allergic reaction to the universe

“You’re in your head again.” He whispers low enough for only you to hear. “Remember what I said. We can stop whenever. You’re safe with me.”

And hearing him say that again hit home for you. You were safe. Everything was going to be fine.

“I know.” You whisper back “I…I feel safe.”

“Good.” He says, his brown eyes drinking you in “Fuck, sweetheart. Come over here.”

You don’t hesitate- stepping towards him as his large hands grab at your waist. He guides your body to his own, pulling you so close that your chest was pressed against his. He looks down on you, his eyes full of lust and need.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says, taking in the way you look. Your hair and makeup accentuating natural beauty that he was so enamored with. You looked soft and touchable. Kissable. You looked so fucking good. Like a goddamn dream.

“Wanna kiss you.” He rasps “That okay?”

“Please…” You ask, your eyes flickering down to Eddie’s pink lips.

He wasted no time, immediately going in for the kill as he pressed his lips against yours. Even though you had kissed before, it felt like the first. It felt just as special and passionate and intense as it had the very first time.

His lips move against yours, kissing you greedily as his hands fist the silky pink fabric of your robe. He held you so close that it felt like he was afraid you would disappear.

Your lips slot against his as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss and allowing yourself more of him. You wanted so much more. You wanted all of him. One of his hands remained on your waist as the other snakes up to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as he nips at your bottom lip.

Every little noise that he made fueled you, causing you to want to kiss him harder, deeper, more passionately. It fueled a fire within you that wanted to coax more of those sweet sounds from his lips. To know that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

“Christ..” Eddie groans, breaking the kiss as he tries to catch his breath.

Eddie’s forehead stays pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard under the bright lights. His hands haven’t left you- one still tangled in the back of your robe, the other warm at the nape of your neck. He doesn’t pull away.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth. “You’re killing me already.”

You feel how hard he is against your stomach and your face goes warm. You tip your chin up just a little, your voice soft.

“I… I really want to.”

He meets your gaze, his brown eyes washing over you. “Yeah? Want what, sweetheart? Tell me.”

Your fingers curl lightly against his chest. “I…I want your dick. In my mouth. I can’t stop thinking about it. I wanna make you feel good.”

Eddie’s eyes darken. His hips roll forward once, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him through the fabric.

“Christ, sweetheart. Look at you. All shy and sweet while you’re telling me you want to suck my cock.” His hand slides into your hair, testing the boundaries as he grips it just enough to tilt your head back. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot that is? How hard I’ve been while I’ve been thinking about shoving my dick between these soft lips and watching you take it?”

You swallow, cheeks burning. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then get on your knees for me,” he murmurs, already guiding you down. His other hand works his pants open with practiced ease. “Open up that pretty mouth, sweetheart. I wanna feel you take it deep for me. Want to watch spit drip down your chin while you try to take every fucking inch. Gonna fuck your throat nice and slow until you’re drooling all over me. How does that sound, baby? Hm?”

He pulls himself free, heavy and flushed, and brushes the head lightly across your lips.

────────

“That’s right, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Keep rubbing it for me.”

You let Eddie’s raspy voice fill your ears as you rub your clit in slow circles, obeying his orders as he watches.

“That’s it, angel. Thaaaat’s it. You’re so fucking hot, you know that? Mmm…Yeah, I bet you do know that, don’t you? Of course you do, sweetheart. This tight fucking body. This pretty….fucking…pussy. And you’re rubbing it all for me. Fuck….”

You let out a whimper, it all becoming so heated while you watch the man that you have fantasized about for so long play with your boobs. Touching, squeezing, kneading them.

“Eddie…” You whine, watching him smirk down at you.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing.” He flirts “Just getting you warmed up. Getting this pussy nice and wet for me before I bury my face in it. Can’t wait to taste you, baby. Bet you taste fucking sweet, don’t you?”

You don’t know what it was that compelled you to but you nodded. You wanted him to be right. You wanted to be everything that he expected you to be- and more. You wanted to please him. You wanted him just as addicted to you as you were to him.

