. "You know I’m huge, right? Like, pornstar big."

"Shut up," you managed to say, though the protest lacked any real conviction. Your voice came out low, swallowed by the music's heavy distortion and the rising heat of the room.

Eddie didn’t blink, his gaze was fixed on yours with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. He was no longer laughing, the playfulness had given way to something hungrier, though the warmth remained.

He shifted his weight, pressing his thigh firmly against yours, the heat of his skin radiated through his jeans. His hand continued that slow, rhythmic motion, the denim stretching taut over his thickness.

"I'm serious," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave and vibrating in the small space between you. "I'm massive. Touch it and see."

The challenge hung in the air, drifting languidly like smoke. You hesitated for a moment, your pulse pounding in your throat, before reaching out.

The instant your fingers grazed the rough denim, Eddie didn't wait for you to find your rhythm; with a fluid, practiced motion, he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed his jeans — along with his underwear — down, freeing himself with a heavy, sudden thud against his navel.

You froze, the air escaping you in a sharp exhale as you looked down. It was magnificent — pulsing with a raised vein that ran along the base to the tip, the head swollen and leaking, flushed a deep reddish hue that contrasted sharply with the pale skin of the shaft. It was far larger than you had imagined; heavy, imposing, and of a length that seemed to defy the very definition of the word.

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes wide as you darted your gaze between his impressive size and his face. "This is going to break me."

Eddie’s expression was one of pure, triumphant satisfaction; he arched his hips slightly, showing himself off with intense confidence. "God, I hope so," he groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

He reached out, his hand finding the back of your neck and pulling you just a few inches closer, close enough for the heat radiating from him to envelop your skin.

You didn't wait for him to urge you on again, your fingers closed around him, and the first thing you noticed was the searing, pulsing heat that seemed to vibrate in time with your own heart. He was solid — his skin smooth yet stretched taut over the sturdy structure of his length.

As your hand slid upward, feeling how he filled your palm — your fingers unable to fully wrap around him — Eddie let out a sharp, hissing gasp, his head hit the back of the sofa with a dull thud, and his eyes closed as he surrendered to the contact.

"Shit," he murmured, his voice strained. "You’ve got quite a grip, sweetheart."

You didn't answer, too occupied with what was right in front of you; you slid your hand down, feeling the weight of his balls and the way he pulsed against your palm. You squeezed his dick lightly with the other hand, testing his firmness, and Eddie’s hips jerked instinctively upward as a low, guttural sound escaped from deep in his throat.

"Careful," he gasped, though his eyes were open now, half-lidded and dark, revealing a mix of pride and desperation. "If you keep doing that, I won't be able to wait until the list is finished."

You let out a shaky laugh as your thumb caressed the head of his cock, noticing how he jerked at the touch. The weed had softened the outlines of the room; the velvet of the sofa felt like moss beneath your touch, and the air seemed thick, almost like liquid goo.

You moved closer, and his scent — spicy, woody vanilla, tobacco, and a faint hint of sweat — overwhelmed your senses. As you shifted, your knee brushed against his thigh; the contact sent a jolt through you that made your toes curl against the sofa.

Eddie’s hand, which had been resting at the nape of your neck, slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him to claim the space, his solid frame enveloping you completely. He lowered his gaze to where your small hand could barely grasp his thickness, and a slight smile appeared on his lips; his dimples appeared one last time before his expression turned serious.

“Reason number three,” Eddie whispered, his voice nothing more than a breath against your ear. "Chemistry. We have plenty of that, don't we?" He didn't wait for an answer; his hips surged forward, pressing his hot, velvet-smooth length against the seam of your jeans.

The contact was electric — a sudden, intense flare of heat that made your breath hitch. You felt the tremor in his thighs, the tension of muscles coiled like a spring, holding back a surge of urgency that threatened to spill over. He wasn't trembling from the effects of the weed, but from the immense effort of staying still while you explored his impressive size.

You shifted your grip, sliding your hand to the base of his member and pulling upward in a slow, firm motion; the friction of your palm against his skin created a wet, sliding sound that seemed to amplify as the music’s volume suddenly dropped.

Eddie’s eyes flew open, his pupils dilated to the point of swallowing the brown of his irises, turning them almost black; he let out a sound that was half-moan, half-gasp as his fingers dug into the small of your back.

"You're killing me," he said in a hoarse voice, his head lolling to the side as he struggled to breathe. "You're really killing me."

You didn't let up; you slid your hand back down to the base and closed your fingers around him again, this time squeezing with slow, deliberate pressure. The sound that escaped Eddie didn't even seem human — a low, guttural rumble that started in his chest and ended in a sharp intake of breath, making his entire torso shudder.

"You're talking too much, Munson," you whispered, your voice sounding distant and hazy to your own ears. You leaned forward, your chest brushing against his arm, the lust between the two of you was now a physical force that seemed to distort the hazy air.

Eddie’s eyes locked onto yours, the hunger there was almost predatory, yet softened by the warm, familiar affection that had defined your friendship for years. He made no move to push you away, nor did he pull back.

His breath came in short, ragged gasps; he shifted his hips, his weight and girth sliding against your palm. The friction created a searing sensation that made your head spin and your senses blur — like an addictive drug you’d discovered and had no intention of giving up.

“I’ve got plenty of reasons,” he managed to say, though his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “The fourth reason… the way you’re looking at me right now, like you want to see if I really fit inside you.”

“You’re dangerous…” you whispered, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You shifted your weight, moving off the velvet cushion to kneel between his legs, which were spread wide across the sofa.

The change in perspective made him look even more irresistible: his chest rising and falling beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, his long hair fanned out against the sofa, creating a dark, wild aura. From that angle, his imposing presence was even more overwhelming; the room seemed to shrink, the walls receding until nothing remained but the distorted sound of the speakers and his scent — intense, masculine, and intoxicatingly warm.

Eddie let out a long, shaky breath, his head falling back against the sofa once more; his eyes were closed and his jaw was set, yet he remained completely attuned to the sensation of your touch. His hand, still resting on your shoulder, gave a light squeeze, his thumb grazing the line of your collarbone.

“The fifth reason…” He groaned, the words barely escaping his lips. “I… God, I thought about this every time we hung out these past few months. Every time you laughed at my jokes, every time you touched my arm… I just wanted to feel you all around me.”

The sincerity in those words hit you harder than the weed. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the mounting tension of months of pent-up desire and unfinished sentences.

You looked up at him, seeing the vulnerability beneath his tough guy act, the way his chest rose and fell in ragged, breathless movements. He was laying himself bare — raw and exposed — waiting for you to decide if the risk posed by his size was worth the reward of his touch.

You didn’t answer with words; you simply leaned forward, your lips grazing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Eddie let out a sharp, stifled sound — something between a gasp and a plea — and his fingers dug into the fabric of your top, pulling you closer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him in waves — a furnace of anticipation that made goosebumps rise across your skin. With a slow, deliberate movement, you slid your hand back along the length of his body; your palm molded to his imposing thickness, feeling him shudder and pulse beneath your touch.

"Six," Eddie whispered, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with dark desire. "Reason number six… because I know exactly how to take care of you. Once I’m inside, I’m not letting you go anytime soon."

You reached for the button of your jeans; as you lowered the zipper, the cool air of the apartment brushed against your skin for a split second before you felt his searing heat pressing against your thigh. He was so large he seemed like a physical barrier — a wall of heat and muscle that demanded your full attention and took up nearly all the space on the furniture.

As you pushed your jeans and panties down, the sudden absence of fabric felt like a release; you shifted, sliding back until you were stretched out on the velvet cushions, your legs parting instinctively to make room for him.

Eddie didn’t move immediately; he just watched you, his chest heaving and his eyes tracing your face as if searching for any sign of hesitation. Seeing you open to him seemed to break something loose inside him, and he let out a low, guttural sound, more of a growl than a word.

He moved with agonizing, deliberate slowness, kneeling on the couch as he settled between your thighs. It was impossible to ignore his approach; the heavy, throbbing head of his cock brushed against your entrance, and the friction made you arch your back. He let out a ragged breath, his forehead resting against yours, his dark curls forming a curtain that shut out the rest of the apartment.

“Do you still think it’s too much?” he murmured, his voice a vibration you could feel in your very bones.

“Just do it,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his biceps and pulling him closer.

Eddie didn’t rush. He couldn’t. The size and thickness of his cock demanded a patience that contrasted with the desperate hunger in his eyes; he shifted his weight, bracing himself on his forearms with his chest hovering just inches above yours. He took a deep breath — a shaky, audible intake that rumbled in his throat — and then pushed forward a little.

He was so thick that the sensation wasn't one of sliding, but rather of a slow, insistent expansion; you felt his blunt head stretching you open, breaking through the initial resistance with a heavy, relentless force.

A small, involuntary gasp escaped you as your fingers dug into his biceps, feeling the rock-hard muscle tense beneath your touch. Eddie froze and waited, his eyes locked on yours, searching for any sign that it was too much.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse, as if it had been dragged over gravel.

“I– Fuck, don’t stop…” you pleaded, arching your hips upward, unconsciously seeking that blend of pleasure, pain and being completely filled.

Eddie let out a low, distorted groan and shifted his hands; one slid from your shoulder to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to maintain eye contact as he pushed deeper.

The sensation was overwhelming, a forceful, pulsing power that made the air escape your lungs in a sharp, ragged hiss. You could feel every vein and ridge of him as he slowly navigated the tight space; his thickness left no room for anything but him; a collision of wet friction and wild desire, the feeling of being completely filled. As he drove in another inch, your hips lifted instinctively, your body trying to make room for his colossal size.

“Holy… shit,” Eddie groaned, his voice breaking. He had stopped moving, his forehead pressed against yours, his chest heaving in violent, ragged breaths.

He was trembling, muscles taut, fighting the urge to simply thrust with full force; the pleasure of that tight, snug fit was clearly pushing him to the limit.

The look on his face was one of absolute, agonizing ecstasy, a religious epiphany and a physical breakdown all at once.

He shifted his grip, his large, tattooed hands slid beneath your thighs to lift your hips higher, positioning you so he could thrust even deeper.

The change in position allowed him to go to the absolute limit, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he let out a long, shuddering breath.

He looked down at you — his brown eyes wide and glazed — and his dimples flashed briefly as a wild, hungry smile touched his lips.

"You’re really taking it all," he murmured, his voice hoarse and broken. "God, you’re so tight… it’s like you’re trying to squeeze the soul right out of me."

"Maybe I am," you managed to stammer, your voice sounding distant even to your own ears. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to anchor yourself against his overwhelming force.

The sensation of being stretched to the limit was dizzying, a heavy, throbbing pressure that made the room spin faster than any high from the weed ever could. With every thrust, it felt as though he were rearranging your internal organs, opening up a space that had never existed before.

Eddie’s breathing came in a series of ragged, desperate gasps. He began to move again, but the rhythm shifted from a steady cadence to something more primal and erratic, his movements grew shorter, sharper, and more frenzied.

The friction of his thick length against the walls of your cunt was almost unbearable, making you arch your back and throw your head back against the sofa cushions. You could feel the bass vibrations from the speakers echoing through his chest and directly into yours, syncing with the heavy pounding of his heart.

"I can't—" Eddie groaned, his voice thick with emotion. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. "I can't believe you actually fit… God, you're so hot."

He shifted his body, placing all his weight on you and pressing you against the soft fabric of the sofa. The added pressure only drove him deeper, pushing past every limit until you felt his tip against your cervix that sent a wave of white-hot pleasure radiating through your lower belly.

"Reason seven," Eddie managed to say, his voice a hoarse, ragged sound; his eyes were squeezed shut, his head tossing from side to side as he struggled for breath. "Reason seven… is that I can't… God, I can't breathe— fuck, when I'm inside you." He let out a guttural roar, the sound vibrating deep within his chest.

"Eddie," you whispered softly, his name barely more than a breath. You weren't sure if you were asking him to stop or begging him never to let go.

"God, you're like… a vice," Eddie groaned, his voice cracking as he gripped your hips, tattooed fingers sinking into your skin to hold you steady, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, his chest heaving against yours.

"I can feel every… every inch of you squeezing me. It’s unfair. That’s cheating."

You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, your legs locked tight around his waist, pulling him even deeper into that heat.

"Who's cheating? It's you… you practically have a whole tree trunk attached to you."

"And yet you let me plant that trunk in your soil," he shot back, a manic, dimpled grin breaking through the ecstasy.

He shifted the angle, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you wide open, the change in position allowed him to thrust with agonizing depth, his weight pressing you into the fabric as he drove all the way in.

You let out a sharp, stifled moan, your toes curling as his thick head hit that same white-hot spot, sending a fresh jolt of electricity racing through your hips.

His movements had turned heavy and relentless, every thrust was a slow, overwhelming slide that made it feel as though your skin were fusing with his, forcing your opening wide with a searing, slick heat that made your breath come in short, ragged gasps.

An intense, vibrant pressure spread through you, turning your muscles to liquid lava, you arched your back, your hips instinctively tilting to meet him, seeking that overwhelming impact again and again.

The friction was immense, a wet, slapping sound echoing the music’s deep bass, creating a sensory loop that drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"Eddie, please," you moaned softly, though you didn't even know exactly what you were asking for, you only knew that the sensation of being completely filled by him was the only thing in the world that mattered right then.

"Please what, sweetheart? Be specific," Eddie panted, his voice a hoarse, ragged whisper.

He didn't slow down, digging his heels into the sofa for leverage and driving into you with sudden, sharp intensity, hitting the same spot over and over.

You couldn't find the words, so you simply wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles and squeezing with all your might.

He began moving in shorter, frenzied thrusts, each withdrawal was a teasing, agonizingly slow release of pressure, immediately followed by a devastatingly deep thrust that seemed to rearrange your insides.

The sensation was overwhelming, a total occupation of your body that made the rest of the world — the music, the smell of weed, the mess of his apartment — fade into a distant, irrelevant blur. Nothing existed but his heavy, sliding weight and the way he filled every available millimeter of you.

"Right there," you moaned, your voice a fragile thread of desire and pleading. "Eddie, right there."

"Almost… right there," he gasped, his voice a shattered shadow of who he used to be.

The friction was turning into an overwhelming blaze, a searing heat that dissolved the boundaries between where your body ended and his began.

His movements shifted from rhythmic to desperate, his breath escaped in ragged, guttural sounds. He drove into you with absolute, focused intensity, bracing his heavy thighs against the velvet cushions as he sought the deepest connection possible. With every full thrust, he let out a low, trembling groan that made your entire body vibrate with raw, visceral desire.

"Holy… shit," Eddie moaned, his voice wavering.

He let out a long, guttural sound — half-groan, half-cry — as he slammed his hips against yours and buried himself deep, his entire body shuddering from the force of a release that seemed to make even the floorboards vibrate. He froze, his whole body locked in a rigid line of tension, muscles taut and trembling.

You felt his sudden, hot surge pulsing deep against your cervix and moaned a long, high-pitched sound of absolute surrender as his forehead dropped onto your shoulder and you finally gave in to the overwhelming pleasure of climax, your breath coming in ragged, shaky gasps.

He didn't pull away immediately, he remained there, lost in the intense, pulsing heat of your body as your heartbeats synchronized in the sudden silence, before collapsing onto you with his forehead resting on your shoulder and his chest heaving in ragged, panting spasms.

He shifted and slid out of you, dropping onto the sofa beside you, a slow, reluctant withdrawal that seemed to last an eternity. As he slid out, a sense of emptiness took hold, his sudden absence was almost as impactful as the penetration itself, making you shiver despite the warmth of the apartment.

He let out a long, shaky breath, letting his head fall back against the velvet as he stared at the ceiling, dark curls plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Holy… God," he breathed, his voice returning to that husky charm, though stripped of all pretense. He looked at you, a hint of a smile returning to his lips. "Did I… you know… break you? Be honest. On a scale of one to ten, how much of a wreck are you right now?"

"Eleven," you managed to say, your voice hoarse and fragile. "I think you actually shifted my organs, I can feel my liver in a different place."

Eddie let out a loud, rich laugh, the sound echoing through the room.

"You know," Eddie murmured, traces of laughter still in his voice, "the list had twelve reasons. I only managed to say seven."

You let out a low, weary laugh, turning your face to look at him. "Seven reasons seems like more than enough to me."

Eddie let out a deep, resonant laugh that vibrated through his entire body and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that there wasn't a breath of air between you.

The room was dark, the late afternoon light had taken on a purplish hue, matching the languid, lazy atmosphere that had settled over you both.

Although, lately, you’d been seriously considering giving him a different title instead. Best asshole. Best cocky motherfucker. Best creep.

Those last two had a nice ring to them, actually.

Especially considering that, ever since he’d lost his virginity three months ago, he’d developed an insufferable habit of flashing you that smug, sideways grin while going on and on about how big his dick supposedly was.

“I’m serious, sweetheart.” He leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as his gaze dragged lazily over you before settling on your face again. “There’s no way someone like you could fit it.”

Ignoring the second glance he snuck down your cleavage as you leaned over the pool table, you lined up your shot with steady hands and fixed your eyes on the cue ball.

“What do you want me to say, Eddie?”

You pressed the tip of your tongue against the inside of your cheek as the cue brushed over your knuckles while you drew it back, just enough to steady the swing.

“Congratulations?”

The stick slid forwards in one smooth, measured movement, sending the cue ball snapping across the felt.

“Or condolences for never, ever finding someone willing to hop on your monstrous dick?”

One by one, the balls found their places. The striped ball disappeared into the pocket with a muted click, clean and final.

You didn’t rush to celebrate. Instead, you studied the table for a second longer, taking in the angle you’d left yourself before stepping into position for your next shot. It looked good when you leaned over the felt, cue gliding through your fingers as you lined it up.

Except it wasn’t, and the object ball caught the jaw of the pocket with a dull clack before spinning back onto the table.

“Aw, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, straightening as you stepped aside.

Eddie let out a low whistle as he took your place, that stupid, cocky grin still plastered across his face. Leaning over the table, he tapped the cue against the rail once before lining up his own shot. A sharp crack echoed through the empty bar as the cue ball connected, sending one of the solids banking neatly into the corner pocket.

“Listen, dude, I’m just saying.” Eddie shrugged as he pushed himself upright and reached for his beer.

Circling the table with your cue balanced loosely in one hand, you searched the table for what he’d left behind.

“Saying what, exactly?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That it’s a genuine problem,” he replied over the rim of his beer bottle. “Remember that girl I fucked in the back of the van last week?”

Before you could even tell him to stop, he was already launching into the story.

Apparently, she’d spent half the time insisting he was too big while stubbornly trying to take all of him anyway.

You answered by leaning over the pool table once more, deliberately focusing on your shot instead of the absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. The cue slid smoothly through your fingers before the cue ball rolled forward with a satisfying crack.

“Dude.” You scrunched your nose in disgust as you straightened. “I do not need to know all the details.”

Eddie flashed that infuriating grin again, dragging the tip of his tongue lazily across his lower lip.

“You don’t have to hear the details,” he said with a shrug. “You could always skip straight to the practical demonstration.”

And there it was.

It wasn’t the first time Eddie had held your gaze a little longer than necessary while spewing some ridiculous bullshit about taking him for a test drive. It came with years of friendship – careless, empty words tossed around for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.

But, see, Eddie had somehow forgotten who he was talking to – you. The physical incarnation of intrusive thoughts, and the only person who could match Eddie’s freak – or his stupidity.

The rest of your friend group had perfected the art of staying out of it; they’d learned years ago that the quickest way to become collateral damage was to accidentally encourage either of you.

And once one of you committed to the bit, the other treated it like a declaration of war.

Big mistake on Eddie’s part for forgetting that.

“Alright,” you said with a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself away from the pool table. “Strip.”

Eddie’s hand stalled halfway to his mouth, the beer bottle hovering just below his lips. The cocky grin faltered for only a second before he recovered with a chuckle.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

“I’m  serious.” You raised an eyebrow. “You closed the place an hour ago. It’s just the two of us here.”

Crossing the room, you slid your cue back onto its rack before grabbing your beer from the table behind him. You tipped back the last mouthful and set the empty bottle down with a hollow thunk before turning back to him.

“So…” You folded your arms across your chest. “Strip.”

“I’m not just gonna–”

“Why not?” You tilted your head, all mock sympathy. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”

Eddie scoffed, although it lacked some of its earlier confidence. “Of course not–”

“Then fucking strip and get on the pool table.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard for the briefest moment, before that crooked grin slowly crept back onto his face. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the grin returning despite the lingering pink in his cheeks.

“Jesus H. Christ. You’re actually serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Eddie.” You kept staring at him, thoroughly unimpressed by the fact he still hadn’t moved. “Do I have to come over there and do it myself?” You’d barely finished the sentence before uncrossing your arms and taking a few deliberate steps towards him. “Because I will.”

“What–”

“You know, I don’t believe a word that’s come out of your mouth for the past three months.” You stopped in front of him, curling your fingers into the open front of his flannel just enough to tug him a fraction closer. Holding his gaze without blinking, you added, “So here’s your chance, big boy. Prove me wrong.”

Eddie searched your face for the punchline, but there wasn’t one.

The flirting had become second nature a long, long time ago, neither of you really able to pinpoint exactly when. Somewhere along the way, the lingering touches, the forced proximity, and the teasing words had all become part of the game the two of you played more often than not.

A game that had never gotten this far before.

And somehow, Eddie didn’t seem to mind.

A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind his back and set his beer on the edge of the table, and then his hands settled on your hips instead.

“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips. “How about you take me out to dinner first, hm?”

“You already made me buy you a shot during your shift.” You shot him an unimpressed look before tightening your fingers around his flannel. With a firm tug, you slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor between you. “You’re stalling, and I’m getting impatient.”

A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s lips as he flickered his gaze up and down your face. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

His gaze lingered on yours for another beat as the tip of his tongue swept lazily across his lower lip. Giving your hips one final squeeze, he finally let go and took a few unhurried steps backwards. He winked, and then reached for the button of his jeans.

“This better be worth my time, Munson.”

Taking a few steps back yourself, you leaned against the edge of the pool table before hoisting yourself up to sit on it.

Ignoring the raised eyebrow Eddie shot your way, you hooked your fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and peeled it over your head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere in his general direction.

Eddie’s ringed hands stalled for the briefest moments as his eyes wandered over your frame – or, more specifically, the lacy bra hugging your chest just a little too well for his own peace of mind.

This felt vastly different from seeing you in a bikini.

Maybe it was because there was nothing casual about it. Nothing accidental about you taking your shirt off for him, on purpose.

Or maybe it was the faint outline of your nipples beneath the lace.

Whatever the reason, it was definitely not why his fingers hesitated for that split second before he forced himself to continue undoing his jeans.

Eddie’s entire shift had been so fucking loud that, by the end of it, his head had been pounding behind his temples.

Now though? The quiet was somehow worse. The low hum of the bar fridges beneath the counter and the steady ticking of the clock somewhere behind him suddenly sounded deafening. There was no music or drunken chatter to drown out the frantic pounding of his heartbeat – or the fact that you didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down.

Which, naturally, meant Eddie wasn’t about to back down either.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat and praying you hadn’t noticed, he forced that cocky grin back into place before kicking off his shoes and shoving his jeans down the rest of the way.

“Gonna take off that skirt of yours,” he scoffed as he hooked a thumb beneath the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “or do you want me to do it?”

“Hm.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider the offer as the tip of your tongue swept lazily across your lower lip. “Promise not to cum the second you see my panties?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth never quite disappeared. “Real funny, sweetheart.”

He closed the distance between you with a couple of slow, deliberate steps. Curling his hands around your hips once more, Eddie lifted you off the edge of the pool table in one smooth motion, earning a startled shriek from you. He pulled you flush against his bare chest, looking at you through his lashes before a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His tongue swept lazily across his lower lip as he let his hands drift from your hips to the waistband of your skirt. Tilting his head forwards, he brushed the tip of his nose against yours while his fingers found the button.

The soft click of it coming undone echoed through the otherwise silent bar, and then came the quiet rasp of the zipper down. The sound lingered in the air for a moment before your skirt pooled around your ankles with a muted thud.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked quietly, his fingertips lingering against the bare skin of your waist.

His grin lingered as his hands drifted back down to your hips. Warm, calloused fingers settled against your skin before tightening just enough to lift you onto the edge of the pool table once more.

“You gonna keep stalling, or are you gonna show that supposedly big dick of yours?” you murmured, instinctively curling your legs around his waist as a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

Eddie scrunched his nose in mock offence, looking almost genuinely offended by your choice of words. “Don’t objectify me.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been doing for the last three months?” You shot him a flat look.

He opened his mouth like he’d already thought of the perfect comeback, only to stop himself halfway through. A dry, disbelieving laugh escaped him instead as he shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“…Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

For a second, you couldn’t remember what either of you had been saying as your gaze drifted across his face. It lingered on his parted lips for the briefest moment before finding his eyes again.

Eddie had always been Eddie – loud, obnoxious, and completely insufferable. The kind of asshole who’d burp in your face just because he knew it’d piss you off, steal fries off your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, and somehow turn every conversation into an opportunity to talk about himself.

Somehow, standing this close to him now, with your legs curled around his waist, he also looked unfairly handsome.

You hated that realisation.

More than that, you hated the fact that your eyes kept drifting back to his mouth – and that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by them.

You could see it in the way the corner of his mouth twitched into that stupid, cocky grin, and the way he stood there looking entirely too pleased with himself, as though he’d already decided he’d won.

There was no way in Hell you were about to let Eddie win this round.

So, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forwards and pressed your lips against his.

Eddie froze for the briefest moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden kiss. His eyes widened just slightly before they fluttered shut again, a quiet, almost disbelieving hum escaping him like he hadn’t expected you be the one to close the distance first.

Then, as if remembering exactly who he was kissing, that familiar confidence returned. His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly as he tilted his head, meeting you halfway and deepening the kiss with an ease that made your stomach twist.

His lips were every bit as soft as they’d looked, and it drove you just a little bit insane how unfairly good the asshole was at kissing. The steady pressure of his mouth against yours sent warmth blooming through your chest, only intensifying when he lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally drawing back enough for the two of you to breathe.

“I thought I’d told you to get on the pool table,” you murmured, still slightly out of breath.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you swept your tongue across your lips, unconsciously catching the lingering taste of the kiss as you slowly unfurled your legs from around his waist.

Eddie, however, didn’t seem all that eager to let go. One hand lingered on your hip while the other drifted to the strap of your bra. He gave it a curious tug before letting it snap gently back against your skin, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Getting desperate already?”

“Just wanna get this nightmare over with,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes, giving his chest of a half-hearted shove.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckled as he finally let go of your hip. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Turning just enough for the small of his back to meet the edge of the pool table, he hoisted himself onto it before shuffling towards the middle of the green felt. Once has was comfortably settled, he folded his arms behind his head and looked over at you with some infuriating grin.

“Gonna make me sit here in anticipation just so I can be impossibly disappointed?” you scoffed, pushing yourself away from the edge of the table anyway.

“Wanna do the honours?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he nodded towards his boxers.

Resting one knee on the felt before the other, you shuffled closer until you found yourself sitting between his parted legs. The green felt rubbed roughly against his back, but Eddie didn’t seem to care too much about it when your soft hands trail up his thighs.

Your gaze was fixed on Eddie, studying and memorising every single twitch of his face as you skimmed your fingers against the cotton material of his boxers before pulling back again.

You reached behind and unclipped your bra, slowly pulling the straps down your arms until there was nothing to keep Eddie’s eyes from drinking you in. Just for the Hell of it, you threw the lacy material in his face with a smug grin spread across your lips.

The soft glow of the bar casted soft shadows across your exposed chest, highlighting every dip and curve. His dark brown eyes are completely on your breasts, commuting each detail to memory – perfect, with a beautiful roundness to them, and hardened nipples that nearly drove him insane. Eddie’s palms itched to touch, to feel their weight in his ringed hands, and it took all of his self-control not to reach for you, to pin you down and cave in, to Hell with this stupid game between you.

But he waited, breath held, for you to make the next move as he did his best to keep that confident, stupid smirk on his face.

Eddie’s eyes pulled away from your breasts to the red lacy bra that had fallen onto his chest. “You know I’m keeping this, right?”

“You get souvenirs and I get disappointment?” you muttered, leaning forwards. “Doesn’t sound fair to me.”

“Only disappointment that you won’t make it fit, sweetheart.”

Anticipation coursed through your veins as your fingers grazed his hips before curling around the waistband of his boxers. Eddie lifted his hip silently, letting you slide his boxers down his thighs until he kicked it somewhere to the floor behind you.

The cool air fanned his bare skin, raising goosebumps in its wake – or maybe that was just the weight of your parted lips and gaze fixed on his cock.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The bastard hadn’t been lying.

There was absolutely no fucking reason for someone’s dick – especially Eddie’s, of all fucking people – to be this big.

He was long, a little thicker than your wrist, and the tip of his cock, swollen and desperate, was a beautiful shade of pink that matched his lips almost perfectly. And his balls, holy– They were absolutely perfect. Big, and round, and slightly droopy, beautifully adorned with a bush of tight, dark curls.

The lack of reaction – which, frankly was a reaction in and on itself – merely made Eddie’s smug grin widen as you kept staring dumbly at his cock.

“So, what do you say, sweetheart?” He chuckled lowly, reaching for one of your thighs. He trailed a finger along the seam of your inner thigh, delighting in the way you shuddered. “Is it gonna fit? Or is it too big for you?”

“I–”

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” he reassured mockingly.

The tension between you stretched taut and electric as he guided your hand to his aching length. Eddie buckled into your palm, a low groan escaping his lips at the touch of your hand – so much softer, warmer, smaller than his.

“Shut up,” was all you could muster, although it sounded low and unconvincing.

You gave him a few curious flicks of the wrist before letting go of him again. The absence of your touch was infuriating, but the feeling quickly melted away as he watched, transfixed, as you shuffled to straddle him.

“Make me, sweetheart.”

You hovered right above his cock, and impatiently pulled your panties to the side while you lined him up with your free hand. Keeping your gaze fixed on Eddie’s, you swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and sinking down on his cock in one quick move.

A strangled gasp tore from your throat – or was it Eddie’s? – as you enveloped him in your slick heat. His hands immediately reached for your hips, his head mercilessly falling against the hard pool table.

“Jesus–” His breath hitched.

You let out a broken moan as you gave yourself good few seconds to get used to the forced stretch – he’s too long and too fucking thick, hitting you in all the right places while also making you feel completely impaled.

Biting your lip to keep the broken moans from escaping, you slowly began moving your hips in languid rolls. Each drag of your slick walls along his aching cock sent shockwaves rippling through you. You’re drowning in the feeling, lost to everything but the addictive pressure of his swollen tip hitting your cervix each time you sank back down.

“I– Fuck,” you whimpered, reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Son of a–” he gritted out, voice wrecked with need. He let out a strained chuckle while digging his fingers into your hips. “If you could only see yourself, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s gaze locked with yours, pupils blown wide and dark with desire.

“I-I can take it,” you whimpered, biting your lip when he rocked up into you, meeting your rhythm stroke for stroke. “S-see?”

“You for sure showed me, sweetheart.” He shot you that cocky smile you hated, moving your hips back and forth to help you. “I’m so upset I was wrong.”

“You’re so fucking i-insufferable,” you gritted out, voice wrecked with need.

The pool table beneath you creaked as Eddie’s hips pistoned frantically while he kept guiding you. He thrusted up into your slick pussy, meeting each roll of your hips with growing urgency. The wet, sticky sounds of his cock filling you filled the silent bar, obscene and thrilling.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised hoarsely. “You were made to ride my big, fucking cock, hm?”

The way he filled you to the brim made you feel hyper sensitive, and it’s too much and it fucking hurt, but holy shit did he feel incredibly good.

Eddie watched you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of your cock-drunk expression. Your breasts bounce with each impact of your bodies, hardened nipples just begging for attention. Leaning up, Eddie captured one in his mouth, suckling greedily while he kept thrusting up in the same pace. He growled into your cleavage, biting down.

“J-Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” He breathed as his eyes trailed down to where you were connected, watching in fascination at how you were practically drenching his cock. “You take me so fucking well. Greedy pussy gripping, hm?”

With a broken whimper, you pushed Eddie back down onto the felt table, and sped up your movements. The tiny curls around the base of his cock brushed against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips, pulling broken moan after broken moan. He was balls deep inside of you, hitting that special spot, determined to melt your brain until you couldn’t even form thoughts anymore.

Eddie’s cheeks were impossibly flushed as he stared up at you with half-lidded eyes as his tongue slipped out from between his lips. You leaned forwards, digging your nails into his shoulders as you smashed your lips against his for a messy kiss of spit and clanking teeth.

“I’m c-close, Eds,” you panted against his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. “S-so fucking close.”

“Already, sweetheart?” Eddie scoffed, punctuating the question with sharp thrusts. “Fucking do it then, soak my cock.”

He ground against your sensitive spots, determined to push you over the precipice as his fingers found your swollen clit, stroking it with firm, purposeful circles. His own lips dropped open, a whiny groan slipping past his lips when you whined, loud and needy – he couldn’t help it, not when you looked like this.

Arching your back and crying out his name, you kept taking every deliciously painful thrust he gave you and, in return, you made him squirm under you with every clench of your pussy. He matched the tight circles he drew with his thumb to the quick snap of your hips, feeling the friction burning in your veins until your orgasm finally snapped.

“E-Eddie! Fuckfuckfuck.” You came hard with a loud cry of his name, soaking his cock as your thighs jerked. Distantly, you could feel a slick gush trail down to Eddie’s hips, sticky and addictive.

Eddie watched your body tremble before tensing, hips frozen against his as you threw your head back with a broken cry. His pubes tickle the inside of your thighs just right,

Frantically, he thrusted up, again and again, your body bouncing with every move. His grip tightened around your thighs, nails leaving crescent impressions in your soft skin.

“W-where do you want me, sweetheart?”

“I-inside, Eds,” you pleaded, high and desperate. “P-please, I need it. Fill me up.”

“Like you’re not filled enough already,” he scoffed against your lips. “Fucking take it then.”

Pleasure crested sharp and urgent, with one more thrust, two– then bliss exploded through him, stealing his breath and scattering coherent thought. You let him bite your lip while he throbbed and spilled into you, filling you to the brim until he’s practically covered in his own seed.

You slumped forwards, burying your face in the crook of his neck as it took you a good minute or two to come back down to earth. Eddie gave your hip a lazy squeeze, a contented sigh escaping him while his other hand drifted slowly up and down your bare back. His calloused fingertips traced absent-minded circles against your skin as he tried to steady his breathing.

Eventually, you pushed yourself up just enough to look at him. Your eyes met his, still slightly glassy, and you swallowed hard before a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“So…” you started softly, only for the rest of the sentence to die somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“So,” Eddie echoed with a tired chuckle, his thumb lazily brushing against your hip. The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as you’d expected; if anything, it felt strangely comfortable. “That was definitely… worth the wait.”

Eddie’s grin wasn’t nearly as cocky anymore; it had softened into something you’d never seen directed at you before. Or maybe it always had been, and maybe you’d just never noticed it before.

“You…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it much harder to get the words out than you’d expected. “You make it sound like this wasn’t just about proving a point.”

Eddie’s gaze wandered across your face before settling on your eyes again, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Because it’s wasn’t. Not really.”

The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that they almost caught you off guard.

Truth be told, it wasn’t as though the thought had never crossed your mind – because it had. More than once, actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

Somewhere between lazy movie nights, sharing his bed after one too many drinks, lingering hugs that lasted a second too long, and countless inside jokes that blurred the line between friendship and flirting, you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Actually crossing that line, though… you’d never imagined it would happen because neither of you knew when to shut up.

Eddie let out a quiet breath through his nose, his thumb brushing another slow circle against your hip. “Didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that,” he admitted.

You looked at him for a long moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“What did I do now?” His eyebrows pulled together in mock confusion.

“Instead of telling me about…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “…whatever this is, you spent the last three months talking about how dick was in the hopes I’d just cave.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, averting his eyes away from you. “Sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud.”

“Because it is stupid,” you chuckled. “And so are you.”

A tired groan slipped past his lips as he pushed himself up, not caring if the remnants of your activities stained the green felt of the pool table beneath him. The hand on your back was warm as he trailed it up to cradle your cheek.

“So…” he trailed off, his voice quieter than before. “Do you wanna–”

“Give this a shot?” you finished for him, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.

Your gaze drifted slowly across his face, as though you were trying to commit every freckle and crooked smile to memory. By the time your eyes had found his again, your expression had softened.

“Yeah.” You held his gaze for a long moment before your smile grew a fraction wider. “I think I’d be pretty stupid not to.”

permanent tag list? just ask!

I'm writing this letter to someone I really have come to admire recently. I really would talk to him directly but I'm a little shy and I also have no idea if he would ever feel the same as I do. He just- I don't know. He seems like someone I would love to get to know. Someone who's smart and cultured and could show me a thing or two about life. Someone who seems to be loving what he's doing in life. I wish I even knew what I wanted to do after this. After college. Maybe get a job in my field (Social Worker is the dream), find a nice guy, get married, have kids, live the picket fence dream. There's guys who like me, I know they do. But they're not him. The one with the chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could light up the whole world. Oh and those dimples? They're beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful. The small glances into his soul that he's given me have been just as breathtaking. There's something behind it all that I can't quite put my tongue on though. Some deep sadness that pulls you into his brown doe eyes and makes you want to just hold him tight and never let go. I dream of being the one to hold him at night when nightmares plague his head. I dream of kissing him slowly and gently. Over every scar and wrinkle. I dream of one day having that picket fence life with him. I hope he knows that he is admired. That he is looked up upon. That it's not just me- but the world- that wants him to succeed. I hope he's happy. I hope his music career takes off so he doesn't have to teach a bunch of whiny freshmen anymore. I hope I'm not delusional in my thinking that he even notices me. That he looks at me the way I look at him. Maybe one day I'll tell him how I feel.