“Finger yourself.” He growls, staring at you before bringing his gaze down to your cunt that was growing wetter and sloppier by the second. His dirty encouragements turning you on more and more. “C’mon baby. I wanna see you stretch that tight little pussy out before I fucking eat it, sweetheart. Want you stuffed full while I watch you.”

You obey, looking into Eddie’s eyes as you ran your fingertips from your clit and down through your slick folds, collecting your wet arousal. You slowly insert two fingers into your soaking cunt, pushing them in as Eddie watches. Your breathing hitches as Eddie groans, roughly pinching your nipples between the pads of his forefingers and thumbs.

“Shit..” He hisses “Good girl. Go deeper for me, sweetheart. Show me how you like it.”

You felt like you were in a trance, watching him play with your tits as you obeyed his every word. You slide your fingers out before slowly reinserting them, pushing them in deep enough to reach your knuckles. You begin to curl the tips of your fingers, causing them to brush up against your sweet spot as you gasp.

“Oh my god…” You moan out.

“Mmm…yes.” Eddie replies, his eyes trained on your dripping cunt as he continues playing with your boobs. “Such a pretty fucking pussy. Love seeing you take those fingers nice and deep. Bet you’re thinking about my dick right now, aren’t you? About how much deeper that I could fuck it into you. How you’d drench my fucking cock. Yeah? S’that what’s going on in that head of yours, angel?”

You let out a whine, picking up the pace with your fingers as you fuck your needy hole for him. Anything for him.

“God, you’d get my dick so fucking messy, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Just like you’re making this couch. Fuck, look at you. Soaking the fuck out of the cushions, baby” He tsks.

You look down, your face heating up in embarrassment as you realize that he was right. Your arousal was gushing so much around your fingers that it was dripping down your sex and onto the couch beneath you.

“Fuck, baby, don’t be embarrassed.” Eddie pleads, noticing how bashful you had become all of a sudden “I love it. God, I fucking love it. Get it all messy, baby. All for me. That gorgeous cunt. My god. Sloppy fucking girl…”

Your body can’t help but respond, arching your back as you fuck yourself faster, deeper, harder. You needed more. Your fingers weren’t quite enough.

“Fuck, baby. You gonna cum?” Eddie asks, feeling the way that your chest rose and fell in his hands as your breathing picked up. You nod helplessly as you keep going, still trying to reach that spot.

“‘I’m almost there.” You pant, staring at Eddie- and there was so much to stare at. His gorgeous face, his wild mane tied back in that low bun, his beautiful brown eyes, his lean body that was littered with dark tattoos, the happy trail that descended into his jeans. He was a fucking dream.

“Yeah? What can I do to get you there, angel?” He hums “Tell me what you need.”

“Need you to fill me up. I want…fuck…I want your fingers.” You pleads, eyes lust-blown and hungry.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He coos “You want my fingers stretching you open? That what you want?”

“Yes.” You squeak “Please?”

“Okay, baby.” He smirks “Put your legs up. Let’s give them a fucking show.”

Eddie helps maneuver your legs into the position that he wanted, your feet up onto the couch with your legs spread open wide- giving the camera the perfect view of your sex.

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie says, using his right hand to touch you- running his rough, calloused fingers along your heat “She’s fucking aching for me, isn’t she? You’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, baby. So goddamn gorgeous.”

His praise only serves to get you wetter. God, you were desperate. Any little thing that Eddie said had you wanting more. Wanting to hear him call you beautiful. Wanting to hear him tell you over and over again that your pussy was the prettiest he had ever seen. You wanted to be perfect for him- so fucking perfect.

Just when you were getting lost in your head over thoughts of him, you felt a sudden sting against your core- causing you to gasp. Eddie immediately follows it up by placing his fingers on your clit and rubbing it. He had just spanked your clit.

“Sorry,” He winces “Was that too much?”

“No!” You beg, bucking your hips “Again. Do it again.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat as he watches you become needy and desperate under his fingertips. It was so…fucking…hot.

“Oh, you like that?” He growls “You like it when I spank your pussy? Yeah?”

His hand comes down on it again, causing you to squeal before he places his fingers back onto your clit again to rub it soothingly. The action had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Eddie watched, his cock reacting by growing even harder beneath his jeans.

“God, you’re a little freak.” He teases “You gonna be my little freak, baby? You gonna take my fingers, hm? You gonna be a good girl and take what I give you?”

“Yes.” You breathe “Yes, Eddie. Wanna be your good girl. Wanna be so good for you.”

And that almost does it for him. He could’ve came right there in his pants. You could’ve ruined his reputation of being one of the longest-lasting guys in porn and he wouldn’t have even fucking cared. Right now, all he cared about was you. Not his reputation, not the cameras, not everyone watching. You.

“Damn right.” He groans “You’re gonna be my good girl. You know why? ‘Cause good girls get rewarded. Good girls get my fingers. Good girls get to have my dick in their fucking mouth after I’m done making them come. You’re gonna be my good girl, baby. All for me. Right, sweetheart? You gonna be sweet for me?”

“Yes, daddy.” You squeak out. The filter between your brain and your mouth completely disappearing. You had just called him daddy.

And Eddie? He was fucking rock hard.

He had never really had a daddy kink. He wasn’t repulsed by it but it just never really did anything for him. Until now. Until the nickname rolled off of your lips- hot and heavy as his cock began to ache.

“Fuck!” Eddie growls “Say it again.”

“Yes, daddy.” You repeat. You were rewarded with another firm slap to your clit.

“You’re so lucky that this is an oral flick.” Eddie states “Because I’d have you bent over this fucking couch right now fucking pounding you. But that’s okay. Because I get to play with this pussy however I want. However daddy fucking wants, right? Yeah? And you’re gonna take it, sweetheart. Like the sweet girl you are.”

“I want it.” You moan out “Wanna take it for you. Let me have it? Please?”

Eddie Munson had fucked way more girls than he could count. The number of orgasms that he has given were very well into the hundreds. He’s had a few good fucks during his time but not like this- nothing like this. This was sexual fucking napalm. He was fucking aching for you. Practically at your fucking mercy and he wasn’t even inside of you. He had never felt a connection more intense than what he was having with you. He didn’t think that he ever will again. This was a once-in a-lifetime kind of fuck.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He breathes “You can have all of it, good girl. Fuck, I’m all yours, princess. You want me? You want my fingers?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes!” You moan out, still fingering yourself desperately to his voice. You were so close but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

“Let me take over, angel.” He orders “Gonna make you feel so good.”

You hastily obey, removing your soaked fingers from your sex as Eddie watches- his eyes practically roll in sheer arousal when he sees how drenched your fingers are. Coated entirely in you. The next thing he says comes straight from his dick and not his head. He was past thinking straight at this point.

“Put them in my mouth.” He growls.

“What?” You ask, a little confused.

“Put your fucking fingers in my mouth. Wanna fuckin’ taste you, c’mon.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth as he wraps his lips around your wet digits. His mouth was warm and wet as he swirls his tongue around your fingers, sucking gratefully as he stared into your eyes- indulging in the way you tasted on his tongue. The sight of it was so fucking hot that you could’ve blacked out.

He hums around your fingers, sending a sensation to your core that had you squirming. Then he began sucking on your fingers and you let out a shameless moan that caused the corners of his full mouth to curl into a hint of a smirk. But he didn’t stop. Not until he could no longer taste you on your fingers. Once he was satisfied that he had sucked off every trace of your taste, he slowly pulled your fingers out of his mouth with a satisfying pop.

“Shit, angel.” He hums “I was right. You are sweet. Best fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Best pussy he’s ever tasted. You could officially die happy now. You were the best pussy that Eddie “The Freak” Munson has ever tasted and he hadn’t even gone down on you yet.

“Goddamn, you’re wet.” He adds, using his hand again to run his fingers up and down your slit- collecting your arousal as he spreads it all over your cunt. “So fucking slippery, baby. Ready for my fingers?”

“Please, Eds.” You whine “Please, please, please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart, okay. Needy fucking girl…” He teases.