PS: I really hope he notices when I don't wear any underwear with my skirts when I sit in the front row.

april 15th 2002

dear diary,

I may have undersold how much i actually like this man. maybe im in love with him? is that weird? I sure hope its not. ive spent 3 days a week for the last 8 months looking at his pretty face. how could I NOT fall in love with him? Robin still thinks im delusional but i dont care! not one bit. I told her that I wrote my letter about him. she totes told me i was cray but again. I dont care!!!! she said itll be an epic fail if he doesn't feel the same way but she'll still be there for me because shes my bffl ♡ anyways! whats new? I handed in my letter for the assignment. sprayed my perfume on it and sealed the envelope with a kiss just for good measure. this weekend was kewl. rob and I hung out with steve h. and met his friends nancy and jon. theyre so cute together!!! I think steve has a crush on rob but hes not saying anything. he gets all shy around her. hes gonna be so crushed when she lets him down </3 we all went bowling and I didnt win but I came in 2nd! then we went back to steves and him and jon played some playstation and us girls just talked. nancy doesnt go to our college but she goes to a fancier one and was telling us about all the stuff there. she wants to be a journalist. shes hella dope! I told her about prof munson and she totally told me to go for it. robin told her she was crazy too but its nice to feel validated. i think were gonna hang out again next weekend too! maybe a mall trip? the boys can just go to the arcade while we shop ♡ thats it for now I think!

peace out diary xoxo ✌︎㋡

ֶָ֢𖹭 prof eddie munson ֶָ֢𖹭

april 17th 2002

holy SHIT diary!!!

so like, we weren't supposed to get our letters back yet. but I went into class like normal and at the end of class he handed me back my letter and he ALREADY read it?! he winked when he handed it to me. I swear i was sweating like a whore in church. our fingers touched when he gave me the envelope and I swear it was like static electricity went through us. I had to run out of class so fast and find rob. and then we opened the letter together and oh boy. let me tell you the best part of this. there was a sticky note on the inside of the envelope. this sticky note here ↓

────────────────

I think he may know exactly how you feel. Why don't we talk about it more sometime? xo E.M.

────────────────

AAAAAAAA

he knows exactly how I feel? exactly? like what the fuck!!! i dont have class with him again until friday so im totally going to slip him another note before class starts. this feels so dangerous but I have never felt so ALIVE. oh and robins FACE when she saw the sticky note! totally made that squirmy face she makes and told me i wasnt crazy. her exact words being “welp. guess you weren't so crazy after all. dont forget protection I guess!” HAHAHA omg! I feel like im 14 again when I had my first boyfriend and he kissed me at school for the first time. like I am on cloud 9! this must be how princess Mia felt in the princess diaries ♡ with her foot popping up and all (even tho that guy was a total JERKWAD). anyways, gonna have to shave my whole body before class friday hehe

xoxo ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Prof.Munson,

I hope this letter isn't too forward. I would love to talk with you more about my assignment at your earliest convenience. Would Saturday over coffee work for you? There's a cute coffee shop in the next town over that I heard made a really good dark roast. I'd love to hear all about what you think of my letter.

Xoxo

april 22nd 2002

it happened. red alert. IT HAPPENED.

let me start from the top. (this is gonna be a long entry diary I am so sorry no im not)

so I wrote him a little note and left it on his desk before class.( totally didn't wear underwear again with my cute denim skirt I just got from Hollister too ) the WHOLE class i was just trying not to stare at him but every time I looked at him he was already looking at me :) and then he left us to read and I noticed that he opened my letter and was reading it and his eyebrow shot up and he looked a little shocked but then he looked at me and smiled and I just about melted into my seat. so at the end of class he called me up to his desk and told me he has coffee at HIS PLACE and then handed me a piece of paper with his address. so we had plans to meet up the next day (saturday) at HIS HOUSE.

diary.

DIARY.

I don’t even know where to start because my brain is still mush and my body is still tingling and I keep smiling at nothing like a total psycho. but here goes. buckle up because this is the longest entry of my LIFE and I am NOT sorry.

saturday afternoon I showed up at his apartment exactly on time (I may have sat in my car for ten minutes making sure i didnt smell weird or anything ). I wore the new denim mini from Hollister that barely covers my ass, no bra. no underwear. just a tiny white baby tee and cherry lip gloss and i had the biggest butterflies in my stomach. and when he opened the door in a vintage metallica shirt and black jeans, hair in that messy bun with curls falling around his face those dimples hit me like a truck. and then he was like “hey you…come on in.” and! his place is so him it hurts. records everywhere, guitar in the corner, books stacked on the coffee table, a couple silly empty coffee mugs. it smelled like fresh coffee and that cologne that makes me drool a little on myself in class. we sat on his big leather couch and he brought me a mug. for like five minutes we did the normal small talk thing and then he reached over and pulled my letter out of a drawer and looked at me with those big chocolate eyes. and he said “I read this more times than I should admit…the part about the picket fence… about wanting to hold me when the nightmares come… no one’s ever seen me like that before.” and I was already blushing so hard I thought I might combust. then he told me he noticed me too. the little skirts. the way I stare. the little PS about no underwear. He smiled at me again like he wanted to eat me and was like “I kept wondering if you were doing it on purpose…turns out you were.” so I told him yeah. I was. for him. and then holy shit. he kissed me.

diary the second his mouth touched mine I forgot how to breathe. it started soft and his lips were so dreamy but the second I kissed him back it was over. his hands were in my hair then sliding down my back and then pulling me onto his lap. I could feel how hard he was already through his jeans and it made me dizzy. and then his hand went under my skirt and when he realized I wasnt wearing anything he actually groaned into my mouth. “fuck, baby… you really came here like this for me?” his fingers found my clit and started rubbing slow, perfect circles. I was already soaked. he slipped two fingers inside me and I moaned so loud I was embarrassed but he just smiled against my lips and said “that’s it, let me hear you.” next thing I know he’s laying me back on the couch pushing my skirt up around my waist and his mouth is between my legs. I think i died and went to heaven. I have never felt anything like that. his tongue was everywhere… licking and sucking while his thumb kept circling my clit. I came so hard my thighs shook around his head and I think I kept saying his name like a prayer. he didn’t stop until I was whimpering and trying to push him away because it was too much.

THEN when I could see straight again I got on my knees. I just wanted to make him feel good. I unzipped his jeans and… yeah. he’s big. like really big. thick and heavy and perfect. I took as much as I could and he was so sweet about it, one hand gentle in my hair and the other cupping my cheek while he told me how good I was doing. “such a good girl… just like that… fuck, your mouth…” I licked up the underside and then I finally got to do what I’ve been dreaming about since the first day of class and I kissed and licked that scar on his neck. he shivered so hard and made this low sound that went straight between my legs. and shit… we didn’t even make it to the bedroom the first time. he picked me up like I weighed nothing, laid me back on the couch, and pushed inside me slowly and gently. I felt every inch. he kept checking in, asking if I was okay, and when I told him I wanted all of him he groaned and sank the rest of the way in. I have never felt so full in my life. he fucked me slow at first and kept kissing my neck and telling me how long he’d wanted this. then he started going harder and I wrapped my legs around him and just held on. every thrust hit that spot inside me that made my vision white out and my hearing was literally muffled. I came again clenching around him so tight he had to pause and breathe through it. then he flipped me over and took me from behind. one hand on my hip, the other pulling my hair. “you like being fucked by your professor, sweetheart?” he asked all low and rough and then smacked my ass so hard i think theres a bruise. He just kept smacking me and calling me a dirty slut and i didnt even know i had that kink but damn he brought it out of me. I swear I almost came again just from the words. he reached around and rubbed my clit while he pounded into me and called me a good girl and I came so hard I collapsed forward, face in the cushions, screaming. he finished right after and filled me up until it leaked out around him. it was the hottest thing I’ve ever felt. he stayed in me and was kissing my back and shoulders. both of us kept trying to catch our breath. then he carried me to his bedroom for round two (three?) and this time it was slower. I rode him while he held my hips and looked up at me like I hung the moon. we kissed the whole time. I traced his scar with my fingers and he wouldnt tell me what they were from just that it was horrible and nasty and I just held his face and promised I’d be there if he ever wanted me to be. and we cuddled after naked under his blankets and he kept playing with my hair and calling me baby and telling me how perfect I felt. we both know we have to be careful because of the whole professor thing but… diary I don’t think this is just sex. it feels like something bigger. something real. I left his apartment later that night walking funny and grinning so hard my face hurt. he kissed me at the door for like five minutes and said he wants to see me again soon…somewhere we can actually go on a date without worrying who sees

I got home and took the longest shower and then just laid in bed replaying every second. my thighs are sore. I can still feel him inside me. I keep smiling at my ceiling like an idiot. robin is gonna freak when I tell her but I already know she’ll be happy for me once she gets over the shock. nancy would probably high five me.

I don’t know what happens after finals or after college or any of that. but right now? I know I want him. and I think he wants me too.

this is the best secret I’ve ever had.

xoxo ♡♡♡

your girl who is absolutely, completely, deliciously ruined for anyone else

(and who cannot wait to see him again)

The creek behind the park was low and slow, all murky water and slick rocks. You’d dragged the biggest plastic tote you owned—bright blue, the kind people used for Christmas decorations—and you’d been at it long enough that your knees were damp and your arms were streaked with creek muck. The tote was full. Unreasonably full. Frogs of every size stacked on top of each other in a wriggling, croaking pile of pure chaos. Every time one jumped, three more shifted, and the whole container made this soft, wet thump-thump-thump that was somehow both disgusting and deeply satisfying.

You tried lifting it.

Your arms strained. The tote barely budged. One particularly bold frog took the opportunity to launch itself halfway out, and you had to gently shove it back in with two fingers while muttering, “Absolutely not, sir. You live here now.”

That was the moment you accepted you were going to need backup.

Eddie’s trailer sat a few lots down, porch light off, windows dark. You left the tote by the creek (with a stern warning to the frogs not to escape even though you covered it) and padded across the grass in your muddy socks. His bedroom window was cracked open the way it always was in summer. You knocked once. Soft. Then again, a little harder.

Nothing.

You pressed your face close and whispered, “Eddie.”

Still nothing. Just the faint sound of his deep, even breathing.

So you did the only reasonable thing left.

You pushed the window open wider, hooked one leg over the sill, and carefully crawled inside.

His room smelled like him—old wood, faint cigarette smoke, the residual sweetness of the strawberry incense he burned when he was trying to calm down. Clothes were everywhere. Guitar leaned against the wall. Eddie himself was sprawled across the mattress on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge, hair a tangled mess across the pillow. The sheet was kicked halfway down his back. He looked ridiculously peaceful.

Too bad you're about to ruin that.

You knelt beside the bed and reached out, gently poking his shoulder.

“Eddie.”

A low, wordless grumble.

You poked again, softer this time. “Hey. Baby. Wake up.”

He shifted, face scrunching. One eye cracked open, unfocused and heavy with sleep. It took him a second to register that you were actually there, kneeling on his floor in the dark like some kind of swamp creature who’d wandered inside.

“…Babe?” His voice was wrecked, thick and slow. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Late,” you whispered. “I need your strength.”

Both eyes opened fully now. He pushed up onto one elbow, blinking hard, rings glinting faintly in the low light. His flannel was half-off one shoulder. “My… strength?”

“Yeah.”

He stared at you for a long moment, taking in the mud on your knees, the damp sleeves of your shirt, the absolute delight of your expression. A slow, sleepy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—the one he always got when you showed up with some new brand of weirdness and he remembered all over again why he’d fallen for you.

“You’re not gonna tell me why, are you.”

“Not yet. I need to know you'll help me first.”

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, rubbed a hand over his face, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Alright. Gimme a second. Just… don’t let whatever it is bite me.”

You beamed at him in the dark.

“No promises.”

You didn’t give him time to put on shoes.

The second he stood up you grabbed his wrist and started tugging him toward the door, still in those black sweatpants and the half-on flannel. He stumbled after you barefoot, muttering sleepy protests the whole way across the dark grass.

“Okay—okay, I’m coming, you maniac—can I at least know if we’re burying a body or—”

You didn’t answer. Just kept pulling him until the creek came into view and the big blue tote sat there in the mud like it was waiting for judgment day.

Eddie stopped dead.

The tote was still. Too still. Ominous in the way only a giant plastic container full of unknown entities at two in the morning could be.

He stared at it. Then at you. Then back at the tote.

“…What the hell did you do?”

You said nothing. Just tilted your head toward it, expression carefully blank.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "I don't like that its not making noise. Is it dead? Are we throwing a viking funeral? That silence sounds like something’s dead.”

“It’s not something,” you said mildly.

“It’s definitely something.” He took a cautious step closer, peering at the lid. A faint, wet shuffling noise came from inside. His eyebrows shot up. “Babe. What is in the box.”

You reached down and flipped the lid open.

A frog the size of a tennis ball launched itself straight at his chest.

Eddie yelped—actually yelped—and stumbled backward, arms flailing as the frog bounced off his chest and plopped into the grass. “What the—why—?!”

You caught the frog with both hands before it could disappear into the weeds and gently deposited it back into the tote. “The creek’s too close to the highway,” you explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They keep hopping up onto the road. They’re gonna get hit. We have to take them to our pond.”

Eddie stared at you, one hand still pressed over his heart, chest rising and falling a little too fast. A second frog peeked over the rim of the tote like it was judging him.

“…Our pond,” he repeated slowly.

“The one behind the trees. It’s safer. Deeper. No cars.”

He looked from the tote to your muddy socks to the determined set of your mouth, and something soft and helpless flickered across his face. The same look he always got when your particular brand of chaos lined up perfectly with the part of him that still believed in rescuing things.

“You’re relocating an entire frog civilization at two in the morning,” he said, voice cracking on a disbelieving laugh. “And you needed my strength for this.”

“They’re heavy,” you said simply. “And you’re strong.”

Eddie dragged a hand down his face, rings catching the faint moonlight. “I am so in love with you it’s embarrassing.”

You were already distracted. A soft plop sounded from farther down the bank, followed by another. Your head snapped toward the water.

“More,” you whispered, delighted.

Before Eddie could stop you, you were already picking your way along the muddy edge of the creek, eyes locked on the little dark shapes shifting in the shallows. He watched you go for half a second, then sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who knew exactly how the rest of his night was about to go.

“Of course there’s more,” he muttered, carefully closing the tote lid so nothing else could stage a prison break. “There’s always more with you.”

But he was smiling when he said it. And he followed you into the dark without another complaint.

You managed to scoop up about ten more frogs before Eddie finally intervened.

He caught you mid-crouch, one hand gently but firmly hooked around your waist, the other carefully plucking a particularly slippery frog from your palm and depositing it into the tote with the rest of its chaotic family.

“That’s enough,” he said, voice soft but absolute. “You’re gonna tip over and fall in if you keep leaning like that. And then I’ll have to fish you out, and I’ll never let you live it down.”

You twisted to look at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm. “Just one more—”

“Nope.” He steered you back toward solid ground with the ease of someone who’d had a lot of practice redirecting your impulses. “We’ve got enough for a whole frog council. Any more and the tote’s gonna stage a coup.”

He crouched, tested the weight, and then hefted the entire container up with a quiet grunt. The frogs inside shifted and croaked in protest. Eddie adjusted his grip, rings clicking against the plastic, and shot you a look that was equal parts fond and long-suffering.

“Lead the way, frog queen.”

The path to the pond was a narrow dirt trail that wound behind the last row of trailers and into the little stretch of trees the park kids used as a shortcut. Moonlight filtered through the leaves in soft silver patches. The tote bumped lightly against Eddie’s thigh with every step, and every so often a particularly ambitious frog would thump against the lid like it was demanding an explanation.

You walked close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm every few steps.

“You’re really strong,” you said after a while, watching the way the muscles in his forearm flexed under the weight.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Especially when I’m carrying thirty pounds of amphibians for you at—” he squinted up at the sky like it might tell time, “—whatever ungodly hour this is.”

“Two-thirty,” you offered helpfully.

“Two-thirty,” he repeated, shaking his head. A few strands of hair fell into his face. “Most people are asleep. Or at least not doing this.”

“Most people are boring.”

“Yeah.” His voice went softer. “They are.”

You glanced over at him. The moonlight caught the curve of his smile, the sleepy crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He looked ridiculous and perfect all at once—barefoot, flannel half-open, carrying a tote full of frogs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re not mad?” you asked, quieter.

Eddie glanced down at you, expression melting into something unbearably tender. “Mad? Baby, I’m invested. I’ve already named three of them in my head. The big one at the bottom is Kevin. The one that jumped at me is Jeff. And the little sticky guy who keeps trying to climb the side is… Gerald.”

You snorted. “Gerald?”

“He looks like a Gerald.”

“He does not.”

“He absolutely does. Look at that face. That’s a Gerald face.”

You both dissolved into quiet laughter, the kind that felt too big for the middle of the night. Eddie shifted the tote higher against his hip so he could bump his shoulder into yours.

“Besides,” he added, softer now, “you dragged me out of bed at two in the morning because you were worried about frogs getting hit by cars. That’s… really fucking sweet, you know that?”

You felt your ears go warm. “They’re just little guys.”

“They’re your little guys now,” he corrected. “And therefore, by the sacred laws of dating you, they’re my little guys too. So we’re taking them to the pond. And tomorrow I’m buying them a tiny castle or something. I don’t know. I’m still half-asleep. Details later.”

The trees thinned out ahead, and the pond came into view—dark and still and ringed with reeds. Safer. Deeper. No highway.

Eddie slowed, adjusting his grip one last time.

“Alright,” he said, glancing over at you with that same helpless, lovesick smile. “Let’s go give Kevin and Jeff and Gerald their new kingdom.”

You reached over and hooked your fingers lightly around his free wrist, just because you could.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Eddie turned his hand so he could lace his fingers through yours, tote balanced carefully on his other side.

“Always,” he said simply. “Even when it involves frogs.”

Eddie set the tote down at the edge of the pond with a soft thunk, the frogs inside giving one last collective shuffle of protest. He wiped his palms on his sweatpants, already reaching for the lid—

—and froze.

His entire body went rigid.

“…No.”

You followed his line of sight.

There, floating near the reeds like a tiny feathered harbinger of doom, was the duck.

The same duck that had once chased Eddie halfway across the park after he’d accidentally stepped too close to her babies last spring. The same duck that had somehow developed a personal vendetta against him specifically. She was bigger than any reasonable duck had a right to be, and she was staring straight at him with beady, unblinking judgment.

Eddie took one slow step backward.

“Nope. Absolutely not. We’re leaving. The frogs can find their own way. Natural selection. Survival of the—”

You reached for the lid. “Nah. Daisy’s cool with me.”

Eddie’s head snapped toward you so fast his hair whipped across his face. “Daisy? You named it?”

“She already had a name. I just learned it.”

“That thing is pure evil,” he hissed, voice dropping like the duck might understand English and take offense. “She has rage in her eyes. She's doing irreparable damage to my soul.”

Daisy paddled a little closer, completely unbothered.

Eddie immediately sidestepped behind you, one hand fisted in the back of your shirt like you were the only thing standing between him and certain death. “Babe. Babe, no. Don’t open that. She’s coming. She’s coming—”

You flipped the lid off anyway.

The second the tote tipped, a cascade of frogs poured into the dark water in a glorious, chaotic splash. Croaks and plops filled the air. Kevin (or possibly Gerald) made a particularly dramatic entrance. The whole pond seemed to ripple with new life.

Daisy kept swimming closer.

Eddie made a strangled noise and pressed himself fully against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder, both hands now gripping your waist like you might suddenly vanish and leave him alone with the duck.

“She’s looking at me,” he whispered, horrified. “She’s looking right at me. Do you see that? That’s a threat. That’s a declaration of war—”

“She’s just curious.”

“She’s homicidal. Last time she bit my ankle. I still have the scars.”

"She did not leave scars Edward."

"Emotional ones."

Daisy reached the shallows and waddled up onto the muddy bank, shaking out her feathers. She was maybe six feet away now. Eddie made a tiny, undignified sound and tried to become one with your spine.

“I will never forgive you if I die by duck,” he muttered against your shoulder. “I’m telling everyone at Hellfire. ‘Here lies Eddie Munson, taken too soon by a fucking duck.’ It’ll be on my tombstone. You’ll have to live with that.”

You reached back and patted the hand clenched at your waist. “She’s not gonna hurt you.”

“She wants to. I can feel it in my soul.”

Daisy tilted her head, studying the two of you—or, more accurately, studying the tall, terrified metalhead currently using you as a human shield. Then she gave a soft, almost polite quack and waddled closer to investigate the last few frogs still hopping near the tote.

Eddie went completely still behind you.

“…If she bites me again,” he whispered, voice trembling with equal parts fear and dramatic flair, “I’m blaming you. And I’m never coming to this pond again. You’ll have to carry the frogs yourself next time. With your own strength.”

You smiled, leaning back into him just enough that he could feel it.

“Deal.”

Daisy took one more deliberate step forward.

That was all it took.

Eddie made a sound that was half-scream, half-cry, scooped you up under the knees, and hauled you over his shoulder like a sack of particularly cherished potatoes. You let out a startled laugh that turned into full giggles as he spun on his heel and started marching away from the pond at top speed, bare feet slapping against the dirt path.

“Eddie—!”

“Nope. We’re done. Mission accomplished. Frogs relocated. Duck avoided. Survival achieved.” His voice was muffled against your hip, but you could hear the grin in it. “I’m not dying tonight. Not by duck. Not on my watch.”

You bounced against his shoulder with every step, still laughing too hard to form real words. One of your hands flailed until it found the back of his flannel and held on. “You’re so dramatic—”

“I’m smart,” he corrected, adjusting his grip so you didn’t slide. “There’s a difference. Dramatic would be running. This is a tactical retreat.”

“You’re carrying me like a caveman.”

“And you’re covered in swamp. We’re even.”

The whole way back through the trees and across the dark grass of the trailer park, the two of you kept dissolving into quiet, breathless laughter. Eddie kept up a running commentary under his breath—“Do you think Daisy’s following us? I feel eyes. I feel judgment”—and every time you snorted or kicked your feet he just squeezed you tighter and muttered something about how he was never letting you near a body of water alone again.

By the time he kicked open the door to his trailer and set you down inside, both of you were flushed and grinning like idiots.

Eddie pointed a stern finger at you. “Shower. Now. You smell like the bottom of a lake. You're not sleeping in my bed like that.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Nope.”

“Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have mud in your hair.”

“Character.”

Eddie stared at you for a long second, eyes soft and sparkling with that particular brand of fond exasperation he reserved only for you. Then he turned on his heel, walked straight into the tiny bathroom, and twisted the shower knob. Water hissed to life.

You barely had time to process the sound before he was back, hands gentle but determined on your shoulders, steering you toward the spray.

“Eddie, don’t you d—”

He pushed you under the warm water, clothes and all.

You gasped, laughing, as the water soaked through your shirt in seconds. Before he could step back, you reached out, fisted both hands in the open edges of his flannel, and yanked him forward.

He stumbled in with a surprised yelp that immediately turned into laughter, the two of you colliding under the spray in a tangle of wet fabric and limbs. Water plastered his hair to his face. His rings clicked against the tile as he caught himself on the wall behind you.

“You absolute menace,” he said, voice cracking on a breathless laugh, but he didn’t pull away.

You were both soaked now, clothes heavy and clinging, the tiny shower stall barely big enough for the two of you. Eddie’s hands found your waist, thumbs brushing over the damp fabric of your shirt. His smile had gone softer, quieter, the kind that always showed up when the crazy settled and it was just the two of you left in the middle of it.

You reached up, pushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes, and he leaned in without needing to be asked.

The kiss was slow and warm and a little clumsy from smiling too much. Water streamed over both of you. Eddie’s hand slid up to cradle the side of your neck, thumb stroking along your jaw like he still couldn’t believe you were real. You kissed him back just as softly.

When you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, still smiling.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice low and full of affection, “we’re adopting something that doesn’t live in a pond.”

You grinned, fingers curling into the wet fabric of his flannel.

“No promises.”

you’d been harboring a crush on eddie munson for what felt like forever. how could you not? it was the way his wild hair cascaded past his shoulders, his light, velvety layer of scruff, the intricate ink that snaked across his skin, the glint of silver rings wrapped around his fingers. for all your quiet, reserved nature, you were helplessly drawn to his chaos, his unapologetic loudness, the way he carried that effortless, irreverent charisma—like he just didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought. you hoarded magazines with his face on the cover, your breath catching whenever he appeared on screen, corroded coffin’s frontman shredding through interviews with that same devil-may-care grin. and every time, without fail, you’d sigh dreamily as if the world had tilted just a little more in his direction.

when you learned corroded coffin was playing a show near you, you knew you had to go. the odds of actually meeting him were slim to none, probably none, but that wasn't even the point anymore. just seeing him live, watching him command that stage with his guitar and that voice, feeling the bass rattle through your bones... it was everything. sure, you had a thing for eddie, couldn't help it—but beneath that infatuation ran something real: actual respect for the music. they gave voice to things you'd never quite known how to articulate yourself—the rage, the loneliness, the refusal to be shut down.

so yeah, you bought your ticket. you told yourself you weren't expecting anything beyond three hours of pure, unfiltered metal show. but deep down, beneath layers of self-preservation and practiced indifference, a tiny part of you wondered... what if?

as you stepped into the venue, the pulsing energy of the opening act already filled the air. you decided to seek refuge at the open bar, grabbing a few snacks to fuel yourself before the main event. before you knew it, the drinks had gotten the better of you—enough to leave you pleasantly buzzed, not quite stumbling, but definitely feeling the effects.

maybe arriving so early hadn't been the best idea. corroded coffin still had an hour to go, and suddenly the overwhelming din of the crowd, the thumping bass, and the crush of bodies seemed to close in around you. people jostled past, oblivious, and you found yourself caught in a maelstrom of noise and commotion.

you paused, eyes shut tight, trying to center yourself amidst the chaos. another hour, you told yourself. just breathe through this. but the panic began to creep in nonetheless, a nagging sense that you were drowning in the very atmosphere you'd been so eager to immerse yourself in.

as the minutes ticked by, you could only hope that the calm would return by the time eddie and his band took the stage, ready to unleash their brand of sonic rebellion upon the audience.

but it was just all too much.

the bass reverberated through your chest, a deep, oppressive thrum that seemed to sync with the hammering of your heart. the air grew thick, stifling—sweat and cheap perfume and the metallic tang of beer clinging to everything. the blur of faces around you became a smear of indistinct shapes, too close, too loud, too much.

your breath hitched, shallow and useless, as if the air itself had turned viscous. the walls seemed to lean inward, the ceiling pressing down until the whole room felt like a collapsing lung. the chatter, the laughter, the clink of glasses—it all swirled into a deafening roar, a cacophony that clawed at the edges of your composure.

your hands trembled at your sides, suddenly clammy, and a hot flush crept up your neck. you felt untethered, like a paper boat caught in a storm surge, spinning without direction. the floor beneath you seemed unstable, the lights too bright, the shadows too deep. every brush of a stranger’s shoulder sent a jolt through you, each accidental bump a fresh spike of adrenaline.

you tried to focus on something—anything—solid. the grain of the wooden bar top. the condensation dripping down a bottle. but your vision blurred at the edges, tunneling inward until all you could see was the pounding in your own chest, all you could hear was the frantic whisper of your own mind:

too much. too much. too much.

then the lights cut, plunging the room into darkness for one perfect heartbeat before exploding back to life. the opening riff of their hit song tore through the speakers, and suddenly everything shifted.

eddie’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. your pulse synced to the drums, your body swaying involuntarily as the familiar chords washed over you. the anxiety loosened its grip just enough for you to take a full breath, then another.

this was it. this was why you came.

you pushed forward through the throng, weaving between bodies toward the stage. the closer you got, the clearer everything became—not just the music, but the details. eddie’s movements, fluid and primal. the way his hair whipped around his shoulders. the sweat dripping from his brow as he screamed into the mic.

but when the tempo changed, dropping into a heavier groove, the crowd erupted. bodies surged forward, a mass of flailing limbs and shouted lyrics. someone slammed into you from behind, and you stumbled forward into someone else. then another impact, harder this time, sending you reeling sideways.

before you knew it, you were swept up in the mosh pit, completely unable to stop it. arms and legs surrounded you on all sides, moving with chaotic momentum. you tried to find purchase, to push back against the tide, but it was useless. each shove sent you careening into strangers, each attempt to steady yourself met with another collision. panic flared again, sharp and acute, as you realized with dawning horror:

you were utterly, helplessly trapped.

the mosh pit swallowed you whole. bodies crashed against you from every direction, a relentless tide of elbows, shoulders, and boots. the music—once your anchor—became just another layer of noise, distorted and menacing. your chest seized, breath catching in short, jagged gasps. the world tilted, colors bleeding into a cacophony of strobes and shadows.

eddie’s voice cut through—part of a song or a scream, you couldn't tell—but somewhere above the chaos, his gaze swept the crowd. he saw you: the girl going still amid the frenzy, eyes wide and glassy, knees buckling.

time fractured.

one moment you were standing. the next, your legs gave out, the roar of the crowd swallowed by a deafening silence. your vision narrowed to a pinprick of light, then nothing.

on stage, eddie’s guitar screeched to a halt. he lunged toward the mic, voice raw and commanding: “hey! stop the fucking music!” the band stumbled into silence. the crowd stilled, turning.

eddie didn’t wait for permission. he dropped the mic stand, the metal clattering loudly against the stage floor, and lunged toward the barricade. two security guards stepped forward, hands raised, their faces tight with warning, but eddie was a blur of motion. he shoved past them, hard—his shoulder hitting one guard with enough force to stagger him back—and vaulted over the barrier.

the crowd, still reeling from the abrupt silence, parted in confusion as he landed among them. he moved like a storm, knocking into bodies with a desperate, unapologetic urgency. no apologies. no hesitation. he pushed through the lingering haze of the mosh pit, his eyes scanning frantically until they locked onto your small, crumpled form on the concrete.

he dropped to his knees beside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps that matched your own shallow ones. his hands, usually so steady on the fretboard, trembled slightly as he slid them under your arms, lifting you up. you were limp, dead weight against his chest.

when he finally stood, holding you securely against him, he turned slowly to face the sea of faces staring down at him. the anger radiating off him was palpable, hot and sharp. his eyes swept over the crowd, burning with disappointment and fury.

“you think this is just a show? you think it’s just noise?" he shouted. "if someone falls, pick. them. up! it’s basic human decency, guys. do better."

a scattered round of cheers rippled through the crowd—some heads nodding in approval, others raising fists in solidarity—but eddie barely registered them. his attention was a laser, fixed entirely on the girl cradled against his chest. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale beneath the dim backstage lights, and the weight of her limp body only sharpened his resolve.

he turned to the stage, eyes blazing as he waved off the band. "show’s over. get the lights up." a murmur of protests ripple from the audience—muttered curses, groans of disappointment—but eddie didn't flinch. he’d spent years preaching about crowd safety, about the unspoken contract between performer and fan: you bring the energy, i bring the rage, and we all walk out alive. tonight, that contract had been broken.

he carried you through the side door, past the tangled cables and discarded equipment, into the cramped backstage area. the walls were thin, buzzing with the distant hum of a disgruntled crowd, but he ignored it all. he laid you down on a tattered couch, his hands trembling as he brushed the hair from your face.

"hey—hey, stay with me," he murmured, more to himself than to you. he fumbled for his phone, dialing with shaking fingers, his voice a low murmur when someone finally answered. "i need a medic. now. backstage. girl passed out in the pit—no, I don't know if she's breathing right—just get here."

consciousness returned in fragments—first the dull ache behind your eyes, then the muffled sounds filtering through cotton. you felt cold, then warm, then cold again. your fingers tingled. your lungs burned with the memory of that suffocating pressure.

then you heard his voice, low and careful, threaded with worry.

"easy. take it slow."

your eyelids fluttered, and there he was. eddie munson, kneeling beside you on the cracked linoleum floor, his dark brown eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your stomach drop straight through the floor. up close, he smelled like leather and sweat and something faintly woodsy—cologne, maybe, buried under the exertion of performance. a bead of sweat traced down the side of his neck. his silver rings caught the fluorescent light.

"hey... easy," he repeated gently, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small space. he saw you trying to sit up, or at least process where you were, and offered a small, encouraging smile that didn’t quite reach the worry in his gaze. "don’t push it. just breathe."

you opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shaky, incoherent stammer. "i… um... i..."

a faint chuckle escaped him, soft and amused. "yeah, i get it. shock’s a bitch." his tone was light, teasing even, as if he were trying to ease the tension coiling in your chest. "you’re safe. you’re backstage. you fainted in the pit. big crowd, got overwhelmed... i had to pull the plug on the set."

your eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked together. he stopped the show. for you. the sheer magnitude of that statement hung in the air, heavy and surreal. you looked up at him, really looked at him, seeing the sweat still drying on his forehead, the slight tremor in his hands as he rested them near your shoulders.

"you... you stopped it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

eddie shrugged, though the gesture lacked its usual swagger. he looked down at you, his expression serious again. "yeah. didn’t really think twice about it. people were supposed to catch you, but they didn't. so i did." he paused, studying your face. "how’s your head? still spinning?"

your cheeks burned, a hot flush spreading from your neck to the tips of your ears. the proximity was intoxicating and terrifying all at once; he was just inches away, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees feel like jelly.

he didn’t know. this messy, sweaty, rockstar frontman had no idea he was the subject of late-night magazine clippings and daydreams.

“m-mhm," you managed, the sound barely escaping your lips, thick with embarrassment.

eddie’s eyebrows shot up, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. the amusement in his eyes deepened, shifting from concern to something far more playful as he pieced together the reality of the situation. he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing rumble.

“mhm?" he repeated, drawing out the syllable. "i’m gonna need a verbal response before the medic comes, sweetheart. no mumbles allowed."

the term of endearment slipped out effortlessly, casual yet devastatingly charming. your brain short-circuited. you felt flustered, dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with blood pressure or adrenaline. you shook your head frantically, trying to clear the fog, desperate to regain some semblance of composure.

"i’m... i’m okay," you stammered, your voice trembling slightly. "just... still a little lightheaded. that’s all."

eddie nodded, glancing over his shoulder to bark an order at a roadie. "i need some water over here. now." then his attention swung back to you, his expression softening again as he settled back onto his heels, crouching beside the couch. he reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing a strand of damp hair from your cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle.

"you’re gonna be fine," he assured you, his voice firm but kind. "just rest for a minute. breathe." his thumb traced along your jaw, checking your pulse against the vein there, a habit from first aid training or perhaps just instinct. "nothing to worry about now, trust me."

when you started to apologize—"i’m sorry, i shouldn't have..."—eddie cut you off with a shake of his head, sharp and decisive. "no, don’t do that." he pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as frustration flickered across his features. "this isn't on you. not even close."

his voice took on an edge, tinged with the same protective fury he'd shown to the crowd earlier. "some assholes in the pit forgot basic human decency. when someone goes down, you catch them. period. you don't just step over them or keep moshing like nothing happened." he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in agitation. "i’ve seen too many girls get trampled because the guys around them are too busy posturing instead of paying attention. it’s bullshit, and it’s dangerous."

he looked back at you, his expression softening again, though the anger still simmered underneath. "so no apologies. you didn't do anything wrong. they did."

you couldn't hold his gaze any longer. it was too intense, too real, and you could feel your cheeks flush. you looked down, focusing on the worn leather of the couch cushion beneath you, willing the heat in your face to fade.

"thank you," you said quietly, your voice barely audible. "for um, helping me. for... for stopping."

eddie watched you, studying the way you avoided his eyes, the nervous bite of your lip. there was something about your vulnerability, your awkwardness, that he found strangely endearing. most people either threw themselves at him or challenged him. you did neither. you just existed in this fragile, uncertain space, and somehow it made him want to protect you even more.