You open your mouth to protest but you were quickly cut off by the moan that left your lips instead as Eddie inserted one long digit into your warm, wet cunt.

“Oh fuck…” You mewl, mouth dropping open as Eddie uses his finger to stroke your needy walls.

“Holy shit, babe. So fucking tight. Jesus Christ…” He replies “And that’s only one finger, baby. I haven’t even given you the rest yet.”

“Please, Eddie. Give me more. I want more.” You beg.

“More? Baby, I don’t know if I can fit another one in there. You’re so goddamn tight….and wet. Holy fucking- god.” He gapes, watching you take what little bit that he gave you.

“I can take it.” You plead “I promise. I need you, Eddie. Need you so bad.”

“Yeah, sweet thing? You need me? You need me to get off?”

“Yes, fuck. Please, Eddie. Been wanting this.”

“Oh yeah, sweetness? You’ve been wanting this? Been wanting me? Been wanting me to fuck you full and make you cum all over my fingers? S’that what you wanted?”

You nod so helplessly, your face already cock-drunk and your body already desperate.

“Yes.” You reply “I need you. Please, Eds. Need you to make me feel good. Need-“

You gasp loudly as he shoves another finger inside of you, stretching you out so full of him that you were completely consumed with him. All you cared about was him.

“That good? S’That what you were begging for?” He chuckles darkly.

“Oh shit! Oh…oh my god!” You hiccup as he begins to curl his fingers inside of you. Deep enough to reach that soft spot inside of you that caused your vision to blur and your muscle to spasm in that delicious feeling of ecstasy.

“There she is…” Eddie smirks “That where you were trying to reach, sweetheart? That the spot? Yeah? Answer me.”

“Yes!” You pant “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Good.” He hums “You knew daddy would find it, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted my fingers so bad. Had to beg for it like a needy little slut. But you’re not a slut. No, you’re a good girl. My good girl. And you’re gonna take it until you cum.”

“Oh- that…ha! That feels-“ You could feel your orgasm coming. You could barely focus. You felt a pleasure so other-worldly that you were sure you were going to cum hard enough to have an out-of-body experience.

“That’s it, baby.” Eddie encourages “Cum on my fingers. C’mon. You can fucking do it, angel. You’re clenching so tight. You’re so close.”

You were moaning uncontrollably to the point where you suddenly stopped making noise completely, your mouth falling open in a silence scream as your chest heaved. Your legs began to shake as you felt the most intense sense of pleasure and relief wash over your entire body. Your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you came hard. Your mouth dry from your screams as you try to catch your breath. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were. Just basking in the post-orgasmic bliss until Eddie’s voice pierces through.

“Holy fucking shit!” He exclaims “Did you just-“

Your body tenses up, sensing that something was wrong. You sit up from where your body had collapsed against the back of the couch. That’s when you see it- Eddie’s wrist was drenched and wet. He was looking at you with wide eyes. The sofa cushions were also soaked. You were fucking mortified. Did you just fucking squirt all over Eddie Munson?

“Shit!” You panic “I- I’ve never done that before. I didn’t even know that I could- Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

But Eddie just stares at you, his pupils blown wide. You wanted to bury yourself into the couch and disappear. You were going to die of fucking embarrassment. You open your mouth to apologize once again but you were quickly yanked down roughly to the edge of the couch, legs hastily thrown over Eddie’s shoulders as he growls hungrily- lowering his face into your cunt until he buries himself in it.

You squeal out in surprise, taken aback by his roughness and the sensitivity of your pussy after orgasming- and apparently squirting- all over your scene partner.

“Eddie!” You gasp out as he attacks your clit, sucking on it if roughly as you squirm “Fuck! Oh my god!”

He stops momentarily, his face already wet and coated in your release as he stares at you with hungry eyes.

“You…” he pants “Are so fucking hot! You drive me crazy! Wanna bury my fucking face in you. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You whimper.

“Fuck, baby, I am so fucking hard for you right now. Watching you fucking squirt like that? Jesus Christ, I was about to fucking lose it.”

“Yeah?” You coo, looking down at Eddie as he squeezes your thighs in his hands.

“God, angel. You don’t know what you fucking do to me. Let me show you how bad I fucking want you. Scoot up onto the couch and spread your legs nice and wide for me?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You removed your legs from his shoulder, backing up onto the couch until you hit the backrest. As Eddie shifted more comfortably onto his knees, you instinctively spread your legs nice and wide- giving him another breathtaking view of your dripping wet sex.

“Fuuuuck, baby..” Eddie breathes, leaning down to press a soft, gentle kiss to your sensitive clit- making you squirm. “Be a good girl and spread her open for me, yeah?”

You don’t even question it, reaching down between your legs to part yourself open with your fingers.

“Fuck, there she is. So fucking pretty, sweetheart. Almost as pretty as you.” He flirts.

Eddie then collects all of the saliva in his mouth, leaning in to spit directly onto your hot cunt and it fueled something inside of you that made you feel feral and uncontrollable. You let out the most unintentionally pornographic moan as he attached his thumb to your clit, massaging roughly enough to have you panting in seconds.

“Goddamn, you are so gorgeous.” Eddie sighs, watching you take his assault onto your clit “My god. Been thinking about having you just like this since I first saw you. Wanted my face buried in-between these fucking thighs, baby.”

“Then do it, Munson.” You tease.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow, looking at you as if you had no idea what you were asking for.

“Oh, you want this, baby?” He growls “Don’t fucking worry, Princess. You can have it. You can have me. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel. Gonna make sure no one’s ever gonna eat your pussy out better than me.”

Before you can process his promises that were filled with possession, he brings his head down to your core- attaching his lips to your clit as he sucked on it. Immediate pleasure sends a jolt through your body, causing your hips to buck into his face. Eddie groans at your reaction, your eagerness as he sucked on your sensitive little button. He took it as praise, sucking on it harder as you squeal.

“Fuck, Eddie!” You pant. His eyes flicker to yours, watching how dark and blissed out they were becoming and he had barely even started with you. He takes things further, grazing your clit with his teeth as you gasp at the sensation. He begins to alternate his actions from gentle to rough as he serviced your clit, paying extra attention to the way you reacted to each lick, suck, and kiss that he left upon it. Each one caused your body to squirm so deliciously underneath him.

“She sensitive, baby? Yeah?” He asks, mumbling against your cunt as he watches you squirm. You nod as you watch him flick his tongue against your clit before expertly rolling it against the bundle of nerves.

You gasp at the feeling, never having experienced anyone devouring you the way that he was. You didn’t even know that he could do that with his tongue but it was leaving you breathless as you reached for his head, trying to pull him closer.

“That’s right, baby.” He growls “Put it in my face. Fuuuck yes!”

You shamelessly buck your hips, shoving your cunt into his face as he smirks- letting you grind against his tongue. It was driving him wild. How much you wanted him. How much you yearned for his touch.

“God yeah,” He groans “That’s it. Make a mess of my face, sweetheart.”

He stuck his tongue out farther for you, giving you more to hump against as you rubbed your clit on it- desperately seeking out your pleasure. Your next orgasm. His tongue felt better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You could only imagine what his dick must feel like. No wonder all of the girls he had worked with previously had lost their mind. He was even more talented than you realized.

“Oh my god!” You moan out “Your tongue…”

“Mmm…what about it, baby?” He rasps as he pulls away from you momentarily. Only for a moment but your hips were chasing after his mouth as soon as they left you.

“Fuck!” You pant “Please don’t stop! Feels so good…”

“You want more, sweet thing? Grinding on my face isn’t enough for you?” He teases, his lips wet and glossed up with your arousal.

“I need you…” You whine “I need-“

Before you could continue to beg any further, Eddie grabs ahold of your legs again- grabbing the back of your knees as he yanks you down towards the end of the couch. Your lower body arches up as he hitches your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer to him as he buries his face in your pussy- latching onto it with a rough, insatiable fervor as he works his tongue against you again.