"it’s what i’m supposed to do," he said quietly. “you don't have to thank me for that."

he paused, considering. "anxiety, huh?" his tone was matter-of-fact, not judgmental, as if he understood the mechanics of it better than most. "yeah, i get that. loud places, crowds, unexpected stuff—it can be a lot." he glanced at you sidelong, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "hell, i probably drive you crazy half the time with my volume alone."

that brought a soft smile to your face when you finally looked at him. the sight made his heart clench, his smirk softening for a moment.

he stood abruptly, moving toward the table where someone had left a clipboard and pen. he scribbled something, ripped off a sticky note, and tucked it into the pocket of your jacket. "your ticket will be the first that gets a refund. automatically. my rep will handle it." he paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "and listen—i know this sounds crazy, but if you trust me, i’ll take you home myself. tour bus leaves in twenty. plenty of room."

your eyes widened with disbelief. "what? no, you don't have to—"

"i know i don't have to," he interrupted, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. his expression was earnest, almost challenging. "but i’m offering because i can. i’m responsible for you being in that mess tonight, and i want to make sure you get home safe." he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "consider it my gift.”

you sat there, stunned into silence, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts that all collided into a single, overwhelming feeling of disbelief. it was too much. too real. too impossible to process. "i… i don't know what to say," you admitted, a soft laugh bubbling up from your chest, equal parts nervous and delighted. "thank you so much."

eddie grinned, the expression transforming his entire face. he looked almost younger, less guarded, like he was genuinely happy to see you appreciate the gesture. "no problem," he said simply, shrugging.

at that moment, the roadie reappeared, clutching a cold bottle of water. he handed it to eddie without ceremony, who immediately turned and passed it to you. "here, drink this. you need it," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "can’t have you passing out again."

you took the water gratefully, your hands still trembling slightly as you unscrewed the cap. you brought the bottle to your lips and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

"there you go," he murmured, his voice softer now. "better?"

you nodded, setting the bottle down onto the floor beside the couch. "yeah. thanks."

eddie’s gaze lingered, tracing the line of your jaw, the way your eyes darted nervously away from his. he found you pretty—undeniably so. there was a quiet, fragile beauty to you that stood in stark contrast to the chaos he usually surrounded himself with. it pulled at him, a magnetic curiosity he couldn’t quite name.

he cleared his throat, the sound rough in the sudden silence. "so, uh..." he shifted, suddenly looking less like the confident frontman and more like a guy trying to navigate a delicate conversation. "you got a boyfriend or something? y’know, ‘cause i wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with him or anything."

the question hung in the air, heavy with an implication he wasn’t quite ready to voice aloud. he told himself it was just caution, but deep down, he knew it was genuine interest.

you shook your head quickly, the movement jerky but sincere. "no," you said, your voice gaining a tiny bit of strength. "i’m... i’m single."

a wave of visible relief washed over eddie’s face. his shoulders dropped, the tension leaving his frame, though a small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. he didn’t say it out loud, but the gratitude in his eyes was clear.

good.

the door suddenly burst open, and two figures ducked through—the rest of the band, gareth the drummer and jeff the other guitarist, both winded and curious. they froze mid-step when they saw you sitting on the couch, taking in the intimate scene before them.

eddie shot them a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

gareth held up his hands defensively. "woah, easy, man. just observing."

jeff simply nodded in greeting, his gaze polite but brief. he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "everything alright? you good, miss?"

you nodded, offering a small polite smile. “i’m okay.”

eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "where’s our bassist? we’re leaving in ten. and wasn’t he supposed to load up the gear?”

gareth groaned, rolling his eyes. "probably balls deep in some groupie somewhere. dude’s never on time."

eddie cursed under his breath. “of course he is." he glanced at his watch. "he’ll figure it out. he usually finds a ride when shit like this happens.” he turned back to you, his expression softening again as he held out his hand. "come on. let’s get you outta here before anyone else shows up."

you stared at his outstretched hand, your own hovering just above it like a breath held too long. a heartbeat of hesitation—then your fingers slipped into his.

his palm was warm. solid. the kind of warmth that made you wonder if he was always like this, or if it was just for you.

his grip tightened gently, and something fluttered low in your chest.

“are you ready?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing against yours as you clasped hands. "tour bus is waiting. i promise it's a hell of a lot quieter than out there."

you nodded. eddie kept his hand in yours, guiding you through the backstage maze, past tangled cables and road cases stacked high. the band followed behind, their presence a buffer against the growing chaos ahead.

unfortunately, eddie was wrong to presume the peacefulness outside.

they emerged through a side door, and immediately the night exploded. cameras flashed like lightning storms, blinding and relentless. reporters surged forward, shouting questions over one another:

"eddie! eddie! who’s the girl?!”

"why did you stop the show?!"

"is she okay?! what happened in the crowd?!"

"are you dating her?!"

the noise was overwhelming—a wall of sound that pressed in from every direction. you felt the old familiar panic rising in your chest, your breath catching as the flashes continued to blind you. it was too much. too loud. too many voices demanding answers you couldn't give.

eddie noticed immediately. his hand tightened around yours, grounding you, and he stepped in front of you, using his body as a shield against the worst of it. he raised his free hand, palm out, silencing the press just long enough to speak.

"hey, back up," he said firmly, his voice carrying over the chaos. "she fainted. crowd didn't catch her. i stopped the show because i’m not gonna let fans get hurt on my watch." his jaw clenched. "now, please. give us some goddamn space."

some reporters pressed further, cameras still clicking. one particularly bold reporter called out:

"are you two together? is that why you're protecting her?"

eddie glanced down at you, his expression softening infinitesimally before hardening again. he didn't answer. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his side and leading you firmly toward the waiting tour bus. his touch was possessive, protective, and it sent a jolt through you—terror mixing with something else entirely.

behind you, gareth and jeff held back the press, creating a path. as you climbed the steps into the bus, eddie followed, slamming the door shut behind you. the interior was mercifully quiet, dimmed lights casting everything in warm amber hues.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "fucking vultures." he turned to you, his gaze searching your face.

you let out a shaky exhale, sagging against the cushioned bench seat. the enclosed space was a sanctuary compared to the sensory assault outside. your hands were still trembling slightly, but the crushing weight of hundreds of eyes and flashing cameras had lifted.

"how do you deal with that?" you asked, your voice small in the quiet of the bus. "all of that... attention?"

eddie slumped into the seat across from you, his long legs stretching out and blocking the aisle. he ran both hands through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. "i don't know anymore, honestly." he met your eyes, his expression tired but genuine. "it’s annoying as hell, for sure. like, yeah, i love playing shows, love connecting with people, but..." he gestured vaguely toward the door. "i could live without that circus.”

he shrugged, leaning back against the seat. "but you get used to it, i guess. after a while, you stop noticing the cameras pointing at you and just... accept that it's part of the job." his lips quirked into a half-smile, self-deprecating. "most days, anyway. days like today, when they're vultures, it reminds me why i hate this shit sometimes."

he studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. "you doing okay? still lightheaded?"

you shook your head. "i think i’m alright. just... overwhelmed."

"that’s fair," eddie murmured, reaching over to squeeze your hand briefly before letting go. "fair warning, though—tour buses aren't exactly quiet. but at least nobody's gonna mob you in here." he paused, then added with a wry grin, "probably."

you smiled back at him, grateful for the momentary levity. his grin softened in return, warmth flickering in his dark eyes.

before either of you could speak again, there was a sharp knock at the bus door. eddie sighed heavily, muttering under his breath about the timing, and pushed himself up from the seat. he stalked over and yanked the door open, filling the frame with his broad shoulders.

"took you long enough," he murmured by way of greeting. without waiting for a response, he stepped aside, allowing the medic to enter.

the woman climbed aboard, her uniform crisp and her expression professional. she carried a small medical kit, which she set on the table before turning to you with a nod.

"how are you feeling?" she asked, pulling out a penlight to check your pupils. "any dizziness? nausea?"

you shook your head, answering each question as best you could. the medic listened intently, her hands gentle as she checked your vitals and pressed lightly on various spots along your neck and arms.

"everything looks good," she said finally, stepping back and closing her kit. "just take it easy for the rest of the night. drink plenty of water. if you start feeling worse or have any new symptoms, don't hesitate to call for help."

eddie had been watching the interaction silently, his arms crossed over his chest. now he uncrossed them, stepping closer to the medic. "can i talk to you for a second?" he asked, his tone low and serious.

the woman nodded, and he led her to the front of the bus, speaking in hushed tones. you couldn't make out the words, but the intensity of his expression made it clear that whatever he was saying, it was important to him.

after a moment, they returned. the medic gathered her things and turned to you with a reassuring smile. "he’s a good guy," she said softly, as if sharing a secret. "he cares. don’t let anyone tell you differently."

with that, she stepped off the bus and closed the door behind her, leaving you alone once more with eddie munson—the rockstar, the savior, the unexpected guardian angel.

you felt a flutter in your chest at the medic's words, warmth spreading through you at the confirmation of what you'd already suspected.

eddie cared. he really did.

but then he was returning, sliding the door shut and turning to face you with that same concerned expression he'd worn all evening. you asked what happened, tilting your head curiously.

he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that seemed almost vulnerable. "just... asked her what to do if you fainted again," he admitted gruffly. "wanted to be prepared. in case."

there was something else in his tone, something he wasn't quite saying aloud. you caught it but didn't push, sensing that he needed a moment.

eddie sank back into the seat across from you, his long legs stretching out again. he looked at you for a long beat, as if gathering his thoughts.

“so," he began, his voice softer now that they were truly alone. "you come to shows often?"

the question was simple, conversational, but there was genuine interest in his eyes. you realized this was him trying—to get to know you, to understand you.

"yeah," you said, finding your voice steadier now. "i love music. your music especially."

his lips curved into a pleased smile. "yeah? what drew you to ours?"

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again under the intensity of his gaze and that teasing smile. a soft chuckle escaped you. "i don't know," you said sheepishly, shaking your head.

“you don’t know?” eddie teased. "come on," he encouraged, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his expression genuinely curious. "you can do better than that. tell me."

you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, gathering courage. finally, you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "i’m a little quiet, y’know? more to myself than... out there." you gestured vaguely. "but your music—it's like it gives words to the feelings i usually push down. the anger, the sadness, the frustration. it pretty much articulates what i can't always express."

eddie went very still, listening with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way you rarely experienced. when you finished, he sat back slowly, processing. a shadow of understanding crossed his features.

"yeah," he said quietly, almost to himself. "i get that. completely."

he paused, then looked at you again, his expression softening. "thank you for telling me that. for trusting me with that."

something warm bloomed in your chest at his words, at the sincerity in his voice.

you smiled back at him, feeling a sense of connection forming between you two. his gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were the only person in the world. he seemed to find your personality calming, and it was a sweet, endearing thing.

then, he dropped a bombshell. "i’m glad you don't have a boyfriend," he admitted, his voice low and casual.

youe eyes widened in shock as you flushed, unsure how to respond to such an intimate statement. "what?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light, but your heart racing inside.

eddie chuckled, a low, husky sound. "yeah, cause i don't have to deal with some jerk questioning you. most girls that come here have boyfriends, and they get pretty jealous even though the girls don't even talk to me." he leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "but especially now, if you had one... it wouldn't be great."

you nodded, trying to process what he was saying. but there was something in his tone that implied something more. something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

and then it hit you.

eddie wasn't just talking about being protective of you from other people. he was implying that he himself was interested in you. that he wanted to get to know you better, and maybe even see where things could go between you two.

the realization sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were reading the situation correctly. was eddie really feeling something for you, or was this just a friendly conversation? you glanced up at him, searching for clues, but his expression was unreadable.

before anything else could develop, the bus door slid open again with a hiss. gareth and jeff tumbled in, breathing hard and looking thoroughly annoyed.

"jesus christ," gareth muttered, slamming the door shut and engaging the lock. "those fucking vultures are worse than usual tonight."

jeff nodded in agreement, stripping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby seat. "yeah, i had to actually push some dude out of my way. dude was like six-two and built like a brick shithouse."

despite their annoyance, both bandmates perked up when they spotted you still seated in the bus, chatting with eddie. their gazes flicked between you and their lead singer, curiosity evident.

"oh, she's still here," garerh said, a grin spreading across his face. "nice. did we scare her off yet?"

"not even close," eddie replied smoothly, though there was a protective edge to his tone. "we’re just having a chat."

jeff snorted, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge and cracking it open. "sure you are." he took a swig, then looked at you with a friendly smile. "don’t mind him. he gets all possessive when he finds a pretty girl who isn't running for the hills."

eddie shot jeff a warning glare, but there was no real heat behind it. before the tension could escalate, you laughed—that soft, genuine sound that lit up your face.

the noise made eddie’s expression soften completely. he watched you with an intensity that spoke volumes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

as the miles rolled by, the four of you fell into an easy rhythm—jokes flying, stories shared, the atmosphere light despite the chaotic evening. eddie would glance at you periodically, his expression softening each time he caught your laughter.

the atmosphere on the bus shifted, the air thick with the scent of cheap beer and the boisterous energy of gareth and jeff, who were now loudly debating the merits of different types of alcohol. you and eddie sat side-by-side on the plush bench seat, a proximity that had happened organically amidst the general chaos of the night. your shoulder brushed against his as you leaned back, and eddie’s gaze drifted away from his bandmates, landing softly on you.

he stared, not with the intensity of the frontman commanding a stage, but with a quiet, steady curiosity. you felt it—the weight of his eyes—and turned your head to meet them.

“what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid to break the spell.

eddie blinked, shaken out of his trance. he shook his head quickly, looking away as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “nothing,” he muttered, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

he hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee before he looked back at you, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“i like you,” he said simply, the words hanging in the space between you. “you’re… different.”

your heart skipped a beat, that familiar shyness rising in your chest. you tilted your head, searching his face. “different how?”

eddie let out a soft breath, half-laughing, half-sighing. “quiet. calm.” he gestured vaguely toward gareth, who was now attempting to balance a beer bottle on his forehead. “not that that isn’t fun, but… i’m used to noise. chaos. people screaming for attention or validation. you…” he paused, his thumb tracing the rim of his water glass. “you just are. it’s nice. definitely a nice change from the usual circus.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, the compliment settling deep into your bones. "thank you," you whispered, unable to look away from his intense gaze. "for everything. tonight, this…"

"it’s no problem," eddie murmured, his hand finding yours as naturally as breathing. the contact sent sparks racing up your arm, but it also felt undeniably right.

thee tour bus rumbled to a stop outside your house. through the window, you could see the familiar silhouette of your neighborhood, peaceful and quiet in the dead of night. everything that had happened felt like a fever dream, surreal and impossible.

eddie stood first, offering you his hand to help you down the steps. gareth and jeff were still inside, but they watched through the windshield with matching grins plastered across their faces.

"you sure you don't wanna stay longer?" gareth called out jokingly. "we’ve got snacks!"

eddie flipped him off without looking back. his focus was entirely on you as he walked you toward your front door, your hands still clasped together. the night air was cool, a welcome relief after the stuffy warmth of the bus.

when you reached your porch, you turned to face him. "i… i can't thank you enough," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "for saving me, for bringing me here, for everything."

eddie’s other hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light and reverent. "hey," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "i meant what i said earlier. about liking you.”

your breath caught. "really?"

“really," he confirmed, his thumb stroking your skin. "can i… can i have your number? i know this is crazy fast, but i don't want tonight to be the last time i see you."

you nodded eagerly. "yeah. um, yeah—of course.”

eddie grinned, that devastating smile that made your knees weak. he took a pen out of his pocket, one that you assumed he used for autographs. he handed it to you and held out his hand so you could write your number down on his palm. you leaned down and did before pulling back to look at him, handing back the pen.

"once i’m not constantly on the move, i’ll give you a call. take you somewhere nice. somewhere quiet."

"i’d like that," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

there was a tension between you two then, something soft and deep and utterly foreign to both of you. neither of you wanted to break it, but neither of you knew quite how to navigate it either.

finally, you stammered, "i should probably get inside before it gets any later—“

you didn't finish. eddie cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. his lips met yours gently, tentatively at first, as if testing the waters. his hand remained cupped around your cheek, anchoring you in place.

the kiss was soft, almost hesitant, but it sent electricity racing through your veins. you melted into it instinctively, kissing him back with equal gentleness. time seemed to stop, the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, locked in this tender moment.

when you finally pulled apart, eddie’s eyes were soft, glazed with emotion you'd never seen in interviews or photos. it was raw, real, and utterly devastating in its intimacy.

he pressed one more kiss to your cheek, his voice rough when he spoke. "goodnight," he murmured.

"goodnight," you whispered back, still reeling.

eddie smiled sadly, reluctantly stepping back. he turned and headed back toward the tour bus, glancing over his shoulder once to catch your eye. you stood rooted to the spot, watching him go, your fingers touching your lips as if to confirm that it had actually happened.

the bus pulled away with a rumble, disappearing into the night. you remained on your porch long after it vanished, standing in the darkness, still trembling slightly, touched by starlight and impossibility.

tomorrow you'd wake up and remember that eddie munson had kissed you beneath the glow of streetlights, and your life would never be quite the same again.

the rain hammered against the corrugated metal roof of eddie’s trailer, a steady, insistent rhythm that seemed to mirror the quickening beat of your own heart. he was on top of you, a comfortable weight against your back, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling gently at the loose strands. his mouth was moving against yours, a slow exploration that tasted of cheap beer and the cigarettes he smoked. you responded with small, involuntary moans, a fragile sound lost amidst the drumming rain and eddie’s low hum—a mix of pleasure and a surprising tenderness. his head spun, tilting slightly as he absorbed your reactions, a genuine amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

then, abruptly, he pulled back, a slight smirk playing on his lips. just as he was about to flip you both over, giving you the chance to take control, you yelped, a sharp, involuntary sound that startled even him.

the amusement vanished from his face, replaced by a swift concern that tightened his brow. "what was that? you okay?" he asked, his voice soft, laced with genuine worry.

he brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips lingering for a moment, sending a shiver through you. you shook your head, a blush creeping up your neck, staining your skin a delicate pink.

“sorry, eds,” you mumbled, the words barely audible. “um… can we save that for another night?”

eddie froze, his body still positioned above you, and a confused frown deepened on his face. you and eddie had been intimate several times now—passionate, even messy sometimes—but this felt different. this was the first time someone had taken charge, demanded something from you, and you hadn't known how to respond. you’d always given just as much, exploring his touch, offering your warmth, but this... this felt like a leap you weren’t quite ready to make. still, he wouldn't push, a quiet understanding radiating from him. he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, a small, reassuring gesture.

“yeah, of course,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

your heart fluttered. you always appreciated how great of a boyfriend eddie was—the way he anticipated your needs before you voiced them, the unwavering patience he possessed, the absolute refusal to pressure you into anything you weren’t truly ready for. he did everything he could to create a space where you felt safe, utterly and completely comfortable, and it was a comfort you hadn’t realized you craved so desperately until he’d offered it. he was the first boyfriend you’d ever truly done things with sexually, a fact that hung heavy in the humid air of the trailer, a potent mixture of excitement and vulnerability.

still, you couldn't shake the embarrassment, a prickly heat rising in your cheeks that threatened to spill over into a full blush. you were his girlfriend now, yet the simple act of intimacy remained a landscape of anxieties. the memory of his touch, even momentarily withdrawn, sparked a nervous tremor through you. it wasn't a rejection of him, not at all—you found his presence intoxicating, his laughter infectious —but the sheer novelty of it all, the responsibility of inhabiting such a deeply personal space with someone you cared about, left you feeling acutely aware of your own awkwardness.

you were his girlfriend, and you still got nervous around him, a disconcerting realization that settled deep within your stomach like a cold stone. the thought of disappointing him, of not meeting his expectations, fueled the self-consciousness.

a month had passed, and now you were crammed into eddie’s old van, the scent of greasy burgers from benny’s filling the air.

eddie, predictably unpredictable, brought up that fateful night, his voice cutting through the silence. "hey, you remember a month ago when you came over? it was when that huge storm came," he said, his tone casual, almost conversational.

you flipped through the memories in your mind, the events of that night playing out like a vivid movie reel. the thunder, the rain, the way your heart raced as eddie pulled you close...

realization dawned on you, and you let out a soft giggle. "oh, yeah! yeah, i remember. i ended up getting stranded there for a couple hours," you replied, the memory still tinged with excitement.

eddie chuckled, taking a large bite of his burger, the juices dripping down his chin. you couldn't help but smile at the sight, finding even his messiness endearing. you leaned over to wipe some of the grease off with your napkin. he tried to playfully bite your arm when you pulled away, making you laugh.

then, in a single sentence, he shattered the easygoing atmosphere. "yeah, i know. but uh... that night, i tried to initiate something. you looked a little nervous about it," he said, his voice low and heavy with implication.

you froze, realizing what he was getting at, the conversation from that night coming back to you in vivid detail. the way he had tried to flip you both over, giving you the chance to take control, to be on top... and how you had panicked, yelped, and ultimately brushed off the idea.

your cheeks flamed with embarrassment, a fierce heat that spread from your face to the tips of your ears. you could feel eddie’s gaze on you, his dark eyes searching your face for answers. the van suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, as if the very space between you and him had been sucked out. you swallowed hard, your mouth dry, the burger forgotten in your lap. how do you explain this to him? how do you articulate the swirl of nerves and anxiety that had seized you that night, the fear of disappointing him, of not measuring up to his expectations?

you cleared your throat, the sound harsh in the sudden silence of the van. "it’s... it's not really a big deal," you mumbled, your words tumbling out in a rush, an attempt to deflect and distance yourself from the uncomfortable truth.

eddie tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm. his dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading the lie for what it was—a flimsy excuse, a feeble attempt to change the subject.

he leaned back against the worn leather seat, his burger forgotten in his hand. "hey, come on," he said softly, his tone gentle but firm. "we can talk about anything, remember? no secrets between us." he reached out, his hand hovering near yours, an unspoken invitation. "if something's bothering you, if you don't want to be intimate anymore, you can just tell me. i’m not going to push you or make you uncom—“

your heart clenched at his words, a painful twist of emotion. the thought of him believing you didn't want to be with him, that you were pulling away from him... it was unbearable.

you shook your head vigorously, your voice rising in protest. "no, no, it's not that! i do want to be intimate with you, i swear. you know that, right?" your eyes searched his face, desperate for reassurance, for confirmation that he understood the depth of your feelings for him.

eddie’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "of course i know that," he murmured, his hand finally closing the distance between you, his fingers intertwining with yours. the contact was electric, sending a jolt of warmth up your arm, chasing away the lingering chill of embarrassment. "but there's something else, isn't there? something you're not telling me."

you hesitated, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. the words hung on the tip of your tongue, a confession you were terrified to make but knew you needed to. "i… i’ve never..." you started, the admission trailing off into silence. eddie waited patiently, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand, a soothing motion that helped you find the courage to continue.

"i’ve never ridden anyone before," you finished in a rush, the words tumbling out like a confession. "the idea makes me a little nervous."

eddie’s eyes widened slightly, surprise etched across his handsome features. for a moment, he simply stared at you, processing your confession. then, slowly, a grin began to spread across his face, transforming his expression into one of pure adoration. "well, damn," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "here i was thinking you didn't find me attractive enough or something."

relief washed over you like a tidal wave, the tension in your shoulders melting away. eddie’s reaction, his willingness to joke about the situation rather than dwell on it, was exactly what you needed.

you laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within your chest. "shut up," you teased, playfully swatting at his arm. "like you have any reason to complain."

he caught your hand mid-swat, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. his dark eyes sparkled with mischief, a glint that sent a shiver down your spine.

"oh, i don't know about that," he purred, his voice low and husky. “ i mean, one of these days, i could definitely teach you a thing or two..."

your heart skipped a beat at his words, the promise in them igniting a fire low in your stomach. "yeah?" you breathed, the word slipping past your parted lips.

eddie nodded, his gaze locked on yours, his intent clear. "yeah," he confirmed, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the sensitive skin of your wrist. "and trust me, sweetheart, it'll be worth every second."

a week had passed since that conversation in the van, a stretch of time defined by anticipation and quiet longing. you both had been waiting for the perfect window—waiting for his uncle wayne to pull another double shift at the plant, or for your parents to be engrossed in their own lives, leaving you with precious hours of privacy.

finally, the stars aligned.

the air in eddie’s trailer was thick with the scent of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and the heavy, electric tension of desire. you were on his bed, tangled together in a heap of limbs and discarded layers. shirts had been shoved aside, jeans kicked off into a chaotic pile near the door. eddie was above you, his weight comforting rather than oppressive, his mouth claiming yours with a fervor that made your head spin. his hands roamed over your skin, mapping every curve, every sensitive spot, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

he pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his breathing ragged, before lowering himself again. this time, he didn’t aim for your lips. Instead, he trailed kisses down the column of your neck, lingering at the pulse point that hammered wildly beneath his touch. he moved lower, his lips brushing against your collarbone, then your chest, each kiss slow and deliberate, igniting nerves you hadn’t known existed. when he reached your stomach, you instinctively tried to still yourself, but a small shiver betrayed you, your hips twitching involuntarily as his tongue traced the line of your navel.

eddie paused, lifting his head to look at you. his eyes were dark, dilated with lust, but also filled with that familiar, teasing warmth. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back down, pressing soft, wet kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“need to make sure this pussy’s ready before it bounces on my cock, right?” he teased softly, his voice rough with want. the blunt honesty of it sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the sheets, and gave a small, hesitant nod.

his hands gripped your thighs, his thumbs digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, opening you up to him. but he didn’t stop there. he looked up at you, his gaze intense and unyielding.

“i need a verbal response, sweetheart,” he murmured teasingly, the vibration of his voice humming against your most sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight up your spine. the sound brought a soft, involuntary whimper from your throat, your hips twitching in anticipation despite your nerves.

“m-mhm. you’re right,” you said shakily, the words barely forming before they were swallowed by the heavy, charged air of the room.

eddie’s smile widened, a genuine, heartwarming expression that softened the hunger in his eyes. “atta girl.”

he didn’t wait for further permission; he knew he had it. With deliberate slowness, he lowered himself between your legs, his hands resting gently on your hips to steady you, not to restrain, but to anchor.

this time, there was no teasing remark, no playful provocation. there was only focused, reverent attention.

when his tongue finally made contact, it was a slow, sweeping stroke that drew a sharp gasp from your lips. your back arched instinctively off the mattress, your fingers tangling in the sheets as the sensation overwhelmed your senses. eddie worked with a patience that bordered on artistic, exploring you with a curiosity that told you he was memorizing every reaction, every shiver, every way your body responded to him.

“look at you,” he whispered against you, his breath hot and wet, before taking you deeper. “so responsive. so perfect for me.”

the praise washed over you like warm water, easing the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach since you’d first confessed your inexperience. he wasn’t rushing. he wasn’t judging. every time you tensed up out of habit or fear, he would pause, pulling back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“you’re doing so good,” he’d murmur, brushing his thumb over your hip or stroking your thigh. “just breathe for me. i’ve got you.”

his technique was masterful—a rhythmic, deliberate dance of suction, flicking tongues, and warm, wet pressure that seemed to know the precise geography of your desire. he moved from broad, sweeping strokes that teased the edges of your pleasure to small, pinpoint bursts of intensity directly where you needed it most.

"god, you feel so wet already," he’d sigh against you, the sound vibrating through your core, before shifting his focus, drawing out a deep, satisfying pull that made you gasp his name.

when you started to lose yourself in the sensation, starting to ride the edge of overwhelming feeling, you instinctively reached up, your fingers finding purchase in the thick, soft hair at the nape of his neck. you began to buck your hips upward, a sudden surge of instinct demanding more, faster. but eddie held you firmly in place, his hands anchoring your thighs to the mattress.

“easy,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, yet saturated with affection. “you have plenty of time for that later, trust me. right now, you just lie there and let me make you feel good, yeah?”

his words were a command, but they were delivered with such tenderness that you obeyed instantly. you forced yourself to relax, to stop fighting the inevitable and instead surrender to it. eddie sensed the shift. he increased his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you in time with the frantic licks of his tongue. he sucked on your clit with a suction that made your vision blur, alternating between slow, languid strokes and rapid, teasing flicks that built a pressure coiling tight at the base of your spine. each kiss, each suckle, brought out an involuntary moan or whimper from your parted lips. he praised every quiver, every catch of breath, every subtle shift in your muscles.

"see? you like that pace," he'd breathe, a triumphant note in his tone. "you’re being so good for me, sweet girl. so patient.”

your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, anchoring him to you as the world narrowed down to the slick heat of his mouth and the rough texture of his jeans against your thighs. a low, guttural groan vibrated directly into your core, a sound of pure pleasure that seemed to fuel eddie’s rhythm even more. he didn’t pull away; instead, he leaned into your touch, his tongue flattening out to lap at your swollen clit with relentless, teasing precision.

“i’m gonna—” you whimpered, your voice breaking into a ragged gasp. your back arched off the mattress, your toes curling so hard they ached. the coil inside you was tight, dangerously close to snapping. “eddie, i’m gonna come…”

he hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your entire body, but he didn’t stop. if anything, his movements became more deliberate, more focused on drawing out every last drop of sensation from you. he knew exactly what to do, his instincts sharp and attuned to your reactions. he sucked gently, then flicked rapidly, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing touches that kept you on the edge without letting you fall too soon.

“yeah?” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “come for me, sweetheart. let it go.”

the command broke the dam. you cried out, your hips bucking despite his earlier warning, but this time he held you firm, his hands like vices on your waist, keeping you grounded while he worked you through the climax. kt started as a deep thrum in your stomach, spreading outward in waves of intense, blinding pleasure. your inner muscles clamped down around nothing, pulsing rhythmically as the orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

as the waves began to subside, eddie slowed his pace. he didn’t pull away immediately. instead, he continued to kiss and lick the sensitive, oversensitive flesh, drawing out the aftershocks, ensuring you rode the high of your release for as long as possible. his tongue traced soft, soothing patterns, calming your racing heart and easing the tension from your limbs. you laid there, panting, your hand still tangled loosely in his hair, your body feeling light and electrically charged.

eddie’s grin widened as he slipped his mouth away, the cool night air brushing the heat he’d just left behind. he lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, dark and glinting with satisfaction.

“there we go,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, “look at you, all trembling and beautiful.”

he reached up, his fingers finding the curve of your jaw, thumb tracing the line of your cheek. “you did good, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “now sit up for me.”

your limbs felt heavy, but the promise in his tone pulled you forward. you swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, the thin sheets rustling as you shifted. eddie helped you adjust, his hands steadying your hips, his breath warm against your ear.

“we’re gonna take this slow,” he said, his tone both instruction and reassurance. “i want you to feel every inch of me inside you, not just the rush.”

he shifted his weight, his own body aligning with yours. the bed creaked under the new angle, the sound a soft, intimate percussion. he leaned back, his back against the headboard, giving you space to settle onto him. the mattress dipped as you lowered yourself, his length pressing against your core. yiu could feel the faint tremor of anticipation in his muscles, the way his breath hitched as you found your balance.

“okay?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours, the question hanging like a promise.

you nodded, feeling a mixture of nerves and thrill. “okay,” you echoed, your voice steadier than you felt.

he placed his hands on your hips, his palms warm and firm. “you’re in control now,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “ride me the way you want.

you blinked once, twice, before the meaning of his words sank in. control. you were in control now. the realization settled into your bones, filling you with a sense of power and trepidation in equal measure.

his hands remained steady on your hips as you rocked forward experimentally, your body moving on instinct alone. the sensation was unlike anything you'd experienced before—full, overwhelming, the stretch delicious in its intensity. eddie inhaled sharply as you found your rhythm, his grip tightening fractionally on your hips.

“like this," he encouraged hoarsely, his voice strained with concentration as his hands on your hips guided you. "nice and slow."

you nodded mutely, your focus narrowing down to the slide of skin against skin, the drag of muscle against nerve ending. up and down, your hips rolled almost imperceptibly, but the effect was immediate. eddie’s breath grew ragged, his hips canting involuntarily to meet your movement.

“that’s it," he gasped, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fought the urge to buck into your embrace. "fuck, you feel so good."

pride blossomed in your chest at his reaction, a fierce joy suffusing your limbs. you leaned forward, changing the angle subtly. eddie’s head fell back against the pillow, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a strangled groan.

"yeah," he breathed, his eyelids fluttering closed as sensation threatened to overwhelm him. "just like that. you like taking this cock, huh?”

your eyes fluttered open, meeting his dark, hooded gaze. the filthy praise sent a shiver through you, your walls clamping down around him reflexively. you let out a soft whimper, the sound catching in your throat as pleasure spiraled through your core.

"mmm, yeah," he groaned, his fingers flexing into your skin. "do that again. squeeze me like that."

you bit your lip, rocking your hips in a circular motion, grinding down against him. the friction sent sparks shooting through your veins, making your head fall back. "eddie!" you gasped, the name torn from your lips.

"that’s it, baby," he panted, his voice dropping to a husky rumble. “ride this cock like you mean it. it’s all yours.”

encourage by his words, you picked up the pace, your movements becoming less tentative and more confident. your hands braced against his chest, using the leverage to lift yourself higher before sinking back down in a deliberate, punishing rhythm.

"fuckkk," he grunted, his hips surging up to meet yours. "your pussy feels so good—god, i can feel you clenching…”

your breath came in short, desperate pants, your chest heaving with exertion. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small trailer, mixing with the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joining. eddie’s hands moved from your hips to your thighs, pushing them apart to expose you more fully to his gaze.

“there," he rasped, his eyes glued to where you took him. "show me how much you love this. show me how badly you need it."

your cheeks burned, but the command sparked something primal in you. you arched your back, rolling your hips in a way that had him cursing under his breath. "i… i need..." you stammered, unable to finish the thought.

"i know," eddie breathed, his thumb finding your clit and circling it lazily. "i know what you need, sweetheart. and you're gonna get it."

the combination of his cock filling you, his thumb working your clit, and his dirty, praising words proved too much.

your movements began to falter, your thighs trembling with exhaustion as you ground down against him. small, desperate whimpers escaped your lips, the sounds mingling with eddie’s ragged breaths.

a knowing smirk tugged at his mouth. "aw, you tired, sweetheart?" his voice was rough, teasing. "tired from riding this big cock?"

you nodded helplessly, your eyes glazed with pleasure and fatigue. "mhm…"

"let me help you, yeah?" he shifted his grip, his large hands moving from your hips to your waist. before you could process the change, he began lifting and bouncing you down onto his length with practiced ease, establishing a rhythm that had both of you groaning.

“oh god!" you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders for support. the sudden increase in speed and force sent shockwaves through your exhausted body, reigniting every nerve ending.

"atta girl," eddie grunted, his hips driving upward to meet your descent. "take every inch of me. you were doing so good, baby. listening to me so well. don’t stop now."

his words fueled what little energy you had left. you matched his movements, pushing down as hard as he lifted you up, the wet slap of flesh echoing through the room. your breasts bounced with each impact, and eddie’s gaze tracked the movement hungrily.

“so fucking pretty," he breathed, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "feels so good inside you."

you were close, so close you could feel the pressure building deep in your core. eddie must have sensed it too. "that’s it," he urged, his voice dropping to a desperate rasp. "come for me again. milk my cock, sweetheart. i’m right there with you."

your nails dug into his shoulders, your entire body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. you heard eddie’s sharp groan as he followed you over the edge, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled into you.

his hips jerked forward one last time, pressing hard against you as thick, hot spurts filled you, each pulse a warm, liquid rush that spread through your core and made your walls flutter around him. you could feel the rhythmic throbbing of his release, the way his cock twitched and softened inside you, sending a lingering heat that mingled with the aftershocks of your own climax. a soft, satisfied sigh escaped his lips as he stilled, his forehead resting against yours, both of you trembling in the aftermath.

his breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly against yours, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the ragged inhale and exhale of two bodies slowly coming down from the high. eddie’s hands, still gripping your waist, eased their hold, his thumbs tracing gentle circles over your skin as he tried to ground himself. he lifted his head just enough to brush his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss—tender, reverent, a silent thank you for the trust you’d given him.

you smiled into the kiss, your lips still tingling from the intensity, and returned it with equal softness, feeling his breath mingle with yours.

when you finally parted, eddie’s dark eyes searched yours, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "how was it?" he asked, his voice rough but warm.

a genuine smile spread across your face, your cheeks flushed and your hair disheveled. "i’d definitely do it again," you answered honestly, punctuating the statement with a soft laugh. "thanks to you being a good teacher."

he chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead. "anytime, sweetheart. anytime."

────────

“This is the worst night of my life.” You groan, your eyes sweeping over to the other side of the room where your ex stood. He had a beer in one hand and his new girlfriend on the other. Billy Hargrove was now dating Heather fucking Holloway- and you wanted to die.

It hadn’t even been a week and he had moved on like it was nothing. Like you meant nothing. You had spent several nights in a row crying into your pillow over him and he clearly didn’t even care. While you were bawling your eyes out until they were red and puffy, Billy Hargrove was already hooking up with someone else. The worst part was that you couldn’t even say that you were surprised. Not even in the slightest. So, why did it sting so bad?

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs “I told you not to look at him.”

“I can’t help it!” You whine “He looks so fucking good.”

Billy looked so good that you felt like it was just to spite you. Tight Levi 501 jeans, a gray t-shirt that was snug against his chest and biceps, and black boots. He looked hot. Way too hot to be with someone that wasn't you.

“He doesn’t look that good.” Eddie replies, sipping from his red solo cup full of whatever liquor he could get his hands on. “I don’t know what you see in him. He’s a total douche. Like, seriously, who the hell is that full of themselves? The guy is the walking definition of a narcissist.”

“I can’t believe he’s dating Heather Holloway. We’ve barely even been broken up and he’s on to someone else? Seriously?”

“Like I said, Sweetheart,” Eddie replies “He’s a narcissist. He needs someone around him constantly to feed into his ridiculous ego. Now that it’s not you, he just found the next available option. He’s not worth it.”

“Do you think she’s hot?” You croak, your insecure thoughts taking over before you could stop them.

“Huh? Who?” Eddie asks.

“Heather.” You reply “Do you think she’s, you know, pretty?”

“Heather Holloway? I mean, she’s pretty, I guess? I haven’t really thought about it.” Eddie answers truthfully. Because it was the truth. Eddie didn’t think much about other girls. Not when you were the only one he noticed.

“Do you think she’s prettier than me?” You ask, causing Eddie’s heart to skip a beat. Were you seriously asking him this?

Comparing you and Heather Holloway was like comparing a McDonald’s cheeseburger to a succulent filet mignon. Heather Holloway was cute, but you? You were gorgeous. There was no comparison. You were in a completely different league than Heather Holloway.

Before Eddie could answer, you let out a surprised squeak.

“Shit!” You hiss “He’s looking over here!”

You quickly avert your gaze, suddenly pretending to be interested in a patch on Eddie’s vest- your finger tracing the stitching in an attempt to look busy.

“Is he still looking?” You ask, butterflies wrecking havoc in your stomach.

“Yeah.” Eddie answers, taking another sip of his drink.