“Fuck, Eddie!” You scream “Oh fuck! Oh my-“

The words die in your throat and are quickly replaced by high pitched desperate whines as Eddie takes your clit back in his mouth, humming against it in a way that sends nearly earth-shattering vibrations through your body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” You cry out, panting and desperate as you feel another high ramping up. Eddie can sense your pending orgasm, taking things up a notch as he begins to nuzzle his face into your cunt for extra friction. Your mouth drops open in ecstasy as your hands frantically search for something to grab onto.

You settle for one hand grasping the couch cushion beneath you as the other one grabs onto a handful of his curls at the crown of his head. You were still half-suspended in the air with your legs over his shoulders as they began to shake, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Fuck, Eddie!” You cry out “I’m- oh fuck, I’m c-cumming!”

And Eddie couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop. He was a man possessed as he continued to eat you out through your second orgasm, reveling in your screams of pleasure as you chant his name like he was a fucking god.

“Eddie! Oh my god, Eddie! Holy shit!” You scream out and he swore his name never sounds so fucking good. Not as good as the way that it was rolling off your lips as you orgasmed. Your cunt still on his mouth as you rolled your hips, riding that blessed afterwave. That’s when you went completely limp.

“Cut!”

You were on cloud nine and completely blissed out when the director called for everyone to take thirty. You were practically floating. Soft and pliant and boneless as Eddie carefully removed your legs from over his shoulders. He supported your lower body as he maneuvered you onto the couch so that you were laying down fully- completely nude but you didn’t care. You could be lying naked in the middle of nowhere and you wouldn’t give a damn. Not when you were feeling like you were in outer space.

“Earth to sweetheart?” Eddie whispers, his face hovering over yours as he stays kneeling in front of the couch “Doing alright?”

“Yeah…” You reply, your voice tired and soft “I feel…fuck, that was amazing.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the cute little grin that spreads across your face.

“Yeah?” He asks “Was it okay for you?”

“Okay?” You retort “That was….wow!”

“Well, I’m glad that I could meet your expectations.” He chuckles, reaching up to carefully brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Are you kidding? That surpassed my expectations.” You admit “You just about gave me an exorcism.”

“An exorcism, huh?” Eddie laughed “That’s also a new one for me.”

“Yeah?” You say “Don’t forget to add it to your resumé after this.”

You went silent for a moment before adding “I don’t know how I’m gonna top that.”

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, meeting your eyes “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine”

“Yeah but I wanna return the favor. I want it to be good for you too.” You admit “After that, I feel like I owe you.”

“Sweetheart, sex isn’t transactional.” Eddie explains before stopping “I mean…besides the fact that we get paid to do this for a living. But what I’m saying is that you don’t owe me anything. I just want you to have a good time, okay?”

And how could you argue with that when he was making you feel so safe and comfortable and….good? Really fucking good.

“Okay.” You agree.

“Good.” He grins “Now let’s get you off this couch and cleaned up.”

────────

Eddie was alone in one of the spare dressing rooms, drinking from a bottle of water when his manager walked in. At first, Paul doesn’t say a word. He just saunters over to the small sofa that was in the middle of the room before sinking down on it, looking at Eddie with a shit-eating-grin.

“What?” Eddie asks, taking in the expression on Paul’s cocky face.

“I told you so.” Paul speaks, his voice laced with a tone of confidence “Didn’t I tell you, kid?”

“Tell me what?” Eddie questions, still waiting to be clued in.

“That this girl wasn’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before. You didn’t wanna believe me at first, did you?” Paul grins “Kid, I’ve never seen you so into a scene before. You and that girl….I don’t know what’s going on there but there’s something. You’ve got the hots for her.”

“I barely know her.” Eddie tries to defend himself but he knew it was no use, not really. Not when everything Paul was saying was true. He was so into you. Ridiculously into you.

“Could’ve fooled me with the way you were going to town on her, kid.” Paul laughs “So, when’s the wedding?”

Eddie takes the cap from his water bottle and chucks it at his manager.

“Very funny, asshole.” He quips, rolling his eyes.

“Look, man, I’m just fucking with you. You know, it’s actually nice seeing you enjoy yourself. And, boy, were you enjoying yourself.” Paul teases.

“Jesus Christ…”

“You know what this means, right?” Paul asks “The company is gonna want you to renew your contract. They’re gonna want you to work with her again. Eds, we’re gonna need to lock this down.”

“I’m not gonna re-sign, Paul.” Eddie drops “When I’m done, I’m done. No more.”

“What?” Paul exclaims “After all that out there? You’re still gonna walk away?”

“I mean, that was always the plan. Even before her.” Eddie answers, picking at the label on his bottle of water.

“You’re seriously still going to quit?” Paul asks “When you’re about to skyrocket even bigger when this scene goes up online? You do realize that you have the potential to make twice- hell, even three times what you’re making right now!”

“Still doesn’t change anything.” Eddie answers “It’s not about the money anymore, Paul.”

“Then what is it about, kid?”

“It’s….I don’t know. I guess I just want to feel something again for someone, you know? Not just emotionless fucking all the time. I just want to feel a connection to someone.”

Eddie felt like he was explaining something complicated and completely unfathomable. Something as difficult as a paradoxical conundrum. Sex workers didn’t usually talk about shit like this. Feelings and emotions and connection. So, how did he expect Paul to relate to anything he was trying to convey?

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready to hang it up. I’m ready to go back to living a normal life. I wanna fucking go out and meet someone and do the whole dating type shit. Maybe have a girlfriend? I don’t fucking know…” He continues “But I can’t fucking do that when I’m doing porn for a living.”

“Okay.” Paul nods “I get that. I guess things can get messy trying to have a relationship when you’re still in the industry. Jealousy and all that.”

“Exactly.” Eddie agrees.

“But that girl…” Paul continues “You like her?”

“I mean…she’s gorgeous.” He admits “And sweet and…honestly, too fucking good for this industry.”

“So, why not her?” Paul asks “You don’t wanna date her?”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie replies “Of course I would. She’s perfect. I just….like you said, she’s not going to stay small for long. She’s gonna end up getting big after this. I mean, fucking look at her. She’s gonna be offered gigs left and right. Her company’s gonna want her to do more stuff with other porn guys. She’s gonna forget about me by the end of next week. There’s no room for feelings in porn.”

“Eh, I don’t think she’s gonna forget about you after what you just did to her out there.” Paul laughs “But I get where you’re coming from. Anyways, should we head back to set? I’m sure your bride is eagerly awaiting your return.”

“Shut the fuck up, Paul….”

“Alright, alright.” Paul continues “I’m only joking…mostly.”

────────

Eddie peeks into your dressing room, standing in the doorway as he watches you- bending over at the waist and you lean in towards the mirror. You were touching up your makeup, making sure that you looked presentable again for the camera before stepping out to finish the scene. The part that you were the most nervous about; giving him a blowjob.

As you fluff your hair, trying to smooth it down and fix it after two mind-blowing orgasms- you catch his reflection in the mirror. Standing there as he admired you. Taking in how you were still naked underneath your short silk robe. If you had bent down just a little bit further, he could see your pussy. Completely on display and available for him to walk up to you and jam his cock inside of you, fucking you mercilessly against the hair and makeup vanity. Instead, he attempts to control himself. Just a little bit longer. He knew that he would be in your mouth soon.

“Hi.” You smile, turning around in his direction as you lean your back against the vanity- taking in the sight of him. He was still shirtless, causing you to try really fucking hard to keep your eyes on him and not his body. But he noticed. Of course he does.

“Hi.” He replies, a smirk tugging at his lips “Doing okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to control your beating heart. Goddamn, did he have an effect on you. “I’m good. You?”

“Fine.” He grins, looking you up and down as he licks his lips- taking it all in. “Never been better actually. You know, considering that I just ate out one of the prettiest women in porn. Actually wait, scratch that. One of the prettiest women ever.”

The admission causes your face to heat up.

“You know, you already made me orgasm twice. You don’t have to keep flattering me.” You joke, ducking your head. You felt like you were on the verge of melting completely if you kept looking at him.