“What’s he doing?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But you did care- a lot.

“He’s, uh, still looking at us.” Eddie stammers in response

“He’s just looking?”

“Yeah.” Eddie responds “He’s just watching. He looks pissed.”

“Pissed? What do you mean?”

“He’s watching the way that you’re playing with my jacket. I think it’s pissing him off.” Eddie admits.

“But why would he be-“

It hits you mid-sentence as you realize where your hands were- touching Eddie. From afar and without context to the situation, it could look as if you were touching on him in a way that could be deemed as flirtatious.

Oh.

“come on! pretty please? you never go!”

“because it’s stupid. hell no, i’m not going.”

but all it took was a pout of your lips before eddie sighed and gave in.

“fine. alright, i’m going.”

you squealed and bounced up and down, eddie’s eyes flickering down to your chest through your low-cut long sleeve. you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, his hands immediately going to your waist to steady you through your excitement.

“thank you! don’t forget to get a ticket.” you said with a wide smile, effortlessly charming. you were already leaving, but that didn’t stop his gaze from following your figure and the sway of your hips.

he shook his head and turned his attention back to his locker, putting his wired earplugs into his ear. he raised the volume of his ipod, slipknot violently playing at loud volume.

you cornered him at his locker when you begged him to come to the pep rally. you were cheering—one of the cheerleaders had come down with mono, and they needed a last-minute replacement: someone who could do the routines and dance well enough to get the crowd going. you fit the bill, even if it was just one performance before the original girl came back.

still, you were excited. eddie never got to see you dance, unless it was in his trailer when you danced to some pop punk group he only tolerated when you were around.

in the gym, the energy was loud and disruptive. loud music was playing—some song you liked, but eddie didn’t. “im not gonna teach him how to dance with you” by black kids. after your routine, your eyes scanned the bleachers for eddie, until you eventually found him sitting with steve and a couple of his other friends.

you smiled excitedly, waving a pompom at him. he waved back with a softer smile, mouthing, “this song sucks.”

you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of ever since i was a little girl.

you flashed a charming smile at the crowd, waving your pom-pom—completely oblivious to how spellbound eddie was as you soaked up the attention.

1! i’m biting my tongue!

you never once noticed how eddie would freeze mid-motion, utterly lost in you.

2! he’s kissing on you!

“you’re totally in love with her.”

3! oh why can’t you see?

steve’s comment made eddie whip his head around quickly, his curls flying. “what? she’s my best friend.”

steve mocked him with the wave he did earlier, making eddie roll his eyes and turn back to look at her.

the pep rally crowd was still buzzing when you slipped away to find eddie, the tinny screech of some metal band leaking from his earbuds. you ignored the stares that followed you, your fingers tracing the heart-shaped pendant he'd given you for your birthday last summer. but when your eyes caught a few of the guys watching, you let your gaze linger—just long enough to flash something flirtatious.

“hey, vamp.”

“what’s up, slayer?” he shot back, meeting your eyes with a playful grin.

“you and me are going out tonight.” you said teasingly as you leaned against the locker beside him, leaving no room for questions.

“yeah? why tonight?”

“because twisted vixen is playing at the hideout,” you replied. “they’re this new glam metal band from the city. i saw their myspace page, and the lead singer is extra salty.”

you moved closer to his locker to fix your hair in the small mirror he hung up inside. “plus, there’ll be some salty chicks out there for you too.”

he stared at you, not convinced. he wasn’t interested in anybody else. and he didn’t want to spend his friday night watching some poser slip his tongue down your throat.

you met his gaze after realizing how quiet he was. you pouted slightly, leaning back against the locker again. “come on, eddie.”

“i promised my uncle i’d watch a movie with him tonight. he’s not getting any younger, y’know—“ total lie.

you rolled your eyes with a soft groan, clearly not caring in the slightest. “boo, cross out eddie.” you said as you x’d him out with your finger.

you squinted at him, watching his reaction as if challenging him to say no. he sighed with a small smile, knowing he couldn’t refuse.

“what time is the show?”

you smiled victoriously. “pick me up at 8:30. i’ll send you their myspace page when i get home.”

he hummed in response, clearly not thrilled.

your eyes dragged over him slow, from the fall of his long hair past his shoulders to the scuffed toes of his boots. his leather jacket, his hellfire shirt soft and faded, his baggy jeans that slung low. and every inch of him—the skull belt, the spike bracelets, the worn-in smirk—made you want to look longer. you found him attractive. you’d never said it, but you'd never been subtle about it either.

and he noticed. it got him off more than he wanted to admit, knowing that you found him more attractive than most men that hit on you.

“wear something hot, okay?”

“okay.”

and with that, he watched you go. he swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your flirtatious gaze made him feel. why did you have to tease him like that?

when he got home, he greeted wayne before heading off to his room. he immediately got on his computer, opening myspace so he could see what you sent him. and there it was. the page of the glam metal band you wanted to see that night. the leader singer was definitely attractive. he thought the guy on the drums might’ve been more your type, but girls like you don’t go out with drummers.

a notification popped up.

vicious_vamp: r u jerking off to it? <3

he rolled his eyes, clicking it before his fingers moved to type on the keyboard.

x_gargoylegrim_x: i’m good. js disappointed ur wasting ur time on that

vicious_vamp: omfg wtv h8r!!! >:( what r u gonna wear?

x_gargoylegrim_x: idk… maybe my dio shirt

vicious_vamp: ew no!!! that’s so 80s

x_gargoylegrim_x: :(

x_gargoylegrim_x: it’s literally a glam metal show tho :( ppl might look 80s

vicious_vamp: still??? ur not bagging anything with that.

vicious_vamp: wear the black tank or smth. it looks hxc!!!

x_gargoylegrim_x: u js like it cuz it shows off my arms

vicious_vamp: yup!!! <3 gtg xoxo

he chuckled as he watched you go offline. he got up from his desk and went over to the closet, picking out the blank tank you wanted him to wear. you were right—it did make his arms look good, thanks to the late hours at the mechanic shop.

when he picked you up, you were wearing a strapless mini dress in a bold leopard print. over the dress, you layered an oversized black leather aviator jacket, heavily lined and trimmed with a thick, plush beige faux fur along the collar, lapels, and cuffs.

around your neck, you wore a layered combination of a thick black leather choker adorned with silver metal studs and the longer, delicate silver chain heart pendant. your legs were styled with a black leather thigh garter featuring metal o-rings and buckles, worn over sheer, distressed black thigh-high stockings that had horizontal rips and a faded, textured pattern.

he let out a low whistle as you got in the passenger seat.

“all that for the singer?”

“it won’t be on too long, don’t worry.” you added cheekily.

that made his heart clench, but he ignored it. he pulled out your driveway and started heading towards the dive bar.

the hideout was a remote bar, located between an abandoned steelworks and a fallow cornfield. surprisingly, the inconvenient location became an advantage. it attracted a handful of regular alcoholics (such as drunk sam who frequently hit on you despite your age) and it became profitable to high schoolers engaging in lurking activities.

beverly, a five-foot tall woman with maroon-dyed hair, owned the bar. her “fifty-cent beer nights” were always a hit at attracting new customers. but she didn’t really pay attention to who the alcohol got served to, meaning you and eddie—along with other juniors and seniors that frequented the place—got to drink without getting in trouble.

when you and eddie entered the bar, the bouncer wrote x’s on your hands in black sharpie. you scanned the place, noticing it was more packed than usual. definitely louder too.

there had been a lot of fights inside the bar, so a lot of the windows were bricked up. it was also pretty dark, but the neon lighting helped. the wooden stage they had was also in poor condition. you had seen eddie perform there with his band, corroded coffin, on tuesdays. he tripped on stage once, and you never let it go.

“maybe andy will trip too.” you teased, making eddie groan.

“it was a one time thing. and andy? seriously? you’re on first name basis with this guy now?”

“i did a little digging,” you admitted with a shrug. “found no girlfriend, too. it’s always been a dream of mine to date a rockstar.” you added playfully, shooting him a wink.

it felt like an arrow to the heart. “wow, okay. you’re looking at one right now and yet you’re wasting your time on this asshole.” he murmured.

“they’re bigger.”

the double meaning wasn’t lost on him. “i doubt that.”

you hummed, your eyes briefly raking over him again before you looked at the stage. he noticed, looking at your face a little longer before following your gaze. the band was setting up, and he saw the guy you were looking for.

andy. he almost scoffed. his voluminously long, blonde hair was spiked up and he was wearing large, dark sunglasses even though it was dark inside. there was no reason to look “cool” if there was a risk of tripping on stage. he was wearing a sleeveless black leather top and a heavily studded leather belt, along with multiple silver studded bracelets and wristbands. his left arm was also extensively covered with large, detailed, colorful tattoo sleeves.

eddie was jealous. extremely jealous. he knew the guy was attractive, and he knew you could have anybody that you wanted. plus, it was a fucking glam metal band. of course some band members are gonna look to sleep around.

“i think they need a groupie.”

he sighed, already feeling overwhelmed. “sweetheart—“

“come on! come with me. it’s just a guy, eds.”

“i’m a guy.”

you rolled your eyes. “i know, but you and i both know that guys are very easy to manipulate. morsels. girls have all the power, y’know.”

before he could say anything, you proved your point by cupping your boobs through your dress.

“these are like smartbombs. you point them in the right direction and shit gets real!”

you walked away and headed for the stage, his jaw dropping momentarily before he followed after you.

he could already see the bassist’s eyes on you, his eyes widening slightly. he mentally cursed at himself for coming. he was just going to torture himself.

you got their attention pretty quickly when you introduced yourself. “hi.”

the lead singer looked up from his amp, setting his guitar down. he gave you a charming smile—one that made eddie’s blood boil, because he knew it was fake.

“hey. i’m andy. these are the guys. daniel, beck, and karl. we’re—“

“twisted vixen,” you finished for him with a smile. andy looked back at the guys in slight surprise that you recognized them. his ego looked like it inflated a little. “yeah, i’ve heard about you guys. you play your instruments really… super good.” you said, looking up at him with that practiced doe-eyed expression eddie had seen you use countless of times.

and andy was falling for it. “thank you. we are professionals.” he said proudly, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. you caught that and you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

meanwhile, eddie felt like he wanted to vomit.

“yeah, we just wanted to meet you. i’m eddie munson. my girlfriend here is a big fan.”

you looked back at him with a glare. andy raised an eyebrow.

“girlfriend?”

“he meant girl that’s a friend,” you murmured, turning back to him. “we’re platonic with a capital p, trust me.”

eddie nodded, his jaw tight as he stuck his hands in his pockets. andy looked relieved, and that made him want to punch him.

desperate to lighten the mood up again, you spoke. “can i, um… can i buy you a drink?” you asked coyly, batting your lashes.

andy smirked. “sure, what are we having?”

“um, they have coors, pabst blue ribbon, bud light, jack and coke, off-brand pop, and some vodka. i wouldn’t recommend the pbr, though.” you admitted with a chuckle.

“thanks for the tip, doll. i’ll have what you usually get.” he said, his voice dripping with smooth charm.

“i’m boring,” you said sheepishly. “i get a jack and coke.”

andy remained unfazed. “a jack and coke then.”

you smiled, nodding. “i’ll be right back.”

andy went back to his bandmates as you turned to leave. eddie got in your way before you could head to the open bar.

“woah, hey. how are you gonna get alcohol?” he asked, a little concerned.

“get real. you know bev doesn’t give a shit on who’s buying.”

“i’m well aware. but i’ve never seen you buy.”

your eyes weren’t even on him when he called out your lie. they were just at the open bar, looking at the bartender with the glint in your eye that sparkled when you were already planning something. “uh… i don’t know, i’ll just play hello titty with the bartender.”

you moved passed him. eddie sighed, wanting to kick himself. you were clearly focused on getting with andy, and eddie knew he had no chance of talking you out of it. to busy himself, he went over to the pinball machine.

while he was there, he ended up hearing some of the band’s conversations.

“not a lot of lookers out there, honestly.”

“yeah, there is. that girl in the faux coat was the hottest one though.”

eddie’s jaw tightened.

“relax. that one is andy’s girl. you know how he gets when you try sharing.”

“pfft, right. she’s only gonna be his girl for one night. you know he can’t get over his old lady, darla.”

eddie’s hand paused on the machine. andy had a wife.

“divorced. it was some thing that happened after they graduated highschool. now he’s 24 and lookin’ to score!”

“kinda sick though. the girl looked young.”

“well, you know he likes virgins.”

eddie heard enough. he felt sick to his stomach.

he left the machine and walked up to the stage again.

“hey. where the hell is andy?”

the band looked taken aback by eddie’s hostility.

the bassist, daniel, spoke up. “he went out back to smoke in his van before he performed. why—“

“okay,” eddie cut him off sharply. “so then give him a message for me when he gets back. that’s my best friend you guys were talking about, and it doesn’t matter whether she’s a virgin or not. she’s not gonna sleep with a creep like him regardless. got it?”

they all nodded immediately and eddie walked away, determined to find you.

he met you halfway when you were coming back from the open bar, holding a tray of two jack and coke drinks.

you lit up when you saw him. “hey! i ran into drunk sam back there. started hitting on me again. but he ended up buying me the drinks so i guess—“

“those guys are rank, sweetheart. just forget about it.” he informed with a sigh, clearly annoyed.

your brows furrowed in confusion. “what? i think the lead singer totally wants me.”

“only because he thinks you were a virgin. i heard them talking.”

now you were offended. “what?! i’m not even a backdoor virgin.”

he didn’t know whether to groan or laugh.

“and by the way, that hurts! i couldn’t even go see your band play here the next day. i had to stay home and sit on a bag of frozen peas.” you mumbled sadly.

“oh my god,” he exhaled, his patience wearing thin. still, he chuckled at how blunt you were with him. you were always pretty comfortable sharing your sex life or bad date experiences with him. “i definitely remember.”

you huffed. “well, what am i supposed to do with these now?” you looked down at the tray.

eddie shrugged. “more for me and you, i guess.”

still, your eyes trailed over to the stage when andy came back. the other members were talking to him, glancing their way at the table you and eddie were at. andy met your eyes, and you waved. he waved back, but it was almost hesitant.

“well, maybe it’s fine. he’s not gonna know the difference, right?”

eddie stared at you. “sweetheart—“

“don’t lecture me, eds.”

“i’m not lecturing you. i’m just saying he has a wife.”

now your eyes snapped back to him. “what?!”

“well, sort of. he’s divorced.”

you groaned softly. “oh my god, you’re terrible at telling me things. why don’t you just start off with that?”

“because it’s common sense to not sleep with a 24 year old. and now i just told you he has an ex-wife,” eddie snapped. “you’re better than that, honey. you just demean yourself to that level ‘cause you’ve become rather comfortable with it.”

you paused, knowing he was right. it didn’t soften the harsh impact of his words, though.

his eyes softened as he read your hurt expression.

“look, i’m sorry—“

“no, it’s fine.“ you murmured, setting the drinks down on the table beside you. “watch the drinks. i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

his mouth opened to speak but you were already gone.

he sighed, deciding to grab one of the drinks and take a sip as he waited for you. the band was gonna start soon. he didn’t care if they were bad or good. he just wanted to take you home and make sure you were away from those misogynistic pricks. they had no right to be in the metal scene when they were targeting young girls like that, no matter how common it was.

you came back after a couple of minutes, your makeup touched up a little more than before. eddie got off the table he was leaning on.

“hey, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to be hard on you,” he said immediately, his tone gentle and sincere.

you looked a little surprised but you shook your head. “it’s fine, eds, really—“

“no, i’m gonna settle this right now, okay? i didn’t mean to hurt you or anything. that’s the last thing i want to do. i just… don’t like seeing you object yourself like that,” he admitted. “you’re so much more than your body, sweetheart.”

you paused, genuinely moved by his words. nobody had ever said anything like that to you before, especially in such a sincere way like eddie just did.

“thanks, eddie. that really meant a lot.” you admitted.

he smiled, but before he could speak, andy came up to your table.

“hey, i was wondering where my drink was.” his tone was provocative, deliberately alluring.

“oh, here.” you said with a smile, handing him the drink eddie didn’t touch.

andy took a long sip, his eyes locked on yours in almost a predatory manner. when he was done, he sighed. “i needed that.”

eddie watched the interaction between you two, focusing on your face. you were clearly hooked again, completely forgetting everything he told you.

“we’re gonna start in a bit. it’s mostly covers, but we were planning on sharing a few originals afterwards.”

“that’s amazing.” you said almost dreamily.

“uh huh. you can come to the front, if you want. invite your friend too.” andy met eddie’s eyes with a smirk. eddie glared at him.

“yeah! for sure!” you jumped at the opportunity. andy got ahold of your hand, leading you to the front. you looked back at eddie and mouthed, “sorry!”

he rolled his eyes. he was so done, but he needed to stay in order to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. he followed you both with his drink still in hand until andy reached the front. he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it before he got on stage, making you giggle softly. it pissed eddie off.

eddie stood next to you as the band started playing—loud and energetic. they were getting the crowd going with their cover of “girls, girls, girls” by mötley crüe. you bobbed your head to the beat, occasionally glancing at eddie to playfully mouth the lyrics. he cracked a slight smile, finding the sight endearing.

since i was born, they couldn’t hold me down.

when that song finished, they began playing “youth gone wild” by skid row. you held his hand tightly. you knew that was one of eddie’s favorites. you squealed softly, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

another misfit kid, another burned out town.

you winked at him as you mouthed the words to eddie.

“this song reminds me of you, y’know!” you said loudly over the music.

“really?!” he shot back.

you nodded. “you just kinda have that charisma to you!” you explained. “it’s hot! i’m surprised you haven’t used it on anybody yet!”

you turned your attention back on the band but eddie’s eyes stayed on you. he swallowed, your words affecting him more than he wanted to admit.

“i guess i’m too busy using all of it on you.”

you heard him as your eyes met his for a brief moment.

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

the energy between you two shifted into something tense. it made you feel a little uneasy, but in a thrilling way. even the room seemed to dim around the edges. you could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes didn't leave yours. for a moment, everything else fell away. there was only the two of you, and the sharp, electric thread that now ran between your bodies—crackling with everything unsaid.

but the moment was cut short when andy spoke into the microphone.

“this one goes out to a very special lady that distracted me tonight. she’s in the crowd right now, actually.”

andy met your gaze, shooting you a wink.

a couple of whistles erupted from the crowd.

“this is cherry pie by warrant.”

you looked starstruck as the opening riff ripped through the speakers. eddie had enough. he dropped your hand like it burned him and disappeared into the crowd. you watched him go, confused, then glanced back at the stage. the band was still playing, but there was obviously something wrong. you turned and followed him to the bathroom.

there, you saw him leaning against the wall as he lit up a cigarette.

“eds? are you okay—“

“don’t give me that shit,” he muttered through the cigarette in his mouth, his eyes not even looking your way. “not tonight.”

you blinked. “excuse me?”

"we do the same thing every time.” he let the smoke drift from his lips, slow and deliberate—his eyes meeting yours. the cigarette dangled between his fingers as he pointed it at you. "you flirt with me. then you disappear with some asshole for a couple hours. then you come back and tell me all about it, like i’m supposed to enjoy the show."

the words hit you somewhere unexpected. you’d never seen him like this—that sharp edge in his voice, the way his jaw tightened around the words. he wasn't teasing. he wasn't deflecting with a joke like he always did.

the realization settled over you slowly, like heat creeping up your neck.

"are you jealous?"

he went still. so still that the only movement was the smoke still escaping his lips. the silence stretched long enough that you thought he'd laugh it off, make some crack, change the subject. that’s what eddie always did.

but he didn't.

"yeah." he nodded, once, almost like the admission cost him something. "i am."

your breath caught.

you’d always figured eddie found you attractive—every guy did, and you'd learned to read that look early. but this wasn't that. this was something raw and unguarded, the kind of honesty that only came out when someone was tired of pretending. every late-night phone call, every time he'd drove you home, every joke that landed a little too soft—it all reframed itself in your mind, each memory clicking into a new shape.

you stepped closer. the space between you collapsed until you could feel the heat coming off his skin, smell the mingled traces of smoke and leather. your hands came up to fix the collar of his jacket, straightening the lapels just to have something to do with them.

“why didn't you tell me?" your voice came out softer than you intended. silkier.

you saw the way his throat moved when he swallowedz

"dunno. i didn't think you were interested." his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a fraction of a second, before snapping back up.

you let out a quiet hum, low in your throat. "well." you tilted your head, letting him see the way your gaze traced the shape of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw. "you were wrong."

his breath hitched. you felt it—the way his chest stopped mid-rise, the way his fingers twitched like he was restraining himself from reaching for you.

“yeah?" the word came out rough, barely above a whisper.

"yeah." you let your fingers trail down from his collar, grazing the edge of his collarbone before resting flat against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm—fast, uneven, nothing like the cocky confidence he wore like armor. "you ever think that maybe i tell you about those guys because i’m trying to make you jealous?"

his eyes widened. just slightly. just enough.

"that’s a dangerous game to play, sweetheart." but the old playfulness was gone from his voice. what replaced it was something tender and uncertain, like he was holding the words carefully, afraid they'd break.

"is there a risk that comes with it?”

for a long moment, neither of you moved. the bathroom was silent except for the muffled music coming from outside. the smoke from his forgotten cigarette dissolved into nothing between you.

then, eddie put his cigarette out on the sink beside him before turning his attention back to you. the tension was intensifying with each passing moment the two of you didn’t speak.

then he broke.

his mouth crashed into yours—not gentle, not tentative, but deep and claiming, like he'd been holding this back for so long the dam had finally shattered. there was hunger in the way his lips moved against yours, a desperation that made your knees go weak. you gasped against his mouth and your hands flew up, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer like you couldn't get enough.

he walked you backward, step by stumbling step, until your spine hit the edge of a stall door. his hand found the lock, twisted it, and then you were inside, the door swinging shut behind you. he pressed you against the wall—harder than expected—and a sharp moan slipped out as the cold metal dug into your back.

"shit—sorry," he breathed against your lips, his hand sliding to the small of your back to cushion you. "got carried away."

“‘s okay,” you panted. “i’ve had rougher.”

he groaned against your mouth in between kisses. “that’s not what i want to hear right now.”

“yeah? you scared you’ll disappoint?”

you were just egging him on at this point, trying to see how far you could push him. It was your favorite game with eddie—toeing the line, watching that flash of something dark flicker behind his eyes before he laughed it off and changed the subject. uou'd been doing it for years, ever since you realized how easy it was to get under his skin.

but tonight, he didn't laugh it off.

his hand slid from your back to your hip, fingers curling into the fabric hard enough to pull a sharp inhale from your lungs. he pulled back just far enough to look at you—really look at you—and the heat in his gaze made your stomach flip.

"disappoint you?" his voice dropped, low and rough, scraping against something raw in your chest. he tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his lips, but there was nothing playful in his eyes. "sweetheart, i’ve listened to you complain about guys who couldn't find a clit with a map and a flashlight. you think i haven't been taking notes?"

your breath caught. "eddie—"

“i’ve sat through," he continued, leaning in until his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "every single story. the way you like it their hands roam, the way you like kissing during it. especially tonight with that asshole you were drooling over tonight, andy." he said the name like it tasted bitter. "you think i don't know exactly what you like by now?"

then his mouth was on yours again, but slower this time, deliberate. his hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, gripping your thigh and hitching it up around his waist. you gasped into his mouth as he pressed closer, and he used the opening to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping against yours with a confidence that made your head spin.

he pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing yours. "when i’m done with you," he murmured, voice rough as gravel, "you're gonna forget andy’s name entirely. you’re gonna forget every single one of them." his hand squeezed your thigh, firm and possessive. "and when you walk out of this bathroom, everyone's gonna know exactly who put that look on your face."

you arched into him, fingers twisting in his hair as his hand slid from your thigh, tracing the edge of your dress. his palm flattened against your hip, then drifted lower, fingers splaying over the fabric, pressing into the warmth between your legs.

he groaned against your throat. "jesus christ."

you knew exactly what he'd found. or rather, what he hadn't found.

"you’re not wearing any underwear?" his voice was strained, like he was holding onto the last thread of his composure by the tips of his fingers. he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and wild. "you came to a show, dressed like this, and you didn't even bother with panties?"

you bit your lip, trying to look innocent. "it’s more comfortable."

"comfortable." he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "you’re trying to kill me."

"am i succeeding?"

instead of answering, he pressed his palm harder against you, a firm, deliberate pressure through the thin fabric of your dress. your breath hitched, hips bucking instinctively into his hand.

"yeah," he murmured, "you're succeeding."

his fingers curled, finding the hem of your dress, and he dragged it up, inch by agonizing inch, until the fabric bunched around your waist. the cold air hit your bare skin, and you shivered, but the heat of his gaze was enough to set you on fire. he looked at you—spread open for him, nothing between you and his touch—and his jaw went slack.

"holy shit," he breathed. "you really meant it."

“did you think I was lying?"

"i didn't know what to think." his thumb traced a slow, featherlight line up your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you ached for him. "i’ve been trying not to imagine this for years. failing, obviously. but still trying."

you bucked your hips instinctively, chasing his touch, and he clicked his tongue.

"uh-uh. patience."

"eddie, i swear to god—"

"swear all you want." he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I’ve waited a long time for this. i’m gonna take my time."

you let out a frustrated sound, grabbing his wrist and trying to guide him, but he was stronger than you, holding steady, that infuriating smirk back on his lips.

"please touch me," you finally gritted out.

"where?"

"eddie."

"say it," he said, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. "i want to hear you say it."

you swallowed, your pride warring with the ache that was building low in your stomach. but the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made it easy to let go.

"i want you to touch my pussy," you whispered, continuing. "right there. please."

he didn't make you wait any longer.

his fingers slid through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, a low groan escaping his lips at the feel of you. "fuckkk," he breathed. "you’re so wet. is this all for me?"

you could only nod, your head falling back against the wall as his middle finger found your entrance, circling once before pressing inside. the stretch was perfect—just enough to make you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"yeah?" his voice was rough, strained. "that good?"

"d-don’t stop."

he didn't. he pushed deeper, curling his finger just right, and your vision went white at the edges. he added a second finger, stretching you slowly, giving you time to adjust, and the sound you made was embarrassingly desperate.

"look at you," he murmured, watching your face, your parted lips, the way your eyes fluttered shut. "taking my fingers so well. and i haven't even gotten to the good part yet."

his thumb found your clit, pressing in tight circles, and you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. he matched your rhythm, fingers pumping in and out, thumb working you relentlessly, and the pleasure built like a wave, coiling tight in your stomach.

"that’s it," he said, voice low and filthy. "i can feel you clenching around me. you close?"

"yes—eddie, i’m—"

"look at me."

you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and wet. he looked wrecked, and he'd barely even touched himself.

"i want to see your face when you come," he demanded. “i want to feel you pussy clench around my fingers before it takes my cock.”

that was all it took.

your orgasm crashed through you, a sharp, electric wave that made your whole body tremble. you cried out—his name, a broken sound—and he kept working you through it, fingers slowing, thumb gentling, until you were left gasping and boneless against the wall.

he pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips, and his eyes never left yours as he licked them clean.

"shit," he said, voice rough and satisfied. "you taste even better than i imagined."

your body was still trembling slightly. before you could speak, he pulled his hand back entirely and brought it down against your cunt in a light, sharp smack.

you jolted, a broken whimper spilling from your lips at the sudden sting, the overwhelming sensitivity radiating outward from where he'd struck.

"fuck—eddie—"

he soothed the spot with his palm, pressing firm and warm, before pulling back to look at you. his eyes were dark, but there was something soft flickering underneath, breaking through the teasing haze.

“hey," he said, his voice dropping, losing some of that rough edge. his free hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek, gentle and grounding. "this doesn't change the fact that i still care about you, alright? if it ever gets too much, or if you want to stop, tell me. i’m not just some random guy that gets lucky with you."

the sincerity in his voice hit you square in the chest. you reached up, covering his hand with yours, and nodded.

“i know," you said quietly. "i trust you."

he smiled—that real smile, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes—and pressed his forehead to yours. "okay. good."

then he kissed you, soft and deep, before pulling back with a familiar glint of mischief.

"now, where was i?”

his hands found your hips, gripping tight as he guided you to turn around. your palms hit the stall wall, cold metal biting into your skin, and you heard the jingle of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper. the sound of denim and boxers pooling at his ankles.

you looked over your shoulder, and there he was—flushed, half-undone, looking at you like you were something precious and filthy all at once.

"you ready, sweetheart?"

"you asking or bragging?"

he laughed, and it was warm and real and full of affection, even as he stepped closer, even as the head of his cock pressed against you, teasing, threatening.

"both," he muttered against your ear, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, the other gripping your hip. "

and then he pushed in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch, and your eyes rolled back as a deep, broken moan tore from your throat. he buried his face in your hair, groaning low and long, his grip on your hip tightening almost painfully.

“fuckkk," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you feel—fuck."

he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your ear. then he started to move—slow at first, deep and grinding, finding a rhythm that made your knees weak.

but it didn't stay slow for long.

soon the stall was filled with the sound of skin against skin, heavy breathing, broken moans, and eddie’s voice—teasing, praising, whispering promises against your skin that made your heart clench even as your body burned.

“oh fuck—god, you feel so fucking good, baby. i’m—i’m gonna make you feel so good, i promise. i fucking promise you.”

with each deepening thrust, a small, helpless whimper escaped your throat. your eyes squeezed shut against the dizzying pleasure, your brows furrowed in concentration, and your lips parted like a gasp for air. you fought to keep the noise contained in the cramped bathroom stall, but eddie’s relentless rhythm made it impossible.

“eddie, please don't stop— oh my god—"

he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, letting out a ragged sound that was half-groan, half-promise. "never, baby. I’ve got you."

his hand gripped your hips, anchoring you while his body hammered into yours. the soundscape of the stall was intoxicating: the rhythmic, wet slap as he filled you completely, punctuated by his own strained groans and your unrestrained cries. every slick, glorious squelch echoed off the tiles, cementing the fact that the small space was now entirely occupied by the heat and friction between you two.

as eddie continued to pound into you from behind, his grip on your hips tightened possessively. between labored breaths, he growled against your ear, "still thinking about andy, huh?" his voice was rough with jealousy and arousal. "with my cock buried deep inside you? can he make you feel this good?"

you whimpered, unable to form coherent words. your fingers clawed at the bathroom stall wall, leaving marks in the cheap paint.

eddie sensed your inability to speak and smirked wickedly. "that’s what I thought." he shifted his angle, hitting a spot that made your entire body jerk. "but you know who's really making you feel good right now, don't you?"

when you still couldn't answer through your gasps and moans, he pulled back slightly, then brought his palm down sharply on your ass. the sharp sting made you cry out, your inner walls clenching around him reflexively.

"who, baby?" he demanded, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "say my name."

"e-eddie!" you finally managed, your voice breaking.

"that's right," he groaned, his pace becoming erratic as he felt himself getting close. "fuck, you look so good like this... all mine."

your whole body was trembling now, coiled tight with the promise of release. "please, eddie," you begged, your voice thin and desperate. "i’m so close, inneed to—"

"no," he said firmly, slowing his pace just enough to pull you back from the edge. his hands moved from your hips to spread your cheeks wider, giving himself deeper access. "not yet, sweetheart. not until you're begging for it."

"i am begging!" you cried out, pushing back against him desperately. "please, i’ll do anything—"

"you will, won't you?" eddie chuckled darkly, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with maddeningly light touches. "such a good girl when you want something. but i want to hear how much you need this. how much you need me."

he established a new rhythm—slow, deliberate strokes that dragged his length through your soaked folds without giving you the friction you craved. each movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, but never quite enough to tip you over.

"eddie, please, i can't take it anymore!" you sobbed, your legs shaking violently.

"oh, but you can," he murmured, leaning over your back to whisper directly in your ear. "you’re going to take everything i give you, aren't you? every inch, every drop..."

his free hand slid beneath you, pressing firmly against your lower belly. "i can feel you clenching around me already. so fucking needy. you want to come on my cock, baby?"

"y-yeah!" the word almost became a chant as he resumed a faster pace, though still not fast enough to push you over that final precipice.

"that’s it, beg for it. tell me exactly what you want." his voice was thick with arousal as he watched his cock disappear into you again and again.

"i want you to fuck me harder! i want to come! please, eds, let me come!" your nails scraped against the bathroom tile.

eddie’s restraint finally snapped at your desperate pleas. "fuck yes, here it comes—" he drove into you with renewed force, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "come for me, beautiful. come on my cock.”

the permission, combined with the increased intensity, sent you spiraling. your orgasm ripped through you with such force that your vision went white.

he followed right after, holding you tight, pressing his forehead to the back of your neck as he murmured something so soft you almost missed it.

he kissed your shoulder before he carefully withdrew from you, both of you wincing at the sudden emptiness and sensitivity. he reached down to steady you as your legs threatened to buckle, his expression softening with concern.

“hey," he whispered, his voice rough but soft, stripped of the earlier dominance. "you okay?"

you tried to speak, to form a coherent sentence, but your throat was too dry, your body too spent. all you could manage was a weak nod, your eyes still squeezed shut as you fought to regain control of your breathing. a faint, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched your futile attempt to answer. he didn't press you; instead, he reached for the roll of toilet paper hanging on the dispenser. with careful, almost tender movements, he tore off several squares and began to clean you up. his touch was gentle, contrasting sharply with the fierce pounding from moments before, wiping away the mess they’d made in the confined space.

as he finished, tossing the used paper into the bin, the silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken things. the noise of the band outside had faded into a distant hum, replaced by the dripping of a faucet somewhere down the hall. eddie stepped back slightly, leaning against the wall as he looked at you.

"so..." eddie started, “that was... yeah." he laughed softly, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "are you sure you’re alright? like, really alright?"

you managed a breathy laugh, your body still trembling with aftershocks. "yeah, i’m—" you paused, searching for words. "that was intense."

"i told you," he replied, breathless and warm. "i would make you forget every single one of them."

you let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stand up straighter, though your knees still knocked together. you looked up at him, a playful glint returning to your eyes, masked by exhaustion. "well," you drawled, trying to summon some of your usual bravado. "it definitely worked. you fucked me so good, eddie... i almost said it."

he froze. the playful atmosphere shattered instantly. his eyes widened slightly, darkening with a sudden intensity that pinned you in place. "said what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

he didn't wait for you to answer. he knew exactly what you meant.

his expression shifted from shocked to vulnerable in an instant. his defenses—the bravado, the confidence, the protective shell he'd built around himself since you'd known him—all of it cracked. raw emotion flickered across his face: hope, fear, longing.

"don’t say it unless you mean it," he warned softly, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed him. he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. "because if you say it, i need you to actually mean it."

the air in the tiny stall grew heavy with unspoken feelings. outside, the music pulsed, reality continued—but in this moment, it was just the two of you suspended in time.

you swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the gravity of the moment. your usual confidence faltered as you stared up at him, seeing the raw emotion written across his features—the fear, the hope, the longing you’d somehow missed or deliberately ignored for so long.

"i almost said..." you started, hesitating. "i almost said i love you."

the confession hung between them like a prayer. eddie’s expression transformed completely—his jaw dropped slightly, color flooding into his cheeks. for a moment, he was speechless, simply staring at you as if you’d said something profound and impossible.

then, slowly, a brilliant smile broke across his face. it was different from any smile you’d seen from him before—not the cocky grin from earlier, but something pure and genuine that made her heart skip several beats.

"you do?" he breathed, his voice hoarse with emotion. "really?"

unable to speak past the sudden lump in you throat, you nodded. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as realization crashed over you—this wasn't just sex in a bathroom. this was eddie. your best friend. the boy who'd always been there, who'd known you better than anyone, who'd seen every version of yourself and still wanted you.

“jesus, you have no idea," eddie said softly as he pressed his forehead against yours. "i’ve been in love with you since... god, i don't even remember when anymore. maybe forever. i just thought—" he cut himself off, laughing shakily as nerves got the best of him.

"i thought tonight would just be... i don't know. one night. something to finally tell you how i feel, even if you didn't feel the same."

"you idiot," you whispered with a soft chuckle, wrapping you arms around his neck. "of course i feel the same. of course i do. i just... i didn't want to ruin what we have. i guess i just didn't want to lose you."

"hey," eddie murmured, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. his thumbs traced gentle circles on your shoulders, keeping you close. "you’re not going to lose me. ever. no matter what happens, okay? you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not."

you let out a watery laugh at that, pressing your face into his chest. he smelled like sweat and cologne, and it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

"i like it," you mumbled against his shirt. "being stuck with you."

he held you tighter, his chin resting atop your head as they stood there in the dingy bathroom, wrapped around each other in a cocoon of newfound vulnerability and relief. outside, the music continued its relentless thrum, but it felt distant now, unimportant.

after several minutes of silence, filled only by their steady breathing and the occasional drip from a leaky faucet, you pulled back slightly. your fingers played idly with the fabric of his blank tank as you asked, "so... what now?"

eddie’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he looked down at you. "well," he said, his voice taking on that familiar teasing tone even as emotion still roughened the edges. "i was thinking we could establish some ground rules for this relationship. first: no more flirting with lead singers of shitty glam metal bands." his tone was playful, but there was an underlying seriousness to it—the kind that came from someone who'd genuinely been hurt.

you giggled softly, the sound muffled against him. "deal. i’m now well aware of how jealous you get."

“oh, i was definitely jealous," he admitted, his voice dropping to a more serious pitch. "but that's not the point. the point is..." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "the point is that you're mine now. not just for tonight, but... i hope, for real. and I'm yours. so if you ever start talking to some guy at a bar or something, i’m going to lose my mind."

“deal,” you said with another giggle. “i promise i won't be seeking out other guys. i’ve got everything i need right here."

you sealed your promise by giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, to which he returned gratefully. he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his smile soft and adoring.

“good. now come on, let’s get out of here.”

the two of you slipped out of the bathroom together, fingers still intertwined, the door swinging shut behind you. a quiet, breathless laugh escaped your lips as you hurried across the sticky floor of the bar, weaving between tables and the few scattered patrons who hadn't yet migrated to the stage. eddie matched your pace, his grip warm and steady, his eyes bright with that particular kind of reckless joy he only ever seemed to get when he was high or simply just being in your presence.

the plan was simple—head back to his trailer, collapse onto that worn-out couch that smelled faintly of cigarettes and stale air, and throw on some movie neither of you would make it through before falling asleep tangled together. your parents wouldn't mind. they never did when it was eddie. they’d long since stopped asking questions, trusting you despite the way he looked—the leather jacket, the rings, the hair.

or maybe they trusted him, too. hard not to, once you got to know him.

on stage, the band was grinding through a couple of their originals, and they were fine, technically, but they lacked the swagger of the covers they'd opened with. the rhythm was a little off, the vocals straining where they should have soared. andy, standing at the mic with his guitar slung low, caught movement near the exit. his eyes found you first, then eddie, and his brow furrowed in puzzled confusion—a silent where the hell are you going? across the hazy, beer-stained room.

eddie paused at the door, the cold night air already creeping in through the crack. he looked back over his shoulder, caught andy’s gaze, and flashed him a grin that was all mischief and no apology. then he raised his free hand, middle finger extended as if to say: you know exactly where i’m going, asshole.

the door swung shut behind you, cutting off the sound of the band and the bar's low hum, and suddenly it was just the two of you under the parking lot's flickering light, your breath fogging in the cool air, his hand still wrapped around yours, the night stretching wide and open ahead.

you climbed into the van and turned up the radio the moment one of your favorite pop-punk songs came on. eddie groaned from the driver's seat, but you knew he secretly liked it. as metal as he was, he had a few guilty pleasures—pop punk was definitely one of them. he glanced over to you as the song hit the best part.

it was his favorite part, because it reminded him of you.

stop there and let me correct it

i wanna live a life from a new perspective

you come along because i love your face

and i’ll admire your expensive taste

you felt his eyes on you before you saw them. when you turned, your smile hit him square in the chest—soft, knowing, the kind that made his ribs feel too tight for everything inside them.

he still couldn't quite believe you were real, that this was real. that after so many years of wanting, of watching, of loving you from the careful distance of best friend, you were finally his.

When you returned to the house that evening, Eddie was sitting on the porch, anticipating your arrival. The second you came into view, he snubbed the cigarette out and tossed it into the yard.

“Hey,” he said, voice calmer than you’d ever think Eddie was capable of.

Your mother and aunt exchanged a quick look before brushing past Eddie, leaving the two of you alone.

Eddie searched your face, the faint smile he'd been wearing when you'd first appeared slowly disappearing.

"You wanna go for a walk around?"

You glanced toward the garden and let out a tired laugh. "I think I've walked enough today."

"Fair. You hungry?"

You shrugged.

"Tired?"

Another shrug that earned the faintest twitch of a smile from him.

"You're really giving me a lot to work with here."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

His fingers laced between yours without another word.

"I don't wanna talk about it," you admitted quietly.

"I figured."

"...Can we just pretend everything's normal for a little while?"

His thumb swept absentmindedly across the back of your hand. "You’re a witch living in a haunted funeral home with a ghost for a boyfriend. Sure, we can do normal."

You let out another exhausted laugh and planted your head on his chest. He chuckled and kissed the crown of your head before giving you a gentle tug toward the house.

"I think your folks made dinner."

Dinner was... normal; strangely, painfully normal. Your aunt complained about a supplier who'd sent the wrong flowers for a service that weekend. Your mother argued that your aunt had absolutely ordered the wrong flowers. Your aunt insisted she had not.

Eddie quietly sided with whichever one wasn't looking at him. You mostly pushed food around your plate while pretending to listen.

Every now and then, your gaze drifted toward Eddie, and he'd catch you looking every single time. Never saying anything, just offering a small smile before going back to the conversation.

By the time you were ready for bed, you and Eddie had barely spoken. Your mind was still racing from the day’s events, battling between what should happen and what you wanted. 

It was selfish in a way, you thought. Not performing the ritual meant you got to keep Eddie around. Performing it meant that Eddie and the other souls trapped in the house could find peace at the expense of the loss of the first real relationship you’d ever had. As real as dating a ghost could be, anyway. 

Eventually, Eddie wandered into your room carrying the old portable television he'd somehow convinced himself still worked better than it had any right to.

"I brought entertainment."

You looked up from where you'd been staring blankly out the window. "You mean distraction."

"...Semantics."

Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitched.

"There's my girl."

You rolled your eyes, but shifted over on the bed anyway, making room while he set the television on top of your dresser. The screen fizzled with static for a few seconds before finally settling into a familiar opening sequence.

You frowned. "The Lost Boys?"

Eddie looked genuinely offended. "What?"

"I don't know..."

"You don't know?" he repeated dramatically. "Sweetheart, that's practically sacrilegious."

"I've never seen it."

He stared at you for a long moment before placing a hand over his heart. "I don't know if I can be with someone who hasn't seen The Lost Boys."

You scoffed, fake-insulted, and swatted at him. He caught your wrist with an obnoxiously smug grin.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You literally can't."

He laughed, kissing your hand once before stretching out beside you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, his shoulder bumping lightly against yours as he reached for the remote.

"You've been dating a dead guy for months," he informed you. "Honestly, vampires should be the least concerning part of your evening."

A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"There it is again," Eddie murmured, not taking his eyes off the television. "Missed hearing that today."

Your smile faded a little. "I know."

The room settled into silence as the movie played, broken only by the occasional sarcastic comment from Eddie whenever a character made an objectively terrible decision.

"Told you he was gonna die."

"You say that about everyone."

"I'm usually right."

"You are literally watching the movie again."

"Details."

Eddie absentmindedly traced lazy circles against your arm, more focused on comforting you than on whatever was happening on the screen.

"You don't have to figure it out tonight," he said quietly.

You swallowed. "I know."

"And whatever it is..." He hesitated. "We'll deal with it."

We'll.

You nodded, unable to trust your own voice.

As the movie progressed, your eyelids became heavier and heavier. The dialogue on the television blurred together with the rhythmic creaking of the old house until you couldn't quite tell which sounds belonged to which.

The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was Eddie pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.

Then, silence. Not the silence of an empty room, but the silence of somewhere else. So quiet that it didn’t even feel humanly possible. 

When you opened your eyes, you were standing beneath a canopy of ancient trees.

Their branches stretched impossibly high overhead, woven together so tightly they swallowed the sky whole. Silver mist drifted lazily between the trunks, curling around your ankles with every cautious step you took. The forest was familiar in a way that made your pulse quicken.

The last time you were here was the night of your dark baptism. 

Four worn paths stretched outward before you, each disappearing into a different corner of the endless forest. One swallowed by dense pines. One lined with skeletal white birch. One overgrown with thorned vines. And the last...

The last disappeared into darkness so complete that it seemed to consume the light around it. The crossroads, exactly as you'd seen them before. Only this time, you weren't alone.

A soft crackle echoed somewhere behind you, causing you to turn.

Hecate stood between two towering yew trees, one hand wrapped loosely around a burning torch. Three large black dogs rested quietly at her feet, their golden eyes fixed on you with unsettling intelligence. An owl perched silently on the branch above her shoulder, watching with the same patient curiosity.

The goddess herself looked almost different from how she had in your vision. Not because she'd changed. Because every time you looked away and back again, she seemed older. Younger. Dark-haired. Silver-haired. Beautiful. Terrifying.

Like your mind couldn't settle on a single version of her.

"My child." Her words echoed throughout the entire forest, as opposed to simply being stated to you. 

You instinctively lowered your head. "You know why I have come."

A small smile touched Hecate's lips. "No."

She stepped forward, the mist shifting around her feet. "I have come to you."

She stopped at the center of the crossroads, lifting the torch just enough for its warm light to spill across the weathered stone beneath her feet.

"You wonder why this path was placed before you."

You swallowed. "Yes."

Her gaze drifted beyond you, toward the forest itself. "The house called."

Your brow furrowed.

"It has called for many years. Many heard it. None answered."

Your chest tightened.

"You did."

"I didn't know what I was walking into."

"No." The corners of Hecate's mouth softened. "You walked toward suffering anyway."

"You found frightened souls."

Another step.

"You offered kindness."

Another.

"You found a lonely spirit."

Eddie.

"You offered love."

"I wasn't trying to..." Your voice faltered. "I just..."

"I know." There wasn't an ounce of judgment in her voice. "Compassion rarely arrives with intention."

The forest around you seemed to breathe. Branches creaked softly overhead while the mist rolled slowly across the crossroads.

"You believe the house chose you."

"It did not." Her golden eyes met yours. "You chose it."

Confusion settled across your face. "I don't understand."

"The house has called to witches before. They sought power. You sought people. And the house answered accordingly."

Then Hecate slowly turned, raising the torch toward the forest surrounding the crossroads, and the mist shifted. Shapes began emerging between the trees. One. Then another. Then dozens. Hundreds.

Transparent figures stood quietly amongst the trunks, watching. Children. Old men. Young mothers. Teenagers. People from centuries apart, all gathered together in complete silence.

"So many..." you whispered.

"They have stood at this threshold for generations."

Hecate's voice carried no sadness. "They wait."

You looked from face to face, your heart breaking a little more with each passing second. "They're waiting for me."

"They are waiting for someone." Her eyes found yours once more. "And you possess the key."

Your fingers instinctively curled into your palms. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

Hecate stepped closer until only a few feet separated the two of you.

"Strength is not the absence of grief." Her hand rested lightly over your heart. "It is carrying it."

The warmth spread through your chest immediately.

"You have been chosen not because you are powerful. You have been chosen because you love."

Her hand fell away.

"And love will make this choice both impossible..." She looked toward the waiting souls. "...and worthy."

Your eyes snapped open, and a shriek left your mouth as you dropped onto your bed.  The mattress bounced beneath you, knocking the breath from your lungs as your heart hammered painfully against your ribs.

"Hey—hey!"

Before you could fully orient yourself, a pair of hands caught your shoulders.

"It's okay."

You blinked wildly, your breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The bedroom slowly came back into focus around you. The television still glowed faintly on the dresser, long since switched to static. And Eddie.

He was kneeling beside the bed, both hands still gripping your shoulders, wide brown eyes searching your face with an expression you'd never seen on him before: fear.

"Eddie..."

His shoulders visibly sagged with relief the second you spoke. "Jesus Christ."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "...What happened?"

He stared at you for a long second, like he was making sure you were actually awake before answering. "You tell me."

Your brow furrowed.

"I've been trying to wake you up for the last forty minutes."

"What?"

"You were..." He gestured helplessly toward the ceiling. "...floating."

Your stomach dropped. "I was what?"

"You were three feet above the damn bed."

You looked instinctively toward the ceiling as though expecting to find some explanation written there.

"I kept calling your name." His voice was quieter now, lingering somewhere between disbelief and lingering panic. "You wouldn't answer."

He laughed once under his breath, humorless. "I tried shaking you."

"I was trying to pull you back down," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "Thought maybe if I got enough leverage..."

A weak smile tugged at your lips despite everything. "You were gonna wrestle witch-gravity?"

"I was gonna try. I was running out of ideas."

Your smile disappeared just as quickly as it'd come. "...I saw her."

Eddie's expression shifted immediately. "Hecate?"

You nodded once. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over your shoulder, grounding both of you more than either would probably admit.

"...Was it bad?" he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard. "No."

The word caught in your throat. "...That might be the problem."

Eddie searched your face before sighing. “What happened at Myrtle’s?”

You looked down at your hands. "...Everything."

His brow furrowed as you took a slow breath, and you told him. You told him about Myrtle's shop. About Hecate's connection to you growing stronger with every passing day.

You told him about the crossroads. About the trapped souls. About the dream. The forest. Hecate.

The thousands of spirits waiting in silence. The house calling for help long before you'd ever stepped foot inside it. The witches who had come before you searching for power, only to leave empty-handed. 

How Hecate had told you that the house hadn't chosen you because you were the strongest, it had chosen you because you'd stayed. Because you'd listened. Because somewhere along the way, you'd stopped seeing ghosts and started seeing people.

Not once did Eddie ever interrupt. He simply sat beside you on the edge of the bed, listening while your voice occasionally caught in your throat.

You even told him the part you hadn't wanted to say out loud. The ritual, the one capable of breaking whatever ancient force had kept the spirits tethered to the house for generations. The one that would finally allow them to cross over.

"...So." The word barely left your mouth. "If I do it..."

You couldn't bring yourself to finish the sentence. He stared down at his hands for a long time before letting out a slow breath through his nose.

"...Guess Myrtle was right."

You frowned. "About what?"

He gave a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Things were finally starting to make sense."

Tears began to well in your eyes as you nodded gently, “I know. I know they were. It doesn’t mean I have to do it right away, I can—”

“I think you should do it.”

His words stopped you in your tracks. You stared at him.

"...What?"

Eddie didn't look at you. Instead, his gaze settled on the worn hardwood floor beneath his feet, elbows resting against his knees while he slowly rubbed his palms together.

"You heard me."

"No." Your voice cracked. "No, you don't get to say that."

He let out a slow breath. "I do."

"You can't possibly mean that."

Finally, he looked up, and his eyes were already shining. "I do."

You shook your head over and over again. "No."

"I love you." The confession slipped out before you could stop it.

"I love you, and you're sitting here telling me I should just..." Your voice broke completely. "...let you go?"

Eddie's face crumpled for only a second before he forced it back together. "I know. I love you too. But I know that this is the right thing to do."

"No, you don't."

"I do."

"You don't know what you're asking me."

"I know exactly what I'm asking."

You stood abruptly from the bed, pacing a few steps before turning back toward him. "What about us?"

"What about Wayne?"

Eddie leaned forward, resting his forearms against his thighs.

"What about every family that's spent years praying and talking to their loved ones?"

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. "What about the little girl that died in there in the forties?"

Your chest tightened.

"The old man upstairs who still thinks his wife is waiting for him."

Another pause.

"The soldiers."

"The kids."

"The people whose names nobody even remembers anymore."

He laughed softly to himself. "I've been so damn focused on staying with you..."

His smile faltered. "...that I forgot they never got a choice."

"I kept them here."

"Eddie..."

"I did."

His eyes finally met yours again. "When I died..."

He swallowed. "I was angry. So fucking angry."

His jaw tightened.

"I wanted Jason to hurt. I wanted all of them to."

You remembered, then. The nightmares. The endless loop. The way Eddie had to relive killing Jason and the others over and over again.

"I wanted every single one of them to know what it felt like."

His voice dropped lower. "I convinced myself they deserved it."

"...Maybe they did." He shrugged weakly. "But not forever."

You watched tears begin gathering in his eyes.

"I've had ten years to think about it."

His laugh came out broken this time. "You know what I realized?"

"I'm tired." The admission was barely louder than a whisper. "So are they."

He glanced toward the bedroom door. "I hear them, sweetheart."

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"They don't scream anymore."

His eyes drifted toward the window. "They just..."

He searched for the words. "...wait."

Your own tears finally spilled over.

"They deserve better than waiting." His voice cracked on the last word.

"So do you."

"No." You crossed the room in two quick steps before kneeling in front of him. "My better is you."

Eddie smiled through wet eyes. "God..."

His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek. "You make this so hard."

You leaned into his hand instinctively. "I don't want to lose you."

"I know."

"I don't know how to do this."

"I know."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I do."

He rested his forehead against yours. Eventually, Eddie took another shaky breath.

"When it's time..." He paused. "...I only want one thing."

You looked up at him. "What?"

A sad smile spread across his face. "I wanna see Wayne one last time."

He laughed quietly through the tears.

"Without worrying whether it's the last conversation we'll ever have."

His eyes drifted toward the bedroom window, somewhere beyond the glass.

"I just..." His voice nearly disappeared. "...I wanna tell him goodbye."

Morning arrived far too quickly. Golden sunlight spilled lazily through the bedroom curtains, warming the quilt tangled around the two of you while the old house creaked awake around you.

You were sprawled across the bed on your stomach, elbows propped beneath you while a mountain of books surrounded the both of you. Myrtle had apparently decided that if she was going to burden you with an impossible decision, she might as well provide enough reading material to make your eyes bleed.

Eddie had appointed himself your unofficial research assistant.

Which mostly consisted of lying half on top of you, his chin resting comfortably against your shoulder, while stealing your coffee every few minutes.

"You know," he said, turning another page of one particularly ancient-looking book, "witches really need to discover bullet points."

You snorted. "They're manuscripts."

"They're exhausting."

"You've read three paragraphs."

"I've suffered enough."

You reached back without looking and flicked him on the forehead.

He gasped dramatically. "Violence."

"You'll live."

"I literally won't."

You rolled your eyes. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

His arm lazily tightened around your waist as he settled closer, pressing an absentminded kiss against your shoulder before returning to the book resting between the two of you.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were the occasional turn of a page and the soft chirping of birds somewhere outside the window.

Book after book offered little more than fragmented stories. Accounts of rituals. Old prayers. Warnings. The occasional recipe that somehow involved rosemary and what you sincerely hoped wasn't grave dirt.

You sighed dramatically before reaching for yet another weathered leather-bound journal. "Please tell me this one's in English."

Eddie leaned over your shoulder. "...Questionable."

You opened it anyway. The handwriting was faded enough that parts of the ink had nearly disappeared altogether, forcing you to read each sentence twice before it finally made sense.

Halfway down the page, a phrase caught your attention.

You frowned. "...Wait."

Eddie looked up immediately. "What?"

You straightened slightly, rereading the passage.

"'The passage shall only be opened beneath an orange moon, when the veil between worlds grows thinnest, and the Keeper may safely guide wandering souls beyond the final crossroads.'"

Eddie blinked. "...Orange moon?"

You looked over at him. "I've never heard of that."

"Me neither."

You carefully closed the book before reaching toward the stack beside your nightstand, grabbing an old lunar calendar your aunt had apparently tucked beneath the rest of Myrtle's notes.

Months. Phases. Eclipses. Harvest moons. You skimmed through them as quickly as you could, but nothing.

"...Come on."

Your finger continued tracing down the page. Then, it stopped.

Your stomach dropped. "No..."

Eddie immediately sat up straighter. "What?"

You looked up at him slowly. "The orange moon."

He searched your face. "...When?"

"...Two days." The words barely left your mouth.

Finally, Eddie let out a quiet breath through his nose.

"...Guess Hecate doesn't waste much time."

You stared down at the calendar resting in your lap. Two days, forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours until the decision stopped being hypothetical.

Without thinking, your fingers found Eddie's hand beneath the blankets. He intertwined them immediately.

Neither of you acknowledged it because neither of you had to. The countdown had begun.

The next two days passed differently. Not because either of you pretended the ritual wasn't coming, but because neither of you wanted your final memories together to consist entirely of crying.

So, somewhere between breakfast and another failed attempt at deciphering Myrtle's handwriting, the two of you silently agreed to stop talking about it. At least for a little while.

Late that afternoon, you disappeared without much explanation. Eddie frowned from where he was stretched across the couch.

"You're being suspicious."

"I'm running errands."

"You hate errands."

"I know."

"...Now I'm more suspicious."

You only smiled. "I'll be back."

Nearly two hours later, the front door swung open with considerably more effort than you'd anticipated. "I'm home!"

Eddie looked up from the record he'd been flipping through. "Took you long eno—"

He stopped. Your arms were overflowing with paper bags.

"...Did you rob somebody?"

"Maybe."

He stood, immediately moving to help you before stopping when he noticed the logo stamped across one of the bags.

His eyebrows shot upward. "No..."

A grin spread across your face. "I figured ghosts still deserve comfort food."

For a second, he simply stared, then he laughed. "You went to Benny's?"

You nodded proudly. "The waitress thought I was insane."

"I mean..."

"I told her I had a family to feed."

His expression softened. "...You did?"

"I wasn't about to tell her I was buying a million cheeseburgers for my dead boyfriend."

"Probably the right call."

You laughed as you unpacked everything onto the kitchen table.  Cheeseburgers. Fries. A chocolate milkshake. Exactly like he had once told you he liked it.

"You remembered."

You shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. "You mentioned it once."

He looked between you and the food before shaking his head. "...You're unbelievable."

"No." You nudged the tray toward him. "I just listen."

A while later, once the milkshake had mysteriously disappeared despite Eddie insisting ghosts couldn't technically digest anything, you disappeared again.

He looked up suspiciously. "...Where are you going now?"

"No peeking."

"I wasn't—"

"You were absolutely going to peek."

He grinned. "Maybe."

You disappeared upstairs anyway. A minute later, you returned carrying something behind your back.

Eddie immediately narrowed his eyes. "...What'd you do?"

"Close your eyes."

"I don't trust that sentence."

"Eddie."

He sighed dramatically. "This relationship is built on coercion."

"Eyes."

"Fine."

He covered them with one hand. "The other one too."

"...You're demanding."

"You love me."

"I really do."

His other hand lifted. "Happy?"

"Very."

You stepped in front of him, taking one slow breath before bringing the object around from behind your back.

"...Okay."

He lowered his hands, and his smile disappeared. The guitar. His guitar. The battered Warlock sat in your hands exactly as Wayne had kept it all these years.

Fresh strings. The body is polished. Still scratched from years of use, and still unmistakably his.

Eddie didn't move. "...How?"

"I stopped by Wayne's."

His eyes never left it.

"He said..." You swallowed. "...he thought you'd want it."

Slowly, Eddie reached toward it. His fingertips brushed the black finish, like he was afraid it would disappear if he touched it too hard.

"I haven't..." His voice cracked. "I haven't seen this since..."

His eyes shimmered as he carefully took it from your hands. The guitar settled naturally against him, like it had never belonged anywhere else.

He ran his thumb across the familiar scratches near the bridge. "...I put that there."

A tiny laugh escaped him. "Gareth knocked over an amp."

Another scratch.

"...Jeff dropped a drum stand."

His smile grew. "I forgot about that."

You leaned quietly against the doorway, letting him rediscover pieces of himself one mark at a time.

Finally, he looked up. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You crossed the room until only a foot separated the two of you. "You haunted me."

He snorted through the tears threatening to spill. "Right."

"I fell in love with you anyway."

He set the guitar carefully against the couch before wrapping both arms around you, pulling you into him so tightly you could barely breathe. Neither of you spoke then.

You simply stood there in the middle of the living room while the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, holding each other as though time itself had decided to slow down.

After a long moment, Eddie pulled back just enough to look at you. "...Wanna hear something?"

You smiled. "Always."

He reached for the guitar again, settling onto the couch with it across his lap. His fingers found the strings instinctively as the first chord rang through the old house.

"So..." he said, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face. "Think you know me that well?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I know that's never a good sentence."

"We're playing a game."

"I don't like the way you say that."

"You'll survive."

"I might not."

"You'll be fine."

He gave the strings a quick strum before settling his fingers near the top of the neck. "Opening riffs only."

You blinked. "...That's the game?"

"You guess the song."

You laughed.

"You're kidding."

"I'm absolutely not."

"What do I get if I win?"

He pretended to think about it. "...One kiss."

You snorted. "I get those anyway."

"Damn." He sighed dramatically. "Alright."

"...Two kisses."

"Now we're talking."

Eddie rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile before looking down at the guitar. "You ready?"

You nodded. Without another word, he played four quick notes.

You didn't even hesitate. "'Sweet Child O' Mine.'"

His head immediately snapped up. "...Lucky guess."

"It wasn't."

"Hm."

He shrugged before launching into another. This one took you maybe two seconds.

"'Livin' on a Prayer.'"

"...Okay."

Another.

"'Crazy Train.'"

Another.

"'Don't Fear the Reaper.'"

Another.

"'Every Breath You Take.'"

Another.

"'Carry On Wayward Son.'"

Eddie slowly lowered the guitar.

"...What."

You smiled innocently. "What?"

"How?"

"What do you mean, how?"

"You answered before I even finished playing."

You shrugged one shoulder. "I like music."

"No." He pointed accusingly with the neck of the guitar. "That's suspicious."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

"I listened to your tapes."

"My..."

He blinked. "...My tapes?"

You nodded. "The ones in your room at Wayne’s."

His eyebrows climbed even higher. "You talked to Wayne?"

"He likes to talk."

"He really does."

"And..."

You smiled sheepishly. "I wanted to know what you liked."

Eddie simply stared at you. "...What?"

He shook his head once. "You've been doing homework."

"I have not."

"You researched me."

"I did no such thing."

"You absolutely did."

"I was gathering information."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, my God."

"What?"

"You are..." He rubbed a hand over his face. "...ridiculously adorable."

"I'm literally sitting here beating you."

"I know."

"And you're calling me adorable."

"I am.”

He set the guitar carefully beside the couch before reaching forward and taking both of your hands.

"I don't think anybody's ever cared enough to learn me."

"I wanted to."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I noticed."

You smiled. "Wanna keep going?"

Eddie looked at you for another second before picking the guitar back up. "...Yeah."

He grinned. "But now I'm picking harder songs."

"You'll still lose."

"We'll see about that."

Five songs later...he was, in fact, still losing.

"You've gotta be cheating," he groaned, dropping his head dramatically against the back of the couch.

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. "I'm not cheating."

"You got Hotel California in three notes."

"It was four."

"That is not helping your case."

"It was the chord progression."

"You are such a nerd."

"So are you."

"...Yeah."

By the time night rolled around, you and Eddie were tangled together on your bed, watching The Princess Bride for what had to be the fourth time since you'd moved into the house.

"It is physically impossible," Eddie declared, pointing accusingly at the television, "for one movie to have this much charisma."

You smiled into his shoulder. "You've said that every single time we've watched it."

"And every single time I've been right."

He adjusted the blanket draped over the two of you before absentmindedly tracing circles against your forearm. You smiled into his shoulder, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat steady against your cheek as Inigo Montoya dueled on the screen. 

Eddie’s fingers kept tracing lazy circles on your arm, but the touch grew slower, more deliberate, until it wasn’t absentminded anymore. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your face toward his.

“You’re staring at me instead of the movie again,” you whispered.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You’re better than any story.”

He kissed you then; soft at first, a brush of lips that quickly deepened with the kind of hunger that came from knowing time was slipping away.

You shifted closer, legs tangling tighter under the blanket as his tongue swept into your mouth. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through those dark curls you loved so much, tugging gently.

He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. “God, I love you,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. 

His eyes, those warm, expressive eyes, held yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. “More than anything.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat. You kissed him harder this time, pouring everything into it: the fear, the devotion, the way your heart felt like it was cracking open just looking at him.

Eddie rolled you beneath him with careful strength, the blanket falling away as he settled between your thighs. 

He took his time undressing you, reverent hands sliding your shirt up and over your head, lips following the path of exposed skin. Every kiss was punctuated with soft declarations: “I love this spot right here,” against your collarbone, “and this one,” against the curve of your breast.

When he closed his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently while his tongue flicked, you arched into him with a needy whimper.

Your fingers worked at his clothes in return until he was bare above you, skin warm and flushed. He was already hard, pressing against your thigh, but he didn’t rush.

Instead, he hooked your leg over his hip and rocked slowly against you, letting you feel every inch of him through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Eddie…” You reached down, wrapping your hand around him, stroking with long, loving pulls that drew shaky breaths from his chest.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before locking back on yours. “Need to feel you.”

He peeled your panties down your legs, then slid two fingers through your folds, finding you slick and ready.

He circled your clit with practiced care, teasing until your hips bucked, before pushing inside you; slow, deep, curling just right. The slight stretch made you moan his name like a prayer.

When he finally replaced his fingers with his cock, sinking into you inch by inch, the world narrowed to just the two of you. He filled you completely, pausing once he was buried to the hilt so you could both savor it.

His arms bracketed your head; he kissed you deeply as he started to move long, rolling thrusts that built heat between you like magic.

“I love you,” he panted against your mouth with every thrust. “Love you so fucking much.”

You wrapped your legs around him, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. One of your hands stayed tangled in his hair, tugging harder now as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly.

He responded with a low growl, hips snapping a little sharper, a little more desperate, but still so full of adoration. His free hand slid down to grip your ass, holding you right where he wanted you as he drove into you with passionate, steady rhythm.

“Look at me,” he whispered when your eyes started to close. “Want to see you when you come.”

You did, gazing into his eyes as the pleasure crested. Your walls clenched around him, thighs trembling, and you cried out his name as the orgasm washed over you in deep, rolling waves.

Eddie followed moments later, burying his face in your neck with a broken moan of “I love you,” hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

Afterward, he stayed there, still buried deep, holding you close while your breathing slowed. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin again, and he pressed soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips.

“I mean it, y’know.” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, “I know.”

The following morning, your mother announced over breakfast that the three of you were leaving for the day.

You looked up from your coffee. "...We are?"

She nodded matter-of-factly as she buttered a piece of toast. "Mhm."

"Where?"

"Wherever."

You blinked. "...That's not a place."

"It is today."

Your aunt hid a smile behind her mug. "We thought we'd go into town."

"Get lunch."

"Walk around."

"Maybe stop by Myrtle's."

You looked between the two of them suspiciously. "...You're kicking us out."

Your mother laughed. "No."

"You absolutely are."

She reached over and patted your hand. "We're giving the boys some privacy."

Eddie nearly choked on his coffee. "'The boys?'"

She smiled sweetly. "You and Wayne."

"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...You don't have to do that."

"We know."

Your aunt reached for her purse. "Which is exactly why we want to."

Just after noon, the familiar rumble of Wayne's truck echoed up the driveway. Eddie was already on the porch before the engine had even shut off. Wayne climbed out with the kind of grin that immediately made Eddie suspicious.

"...What?"

"Nothin'."

"You've got the face."

"What face?"

"The one that says you're up to something."

Wayne chuckled before walking around to the bed of the truck. "I figured..."

He dropped the tailgate with a metallic clang. "...we'd take a little trip down memory lane."

Eddie's eyebrows shot upward. The truck bed was packed with cardboard boxes, plastic storage bins, an old milk crate overflowing with cassette tapes, a guitar stand, and even a faded tackle box.

"...Wayne."

"I've been collecting this stuff for ten years."

He grabbed the first box with a grunt. "Figured you oughta see it."

By then, you, your mother, and your aunt had made your way onto the porch.

Your mother smiled. "We'll be back before dinner."

Wayne looked over. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Take your time."

Your aunt gave Eddie a gentle squeeze on the shoulder as she passed "We'll leave the house to the two of you."

Eddie smiled softly. "...Thank you."

"No thanks necessary."

Your mother jingled the car keys. "You only get so many afternoons with family." 

You pursed your lips together and shot her a look as Eddie’s eyes darted to his shoes. Then your mother deliberately clapped her hands together.

"Come on." She looped her arm through yours. "Let's go spend an irresponsible amount of money at the bookstore."

You laughed. "I thought we were getting lunch."

"We can do both."

"And antiques," your aunt added.

"Ooh, antiques."

By the time the three of you climbed into the car, Wayne had already set the first box on the porch. You glanced back through the passenger window just as Eddie crouched beside it as Wayne carefully peeled back the flaps. 

The very first thing inside was an old Polaroid. A scrawny, curly-haired twelve-year-old Eddie stood in the middle of the trailer living room wearing an oversized leather jacket, one hand wrapped around a broom like it was a guitar.

Wayne burst out laughing. "Oh, Lord."

Eddie groaned loud enough for you to hear through the closed car window. "...Burn it."

"Absolutely not."

"You promised me nobody would ever see that!"

"I most certainly did not."

Your mother smiled as she shifted the car into reverse.

"You know..." She watched them in the rearview mirror. "I think they'll be alright today."

You looked back one last time. Wayne was already digging into another box while Eddie leaned over his shoulder, laughing despite himself.

By the time the front door clicked shut behind your car, Wayne had already opened three boxes. The living room looked as though someone had emptied an entire lifetime across the floor.

Photo albums sat open beside stacks of cassette tapes. Old Hellfire binders had been spread across the coffee table. Concert tickets, campaign notes, guitar picks, bent bottle caps Eddie had apparently insisted on keeping for reasons he could no longer remember.

"You really kept all this junk?" Eddie laughed, holding up a cracked pair of sunglasses.

Wayne snorted. "I was hopin' you'd finally decide to throw it out."

"Never."

"You've been a pack rat since you were ten."

"It's called being sentimental."

"It's called havin' a problem."

Eddie rolled his eyes before tossing the sunglasses onto the couch. The afternoon passed easier than either of them expected. Wayne showed him photographs he'd forgotten existed.

Embarrassing school pictures, Halloween costumes, A birthday cake that had collapsed before the candles were lit. A blurry photo of Corroded Coffin crammed into Gareth's parents' garage, all four of them grinning like idiots.

Eddie laughed so hard his stomach hurt. "I remember that!"

"Jeff broke your amp."

"He dropped it!"

"He sat on it."

"I told him not to!"

"You also told him it'd hold."

"...Fair point."

For a few hours, it almost felt like they were making up for ten years in a single afternoon. The laughter faded as the sun began sinking lower outside. Most of the boxes had been emptied, and only one remained. Neither of them was in a rush to reach for it.

Wayne leaned back in the armchair with a tired groan, rubbing his hands together. "So."

Eddie looked over. "So."

Wayne studied him for a long time. "...Somethin's been eatin' at you."

Eddie tried to smile. "Nothin' gets past you."

"It never has."

Eddie stared at the floor. "...I probably oughta tell you."

Eddie took a slow breath.

"The ritual..." His throat tightened. "...it's tomorrow night."

Wayne's face didn't change.

"The witch who started all this..."

Eddie continued quietly. "...she finally figured out how to send everybody across."

"The others?"

"Everybody…The kids from my school. The soldiers. The old couple."

He swallowed. "...Me."

Wayne closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were glistening.

"So..." His voice came out rough. "...This is goodbye."

"I think so."

Wayne let out a shaky breath. "You know..."

He looked toward the family photos scattered across the coffee table. "I used to be so damn angry."

Eddie frowned. "At who?"

"Everybody."

He gave a humorless laugh.

"The police. The town. Hell, myself."

He rubbed his palms against his jeans. "Thought maybe if I'd looked harder..."

His voice cracked. "...I'd have found you."

Eddie's eyes immediately filled. "Wayne..."

"But then you came back." Wayne smiled sadly. "And I got more time."

"Not as much time as I wanted, but time all the same."

Eddie quickly looked away before the tears could spill. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I left you alone."

"You didn't choose that."

"I know." His voice broke. "...But I still hate it."

Wayne stood slowly from his chair, crossed the room, and without a word, pulled Eddie into a hug. Eddie clung to him immediately.

"I'm gonna miss you."

Wayne squeezed him tighter. "I know."

"I don't wanna leave you again."

"I know."

"I finally got you back."

Wayne swallowed hard. "...Yeah."

Finally, Wayne pulled back just enough to cup Eddie's face the way he had when Eddie was still just a kid.

"You listen to me."

Eddie nodded.

"When you get where you're goin'..."

His voice wavered despite every effort to steady it. "...You tell your mama I said hello."

Wayne smiled through tears.

"And tell her..." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "...Tell her I did my best."

That finally broke Eddie. Fresh tears spilled freely as he shook his head. "You did more than your best."

Wayne smiled. "You grew up alright."

"I grew up because of you."

Wayne reached up, brushing one of Eddie's curls back from his forehead. "I've been proud of you every single day."

Eddie closed his eyes. "...Even after..."

"Especially after."

Wayne's answer came without hesitation. "You spent your whole life thinkin' people saw the worst in you."

He squeezed Eddie's shoulder. "I never did."

"And if you happen to run into your daddy..."

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"...Don't tell him I said hello."

A surprised laugh escaped Eddie through his tears. "I can do that."

"Damn right you can."

By the time night settled over the old house, everything had already been prepared.

Your aunt had spent the better part of the afternoon painting careful symbols across the worn wooden floor of the parlor, each one copied painstakingly from Myrtle's journals.

Fresh bundles of rosemary and mugwort had been tied together with twine and placed at each point of the circle, their earthy scent mingling with melted candle wax until the entire room smelled ancient. 

Outside, the moon hung low over the trees. Orange, just as the books had promised.

"You don't have to rush." Your mother insisted. 

You nodded absently, though you weren't listening. Across the room, Eddie was already watching you. The second your eyes met, everything else faded into the background.

You crossed the room without thinking, stopping only when your hands found his. His fingers laced between yours automatically, as if they'd been practicing that motion your entire relationship.

"I'm scared," you admitted quietly.

"I know."

"I keep thinking if I wait another day..."

He smiled sadly. "You'll think the same thing tomorrow."

A tear slipped down your cheek. "I hate that you're right."

He lifted a hand, brushing it away with his thumb. "I know."

"I don't want this to be the last time I touch you."

"It won't be."

You looked up at him, and he rested his forehead against yours. "You'll carry me around for the rest of your life whether you like it or not."

"You are unbelievably cocky."

"I've been told."

"You've haunted me for almost a year, and you're still flirting."

"I've got a reputation to maintain."

Your laugh broke into another sob before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry."

"No..." You shook your head. "...Don't apologize."

You reached up, cupping his face in both hands as though trying to memorize every curve of it.

"I just..." Your voice trembled. "...I love you so much."

His eyes filled almost instantly. "I know."

You smiled through tears. "You don't get to answer with 'I know.'"

"Fair." He swallowed. "I love you too."

"I think..." His voice caught for only a moment. "...I think I've loved you since the first cigarette."

You laughed wetly. "The one you stole?"

"I borrowed."

"You absolutely stole it."

"I intended to give it back."

"You can't give back a smoked cigarette."

"I could've bought you another."

"You didn't."

"I was poor."

"You were dead."

"That too."

Eddie leaned down and kissed you slowly, like he was committing every inch of feeling and skin to memory. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours once more.

"I need you to promise me something."

You frowned. "What?"

"You keep living."

"Eddie..."

"I'm serious."

His voice remained gentle. "You don't spend the rest of your life wondering what would've happened if you'd waited."

Another tear escaped him. "You gave me more happiness in a few months than I ever thought I'd get."

He smiled. "That's enough."

"It isn't enough for me."

"I know."

"I wanted decades."

"So did I."

You wrapped your arms around him, and he held you for what felt like forever.

Eventually, your aunt's voice broke the silence. "It's time."

Your mother quietly approached, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll be right here."

You nodded once as you, reluctantly, stepped into the center of the circle.

Your aunt handed you the worn grimoire Myrtle had entrusted to you before taking her own place just beyond the markings. Your mother stood opposite her, each holding a bundle of burning herbs, ready to intervene if the ritual turned against you.

Eddie remained just outside the circle, close enough that your fingers still brushed when you reached toward him.

"I'll stay until I can't."

You nodded. "I know."

Taking one final breath, you opened the book. As the first incantation left your lips, the room shifted. The candles flared. A sudden wind swept through the house despite every window remaining shut, extinguishing none of the flames while every loose page trembled violently.

The symbols your aunt had painted began glowing softly, their pale light weaving together until the circle shimmered around you.

You continued reading, your voice growing steadier with each line. Like taking attendance, the house answered. One by one, the ghosts appeared.

The little girl with the ribbon in her hair stood near the staircase, clutching the rag doll you'd seen so many times before. The elderly couple emerged hand in hand. The soldiers. The children. The nameless faces that had wandered the halls for generations. Even Jason.

Dozens, then hundreds. The room filled until every corner of the old house seemed occupied, every spirit quietly facing the circle, waiting. You looked toward Eddie, and he looked back with no fear in his expression, simply peace.

The final page turned beneath your trembling fingers. The instant the final syllable echoed through the room, the orange moonlight pouring through the windows intensified until the entire house glowed.

The floor shook. The candles burned impossibly bright. For one breathtaking moment, every spirit in the room seemed wrapped in warm golden light,  as though something unimaginably heavy had finally been lifted.

You looked desperately toward Eddie. "I love you," you whispered.

His eyes never left yours. "I know."

Then he laughed softly. "...I love you too."

Almost like a cruel joke, the golden light swallowed him first. Then the others, one after another. Afterward, the room grew impossibly still.

You blinked through your tears and noticed a feeling you hadn’t had since moving into this house. It was completely empty. The place where Eddie had been standing was empty. Every spirit was gone.

That strange whisperlike buzz was gone from your ears. Only then did you realize that the house was finally at peace. 

The constant feeling of being watched had disappeared. The floorboards still creaked with age, pipes still groaned when the weather changed, and the windows still rattled whenever a storm rolled through the valley, but none of it carried the weight it once had.

You hadn't realized just how loud the house had been until it finally learned how to be quiet. The first few days were the hardest. Your mother and aunt never once tried to rush your grief.

They didn't tell you he was in a better place. They didn't tell you it had happened for a reason. They simply sat beside you.

Sometimes your mother held you while you cried so hard your ribs hurt. Other nights, your aunt silently left mugs of tea outside your bedroom door because she knew you weren't ready to come downstairs. 

There were mornings when you couldn't bear to look at the couch because you could still picture Eddie sitting there with his guitar across his lap, and afternoons when you caught yourself carrying home enough food for two before remembering.

Weeks turned into months. The flowers your mother planted outside the porch began blooming. Summer slowly gave way to autumn. The orange leaves eventually replaced the bright green ones that had shaded the yard the day you met him.

Life continued, just like Eddie had asked you to.

You returned to Myrtle's shop every now and then, helping organize books or learning new remedies simply because it made you feel close to the part of your life that had changed everything. You and your aunt spent evenings experimenting with spells that had nothing to do with death and everything to do with healing. 

Wayne still visited almost every Sunday. At first, the two of you mostly sat in silence on the porch. Eventually, silence turned into stories, and stories turned into laughter.

Sometimes he'd bring one of Eddie's old cassette tapes, and the two of you would sit in the living room listening to music while Wayne told you what an absolute menace Eddie had been as a teenager.

"He convinced me there was a bat livin' in the trailer."

"There wasn't?"

"There was."

You blinked. "...Then why was it a prank?"

"'Cause he'd put it there."

You laughed until your stomach hurt. "He what?"

"Don't ask."

One ordinary Tuesday evening, you stood in your bedroom deciding between two sweaters before dinner. Your hair was still damp from your shower, music drifted faintly from the radio downstairs, and through the open window you could hear your mother and aunt laughing somewhere in the garden.

You reached for the black sweater hanging inside your closet when every hair on your arms suddenly stood upright.

Your breath caught. The same feeling you'd experienced every single time a spirit entered a room. 

You swallowed. "If someone's there..."

Your voice came out steadier than you felt. "...show yourself."

Silence followed, so you listened carefully. But no response.  You almost convinced yourself you'd imagined it.

"So bossy."

Your heart stopped.

A familiar soft chuckle filled the room. "...Hey, sweetheart."

You spun around so quickly the sweater slipped from your hands. Eddie stood beside the bedroom door exactly as you remembered him. Your brain refused to believe what your heart had already recognized.

Then the first sob escaped your chest. "Eddie..."

He smiled. "Oh, don't do that."

His own voice cracked immediately. "'Cause if you start cryin'..."

A tear rolled down his cheek. "...I'm gonna start too."

You crossed the room so fast you nearly tripped over the rug, and he met you halfway. The second your arms wrapped around him, you felt him. Actually felt him.

You buried your face against his neck and cried harder than you had the night he left. He held you just as tightly.

"I missed you."

"I know."

"I missed you every day."

"I know."

"I still talk to you."

"I heard."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. "...You did?"

He smiled. "You always picked the prettiest flowers."

Fresh tears spilled down your face. "You were there?"

"Not like that." He shook his head gently. "But..."

His smile grew softer. "I heard enough."

You searched his face desperately, afraid that if you blinked he'd disappear again. "How?"

He laughed quietly. "I had to ask a lot."

"You... asked?"

"Hecate."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think she got tired of me."

A watery laugh escaped you. "That sounds about right."

"I might've been... persistent."

"You?"

"I know."

You reached up, touching his cheek just to reassure yourself he was still there. "What happened?"

"So much." He looked down at your joined hands before meeting your eyes again. "I found my mom."

A smile spread across his face unlike anything you'd ever seen. "It was her."

His eyes filled again. "The first person I saw."

He laughed softly through his tears. "She looked exactly the same. She hugged me before I even said anything."

He shook his head, overwhelmed by the memory. "She just..."

"...She kept saying how sorry she was that she couldn't stay."

"What about Wayne?"

Eddie nodded immediately. "I told her."

"What did she say?"

He smiled. "She cried."

You laughed through your own tears. "I figured."

"And..." He squeezed your hand. "...She wanted me to tell you thank you."

You frowned. "For what?"

"For loving her son when he couldn't."

You closed your eyes. "He always could."

"I know."

“How long? How long do we have?”

He shrugged, looking around the room. "Long enough."

You gave him a look. "Eddie."

"What?"

"That's not an answer."

He smiled. "It kinda is."

You folded your arms. "I've missed you for six months."

"I know."

"You don't get to be mysterious."

He laughed quietly. "Fair."

He rocked back on his heels before rubbing the back of his neck. "...Truth is..."

He looked at you with that same gentle smile you'd fallen in love with months ago. "...' Selflessness deserves to be honored.' As I was told."

Your heart squeezed. "Wha— She…said that?"

He nodded. "You gave up the person you loved to save people you'd never met."

His eyes grew glossy. "And I chose to leave with them instead of asking you to keep us here."

He reached for your hand. "She called it..."

His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "...a gift of selflessness."

You stared at him. "So this..."

"...Is her gift." He finished for you.

"And..." He pointed toward you. "...She also said something else."

"What?"

He grinned. "Congratulations."

You frowned. "...On?"

"You're stuck with ghosts."

Your mouth fell open. "What?"

"You heard me."

He looked far too pleased with himself. "Apparently, becoming Hecate's apprentice wasn't exactly a temporary arrangement."

"Eddie."

"I'm serious."

"I thought once everyone crossed over—"

"They did."

"But..." He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "...People still die."

You blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

He nodded sympathetically. "So every once in a while..."

He smiled. "...Somebody might need a little help finding the right door."

You stared at him. "So I'm..."

"A psychopomp."

"A what?"

"A guide."

He shrugged. "Sort of."

"You know that word?"

"I've had six months."

"So..." You looked around the room. "...Now what?"

"Now..." He glanced toward the bedroom window.  "...You keep doing what you've been doing."

"Helping people?"

"Mhm."

"Annoying Wayne every Sunday."

You laughed. "He likes when I annoy him."

"He really does."

"And..." He pointed toward the bookshelf. "...Maybe don't buy every occult book you see."

"I make no promises."

"I figured."

Before either of you could say anything else, a knock sounded softly against your bedroom door. "Come in," you called.

The door opened just enough for your aunt to poke her head inside. She took one look at the room.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Well, well, well."

Eddie immediately rubbed the back of his neck. "...Hi."

Your aunt leaned casually against the doorframe like finding your undead-dead boyfriend standing in your bedroom was only mildly surprising.

"I had a feeling."

You blinked. "You... did?"

She nodded toward Eddie. "The wards around the house shifted."

Then she looked back at him with an amused expression. "I suppose Hecate finally decided to stop pretending she doesn't have a soft spot."

hey so im actually NOT okay.

hope you all enjoyed!!! cute fic coming soon as an apology hehe.

taglist:

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You came into his life like a hurricane. A larger than life persona packed into a sexed-up body clad in leather and studs. A chaotic mess of teased up hair, killer legs, and smudged red lipstick. You were a blunt, brash, and unapologetic force. A seductive mega-babe that spoke her mind no matter if people wanted to hear it or not. You were exactly the type of woman that Eddie Munson would bow down to and kiss the ground in which she walked. The only problem is that Eddie Munson fucking hated you- and he hated you passionately.

He hated you with the same intense passion that he loved his vinyl collection, Dungeons and Dragons, and his prized Warlock guitar. Eddie Munson hated you with the burning hot fire of a thousand suns- and if you were to ask him exactly where his hatred for you had started, he would date it back to that one night in 1987 when you walked into The Hideout on Corroded Coffin Tuesday. Hell on heels. An absolute devil woman in a too-short skirt. He remembered that day vividly- and, boy, did he wish that he hadn’t.

You had heard from a friend that the music was good. Your new roommate Ronnie Ecker had raved on and on about her former band that was led by her best friend.

“Corroded Coffin” she said, scribbling down the address for you before she left for work that morning “They’re playing at The Hideout at ten pm. I’ll meet you there as soon as my shift is over.”

So, here you were. At The Hideout.

You arrived fashionably late. It had been a while since you had been out. The move from the city to small town Hawkins had been enough on your plate as you tried to get settled. A new town, a new place, and new roommates to get acquainted with. But, thankfully, Ronnie and Dougie had been nothing but welcoming when you slid into their living space and tried to carve out a place for yourself. So, when Ronnie offered to show you some of her favorite spots in town, you took her up on the offer.

By the time that you arrived, it was already ten-fifteen and halfway through the set. No sign of Ronnie. But it was fine, you thought. There was live music and a bar. You could hang.

You tried to ignore the turning heads of practically every male in the establishment. It wasn’t a new development. You were used to it. You were hot and you knew it. This fact and the attention from men was nothing new. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them. You looked good- real good.

Being new to the area meant making an impression, so you pulled out all the stops. Long black high-heeled boots over fishnet tights, an itty-bitty black leather skirt with silver zipper detailing down the front, and a lacy black bustier top that had your boobs pressed up and on display. Not to mention your hair that was teased up to the heavens. You looked like a sexed-up bombshell.

When Ronnie mentioned boys in a band, you knew you had to put on something good. If you caught one tonight, that would be a very welcome plus to the evening. What you didn’t know, however, was that you would definitely meet a boy. Just not in the way that you had anticipated.

You sidle up to the bar, sliding onto one of the bar stools as you ordered a drink from a maroon-haired woman with an unpleasant scowl on her face. She looked like she would rather be anywhere but here, and as soon as you heard the music that was playing throughout the rundown bar, you could definitely see why.

There they were. The infamous Corroded Coffin.

They didn’t look like much. A three-piece band with a dirty-blonde floppy haired drummer who couldn’t keep himself on beat to save his life, a husky-built bassist that was struggling to hold his instrument comfortably, and an overly exuberant lanky-limbed singer on guitar- hair curly, wild, and unkempt. You didn’t know what he was wailing on more- the mic or his guitar as they performed a rendition of Dream Evil by Dio. A song that you absolutely hated.

After the woman behind the bar placed your drink down in front of you, you swivel your body to face the small makeshift stage that was surely made of cheap plywood and some prayers that it wouldn’t fall through- causing the bar owner a hefty lawsuit. As you sip your drink and zone in on the music, you couldn’t help but pick up on every little thing that was wrong. Which was just about everything.

The drumming was too aggressive and both the bass and lead guitar were just slightly out of tune. Just barely but enough to notice and pick up on if you had a trained ear. But the singing might have been the worst part. You were used to frontmen in thrash metal bands being over exaggerated with the deepness of their voice and how they sang but this one definitely took the cake. It was like a bad Metallica impression on steroids. A car crash that you couldn’t look away from. The way he overextends the last word in each line of the song and the low growling thing that he adopted as he sang was atrocious. It was the exact reason why you despised thrash metal.

Then there were the outfits. Quintessential ‘I’m so tough and brooding and misunderstood’ apparel. Black jeans with slashes in the knees, dirty combat boots, battle vests with no sleeves or thrown over leather jackets. Band t-shirts with the design so heavily worn out from continuous wear. Wild, unkempt hair that looked like they had just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother. The whole dirty, grungy metalhead couture. You didn’t exactly hate their look. It was just kind of…boring. Predictable. Maybe even heavily played-out.

You studied the frontman with intrigue, trying to find the vision. He was easy to look at. Cute. Good bone-structure. Nice build for a rockstar. The long hair definitely did him some good. It was definitely on par with the tresses of all the guys you idolized from your favorite bands. It just needed something extra- some oomph. A little more edge. The boy was cute but, under your eye, he could be so much more. So much better.

Just as you were admiring him, deep in your revelry of just how you would make him over into the rock ‘n roll sex god that he had the potential of becoming- he turns his head, catching you staring at him intently. Looking him up and down in both a slight appreciation and a heavy intrigue.

Your eyes were on him as if you were a predator that was tracking its prey. In a way, maybe you were. Just not in the way that Eddie Munson was expecting. When he looked at you, he saw something completely different. From where Eddie was standing, he saw a girl- a smoking hot girl - staring at him as if she wanted to eat him alive and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Before Eddie realized it, he was extremely self-conscious. Becoming completely worked up with nerves once he realized that he was completely under your intrigue or scrutiny and he didn’t know which.

Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of hitting all of the right notes, remembering the rest of the lyrics to the song that he was currently trying to sing, and somehow trying to multitask doing all of this while also trying to look cool and mysterious. Not like a complete dork that can’t even play his own instrument if he were to mess up in front of you.

Messing up in front of the small handful of drunken regulars at the bar was nothing. Hell, they were barely even conscious enough to notice. But messing up in front of a hot girl? His ego would never be able to bounce back from that.

Suddenly, when it came to his performance, you had unknowingly become Eddie Munson's judge, jury, and executioner. He wanted to impress you- this mysterious girl seated at the bar, sipping her drink slowly through the shitty little straw while eyeing him down. Eddie Munson wasn’t used to being eyed down by girls, especially not ones that looked like you. He realized that he possibly had an in with you. Now all he could focus on was not fucking it up.

He played harder, louder, and more aggressively. He wanted to put himself in the zone. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to seem cool and interesting and maybe even a little mysterious, himself. He wanted you to think that he was fucking worth watching. What he didn’t realize was that he was doing the complete opposite. You could smell his desperation from where you sat and it served nothing but to make you cringe.

He counted down the seconds until their allotted thirty minute slot was up. Never once since he started the band did he want to rush off of a stage. Eddie loved being on stage. He loved playing his music and strumming the shit out of a guitar. It was his favorite pastime. Now, he couldn’t wait for it to end. For once, there was something that caught his attention even more.

He thought he was on the verge of losing his patience altogether by the time that he got to the end of Dream Evil, finishing off the song with a flourish as his fingers plucked out the final notes. His eyes were still on you. Yours were still on him. Eddie had never felt more electrified.

Gareth beats out a quick drum solo as Eddie approaches the mic stand, wrapping his hand around it as the lingering sounds of their instruments die down. He leaned into the mic, his lips brushing up against it as he spoke low.

“Thank you. Once again, in case you forgot, because you probably have- we are Corroded Coffin. That over there is Jeff on bass…”

Jeff raises his hand, waving it to the crowd of you and five other incapacitated drunks.

“Back there is Gareth on drums…”

The floppy-haired Gareth kid smashes his symbols, causing you to wince.

“And I’m Eddie.”

Eddie. Eddie Munson. The guy that Ronnie had told you about. The friend she wanted you to meet. Finally there was a face to the name- and, unfortunately, not a lot of talent.

“We play here at The Hideout on Tuesdays and Thursdays as long as I don’t piss off Bev too much. So yeah…thanks for listening. We hope you, at least, mildly enjoyed us tonight. If not, then I don’t know what to fucking tell ya. Anyways, goodnight.”

He had a little bit of an edge to him. That was something, you thought. Not enough- but something.

He sets his guitar onto its stand, turning to talk to his bandmates. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept flicking over to you. How he struggled to keep his eyes off of you. You would almost say that it was flattering if you weren’t completely disinterested. If there was one thing about you, nothing turned you off more than a guy that tried far too hard to impress you. Eddie seemed to be one of those types.

He hops off the stage, combat boots hitting the ground as he begins to saunter over- his body hot and sweaty as his t-shirt sticks to his torso. He runs his hands through his wild locks, his bangs sticking to his forehead. He looked nervous. You, on the other hand, were cool. Totally and completely cool.

Your drink was almost empty by the time he reached you, sidling up beside you as he leaned against the bar. He smelled like sweat, leather, and Camel cigarettes. His eyes were a warm shade of brown, large and doe-like as he stared at you. He looked even cuter up close, you would at least give him that much.

“Hi.” He speaks, his eyes boring into you as you sipped the rest of your drink- an air of indifference surrounding you. Eddie tries not to overthink it. Maybe you were just as nervous as he was? You were practically eye-fucking him up there onstage.

“Hi.” You answer, setting down your empty glass on the bar.

Eddie then freezes, feeling the weight of your expectant stare as you watch him. Waiting for something else. However, Eddie didn’t really have anything else. He didn’t think this far ahead. He just saw you looking at him and realized that he needed to do something about it. Even if he didn’t even know what that something is.

“I….uh…” He stammers, melting under your gaze.

“Can I help you with something?” You ask, arching an eyebrow.

“You…uh…you were looking at me.” Eddie states, as if it were obvious “While I was onstage.”

“Yeah.” You answer, your tone blunt and matter-of-fact “I look at a lot of people sometimes.”

“Right.” Eddie answers, shaking his head “Right, yeah. So…did you get to see much?”

You just stared at him as if he were dense. Like you were trying to decipher what he was saying as if he were speaking a different language.

“See much of what?” You question.

“Of my set.” He answers, making himself be more specific “While I was playing.”

“Yeah.” You reply coolly “I’ve seen enough, I guess.”

And that took Eddie aback. Just a little. He didn’t know how you meant it. He didn’t know if you meant it as you’ve seen enough to be impressed or you’ve seen enough and never wanted to experience it again.

“So…uh…what did you think?” He asks, his heart pounding in his chest. He suddenly realized just how much he cared to hear what you had to say. You were so hard to read that he couldn’t tell if you enjoyed it or hated it. He was both completely intrigued and extremely scared to find out which.

“It was alright.” You deadpan. It was all you offered up, leaving Eddie even more confused.

Really? He thought. That’s it?

“Just alright?” He asks, a little offended “That’s all I get?”

“I mean, is ‘just alright’ good enough for you? Or were you expecting an honest, scathing review?” You ask dryly, your eyes sweeping over his face.

“Scathing, huh?” He asks, raising his eyebrows “Were you….not a fan?”

“You want my real opinion?” You question.

Before Eddie could really think about the repercussions of what he was asking for, he goaded you on.

“Yeah.” He nods “Hit me with it. I’ve got thick skin. I’m sure it’s not anything that we haven’t heard before.”

And with his permission, you didn’t hold back. You tore into him- harshly.

“If you want my honest review, I think you suck.”

The blunt harshness of your voice felt like a hard slap across the face. Eddie blinked. Confused. Did you just say what he thinks you said?

“Your guitar was slightly out of tune and it was driving me crazy the entire time. You need to stop clamping your hands down onto the fretboard like a neanderthal. Loosen up your grip and you’ll sound way better. Your bass player is okay but he needs a proper bass strap. He looks like he’s constantly trying not to fumble his guitar while he’s playing it. Your drummer is bashing his symbols like they owe him money. Tell him to tone it down. He wants his sticks to bounce off of the drums and not punch a hole in them. As for your singing….just don’t. Also, your lyrics are too dark and brooding and you’re trying too hard to be James Hetfield. Which, you are not. Is that constructive enough criticism for you?”

For once in Eddie Munson’s life, he was speechless. Completely fucking dumbfounded and speechless. His brain went a mile a minute while he just continued staring at you, trying to find something to say. Anything really. What Eddie didn’t realize was that this would be the first time of many where your brutal, sharp tongue had him at a loss for words.

“Wow.” He chokes out “Tough crowd”

“Me? Or the drunks who fell asleep during your set? Look, I only sat through a little bit of your performance but I definitely think that you should hang up the whole ‘I’m so tough and angsty’ thing you’ve got going on. It doesn’t make you seem as interesting as you think it does. To be honest, thrash metal isn’t hot. People don’t care about the tough guy shit and sad lyrics.”

“Huh.” Eddie replies, his jaw clenching a bit as he stares at you. Suddenly, you didn’t seem as hot as he had thought you were. “So what do you listen to then? Since my shit doesn’t seem to do it for you.”

There was a bite to his words that amused you. He was offended, pissed off, and trying so hard to keep it to himself. But he was easier to read than an Archie comic. He was intimidated.

“Well, if you must know, I’m into the good shit.” You drop.

“Which is?” Eddie replies, trying to keep his attitude in check but he could hear it leaking through in his voice.

“Take your pick.” You say “Mötley Crüe….Poison…Ratt….Whitesnake. Jon Bon Jovi is a literal God. Def Leppard….Skid Row. Any of these familiar to you?”

Eddie just stares at you as if you have three heads. Then he finally loses his composure that he was trying so hard to keep in check.

“You’re fucking joking, right?” He replies, huffing out an incredulous laugh “Please tell me you’re fucking with me.”

“No.” You deadpan “Why would I be?”

“Okay….Let me get this straight….You come into my bar to watch my gig to shit all over my band when you listen to literal fucking garbage and have the nerve to judge me?” He replies, his eyes silently wide with every word that he was saying “You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind, sweetheart.”

“Actually, babe,” You retort “I’m not. I consider myself to have great taste in music.”

“Oh really?” Eddie snorts “That’s what you’re calling it? Your weird little delusion that fucking Poison is real music? Honeybun, you wouldn’t know what real music is if it bit you in the ass. The shit that you think is music is nothing but a bunch of bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” You laugh, pressing your plump lips together in a smirk that only drove Eddie to want to completely wipe it off your face. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” Eddie guffaws “Jealous of what, exactly? A bunch of made-up pretty boys in fucking heels and spandex that can’t play their fucking gear to save their goddamn lives? Sure, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Princess.”

He was pissed. Angry. Absolutely furious.

“Yeah?” You continue “Cause, to me, you seem pretty fucked up over the fact that a bunch of ‘made-up pretty boys in spandex’ made it big while you’re stuck here in bum-fuck Indiana strumming your cheap ass guitar at some hole-in the-wall dive while you pretend that you’re the real fucking deal. Well, hang it up, Rockstar. You’re not as hot as you think you are and the faster you learn that, the better off you are.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Eddie spits “Rolling fucking Stone? Give it up, Princess. Your taste in music is garbage. Do you actually even like the bands that you’re hyping up? Or do you just like the way that they look in a pair of leather pants?”

“Well, since you asked, the leather pants definitely don’t hurt.” You sass “And, if I was Rolling Stone, I wouldn’t even publish my review of your Thrash Trash in the back of the issue by the ads for Viagra and hair transplants.”

“Dollface, as if I give a fuck about what you think about me and my band. You’re clearly brain-dead if you think anything that fucking Twisted Sister put out could even come close to rivaling the shit I rep.”

“Really? Because you seemed to care a lot about what I thought five minutes ago.”

“That’s before I found out that you’re a glam rock groupie that probably hops on musicians' dicks for even just a shred of attention.”

“Oh really?” You snort “That’s quite the big assumption from someone who can’t even tune their shit correctly but wants to pretend to be Ronnie James Dio so bad. I’ve met a million posers just like you, Playboy, and you’re not even the best of them.”

“Poser? That’s fucking rich coming from a snob with so much Aqua Net in her hair that I’d be scared to light up a fucking cigarette around you.” Eddie quips “You look fucking ridiculous.”

“I happen to think I look pretty damn good and, judging by the way your boys over there are looking at me, I’d bet they think so too.”

As soon as you say it, Eddie whips his head around towards the stage where he catches Gareth and Jeff looking you up and down as they pretend to pack up their gear. They both hastily turn away as they suddenly act interested in a particular amp cord. Eddie would certainly be chewing them out later for this.

“As if either of my boys would be interested in a shallow piece of ass.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No?” You ask, tilting your head “Why don’t we ask them then?”

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re pretty fucking full of yourself.”

“Me?” You laugh “Do yourself a goddamn favor and take a look in the mirror. You go up there and sound like shit then hop off the stage thinking that you’d impress me enough to get in my pants? Please!”

“Judging by the way you’re dressed, I figured it wouldn’t be very hard.” Eddie drops, causing your mouth to drop open.

“Excuse me?” You retort. You couldn’t believe it.

“You heard me.” Eddie doubles down.

“Sounds real big coming from someone that looks like he probably hasn’t gotten any action since before the fucking Stone Age.” You insult, looking him up and down. “As if you’d even know what to do with it anyway. You clearly can’t handle a woman who’s even just a little bit opinionated.”

“Opinionated?” Eddie scoffs “That’s what you’re calling it instead of admitting that you’re being a total bitch?”

“Fuck you!” You spit out, giving him a hard look that he returned without hesitation.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t even touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“You know what? Why don’t you take your shitty fucking guitar and your entitled ass attitude and shove it up your-“

“Oh, hey guys!”

Both of your heads whip around, prompting landing on Ronnie Ecker who had just walked into The Hideout.

“Sorry I’m late. Work held me back later than I expected. But I see you guys have met!”

Ronnie was smiling. Completely oblivious to the complete train wreck that she was stepping into. It didn’t take long for her to read the room and pick up on the palpable and very uncomfortable tension.

“Yeah.” You reply sarcastically, your jaw clenched “Seems I’m lucky to have the displeasure.”

“Displeasure?” Ronnie questions, her stomach dropping “Wait. What did I miss?”

“Oh, you know, not much.” Eddie replies facetiously “Your friend here’s a real peach, Ron.”

“Hold on.” Ronnie asks, holding up her hands in surrender “What did I miss? Guys?”

But neither of you spoke. Neither of you looked at Ronnie- too busy giving each other hard, hot stares that conveyed so much without having to say anything at all. You and Eddie Munson clearly weren’t going to get along. Not even close.

────────

That night should’ve been the first and last time he would ever see you. To Eddie’s dismay, this wasn’t the case. In fact, ever since that night, he began seeing you everywhere.

Ronnie and Dougie’s apartment was no longer a hangout spot for him. It was now a space that you occupied and took claim over since you had moved in. Eddie pretended as if he didn’t mourn the loss of being able to stop by and pay two of his closest friends a visit. As a matter of fact, he tried to make it work.

At first, he tried to ignore you when he would drop by but it was becoming progressively harder to do so when you were always around. Always nagging, bitching, or insulting him. Undermining him and cutting him down. It started with movie night.

Ronnie had promised that you would be out of the apartment for the evening. That you would be doing something else- anything else- and that Eddie would be able to spend time with just Ronnie and Dougie. Two of his favorite people. He had it all planned out- a horror flick movie marathon with all of the good shit.

The Thing, The Shining, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Poltergeist, Evil Dead, and Evil Dead 2. As many as Steve was willing to set aside during his shift at Family Video. Eddie was fucking psyched. He rolled up several joints for the occasion, picked up a case of beer, and planned on ordering more pizza than the three of them could stomach. It was gonna be a great night. At least, it was. Before you showed up.

The trio was completely engrossed in A Nightmare On Elm Street as you burst into the front door, your hair done up more dramatically than it usually was. You were in a tight leopard-print mini dress with a black fringe denim jacket. Thigh-high boots and an itty bitty clutch bag that was dangling from your hand as you stumbled into the apartment. It was barely even ten o’clock and you had already had a night.

“Hey!” Ronnie greets, looking over at you “You’re home early. How was your date?”

As soon as Eddie heard the word ‘date’ he almost choked on his beer. The idea that any guy would even want to go out with you considering how insufferable you are was completely unfathomable to him.

“It was whatever.” You reveal, stepping into the living room area as you plopped down onto the couch- right next to Eddie. “He was cute but we didn’t really have much to talk about. I wasn’t impressed.”

Well, that’s nothing new, Eddie thought.

“What are we watching?” You ask, your eyes landing on the tv as Eddie tenses up beside you. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed.

“A Nightmare On Elm Street.” Dougie replies, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ew.” You scrunch up your nose “Really? I heard that this movie sucked.”

“Have you even seen it?” Eddie huffs, already annoyed with you and it hadn’t even been a full five minutes yet. “Or is this just gonna be another thing you’re fucking snobby about?”

“You guys,” Ronnie groans, throwing her head back “Seriously, let’s not, okay?”

“Whatever.” You sigh, rolling your eyes.

You lean over towards the coffee table, reaching for a can of beer before Eddie stops you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questions, looking between you and the beer.

“Um…having a beer? What the hell does it look like?”

“I bought those.” Eddie states bluntly “Of course you’d just take shit without even asking.”

You look at Eddie, your expression unblinking.

“Sorry, Munson.” You answer “Here, you want it back?”

You hold up the can of beer as you stare Eddie down, sticking out your tongue as you begin to lick around the lip of the beer can- maintaining eye contact as you do so.

Eddie watches as his face crinkles up into a look of disgust as you hold the can out for him to take.

“Here you go!”

Eddie didn’t even think about touching it.

“Fucking gross.” Eddie mutters, his face twisting into a look of disdain “Keep it. Who knows where the hell your mouth has been.”

You smirk triumphantly as you pop open the can, taking a drink as you watch how hard Eddie is trying to keep cool. How badly he’s trying not to let you have the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

Eddie turns his head back towards the TV, slumping down into the couch as he tries to watch the movie but he can’t help but be distracted by every little thing that you do. How you sitting next to him, even though he hated you, was driving him crazy.

As the movie continued, his head was swimming with thoughts of you. Thoughts that he shouldn’t be thinking. Because he hated you. Because you were rude and annoying and bitchy and completely fucking insufferable. But fuck- it was hard to focus when you smelled so good. Like Love’s Baby Soft and Big Red gum.

He tried not to watch from the corner of his eye when the bottom of your dress rode up your thighs as you reached forward to grab a slice of pizza. He tried not to think about how soft your thighs looked despite the fact that he couldn’t fucking stand you.

He tried not to pay attention when you began to shrug your jacket off, exposing your bare shoulders and your cleavage spilling over the top of your dress. How the skin there looks just as soft as your thighs. So kissable, so touchable. It was a shame that you were such a bitch. It was an even bigger shame that Eddie’s dick couldn’t help but harden beneath his jeans at the thought of you. Not only did he hate you but he hated how hot you were. How he still felt aroused by you despite you being the absolute worst.

“This is so stupid.” You huff, eyes on the television as you watch Nancy Thompson follow the trail of blood in her dream sequence- leading her down into the boiler room of the school.

“Who the hell sees a trail of blood and then follows it? Especially when there’s a man with knife fingers trying to kill you.” You complain “Like, come on. Is she literally brain-dead?”

“If she is, she has something in common with you then.” Eddie snorts, watching the way that your eyes narrow at him.

“Hey, Ronnie, tell me again how many times it took Professor Munson over here to graduate?” You sass.

“Who needs an education when I’m about to be the next James Hetfield? Right, sweetheart?” Eddie teases.

“In your dreams, Munson.” You roll your eyes “Hey, maybe if we’re all lucky, your dreams will end up like everyone else’s in this sorry excuse of a movie.”

“Oh my god, Princess.” Eddie groans “It’s not even that bad. Stop being such a snot.”

“Says the guy too dumb to catch the plot inconsistencies. Didn’t she burn the outside of her arm on that pipe? Why is the burn mark on the inside? The director couldn’t even get the continuity right.”

“Can you just shut up and watch it? Jesus H. Christ. You don’t have to fucking tell everyone how much you hate something every five seconds.” Eddie complains.

“You’re just mad that I have a point.” You reply.

“Whatever.” Eddie huffs “Can you shut the hell up now?”

“Oh, I need to shut up? This coming from the same guy that goes on and on and on about his stupid little mythical creature game and his battle Barbies?” You hit back.

“First of all, Dungeons and Dragons is not stupid.” Eddie states, holding up his ringed pointer finger for emphasis. “Second, they’re not ‘battle Barbie’s’ they’re fucking miniatures and they take an advanced amount of skill and precision to paint.”

“….Yeah, okay. All I got from that is that you’re a pathetic little virgin that frolics around pretending you’re in a make-believe world where you’re greater than you actually are.” You insult “It’s kinda sad, Munson.”

“Please, Sweetheart. How about you just say that you’re not smart enough to understand the complexity of D&D and we’ll just leave it at that? I won’t even laugh at you. Promise.” Eddie quips back.

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re fucking irritating.”

“Wow!” You exclaim “That’s a big word for you, Munson. Maybe we should have Ronnie put a sticker on your spelling chart.”

“Okay, airhead.” Eddie replies “Is there even anything in that head of yours besides Whitesnake lyrics? Or has the hairspray fumes already fried the rest of the brain cells you had up there?”

“Can you even spell ‘brain cells’, asshole?” You snap “I’d be surprised if you even knew how to spell your own name.”

“Huh. You know what, you got me there, Sweetheart.” Eddie shrugs “But I can spell yours. Wait, how does it go again? Oh right! B..I..T-“

“Alright! That’s enough!” Ronnie exclaims “It’s too late for this shit. I’m going to bed. Eddie, you know where the spare blankets are. I expect to hear neither of you bickering until after I have my morning coffee tomorrow. Think you both can handle that?”

“No promises.” Eddie smirks facetiously, causing Ronnie to shake her head in annoyance.

She rises from her spot on the couch along with Dougie, both of them retreating into their own respective rooms for the night- leaving just you and Eddie in the living room together.

You didn’t even dare to look at him- instead, scooping your jacket up from where it was draped over the back of the sofa. You stomp off to your room without even saying goodbye, as if you even wanted to- slamming the door to your bedroom closed with a little more force than necessary.

That only left Eddie. Alone on the couch- smirking devilishly to himself. Satisfied that at least he got to have the last jab.

────────

Ronnie and Dougie’s couch was stiff against his back, making it hard for Eddie to get comfortable. He tossed and turned to try and find a position that was decent enough to fall asleep in but it was no use. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how much more comfortable he would be on the floor compared to lying against the tough cushions. That’s when he hears it.

It was quiet but not completely undetectable. If the apartment wasn’t as silent as it was, he wouldn’t have heard it. The faint buzzing sound that was coming from behind the door that was only a mere few feet away from where he was lying on the sofa. The door to your bedroom.

At first, he denied it- trying to put the thought out of his mind as he nestled his head against one of the couch’s throw pillows before closing his eyes and hoping for sleep. He tried to chalk up the light buzzing noise to it being something in the apartment. Something completely normal. Like the hum of the kitchen refrigerator when it kicks on. The fan on the inside of the air conditioning unit. He almost believed it until he heard the unmistakable sound of heavy breathing and panting.

No, it was just his imagination- his brain hearing things that weren’t actually there. He actually believes it for a moment before he hears a moan. A low yet desperate moan. His eyes fly open as his mind begins to process what he’s hearing. You on the other side of his bedroom door- moaning. Were you masturbating?

His brain stitches it all together. The buzzing noises, the heavy breathing, the moans, your failed date earlier that evening. You were in there behind that closed door touching yourself- and you knew that he was lying on the couch only a few feet away. What the actual fuck?

He pulls this blanket over his head, turning onto his side as he tries to block out the sounds but the action is futile. He is now hyper-aware of everything.

The small pants and moans you let out while you, as Eddie assumed, were touching yourself. He tried to calm his body as his heart rate jumped, your noises became whinier and more desperate by the second. Suddenly, his body was really starting to betray him. Before he knew it, blood flow began to rapidly travel south- causing him to become hot and stiff beneath his boxers.

Jesus fucking Christ, this could not be happening…

Then the speed of the buzzing began to increase, growing faster and more frantic. You were jacking up the intensity. Eddie felt like he was dying inside. You, however, must have been dying for more friction, because as soon as the vibrator grew louder, so did the unbelievably sweet noises that you were making.

Fucking hold it together, Eddie thought. You can not be hard right now. Not for her.

But it was pointless. His dick was already rock hard and needy as he listened to the way you breathed and moaned. How your breath would catch every so often as if you were surprised that you could make yourself feel that good. Which only made Eddie wonder what you would sound like if he could make you feel that good. His cock was straining hard and practically throbbing.

No. Stop. Absolutely not. He was not going to fucking jerk off to the sounds of you masturbating. No fucking way.

But then you let out a gasp that caused his heart to skip, almost making him whimper.

God, he was fucking pathetic. A horny pathetic fuck that clearly couldn’t keep his dick under control. Not even when the girl he despised more than anything was the one behind all of the provocative and sexy little noises that he was hearing. But they only grew louder and more frequent. Crescendoing higher as you were starting to reach your peak. It was when he heard you let out a breathy “fuck” that he finally lost his composure.

His hand was shoved down into the front of his boxers within seconds, grabbing onto his hot, heavy length as he shamefully began to stroke it. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking doing this.

“Oh fuck..” He whispers, low enough that no one could hear besides himself.

He was warm and aching against his palm, squeezing his fist with just the right amount of pressure that had him biting his lip as he worked his hand up and down his shaft.

“Shit.” He hisses, listening to your hot and heavy breathing as your moans begin to pitch higher.

The sound of your needy voice was so fucking hot as he pulls his hand off of himself, spitting into it for lubrication as he puts his hand right back where he needed it most- jacking it up and down the length of his dick with a faster pace.

The new speed had him throwing his head back into the pillow beneath it, causing his breathing to quicken as he twisted his fist on the upstroke. The flick of his wrist was delicious as he listened to you whimper and gasp underneath your own touch. You sounded so fucking beautiful- arousing sounds tumbling from your mouth that weren’t the snotty, bitchy remarks that you always make towards him. If only you could sound like this every time you opened your mouth. Maybe he wouldn’t fucking hate you.

You were such a mean, angry, bitter little thing. Always complaining, always emasculating him- never having anything nice to say. But, fuck, you were so goddamn hot. So incredibly fucking sexy. Good enough to bend over and fucking eat. But Eddie hated you too much to ever fucking admit it. Too embarrassed by how you would react if he ever revealed that this was how he felt. How badly he wanted you to shut your mouth and let him fucking take you- to pound all of the meanness out of your body until you’d be syrupy sweet for him.

His imagination mixed with your desperate noises of pleasure only spur him on. God, he wanted to fuck you- he wanted to fuck you badly. He was getting so close to cumming just thinking about it. Thinking about what it would be like if he were the one making you moan like that instead of that annoying little vibrator that started this in the first place.

If he were in that bedroom with you right now, would he be fucking you? Balls deep inside of you until you couldn’t even form words? Or would he have you on your knees with his cock between your lips as he fucked your face until you were gagging around him, taking him back as deep as you could go? Would he have you bent over with your face buried in the mattress so that he wouldn’t have to look at you and be reminded of how much he couldn’t stand you? Showing you that you were nothing but a loud-mouthed fuck toy to him. There was so much for him to fantasize about with your sexy little noises as the backing track to his filthy imaginings. So many horny thoughts and he was so close to cumming.

And clearly, so were you.

Your high-pitched moans reach their peak with a sudden gasp followed by a desperate whisper of “oh my god!”

Eddie’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open as he hears your orgasm, bucking into his fist quickly as he pants and whimpers. He was about to cum and he was gonna cum hard.

He let it take over him, his fist squeezing, hips bucking as he milked himself of his orgasm- he started cumming and he couldn’t stop.

The feeling was mind-blowing as his twitching cock began to spill all over his lower stomach- coating it with his own cum as it came out in heavy spurts that he couldn’t control. It felt good, so fucking good, as he unloaded onto himself.

Your sounds had gone silent on the other side of the door as Eddie tried to catch his breath, his hand releasing his softening cock as it flopped lazily off the side of the couch.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

Then he sat with it. The fact that he had just made himself come hard for his literal fucking enemy begins to settle over him. He had just jerked off and came…to you. He sits in silence. The post-nut clarity taking over as he laid there. On his friend’s couch. In his underwear. Decorated in his own cum.

What the fuck did he just do?

Your drink was almost empty by the time he reached you, sidling up beside you as he leaned against the bar. He smelled like sweat, leather, and Camel cigarettes. His eyes were a warm shade of dark brown, large and doe-like as he stared at you. He looked cuter up close, you would at least give him that much.

“Hi.” He speaks, his eyes boring into you as you sipped the rest of your drink- an air of indifference surrounding you. Eddie tries not to overthink it. Maybe you were just as nervous as he was? You were practically eye-fucking him up there onstage.

“Hi.” You answer, setting down your empty glass on the bar.

Eddie then freezes, feeling the weight of your expectant stare as you watch him. Waiting for something else. However, Eddie didn’t really have anything else. He didn’t think this far ahead. He just saw you looking at him and realized that he needed to do something about it. Even if he didn’t even know what that something is.

“I….uh…” He stammers, melting under your gaze.

“Can I help you with something?” You ask, arching an eyebrow.

“You…uh…you were looking at me.” Eddie states, as if it were obvious “While I was onstage.”

“Yeah.” You answer, your tone blunt and matter-of-fact “I look at a lot of people sometimes.”

“Right.” Eddie answers, shaking his head “Right, yeah. So…did you get to see much?”

You just stared at him as if he were dense. Like you were trying to decipher what he was saying as if he were speaking a different language.

“See much of what?” You question.

“Of my set.” He answers, making himself be more specific “While I was playing.”

“Yeah.” You reply coolly “I’ve seen enough, I guess.”

And that took Eddie aback. Just a little. He didn’t know how you meant it. He didn’t know if you meant it as you’ve seen enough to be impressed or you’ve seen enough and never wanted to experience it again.

“So…uh…what did you think?” He asks, his heart pounding in his chest. He suddenly realized just how much he cared to hear what you had to say. You were so hard to read that he couldn’t tell if you enjoyed it or hated it. He was both completely intrigued and extremely scared to find out which.

“It was alright.” You deadpan. It was all you offered up, leaving Eddie even more confused.

Really? He thought. That’s it?

“Just alright?” He asks, a little offended “That’s all I get?”

“I mean, is ‘just alright’ good enough for you? Or were you expecting an honest, scathing review?” You ask dryly, your eyes sweeping over his face.

“Scathing, huh?” He asks, raising his eyebrows “Were you….not a fan?”

“You want my real opinion?” You question.

Before Eddie could really think about the repercussions of what he was asking for, he goaded you on.

“Yeah.” He nods “Hit me with it. I’ve got thick skin. I’m sure it’s not anything that we haven’t heard before.”

And with his permission, you didn’t hold back. You tore into him- harshly.

“If you want my honest review, I think you suck.”

Hometown zero turned mega-rockstar, Dungeon Master turned guitar god, formerly ridiculed and believed-to-be-devil-worshipping town pariah Edward Phillip Munson was getting married.

TMZ had broken news of the engagement long before Eddie had gotten the chance to make any of the long-distance calls required to tell anybody himself. Which wasn’t terribly surprising, truth be told. It had been months, close to a year in some cases, since anyone from your small hometown had been in regular contact with Eddie.

The cost of fame, you all supposed.

But no one seemed to mind it so much once they had that envelope in their hands.

Robin had called immediately upon opening the one that was delivered to her and Nancy’s place, talking rapid fire as usual, asking if you wanted to fly out early with them to sightsee, if you wanted to go in on the AirBnb with them, if you thought rock stars still registered at Bed, Bath & Beyond or was there some other super-exclusive place they got their linens and dishware?

You forced out a laugh, trying to sound as good-natured as you could when you said you’d have to let her know. Normally, you probably would have accepted without a second thought. 

Normally, you might have been joking with her about how celebrities slept on sheets with thread counts higher than your income. Normally, you’d be over the moon to see a Save the Date for the wedding of your oldest and closest friend.

Except you had yet to receive yours.

It was surprising, to say the least, to come home on the day everyone had been showing theirs off, waving them in the faces of anyone who had eyes to see, to find your mailbox barren—not so much as a catalog or a predatory credit card offer.

Still, you told yourself to keep calm. And actually managed to do so, for the most part.

There were a million and a half possibilities for why it hadn’t arrived. Maybe they had been sent out in batches. Maybe the ink smudged and it had to be returned when the post office couldn’t decipher your address. Maybe Eddie had forgot to put your new address and sent it to the trailer park where you no longer lived instead of your apartment on the other side of town.

You told yourself all these things and more, over and over again like a bedtime story. Trying to reassure yourself that nothing was amiss.

Because why would it be?

And yet your mailbox remained empty. Cluttered with the typical assortment of drab bills and junk mail, with no sign of the weighted, cream-colored cardstock bearing Eddie’s full government name written in a script so elegant you’d think he was a Duke or an Earl of some sprawling English estate rather than a gangly metalhead who hailed from the humble beginnings of Forest Hills.

Anyone you mentioned it to tried to soothe you in the same ways you tried to soothe yourself.

It has to be a mistake, they all said. Lost in the mail, delivered to the wrong address, insufficient postage—they gave endless explanations for the inexplicable. Of course you’re invited. You have to be. He wouldn’t dream of getting married without having his best friend there!

Eventually you resolved to just call him, knowing it would likely go straight to voicemail; knowing it would take a few days for him to get back to you as it always did. But just as you sat down in your living room to dial, your phone buzzed in your hand as a call from him came through.

“Hey!” you said brightly, all the hurt you had been plagued by the past few weeks having evaporated the second his name flashed on your caller ID. “That’s so weird, I was about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

His voice was rougher than expected, raspy and haggard. It sounded the way it did when he’d just gotten off stage, after he’d finished screaming his own lyrics to thousands. Except there was no joy behind his exhaustion, no exhilaration or elation cracking through the way it always had whether he was singing for a sold-out crowd at MSG or the same five drunks at the Hideout.

“You okay?” you asked. “You sound funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, just ahhhh…we were in the studio all day. I’m really beat.”

It wasn’t a lie—he was a shit liar, you could always tell when he was—but there was most definitely something he wasn’t telling you.

Your spine instantly went rigid, panic spiking with a sharp pinch to your nose, and you tried to sound as normal as possible while you picked at a piece of loose skin hanging around your thumbnail.

“So…what’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure?” The teasing edge to your voice came out hollow and phony, lacking all the natural ease that normally came along with talking to him.

It had been years now since he moved out to Los Angeles but you never really felt the distance until his music career took off. When he first got there, he still called you nearly every night. And as you laid in your bed with the phone pressed to your ear, it was easy to imagine he was just a few trailers down stretched on his own lumpy mattress instead of 2000 miles away.

Secretly, you sort of longed for those days—for the nights he poured himself into bed after a shift bartending or caterwaiting or whatever other odd job he had fallen into that week. And still the one call he always made, even if he was bordering on passing out from pure exhaustion, was to you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained solemnly. “About the wedding.”

“Um…me too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

There it was again—that crack, that fissure, that slight waver in his voice so unfamiliar it made him sound like a stranger. Too serious. Too stoic. Too unlike the boisterous boy you’d always known.

“Yeah, uh…this is kind of awkward,” you chuckled again, the sound of it riddled with nerves, and you wondered if he could tell how much you hated to ask, how long you’d waited, trying to put it all off. “But I was wondering about your Save the Dates? Because everyone else got theirs and I—”

“I didn’t send yours.”

The words are maudlin. Almost pained, like he’d just told you someone died. And your reaction is more or less the same as if he had.

“…Oh.”

“I’m—I’m looking at it right now.”

You tried to imagine him in California, sitting in his fancy penthouse the record label had helped him secure just as the paparazzi began to swarm his humble fourth floor walk-up. You’d only seen it in pictures, and not even ones he had sent you—Architectural Digest had done a piece on it that came out around the same time the news broke that he had started dating Carli West.

Was he stretched out on his massive leather sofa looking out those floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling metropolis laid out at his feet?

Holding the phone to his ear with one hand while the other clutched an envelope with your name and address stamped on the front? 

Or maybe he wasn’t even there. 

Maybe he had finally moved into his girlfriend’s—fiancée’s—mansion in Westlake Village.

“She, um…” his voice cracked again. “She asked me not to invite you.”

The ancient springs in your plaid recliner squeaked in protest as you sank into it, wobbly legs threatening to give out underneath you. Your mind was a blank, eyes staring unfocused at the walls, totally dumbfounded. A low buzz began to drone in your ears, steadily getting louder until it was all you could hear, like a deafening static drowning out every sound in existence.

“I’m so sorry. I swear, I tried. We’ve been having it out for weeks and she won’t budge.”

“B-but…why? I’ve never even met her! What could I have possibly done to—”

“It’s not you,” he insisted firmly. “Seriously, it has nothing to do with you. She just thinks—”

Whatever explanation he was about to sputter, you didn’t hear. The simple press of a button with a red icon is not nearly satisfying enough, though. You desperately miss the harsh clang of a landline being slammed back into its cradle, its metallic reverb echoing in the emptiness and silence.

As it is, all you can do is toss your phone away and blink back tears as it bounces off the couch cushion and thumps to the floor. You opt to leave it there, reaching instead for your keys where they sit in the middle of the coffee table.

You’re not even sure where you’re headed as you follow the same roads you’ve driven most of your life, tires swerving on asphalt that’s still wet with melted snow from the barrage of winter storms you’ve had over the past couple weeks. The night is pitch black in front of you, the air stinging and harsh, threatening yet another cold snap.

It’s not until you’re halfway downtown that you realize you left your wallet at home and have to head for The Hideout. You certainly would prefer not to spend an evening surrounded by countless memories of listening to Eddie’s band play, sitting at the end of the bar watching him bob and weave in and around stumbling patrons to clear empties and wipe down tables—all while razzing Peg with his ineffable, nigh insufferable, Munson charm.

But its the only place you know will serve you with nothing more than lint in your pocket.

You posted up at the near-deserted bar, downing two beers in half as many hours, staring into the middle distance contemplating the impossible.

A movie star hated you. A movie star you’d never met, who had sucked face with half of Hollywood—professionally or otherwise—and who lived in a mansion with nine bedrooms, and who pulled in millions of dollars at the box office…hated you.

That was the only conclusion you could draw from this information, right? It couldn't possibly be an issue of space. They were inviting the entire goddamn universe as far as you could tell. 

So it had to be you. Unless…

Distantly, you register the song on the jukebox changing and the opening chords of melancholy piano playing over Bonnie Tyler’s gritty voice, making you reach for your beer and chug.

“Hey there, Bright Eyes.”

The voice of Steve Harrington might have been the last one you wanted to hear right now, and yet it’s exactly what filled in your ears. You rolled your eyes purely out of instinct as he walked over, and it caused a single traitorous tear to roll down your cheek. You swiped at it, praying he didn’t see.

“Whoa, whoa. What’s with the water works?”

He slotted into the stool next to you and a wave of his scent washed over you, the aroma made up of something gourmand and surely expensive. A few stray pieces of chestnut hair fall forward into his shining eyes as he leans his elbows on the bar and tilts his head to get a look at you.

“Just allergic to your cheap cologne,” you sniffed, the bitterness of your insult undercut by the creak of your voice. Steve’s lips quirked in a small smile. 

You knew well as he did, he never wore anything cheap.

With an overdramatic sigh, he clutched his hand to his heart and wobbled in his seat as he leaned far back like he’d been struck there. It made your chest pang, thinking how that was one of Eddie’s bits—except he probably would have fallen right to the sticky floor just to make you smile.

“She wounds me, Peg,” Steve lamented when he caught the bartender’s eye. “Can we get another round over here, please? And a couple shots?”

Steve might have been the only person on the planet who could charm a smile out of ever-surly Peg. It was a small one, barely eking out, but it was there. She retrieved another beer for each of you and then placed down two shot glasses, which she filled with brown liquor that sloshed over their rims as she slid them over. Pretending not to be pleased when Steve winked at her.

“Alright. Come on, now. Out with it,” he said, pushing one of the shots in front of you.

Reluctantly, you picked up the glass and stared down it for a second like it was the barrel of a gun before knocking it back. The liquor burned down the center of your chest, like a knife slicing you down the middle. It made your throat spasm with the need to cough, but you forced it back.

“It’s not a mistake,” you said gravely after a long pause. Steve’s lips automatically pursed.

“What’s not?” he asked.

“My Save the Date isn’t lost,” you sighed heavily and pushed your empty glass away. “They didn’t send one, because I’m not invited. Because he doesn’t want me there.”

For once in his life, Steve was silent. Speechless. He stared at the side of your face until he made a sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth.

“Nope. There’s no way that’s true.” He shook his head. “He actually said that?”

“Not in so many words,” you muttered.

Steve’s strong brow pinched, his handsome features furrowed, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek and then slipping out past his lips as he tussled with that bit of information.

“I don’t buy it,” he said, shaking his head again. You rolled your eyes.

“He said she doesn’t want me there. Except I’ve never even met her, so clearly it must be him.”

Your words started to wobble the longer you spoke, and you had to swallow the rest before they came spewing out of you like that shot nearly did. Steve picked up his beer and stared at it, his lips still pursed as he thought. It was the most pensive you’d ever seen him.

“Well…maybe she’s intimidated,” he offered after a long pause, punctuated by a swig of beer.

“She’s got a fucking Oscar, Steve,” you snapped. “In what universe would I intimidate her?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you and he were like conjoined twins your entire lives? If he’s told her anything about his life before California, you can be damn sure your name came up.”

You scoffed, rapidly blinking your eyes as more tears stung behind them, threatening to spill over. Most of the town, much like Steve, thought if they ever saw a Save the Date with Eddie’s name on it, yours would be the one written alongside it. 

But you and Eddie were just friends.

Nothing more.

“He’s not—”

“Right, right,” Steve sighed, waving his beer back and forth, his eyes rolling back, “he’s not, you’re not, there’s nothing going on, yadda yadda.”

“Well, there’s not,” you snarled sourly. Never had been, never would be. “We’re just friends.”

Steve’s brow arched. “You and I are friends, and you wouldn’t be sitting here cutting your whiskey with tears if you weren’t invited to my wedding.”

“Like anyone would ever marry you,” you sniped.

The skin around Steve’s hazel eyes crinkled with a smile, seemingly pleased he managed to draw out that little attitude you always saved just for him.

“Well, then it sounds to me like there’s only one thing left to do,” Steve said.

You turned your head with a questioning glance and watched as he pushed his own shot in front of you. With a resigned sigh, you wrapped your hand around it and knocked it back. 

Another slice right down the middle.

“C’mon, champ. Time to get you home,” Steve said, lifting one of your limp arms and draping it over his stupid broad shoulder to help you to your feet, bracing you against him as you swayed.

Last call had long since come and gone. And between Steve’s credit card and Peg’s soft spot for you, you had most definitely been over served. The formerly near-empty bar was now completely deserted—tabs all closed, stools all placed on top of tables, drunks all carted away for the night.

With one notable exception.

“No,” you whined weakly against Steve’s chest as he hoisted you up. “Don’wannagohome.”

“Well, you can’t stay here,” he said, shooting Peg a grateful smile en route to the door.

You grumbled some more as you tried to get your feet to cooperate in spite of your brain’s decision to abandon them. “Steve, really—please, not home. Anywhere else. Anywhere.”

Even in your current state, you knew you couldn’t be trusted within dialing distance of your phone. You would almost certainly say something you regretted, and maybe even moreso, you were terrified to see whether or not Eddie called.

Honestly, it was tough to say which would be worse—returning home to a slew of missed calls and texts you didn’t trust yourself to answer; or the just as unbearable absence of them.

Steve helped you walk across the gravel parking lot to his car and opened up the rear door. With what little control you had left of your limbs, you climbed into the backseat and tried not to think too much about how many girls he’d had back here in much more compromising positions. 

The world went horizontal as you slumped over on your side and you pinched your eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop it from spinning like a merry-go-round. The car jostled as Steve climbed into the driver’s seat up front and cranked the engine, revving it to get heat flowing through the vents.

“Steve?”

Your voice is tiny. Quiet as a pin dropping in the dark as snow began to fall outside the windows. Steve’s head swiveled to look back at you and his jaw clenched at the sight. Your head hung off the edge of his backseat, your neck barely able to hold it up. Your face was lit only by the lone streetlight overhead that reflected off the wet trails of tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You inhaled a stilted breath, bottom lip quivering. It’s the smallest you’ve ever felt. 

Smaller even than when you were a little kid and fell off of the shoddily constructed “treehouse” you and Eddie made together, thinking it was the worst pain you’d ever feel in your whole life.

More tears leaked out of your eyes, dripping off your chin. With a shaky exhale, you finally asked the question that had been running rampant around the inside of your head all night.

Longer, actually. If you were really being honest with yourself.

“Is he really gonna marry her?”

Steve made as little noise as possible as he shuffled down the hallway, passing the guest room after stopping at the door to listen for the sound of your gentle snoring on the other side. 

You’d agreed to sleep at his house without nearly as much cajoling Steve anticipated, even going so far as to whisper a quiet thank you to him as you pulled the comforter up to your neck.

To say you were in a rare state last night would be putting it lightly.

He had never seen you so upset in all the time he’d known you and he could count the number of times he’d seen you cry on one hand, with four fingers left over. If there was a list of people you would have chosen to confide in about all this, Steve wouldn’t have made the alternates.

And yet it was his shoulder you cried on as he helped you inside his parent’s house. His was the name you gurgled out as you tried desperately not to vomit up everything you had drunk on an empty stomach. His was the hand that rubbed your back when you finally curled up in bed.

How things would go this morning, though, Steve didn’t have the faintest idea.

He’d just put the coffee on to brew when his parent’s landline started to ring and he sprinted into the living room to snatch up the receiver. No one ever called that number anymore except for a few former clients and colleagues of his father’s who hadn’t got the memo the Harringtons had       long since relocated to the city, leaving both Hawkins and their son in the rearview.

“Harrington residence,” Steve chirped.

“Hey, man. It’s Eddie.”

“Oh. Hey. How, um…how are you?”

“I’m, uh…I’m okay. Listen,” he sighed, “I have kind of a weird favor.”

Eddie promptly launched into his rendition of what happened, giving Steve an abridged version of the events he had heard your side of last night. Eddie hit most of the same points as you, but he didn’t give much more than a vague explanation of what exactly had upset you to begin with.

And he ended it all with a heavy, labored sigh.

“I’ve been calling all night trying to reach her, but she isn’t picking up. I just need to know she’s ok. Can you…I mean, would you mind going over there and checking on her?”

Steve’s tongue pushed against his teeth. “Ahhh…so, here’s the thing. She’s actually here.”

“Here?” Eddie echoed. “Here where?”

“At my place. With me.”

The line crackled as Eddie fell silent on the other end. Like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. Like Steve had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

“She’s with you?” he said finally. “She’s there?”

Before Steve could answer, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He zeroed in on your form as you shuffled down the hallway into the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You actually looked a lot more cognizant than he expected. There was still some mascara smudged beneath your eyes, but the black trails left on your cheeks had been washed away. A curious look on your face, you held up the coffee pot and raised a brow, wordlessly asking if he wanted a cup.

Steve’s thumb came up to his lip and he took the nail between his teeth, gnawing on it.

He was positive you had no idea who was currently on the phone. You would have run over and yanked the receiver out of the wall if you did. As it is, you just stared back at Steve blankly.

The plan forms rapidly in his head—not really a plan, per se, more like a nebulous outline of one. And before he knows it, or before he can think better of it, he’s inhaling sharply into the phone.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, eyes still locked on yours. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

letting this one out of the vault because a) I like it and I can do what I want, and b) idk, I guess it’s sort of my goodbye. I don’t feel particularly inspired to write anything new, and I haven’t in quite some time. I originally saw this as a series, but I’m going to say there won’t be any more of this coming.

i'm not leaving leaving, i'll still be scrolling and reading when I can, but I feel like it would be disingenuous to act like any day now I'm gonna be cranking out a new series or updates.

I truly love everything i’ve got to make on here, and I'll never forget the feeling of creating them, the words flying out of my fingers, scenes taking shape in my head faster than I could get it down on the page. I'll never not miss it, I think. And I'm so grateful for all the people I've gotten to know through our writing and all the stupid, silly fun we've had <3

But he had changed in the little things. He took better care of his hair now, even spending a little more money than anyone should on a simple shampoo and conditioner, and he rarely talked about sex anymore.

It wasn’t that he’d magically become a prude over the years. He’d simply learned that some things were better — and hotter — left between two people, and no longer felt the need to tell his best friend Steve about whatever fucking position or wild thing had happened in the alley behind the bar.

Except now.

He’d switched to whiskey — double shot, no ice — about five minutes ago after realising the two beers before it weren’t doing much.

Steve, who had begrudgingly left his twenty-five weeks pregnant wife at home to meet Eddie for what had apparently been an emergency drink on a random Wednesday, looked completely and utterly lost as he quietly sipped his Sex on the Beach.

“So,” the younger man started slowly, tilting his glass while absentmindedly playing with the little decorative umbrella. “You gonna tell me what’s been plaguing you?”

“I can’t, Steve.” Eddie groaned, abandoning his nearly empty glass to drag both hands down his face.

“You literally called me because, and I quote,” Steve took a sip before making quotation marks with his fingers. “‘Steve, dude, I need to tell you something or I’m gonna explode.’ So, spill.”

“I know, I know.” Eddie groaned again, tipping back the last of his whiskey and pretending it still burned on the way down. “But I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because…” Another sigh escaped him as he raised his empty glass towards the bartender for a refill. “It’s about sex, okay? Happy?”

Steve blinked at him and leaned back in his chair and silently raised his own glass for another drink.

“You’re acting like you didn’t fuck half the weird chicks behind the Hideout back in the day,” he said, absentmindedly fiddling with his straw. “I honestly don’t get why you’re acting like a fucking virgin. You’re pushing fifty, Edward.”

“I’m forty-two, Stephen,” Eddie deadpanned. “You— Forget it. You don’t understand.”

“Of course I don’t understand. You haven’t said shit fort the last hour.”

“It’s just…” Another defeated sigh escaped Eddie as his tattooed hand disappeared into the dark brown hair now threaded with silver that had, much to his horror, finally started to show.

He was being ridiculous, he knew that. Steve was right — he was acting like a fucking virgin despite being the furthest thing from it.

But this? He wasn’t sure about this.

Hell, he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t imagined the whole fucking thing.

Eddie opened his mouth, only to snap it shut again when two fresh drinks were set down on the table between them.

When the bartender had disappeared just as quickly as she’d arrived, a string of choked words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth, vowels mashed together with embarrassment as he immediately lifted his glass to his lips, desperate to give himself something — anything — to do besides look at Steve.

“What?” Steve frowned. “Dude, what the fuck. Talk slower, like a normal person.”

“I said…” Eddie repeated, keeping his eyes fixed somewhere on the wall behind Steve. “She asked if I’d ever done anal.”

And there it was — the utter, skin-prickling silence.

Steve simply stared at him.

“…That’s it?” he finally asked after a full minute. “This is what’s had you acting all weird?”

“Dude—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, man.” Steve let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m finishing this drink and going home.”

“What? No.”

“Eddie, you’re being ridiculous.” He licked his lips before taking another sip. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that she’s half my age and she’s asking me something I’d never even stopped to think about.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

Steve sighed. The day was catching up with him, and Eddie’s bullshit wasn’t doing much to help. So he pulled his glass a little closer, took another sip through the straw, and counted to ten.

“I don’t see what the problem is.”

“You don’t—” Eddie sighed, exasperated, averting his gaze like he couldn’t quite believe what had just come out of his mouth. “Steve, we grew up in the eighties.”

“I know. I survived it.”

“Other than the occasional dirty joke at a party, we didn’t exactly sit around discussing sex.”

Steve frowned as he thought about it. “Now that you mention it…”

“Girls back then never asked if you’d tried this or that. They asked if you were a virgin, and if you both were, you just figured shit out… and then never spoke about it again.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, resting an elbow on the armrest as he sipped at his ridiculously bright cocktail, nodding along to Eddie’s rambling.

“Meanwhile, this girl looked me dead in the eye at nine in the morning and went, Have you ever tried anal? Like she was asking me if I’d ever seen Jurassic Park.”

A snort escaped Steve at the comparison.

“What did you reply?”

“…‘Can I have some coffee first?’”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, set his drink back down, and rested both hands behind his head like he was sprawled out on the couch watching a football game.

“Jesus, Eddie. You’re unbelievable.” He groaned.

“I’m going to kill myself,” Eddie muttered.

“Without trying anal first?”

“Steve.”

“The joke wrote itself, man.”

The younger man shrugged again, absentmindedly spinning his straw between his fingers.

“Listen, just go home and talk to her,” he said simply. “Tell her… I don’t know, that you weren’t expecting the question or something.”

“I can’t just… talk to her about it.”

“Eddie, my man, you’re acting like a fucking teenager.” Steve shook his head. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“Four months,” he repeated slowly. “If this is supposed to go anywhere, you need to learn how to communicate. Apparently, that’s something you still haven’t figured out after forty-two years.”

“I hate you,” Eddie muttered over the rim of his glass.

“No.” Steve pointed at him with the end of his straw. “You hate that I’m right. There’s a difference.”

Much to his dismay, Steve had, in fact, been right.

Eddie had spent the entire fifteen-minute drive back to your place mentally turning over every word in the English dictionary, trying to figure out what he was supposed — what he wanted — to say once he got there.

By the time the red lacquered front door came into view, he still hadn’t figured it out.

The doorbell rang before he even really registered pressing it, and it only took a few seconds before he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

And then there you were, standing right in front of him with messy hair and an oversized shirt you’d customised a few years earlier, back when you were still in high school.

“Hey—”

“I can’t stop thinking about your question, and it’s driving me absolutely insane.”

Your head tilted at the rapid stream of words that tumbled out of his mouth.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Somehow, you’d found yourselves locked in a staring contest that neither of you remembered starting.

“Uh… hi to you too, Eds,” you chuckled after a moment, pulling the door open a little wider.

Eddie slipped past you without another word, too busy worrying at his bottom lip to even attempt an explanation.

His dark brown eyes darted around your little living room with a newfound sense of curiosity that was really nothing more than embarrassment hiding behind a mask.

Eddie’s gaze bounced from the far corner overflowing with potted plants to the extensive book collection you’d built over the years.

He was looking at anything that wasn’t you.

Which definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The tip of your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you quietly closed the front door behind you, your eyes fixed on the strange way he stood in the middle of your shoebox-sized apartment.

You leaned back against the door, absentmindedly drumming your fingers against the wood as you studied him.

“Eds—”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear something like that as nine in the morning,” he blurted. “Especially not how casually it slipped out of your mouth.”

“Look…” you sighed, scratching thoughtfully at your chin. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”

“What?” Eddie’s attention finally snapped back to you. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Are you sure?” you asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re acting like a teenager who just found out he’s gonna be a dad at fifteen.”

Suddenly, the little painted squares you’d made at a paint-and-sip workshop with a friend became ten times more interesting than looking you in the eye.

A quiet sigh escaped you as you pushed yourself off the door and walked over to him.

Eddie’s cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink as he stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, even when your warm hand gently cupped his jaw and tried to guide his face back towards yours.

“We can just pretend none of it happened, if you want.”

He still wouldn’t look at you, nervously worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Then, ever so slowly, dark brown eyes finally found yours beneath the warm amber light.

“I…” He swallowed. “I don’t want to… pretend.”

The warmth beneath your hand deepened as his blush spread from his cheeks down his neck, your palm following its path until it rested lightly against his chest.

Your expression softened at the shy tone of his confession.

Letting go of his chest, your fingers curled around his hand instead, gently tugging him towards the couch.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Eddie slumped back against the cushions, full lashes fluttering with the incessant blinking of his eyes.

His hands found your hips, gently pulling you onto his lap.

“It’s just… You asked it so easily.” He let out a humourless laugh as his thumbs absentmindedly traced slow circles over the tops of your thighs. “In my time—”

“God, don’t say that.” You cringed. “That makes you sound old.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie deadpanned, a rogue chuckle escaping him.

“You know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes playfully before settling back against his chest, following his gaze to the silent television across the room. “Sorry. Please continue.”

“It just caught me off guard how easy it is for you to talk about sex,” he admitted quietly. “When I was your age, girls would’ve rather set themselves on fire than ask their boyfriends something like that.”

“…That bad?”

“In Hawkins?” He snorted, looking down at you with one raised eyebrow as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “You have no idea.”

The silence that followed lingered for a few moments as the two of you watched the two brothers hop in their jealousy-inducing car.

Then you licked your lips and shifted, turning to properly straddle his lap.

“I like talking about sex.” You admitted and shrugged at his wide-eyed expression. “Not just because it’s dirty or exciting. I’d just rather ask what you like than guess.”

Eddie’s eyes drifted over your shoulder and back to the television. One of the two brothers had somehow turned into a vampire while the other acted weirder than usual.

“You know…” he started hesitantly, still watching the show play out in silence. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me what I wanted before.”

You frowned at the quiet confession. “Really?”

“We just…” He shrugged, like it wasn’t something worth dwelling on. “Did things as we went.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek and patiently waited for his eyes to find their way back to yours.

“Well,” you smiled softly, “I’m asking now.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a small, sheepish smile.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course you can, Eds.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I was… kinda hoping you would.”

Before he could make fun of your little confession, you pushed yourself off his lap and darted towards the kitchen.

“I bought your favourite,” you called, pushing the beaded curtain aside. “You want ice with it?”

“How did you–”

“I can smell it on your breath, Eds.” Your chuckle echoed through the tiny kitchen and into the living room.

“…Just one ice cube, please.”

Eddie had stayed over the previous night after one drink had turned into two more, while the two of you laughed about sweet nothings as the television continued playing that weird show about demon hunting brothers in the background.

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to think about it.

Not really, anyway.

While he’d been busy panicking at the bar with Steve and then again during the drive back to your place, his subconscious had already made the decision for him — he just hadn’t noticed it.

Not until his eyes slowly fluttered open to the stark white ceiling of your bedroom, his brain immediately replaying the… particularly raunchy dream he’d had during the night.

And then there was the, uh… wooden log between his legs.

His eyes instantly drifted to his left, finding you still sound asleep with your back turned to him. Your frame rose and fell with each steady breath, and Eddie felt like a fucking teenager all over again at the mere sight of you — and at the persistent morning problem he’d woken up with.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled groggily, dragging both hands down his face. “Get it together, man.”

Forcing himself out of the warmth of your bed, Eddie did the only thing he could think of: ignore whatever the hell was happening beneath his boxers and make himself useful by quietly sneaking out to put breakfast together.

Not even ten minutes after he’d finally gotten the situation between his legs under control and managed to coax your second-hand stove into working, careful footsteps padded down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Eddie tried really, really hard not to tense when your arms slipped around his waist and your face nestled against the broad expanse of his tattooed back.

He failed the moment your warmth seeped through his skin and your sleepy voice reached his ears.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

“Morning,” he replied a little too quickly.

A content sigh escaped you as you leaned further into him, tightening your hold around his frame.

“You’re acting weird again.”

“I’m not—”

Eddie cut himself off with a tired sigh, turning the stove down before carefully prying himself loose just enough to face you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands drifting up and down your arms.

“It’s okay—”

“I dreamt about you,” he admitted quietly, his gaze immediately darting towards the small magnetic whiteboard hanging on your fridge.

“Oh?”

“Turns out I don’t need to think about it.”

“Oh.”

You straightened, suddenly feeling far more awake than you did half a second ago, your eyes searching his face as you silently waited for him to continue.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there pretending to be deeply invested in your weekly plans scribbled across the whiteboard.

With a small smile, you reached around him and turned the stove off completely.

“I’m trying really hard not to get…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “…hard.”

“Eddie,” you laughed softly.

“I’m serious.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re standing here in nothing but my shirt and a pair of lacy underwear, and I had the hottest dream of my life, and I—”

He immediately cut himself off, hesitantly lifting his eyes back to yours.

“Tell me about it,” you whispered, resting your eyes hands against his chest.

“About what?”

“The dream, silly.”

It was then and there that Eddie decided you’d come into his life for the sole purpose of turning it completely upside down.

Because there was no way in hell he was going to tell—

“We were watching that stupid show of yours,” he started before his brain had the chance to stop his mouth.

“Supernatural isn’t—”

“And then you stood up and suddenly you were completely fucking naked,” he continued, his hands slowly trailing down your spine until they settled against the soft curve of your ass. “And you started teasing me.”

Your throat suddenly went dry when you felt Eddie’s warm, calloused hands gently kneading the fat of your ass to emphasise his words as he continued recounting the dream.

Not that you were paying all that much attention anymore.

His voice had somehow faded into the background the moment his eyes had flickered down to your lips.

“—and then you were on all fours in the grass,” he continued, pulling you back to reality.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I don’t know either.” Eddie let out a soft chuckle. “But you looked absolutely beautiful, all spread out f’me beneath the warm sunlight.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you whispered, your stomach dropping in that all-too-familiar way whenever he talked to you like that.

“That’s what I said when I woke up,” he replied, a smug grin slowly creeping across his face.

The way Eddie had been acting over the last twenty-four hours was giving you whiplash.

One minute he was behaving like a schoolboy hopelessly fumbling through his first serious crush. The next, he’d slipped right back into his usual self, teasing you like it was his full-time job.

Your eyes widened in surprise when Eddie leaned in, meeting your lips in a soft, delicate press that felt like a total one-eighty from the conversation you just had. For a moment you froze, heart pounding wildly in your chest, but as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, something in you unfurled.

It’s chaste, almost innocent — just the brush of lips, a shared breath. Yet it sent a thrill down your spine. When he finally pulled away, you blinked dazedly up at him, still caught in the spell he’d just put you under.

You couldn’t do much but hold out your hand in a silent offer.

Eddie ushered you out of the kitchen, glass beads clinking together as the two of you hurried down the hall and made your way back to your bedroom.

The bed hit the backs of your knees as you tumbled onto it, pulling him down with you. Eddie’s tattooed hands roam feverishly, mapping the curves of your body beneath his shirt and drinking the low whimpers escaping your mouth as his fingertips brushed against the swell of your breasts.

You arched into him when his hands trailed back down to the hem of the shirt. He yanked it over your head and tossed it aside, immediately diving for the newly exposed skin. His lips trailed a path down your throat, teeth grazing your collarbone, while his tongue left a slick trail down to the tattoo you’d gotten four months ago at his studio.

“F-fuck, Eddie,” you breathed out, bucking your hips against his in a desperate attempt to ease the ache settling between your legs.

Eddie continued trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses towards your breasts, softly closing his lips around one of your nipples before he gave you a hard suck. His free hand roamed in search of the other one, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingertips while he continued sucking sloppily at the other, thick drops of saliva rolling down one side of your chest.

He pulled back slightly, searching your face after you’d given his scalp a particularly hard tug.

His fingers kept rolling and tugging at your hardened nipple while his eyes stayed fixed on your drunken face — eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open while you panted so prettily in his ears when he had barely even started.

“Have you… done this before?”

“N-no,” you confessed quietly.

“You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”

There was a certain vulnerability in his voice, but lying on top of you now, feeling the heat of your skin, he found that he desperately wanted you to say yes.

He continued playing with your breast as he waited patiently for your answer.

Like the heavy panting that filled the otherwise silent room wasn’t enough answer.

“Y-yeah.” You licked your lips. “I want you to fuck me in the ass, Eddie.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed out. “That fucking mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me someday.”

A shiver of excitement raced down his spine. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his free hand lower, fingers skimming over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You twitched beneath his touch, bringing a smug curl to the corners of his mouth.

Leaning down again, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasps. His other hand mapped the planes of your chest, tweaking your nipple until you writhed beneath him. Breaking away, his dark brown eyes found yours under the soft sunlight spilling through the window.

Not exactly the same way his dream had been, but similar enough.

“We’ll take it slow, okay?” He assured, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

To punctuate his promise, he slowly rolled his hips against yours, groaning at the delicious friction.

He gently guided you onto your stomach, trailing reverent kisses down the length of your spine. When he reached your ass, he hooked his tattooed fingers into the waistband of your lacy underwear, tugging them torturously slow down your legs. Cool air kissed heated skin as he bared you inch by tantalising inch.

Eddie took a moment to admire the sight of you spread out before him, warm and quivering and absolutely desperate under his gaze.

“Gonna be so gentle with you, I promise,” he panted over your bare back, leaving soft kisses in between words.

He gave both of your ass cheeks a hard slap, watching the soft fat giggle afterwards. His heartbeat quickened and a low groan fell from his lips as his eyes maintained glued to your ass, slowly pulling your cheeks apart until you were completely exposed for him.

He never actually tried anal, or even gave it a second thought as had already been established, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the familiar bottle of lube tucked away in your dresser probably wasn’t the right kind, but it would have to do.

The drawer creaked softly as he pulled it open and reached for the bottle. It felt cool and slick against his fingertips as he gave it a tentative squeeze.

Eddie flicked his wrist, circling your rim teasingly, relishing your trembling exhale when you felt the cold, slick texture of the lube. Then, with careful pressure, he began to ease his pinky finger inside, determined to keep his promise of taking it slow.

“I– mmpff!”

He eased his finger deeper, marvelling at the tight heat enveloping him. He traced delicate circles, massaging gently until the initial tension faded and a breathy moan escaped your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed softly. Then, lowering his voice like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, he added: “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this, sweetheart.”

He gently worked a second finger in alongside the first, pumping slowly. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your tight ass filled the room, obscene and head spinning.

“I-It hurts, Eds.” You whimpered, but immediately shook your head when he asked if you wanted to stop.

Watching you respond to his touch, pretty and swollen pussy fully on display and leaking as it continued being ignored brought a heady rush of pride and possession to him — how could he not, when he was the first person you’d allowed to have you this way?

“A-ah!” You breathed out at the empty feeling as he slowly removed his fingers out of you. “E-Ed— F-fuck.”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He gently tapped your hips twice with his slick digits. “Can you push yourself up your hands and knees for me?”

The request came softly, and you instantly complied by pushing your ass up higher for him. Slicking his fingers once more, he reverently traced your rim in lazy circles before slowly dipping his fingers back inside, testing a third one before pressing forwards just a fraction.

Your cheek rested flush against the mattress, eyelashes fluttering with every slippery, careful thrust he gave your tight hole.

Eddie watched your face intently, sinking in steadily, increments of progress marked by your hitched breaths and broken moans. The tight clutch you had around his digits was maddening, and Eddie had to resist the urge to immediately plunge deeper, harder. Instead, almost against his will, he rocked shallowly, letting you adjust to the stretch of the three, thick fingers he had in your ass as he patiently waited for your cue.

“P-please E-Eds,” you whimpered, desperately pushing your ass against his hand. “M-more.”

Eddie’s heartbeat quickened at your breathless plea. Slowly, he eased a fourth finger inside you, taking care to maintain a steady, slow rhythm. His free hand found the small of your back, gently rubbing circles against your skin when he felt you tense up at the stretch.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he murmured distractedly, eyes completely fixed on the way you greedily sucked his fingers in. “It’s okay, I got you.”

You keened softly, hips canting back greedily for more when the sharp stretched dulled.

The lewd squelch of lube echoed obscenely, mingling with your panting breaths and hitching moans. Eddie felt completely drunk at the sight, fingers pumping faster and deeper, curling and twisting as he chased the perfect angle to send sparks dancing along your nerves. His other hand snaked around to circle your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Feel good, hm?”

“S-so, so good, Eds,” you moaned out, rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

The obscene wetness between your thighs dripped down to your bedsheets with each wet slide of his fingers making you writhe shamelessly, lost in the pleasure only he could offer you.

Eddie’s cock, desperate and ignored, basically wept as it begged for attention. A wet patch of pre-cum had long since stained his boxers, and it only continued to grow with each passing minute.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of burying his aching cock deep in your ass, feel you clench and flutter apart around him while you screamed his name.

Eddie’s eyes were pulled away from your greedy hole, landing on your curling toes. A smug grin spread across his lips at the sight, and he made it his mission to make you come like this — completely on display and at his mercy.

“You close, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm!”

At your breathless response, Eddie doubled his efforts, fingers plunging relentlessly as his other palm ground against your swollen clit and fingertips dipped shallowly into your cunt. The dual stimulation proved too much and you came undone with a broken cry.

“F-fuck! Ed-Eddie!”

Eddie buried his face in your neck, muffling sweet nothings in your ear as hot pulses painted your inner thighs. After a moment, he peppered your temple with feather-light kisses, basking in your warmth.

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered.

“I…” You trailed off quietly, swiping your tongue across your dry bottom lip. “P-please, Eds.”

“Hm?” He pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder and carefully coaxed his fingers out of you, stroking the small of your back when a string of broken whimpers fell out of your mouth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I got you.”

Still catching your breath, you blinked dazedly up at him. The drunk look in your glimmering eyes raced a thrill down his spine at the thought of claiming you so thoroughly.

“P-please, Eds, need m-more,” you breathed out.

“Yeah? Sweet girl wants me to fuck her ass?” He cooed lowly, tracing soft circles at your hips as he pulled you closer to his still clothed cock.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open and drool dripping down on the bed beneath you. “W-want you to fuck my a-ass.”

With a low groan, Eddie reached for the bottle of lube once again, squeezing a generous amount of the sticky texture on your stretched hole before abandoning it somewhere beside you. He pushed himself off the bed and his boxers were pushed down his legs in a hurry, quickly forgotten as he threw it on the floor.

He pulled you closer by gripping your hips. Eddie slid his aching cock against your ass, spreading some of the lube against his length before he teased your slick opening with his mushroom tip. Heavy, calloused fingers dug into your hips, surging forward and sheathing himself slowly in small strokes.

“F-fuck! I-It burns,” you cried out, reaching a hand to stop him from moving.

Your hand twitched against his hip bone as you looked back at him with glossy eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“J-Jesus,” he groaned out, accidentally rolling his hips despite your hand still trying to stop him. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hang low at the overwhelming feeling of your tight hole engulfing him. “Sorry, baby. I can’t help it, y-you’re so f-fucking tight.”

“Mmpff!”

Gulping down a dry lump, Eddie opened up his eyes and immediately looked down at where the two of you connected. His pink cock bordered on red, aching for more stimulation as only half of it had been pushed in. Slowly, after your hand had fallen away again, he rolled his hips backwards. His dark brown eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head at the sight of your ass gripping him, desperately trying to hold onto his cock, before he pushed back further into your greedy hole.

Eddie set a slow pace, hips moving back and forth in gradual thrusts until his hips are snapping urgently against the globes of your ass. The filthy slaps of his hairy balls against your dripping, neglected pussy and your broken moans spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge than he wanted.

“Y-you— ah, fuck!” You cried out, completely cock-drunk. “Mhmm, s-so g-good, Eds!”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked darkly, chest heaving at his relentless pace. “You like having my big cock in your ass, baby?”

“Y-yes! I l-love it!”

Captivated by your hopeless cries, Eddie redoubled his efforts, pounding into you with abandon. The lewd squelch of lube and your creaking bedframe filled the room, underscoring your desperate, broken moans.

The grip he had on your hips was bruising as he pistoned forwards, chasing his release. Eddie dragged a hand up your sweat-slicked spine, revelling in the goosebumps rising in its wake.

He leaned down, nuzzling in your neck and grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “Come for me again.”

Eddie grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back until you had no choice but to push off the mattress. His chest was scalding hot against your back as he laved attention along your throat while his other hand snaked back down to your clit, desperate for your second orgasm to hit you so he could feel your ass clamp down on his cock.

“I-I’m coming, Eddie,” you breathed out hopelessly, tilting your head back against his shoulder and looking up at him with teary eyes and trembling lips. “P-please, d-don’t stop!”

With a hoarse cry, your orgasm crashed over you, muscles seizing as waves of ecstasy radiated outwards. The rhythmic clench of your tight hole nearly pushed Eddie over the edge as he pushed your face back into the mattress, holding you by the back of your head as he desperately chased his own release.

“J-Jesus, f-f-fuck!” he moaned out, orgasm ripping through him like wildfire.

He fell forwards, sinking his teeth into the crook of your neck as he gave you one last, particularly hard thrust. With a strangled groan, he hilted himself deep, pulsing hot spurts of his sticky cum in your ass.

Eddie collapsed on top of you, gasping for air amidst the trembling aftershocks. His teeth finally let go of the sensitive skin of your neck, replacing them with soft, lingering kisses instead.

“Sweetheart?” He called after a few minutes. “You still with me?”

As the haze started to clear, he strained to make out your unintelligible mumble. He held his breath, searching your face for clues.

“What?”

“I said,” you repeated tiredly, eyes fluttering shut as a small, satisfied smile tugged at your lips. “I think you just killed me.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Eddie at your tired declaration.

Pulling you closer against his chest, still buried deep inside your ass, Eddie rolled the two of you to your sides and pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

Closing his eyes, Eddie focused on slowing his breathing, quickly basking in the warmth of your skin against his while his mind continued reeling from the remnants of his dreams and everything that had unfolded since.

A soft groan escaped you as you turned your head back to look at him over your shoulder.

“Did you…” You hesitated for a moment. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Did I enjoy—” An almost disbelieving laugh escaped him as he dragged a hand through his messy hair. “Sweetheart, you just blew my fucking mind.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the wonder lingering in his voice.

“Really?”

Eddie looked at you like you’d asked the stupidest question imaginable.

“I don’t think I can just go back to fucking your pussy.”

The confession made your breath hitch before a comfortable silence settled between you. His dark brown eyes glimmered under the warm morning sunlight as they trailed across your face and down your naked, still intertwined bodies.

Then your stomach let out a loud, unmistakable growl, completely shattering the moment.

Eddie stared at you for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Don’t think it’s worth reheating the eggs.”

“Eh, worth it,” you murmured.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Definitely worth it.”

permanent tag list? just ask!

it felt like the room was spinning. your mother’s voice had started to fade off into the distance, but her words still echoed in your mind. all you could feel was rage — unbridled, raw, and overwhelming. 

you had taken a lot from her over the years, stayed silent and tried to be a good daughter, but everyone eventually reaches their breaking point.

“you know what,” you said, slamming your hand down and standing up from your seat at the dining table. “i’m not doing this with you today, mom.”

“honey? i’m only try—.”

“trying to help me, yeah, you say that all the time, but you know what? it isn’t helping me. AT ALL.” you stormed out of the dining room and into the living room, grabbing your backpack from the sofa and swinging it over your shoulders.

your mom came barreling into the room, eyes wide with fury at being talked back to. “sweetie, as your mother, i’m only doing what i think is best for you.”

“no, mom, you’re doing what you think is best for you. it’s never been about me!” you picked up your car keys from the hook next to the front door. “you only care about how you feel, what you want, what you need. news flash mom, the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you!”

she looked at you incredulously. she couldn’t believe the atrocities spilling from you. she tried to speak, but you held your hand up, shaking your head.

“i have to go to school. don’t want your perfect daughter to be late, now do you?” with that, you walked out of the house, slamming the door behind you.

“what’s wrong with you?” your friend, rebecca, asked as she walked up to the lunch table you all always sat at. “you look like your dog got run over.”

you looked up from your lunch, having been poking around at it with your fork rather than actually eating it. “it’s nothing,” you lied. “didn’t get enough sleep last night. i’m exhausted.”

“uh-huh,” she eyed you carefully as she sat across from you. “i know you well enough to know that’s a bold-faced lie. but it’s okay! if you don’t wanna tell me, i won’t press you.” 

you sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“it’s my mom…she…we got into it this morning,” you admitted. 

“oh shit, i’m sorry,” rebecca said, frowning softly. “is it the same stuff?”

rebecca was the first person you had confided in, besides jason, about the issues with your mother. not because you felt she was a good enough friend for that, you had barely spoken more than a few words to her outside of cheer practice, but because she had witnessed your mom berating you after a football game in the parking lot when you thought nobody else was around. 

turns out, rebecca was well-versed in the art of having a toxic mother, as her own put her through the same treatment yours did with you. the two of you became close, and you liked having someone you could vent to, who would understand you and your feelings when things got too hard to deal with.

especially since jason didn’t understand any of it. he always thought you were being too hard on your mother. that you just needed to hear her out because she loved you and was only looking out for you. it was easy for him to make that judgment, considering his own parents worshiped the ground he walked on and he could do no wrong in their eyes. he was their golden boy, the poster child for perfection, just as he was to everyone in hawkins. 

“i think she wants me to be exactly like her and that’s never gonna happen. i’m not her!” you dropped your fork onto the plastic tray with a sigh.

“maybe you should tell her about how you feel,” rebecca suggested. 

“yeah, like that’ll change anything,” you scoffed. “i’m tellin’ you, beck, she’ll just say that i’m being ridiculous and misunderstanding her.”

rebecca gazed at you solemnly. “you’re probably right, but at least you’ll have some peace of mind knowing that you got it off of your chest.”

your throat tightened, and the sting associated with tears welling in your eyes made its presence known. you quickly glanced away from her, wiping the few tears that managed to escape with the sleeve of your sweater.

you spent countless nights wishing your mother was different. wondering why she couldn’t just be proud of you, regardless of whether or not you’re a cheerleader, or in band, or played sports, or joined an academic club, or just didn’t give a shit about any extracurriculars. because at the end of the day, you’re her daughter, and her love for you should supersede all of that useless shit that won’t matter once you graduate from high school in a few months. she should want you to be happy, should lift you up and support you, not tear you down and make your formative years hell.

“you know…you should definitely start smoking weed,” rebecca said, breaking the silence. “i’m telling you, it works wonders. it helps me when my mom starts her shit. it’ll help you, too.”

“i can’t do that,” you shook your head. “my mom would kill me.”

“she doesn’t have to know,” rebecca countered. “you have that shed in the back of your house, right? the one your dad never uses? you can smoke in there if you’re afraid to do it inside. i promise you, it’ll make everything so much easier.” 

the thought does sound nice in theory. being able to shut your brain off? even for a moment? to deal with the unnecessary pressure your mother put on you? to deal with her constant judgment?

rebecca watched as the wheels turned in your head; a look of consideration sweeping across your tired features.

“okay…but…there’s only one problem. i wouldn’t know where to like, i dunno…get it?”

“well, it’s your lucky day, because i know just the person for that,” she grinned. “patrick’s guy he usually would get from moved out of town a couple weeks back. he was all bummed about it, but one of his buddies on the football team told him where he gets his. it’s actually pretty good shit.”

she talked really fast, almost like she was trying to hurry before someone walked by and heard her talking about her boyfriend’s drug habit.

“who does he get it from?” you asked slowly, brow raised as you glanced at her.

“eddie munson.”

winters in hawkins were the absolute worst. snow still covered the ground from two days prior and more was set to fall in the coming week. you hated the cold and everything that came with it. the dark, gloomy days, the freezing temperatures, the snow, etc. if you could snap your fingers and have it be spring all year ‘round, you definitely would.

especially right now, that you were standing outside by the side of the school, with no cover to shield you from the biting wind. your hands felt frozen, despite having gloves on, and the pockets of your winter coat didn’t do much to help. you silently cursed at mother nature for creating winter to begin with.

you weren’t sure how long you had been standing out in the cold. you glanced at your watch, which read 3:45pm.

fifteen minutes. he had said to meet him at 3:30. 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you shoved your hand back into your coat pocket. maybe he had lost track of time? or maybe he didn’t take you seriously? or he was playing some kind of prank on you? whatever the case, you were fed up with being in the cold, and wanted to go home to the warmth of your bed. 

you kicked at a rock before turning to head towards the parking lot when you smashed face-first into a solid mass, letting out a yelp of surprise. 

“whoa! hey! sorry! didn’t mean to scare you,” a voice, soft, yet full of amusement chuckled above you.

you pulled back, coming face to face with the man of the hour, himself: eddie munson.

he was panting a little, like he had been running or something, his curly hair was even more wild and unruly than it normally is, his black combat boots wet with shards of grass sticking to them. he was wearing two jackets, a light, black one underneath his signature leather jacket, his denim vest overtop, and dark denim jeans. wasn’t he cold? it didn’t look nearly warm enough to keep him comfortable in the frosty breeze.

eddie noticed the concerned look on your face, leaning in a bit closer, brown eyes furrowed as he carefully asked, “you okay?”

“uh, yeah, yeah, just—didn’t expect to literally bump into you,” you chuckled through your nose. you glanced around you, suddenly feeling a bit awkward and nervous.

“right, okay,” he shook his head. “so, um, we can do this in my van? if you want? ya know, to get out of the cold. you look like you could warm up some.”

you hadn’t realized you were practically shivering; the wind having picked up suddenly and out of nowhere.

“sure,” you nodded, giving him a small smile.

he lead the way to his van, which surprisingly wasn’t that far of a walk from where he had asked you to meet him, thankfully. he opened the passenger door for you, a charming smile plastered on his features as he dramatically gestured to the empty passenger seat. “welcome to my castle on wheels.”

you giggled, slinging your backpack off your shoulders and tossing it onto the floorboard. eddie watched as you hopped up into the van, waiting until you were completely situated before closing the door and hurrying to the driver’s side. he got in quickly and turned it on, then put the heater and blower on the highest setting.

glancing around the van, you couldn’t say you were surprised by what you saw. cassette tapes were strewn everywhere, most of which were bands that you had recognized and some you didn’t, a few receipts were also scattered on the floorboards in the front and the back, an empty cigarette pack laid next to your feet; a denim jacket was laid out in the backseat, though it wasn’t covered in patches and pins like his vest, along with his backpack that sat right next to it, unmoved.

you knew of eddie, since he was in your english class, but you didn’t know him very well, if at all. the only thing you really knew about him was that he was theatrical, eccentric, had been held back twice for failing a majority, if not all, of his classes, and that your boyfriend couldn’t stand him at all. you always felt bad for him whenever jason and his buddies picked on him. you had stood up for him, demanded that jason cut his shit out and leave him alone, only to be met with, 'he’s a freak, babe. people like that deserve to be made fun of.'

eddie cleared his throat and you were pulled from your thoughts, shifting in your seat like you had just been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“sorry,” you said shyly, wringing your hands together in your lap as you looked down at them.

“don’t be,” eddie shook his head. “i know it’s a bit of a mess in here.”

“oh no, that’s not what i thought at all,” you stammered. “really.”

he looked at you with a raised brow, almost like he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.

he didn’t.

“right,” he scoffed, opening the black metal box he had sitting in his lap. he took the bag of weed out and held it up for you to see, his brown eyes fixated on you. “anyway, i’ll do you a half ounce for, uh…twenty. whaddya say? plenty of bang for your buck. should last a while.”

a group of students walked by, all laughing rambunctiously, and you turned your head in their direction. your chest was heaving slightly, and your eyes were wide with anxiety as you scanned the crowd. a small part of you was worried it was jason and his friends ⎯ that he had come looking for you and would find you here with eddie. you didn’t care about what he would say to you, but more-so what he would say and do to him. the thought made you shudder.

“hey, uh, we don’t need to do this,” eddie rolled his eyes, putting the baggie back inside the metal box and closing it up. “just give me the word and i’ll walk away. or, you can walk away.”

he was annoyed. why did he even agree to sell to you in the first place? he wasn’t in dire need of money ⎯ he had made more than enough earlier in the day when trevor mcclendon bought over a hundred dollars worth of cocaine for the party he was throwing that upcoming saturday. and even if he was, he definitely didn’t need the money from jason carver’s girlfriend. of all people.

“no, no! i-i don’t want that,” you flicked your gaze back to him.

eddie turned to look at you at the exact same time, meeting your gaze. his hardened exterior faltered the second he looked into your eyes. you were scared. no? anxious? no. desperate? that seemed more like it. not desperate in the way that you had gone a long time without weed and needed a fix ⎯ no, he had seen that look one too many times to know that isn’t what was going on with you. it was one that called for help, that begged for it, and it left him wildly intrigued.

“have you ever felt…forced to be someone that you’re not?”

your voice was low, barely above a whisper, and eddie may have missed it had he not been watching you like a hawk.

everything about your body language screamed that you were uncomfortable with even talking about it. your hands were fidgeting in your lap, you kept shifting in the seat, chewing on the corner of your lip, your eyes quickly darting to look anywhere but at eddie. he didn’t expect this coming from you. not that he knew you well enough to say that this was completely out of character for you ⎯ he just didn’t think the ‘queen of hawkins high’ would ever be pretending to be someone that she wasn’t.

“uhh, well, i used to,” he cleared his throat. “back in like middle school, and shit? but uhh…then i realized it didn’t do much, ‘cauuuse i got shit on anyway, so i just said ‘fuck it’ and started doin’ my own thing. been a looot happier ever since.”

the memories of that time in his life come to the forefront of his mind. of when he got teased a lot for having long hair (though now that he thinks about it, it wouldn’t have been considered long compared to how it is now), when the other kids would laugh and call him poor because his shirts had a hole or two in them, and, of course, for being into dungeons and dragons.

he remembers coming home one day, his little eyes red and puffy from crying. he couldn’t understand why the other kids were so mean to him. all he did was keep to himself, aside from the few friends he had made who happened to like metal just like him. wayne listened to him, held him, as he cried in his lap, begging to just be like everyone else. that maybe, just maybe, they’d leave him alone.

that night, he asked wayne to cut his hair, and even though wayne tried to talk him out of it, eddie was persistent. so, wayne grabbed a pair of scissors and the hair clippers, and did as the kid wished.

he shudders at the thought, shaking his head as if to rid it completely. 

you don’t know how he does it. how he can just be himself despite everything that he gets thrown at him. the other students wouldn’t dare confront him, all being too afraid of what he’d do to them, but you know what they say behind his back. devil worshipper. cult leader. freak. weirdo. 

sitting here with him, in his van, and seeing the slight vulnerability he’s sharing with you, you start to think maybe eddie isn’t as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

you must have been silent for some time, lost in a train of thought, because eddie’s voice pulls you back into the present.

“you know, this isn’t the first time we’ve, um, hung out.”

“no?”

“you don’t remember?”

when did that happen? you tried to wrack your brain for when you had ever hung out with eddie munson.

“uh, i’m sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking your head.

“it’s okay. i wouldn’t remember me either,” he said in a funny voice, making you giggle.

“you really don’t remember me?” he asked, looking at you like he couldn’t believe you, his arms crossed in front of him. 

“i’m sorry!” you giggled, putting your hands over your face playfully, trying to hide from him.

“middle school talent show,” he said and you took your hands off of your face, listening to him intently. “you were doing the cheer thing that you do? which was kinda cool, actually.”

he made a high v and diagonal motion, though it was really bad and made you chuckle. suddenly it hits you, the memory of that day, and you gasp in realization. 

“oh my god, yes! you were with uhh, your band…uhh,” you snapped your fingers several times, hoping it would come to you. “corroded coffin!!” 

“yes!” he punched the air excitedly, clapping. “you do remember!”

“jesus,” you laughed, beaming as you looked over at him. “i shared my french fries with you that day! how could i forget?”

it all came to you — sitting next to eddie backstage before your performance, striking up casual conversation with him that turned into the two of you giggling uncontrollably, sharing the french fries that came with the burger meal your father had brought you.

“i dunno, maybe i wasn’t as memorable to you as i hoped i’d be,” he admitted, chewing the corner of his lip, brown eyes still trained on you.

he had the tiniest crush on you back then, though it was extremely short lived once he realized that day at the talent show was all it would ever be between the two of you. you had your circle, he had his — your worlds were never meant to collide.

“no, it’s just you looked soo..diff—.”

“different? yeah,” he chuckled. “well, my hair was buzzed and i didn’t have these sweet ol’ tatties yet.”

giggling, you glanced at where eddie had pulled down the front of his shirt, noticing the black ink barely poking out, a stark contrast against his creamy skin.

“you played guitar, right?”

“yup,” he nodded, beaming with pride. “still do.”

“i remember thinking you were pretty good,” you admitted, the memory of watching him play with his band from the side of the stage flashing in your mind.

eddie’s smile grew. that same feeling he had all those years ago, when you first sat next to him backstage at the middle school talent show, came crashing back to him like a tidal wave.

“uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so…twenty-five percent discount for the half,” he said as he flipped open the black metal box and took the bag of weed out again. “fifteen bucks. you’re robbing me blind here, ya know.”

“oh god, eddie, no,” you shook your head. “no, you don’t have to do that.”

“really! it’s no biggie,” eddie insisted, reaching over the middle console to hand the bag to you.

“no!” you giggled, pulling the twenty dollar bill tucked away in the back pocket of your jeans. “i’m not gonna cut you short.”

before he could protest, you took the bag and slipped the twenty into his hand as fast as you could, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

he playfully rolled his eyes, but accepted your offer nonetheless. you stuffed the weed into the front part of your backpack, making sure it was safe and secure. when you finished, you turned to look at him.

“thanks, eddie,” you smiled gratefully.

“anytime,” he replied with a genuine smile.

your gaze lingered a moment longer before opening the door to leave. you hopped out first, wincing as the bitter cold hit you like a ton of bricks, then, grabbed your backpack. 

“wait!” eddie called out, effectively halting your movements.

you looked at him curiously with a tilt of your head, wondering what else he could have forgotten to tell you.

“you should come see my band play,” he rushed, brows pinched together before softening his expression. “we play at the hideout every tuesday.”

a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you tried to hide it. “it’s not a sleazy bar, is it?”

“i mean, it’s not the garden, but you gotta start somewhere,” he chuckled, resting his arm on the middle console as he leaned over. “we usually get a crowd of about fiiiive drunks.”

you laughed, shying away from his gaze for a moment before flitting your eyes back to him. “what time?”

“eight o’clock,” he answered. he didn’t know why he was so nervous about asking you, or why his palms started to sweat whenever you took a while to answer.

You relied on Eddie in many ways. Guy problems? He was the first one you'd call if a date went sour. Work drama? The second you got off, you'd pace around his trailer, explaining the usual bullshit as he sat on the couch, chiming in when necessary.

Somewhere along the way, the line between "best friends" and... whatever this was had gotten a little blurry. You couldn't remember exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the fact that you had a drawer at Eddie's trailer for spare clothes, or that he never knocked before walking into your apartment. 

Hell, even the rest of your friends had long since given up trying to figure it out. Robin had stopped correcting strangers when they assumed you two were dating, Dustin had started referring to you as "Eddie's girl" just to watch the two of you sputter, and Steve swore you were both "the dumbest almost-couple" he'd ever met.

The funny part was, neither of you ever denied liking the other. You just... never actually admitted it, either.

So life carried on in that weird in-between, where lingering touches lasted a little too long, late-night drives felt suspiciously like dates, and neither of you was brave enough to ask what any of it meant.

In many ways, Eddie was the best friend you could ask for. But the one thing you hated? He was a cocky bastard when it came to anything competitive. 

Any game night, whether that's something as simple as Uno or arcade games, he thought he was the best. Though, to be fair, he was. Which is why, after one fateful 1v1 of pool at the Hideout, when he conned your ass like a fool and beat you out of a hundred bucks, you needed revenge.

So, naturally, your pride wouldn't let him teach you how to play, oh no. Instead, you decided to ask Steve. Steve wasn't someone in the group you were particularly close to.

But, beyond him, your options to teach you how to win at stupid bar games were Robin, who was as agile as a baby deer, or Nancy, who could care less about you and Eddie's billiard feud.

Steve looked up from where he was wiping down the windshield of his BMW in his driveway, rag slung over one shoulder. "You want me to do what?"

"Teach me pool."

He blinked. "...Pool."

"Yes, Steve. The game. With the sticks."

"I know what pool is."

"Good. Then we're making progress."

He laughed, tossing the rag over the hood. "Since when have you been interested in pool?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm interested in beating Eddie."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

A grin slowly spread across his face. "...I'm in."

The Hideout wasn't open yet, save for a handful of regulars nursing beers before the evening crowd rolled in.

Music crackled quietly through the speakers while Eddie hauled cases of liquor behind the bar, already halfway through complaining to Gareth about a distributor screwing up another order.

"You know what they gave us?" Eddie scoffed. "Light beer. We don't even sell the shit."

Gareth shrugged. "People drink it."

"No, they most certainly do not."

Then the front door opened, so Eddie glanced over automatically. You walked in first with Steve following close behind.

His eyebrows pinched together. "...What the hell?"

Steve waved toward the bar. "Yo."

Eddie nodded slowly. "Harrington."

Then his eyes landed back on you. "What're you doing here? Thought you worked today."

"I did."

"And now?"

You smiled sweetly. "I'm learning."

"...Learning what?"

Steve answered before you could. "Pool."

Eddie glanced between the two of you, raising one finger accusingly. "...From you?"

Steve looked genuinely confused by the question. "...Yeah?"

"You know how to play?"

Steve frowned. "Dude."

"What?"

"I've been playing forever."

Eddie stared for another second before scoffing to himself.

"...Whatever." Then, he disappeared into the back, huffing something under his breath.

For the next forty-five minutes, Steve proved to be a surprisingly patient teacher.

"No, loosen your grip."

"I'm trying."

"I know, but you're choking the cue."

"I'm not choking it."

"You absolutely are."

He stepped behind you. "Here."

His hands lightly adjusted yours on the cue. "Relax your shoulders."

You exhaled.

"There."

You lined up another shot and missed. "Oh, come on!"

"You looked better."

"I looked better?"

"That's half the battle."

Across the room, Eddie slammed a rack of glasses onto the shelf harder than necessary, causing Gareth to look over.

"...Everything alright?"

"Fantastic."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

He dared another glance; Steve had crouched beside you now, pointing toward one of the corner pockets.

"If you bank it off this rail—"

Eddie shook his head and continued polishing the same glass he'd already finished.

"He's practically climbing inside her personal bubble."

Gareth followed his gaze to Steve's arm, which reached across yours to point toward the angle.

"...Looks like he's just showing her."

"Mhm."

"You jealous?"

Eddie barked out a laugh. "Of Steve? ...No."

"Exactly."

Gareth watched him continue scrubbing the spotless glass.

"...You're polishing air."

"I know."

"...You wanna go interrupt them?"

"No."

"...Looks like she's laughing."

"I can see."

Steve said something that made you laugh again, a little louder than the last time.

Eddie's jaw ticked. "He's not even that funny."

Gareth snorted. "You realize you've been watching them for like twenty minutes?"

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"I've been working."

"Eddie."

"What?"

"...You've poured the same guy three refills without him asking."

Eddie froze and slowly looked toward the older regular sitting at the bar. The man raised his fourth full beer.

"Thanks, Munson!"

"...Shit."

By the end of the lesson, you actually sank three balls in a row.

Steve pointed at the table dramatically. "There it is!"

"I did that."

"You did."

"I actually did that."

"Told you."

You grinned. "You are officially my favorite Harrington."

"There aren't exactly many of us."

Still smiling, you turned toward the bar. "Eddie!"

He looked up immediately. "What?"

Your grin somehow got even bigger. "Rematch."

The entire bar seemed to perk up. Eddie leaned against the counter, folding his arms.

"...You sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

"You just spent an hour getting coached."

"So?"

"I don't know..." A slow smirk tugged at his mouth. "Sounds a little desperate."

"It sounds like I got tired of losing to someone whose entire personality revolves around a pool table."

A chorus of quiet "oohs" erupted from the regulars. Eddie placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

"That's hurtful."

"You'll survive."

He pushed off the bar, grabbing a cue from behind the counter. "Same bet?"

You scoffed. "I'm not giving you another hundred dollars."

"Coward."

"I'm being financially responsible."

"Chicken."

"I'm smarter than you."

"Doubtful."

Steve quietly stepped backward. "Yeah…I'm gonna head out."

"You probably should," Gareth agreed.

"You created this monster."

"I absolutely did."

Eddie twirled the cue once in his hand before pointing it at you. "You've got one shot, sweetheart."

You stepped closer until only the pool table separated the two of you. "I only need one."

His grin faltered for just a second. Not because of the challenge, lord knows he loves a challenging woman. But because you'd wandered close enough that he could smell your perfume.

You caught the slight pause in his usual bravado, eyes quickly darting across his face. Then Eddie recovered first, spinning the cue between his fingers with that infuriatingly cocky grin.

"Ladies first."

"Oh," you smiled, taking the cue from his hand just slowly enough for your fingers to brush against his, "I'm gonna enjoy wiping that smug look off your face."

His eyebrow quirked up then. "...We'll see."

The first break went to you.

You leaned over the table, tongue poking against the inside of your cheek the way Steve had told you not to do because it apparently made you overthink your shot. The cue cracked against the rack, sending the balls scattering across the felt.

One dropped, then another, causing a grin to spread across your face.

"Oh, that's gotta sting."

Eddie clicked his tongue. "Beginner's luck."

"You've been saying that for the last three games."

"And eventually I'll be right."

"I've won one."

"You've won almost one."

"I was one ball away."

"You still lost."

You rolled your eyes, circling the table as you looked for your next shot. "God, you're insufferable."

"And yet, here you are."

"Only because watching you lose is going to heal something in me."

Eddie laughed under his breath, leaning his hip against the edge of the table while you lined up your cue.

"Careful," he mused. "Harrington tell you to keep your elbow up?"

You didn't look at him. "He did, actually."

"Hm."

"And to follow through."

"Mhm."

"And to stop gripping the cue like I was trying to strangle it."

Eddie made a face. "...That sounds like something he'd say."

"It worked."

"So did cheating."

You looked up. "I wasn't aware lessons counted as cheating."

"They do when they're from the enemy."

"The enemy?" You snorted. "Steve?"

"He knows what he is."

"Oh, does he?"

"Mhm."

You laughed quietly, taking your shot. The cue ball kissed the side of yours just enough to send it into the corner pocket, causing it to disappear with a satisfying clack.

Your jaw dropped. "I meant to do that."

"No, you didn't."

"I absolutely did."

"You looked surprised."

"I was surprised by how well I did it."

"Sure."

You pointed the cue at him. "Don't ruin this for me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The game continued like that, each shot somehow accompanied by another jab, another smug remark, another excuse for the two of you to drift closer as you circled opposite ends of the table.

"You scratched."

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

"You talking."

"I wasn't talking."

"You exist loudly."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder as you squeezed past him. He didn't move, not even an inch.

"You know," you muttered, looking up at him, "most people would step out of the way."

"I'm not most people."

"So I've noticed."

Instead, he leaned down just enough that his shoulder bumped yours back.

"Figure it out."

"Oh, you're the worst."

"Sure I am.”

You huffed dramatically before ducking around him, though not without your arm brushing against his on the way by.

A few turns later, you found yourself stuck behind him as he leaned over the table, studying an angle that frankly looked impossible.

You waited, but he simply didn't move. "Eddie."

"Mhm?"

"I can't see."

"I'm thinking."