“Hmm…I don’t know.” He replies “I feel like my job isn’t done yet. You know, I might just have to go for a third time. Just to be safe.”

Your heart was officially skipping beats at his oh-so-casual comment about making you cum a third time.

“As much as I’d like that,” You continue “I still have to return the favor. Which, if I’m being honest, I’m really nervous about.”

Eddie’s heart melts a little at your nervousness. It was a breath of fresh air compared to past porn girls who kind of just shoved him into their mouths and did their thing. He felt kind of flattered that going down on him was making you so flustered.

“Sweetheart, I already told you, there’s nothing to worry about.” He explains “You’re gonna do just fine. Like I said, I’m not-“

“Picky. Yeah, I know.” You cut him off “But I still want it to be good for you. I just….can you give me some tips? Like…what to do?”

Eddie could’ve cum right then and there. Just from hearing you be so eager and needy to please him.

“You want me to, like, coach you?” He asks, trying to stifle out a groan. Fuck, this was so hot…

“Yeah.” You nod “That would…actually be really helpful. You know, like, practice. Before I go out there and make a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“You…wanna practice?” He asks “On me? Right now?”

Holy shit.

“Yeah.” You shrug “I mean, why not? I’m going to do it anyway. Getting some pointers from you would definitely help.”

“O-okay.” Eddie stammers “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, sweetheart. What do you want me to-“

“What do you like?” You ask, jumping straight in “What, like, turns you on? Do you like to be stroked while you’re getting a blowjob? Do you like it when girls play with your balls? Do you-“

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, sweetheart.” Eddie practically pants, holding up a hand in signal for you to stop “Just…hold on a sec. My brain is literally going fucking crazy right now hearing you say that.”

“I’m sorry!” You immediately begin to apologize “Did I-“

“No, baby!” Eddie shakes his head “No, no, no! You just…fuck. You’re just so hot that I’m gonna blow my fucking load in my pants before I even get the chance to be in your mouth and I- fuck, I really wanna be in your mouth, sweetheart. I-“

Before he could process it, you had walked up to him- pressing your lips against his in a bruising, hot kiss that he immediately melted into. God, you were going to be the death of him.

He kisses you back with fervor and need as your tongue slips into his mouth, battling against his as he grabs two handfuls of your silky robe- yanking you closer to him. Your hands encircle around his neck as you kiss him harder, as if you were trying to steal the air from his very lungs and Eddie? He didn’t fucking care. He’d fucking give it to you if he could. He’d give you fucking anything. He was putty in your hands.

Speaking of his hands, they were everywhere. Your hips, your thighs, buried in your hair, running up and down your back, grabbing your ass. He wanted you so bad. So, so bad.

“Fuck…” He moans against your lips, fighting for his last shred of self-control in order to prevent himself from picking you up and fucking you on whatever the nearest surface was. He didn’t care what it was. He needed you. So, when you pulled away from the kiss abruptly, he had to stop himself from groaning out in sexual frustration.

“Eddie?” You ask, your sweet voice whispering out his name in a way that had him wrecked.

“Yeah, baby?” He breathes out, realizing that as long as you kept saying his name like that, he would risk it all.

“Want you in my mouth.” You plead “Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

And Eddie? He was fucking goo. A puddle of fucking goo for you as he tried not to fucking melt into the floor at how needy you were. How nicely you were asking for him. How could he fucking say no?

“Fuck, baby.” He moans “You wanna get on your knees for me? Right now?”

“Please?” You whisper, looking at him with those eyes.

Those. Fucking. Eyes.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, sweetheart.” He pants “Fuck…”

“Please?” You continue “Can I?”

This right here was hotter than any fucking sex that Eddie had ever had. The tension, the arousal, the spark, the fucking chemistry. It was so fucking good. Too fucking good.

“Okay.” He nods eagerly “Okay, sweet girl. Whatever you…fuck…Whatever you want. I’m yours.”

And those two words were all that you needed to fuel you.

I’m yours.

Your hand immediately flies down to his groin, taking a firm grasp of his hardened cock through his black jeans as you squeeze it- causing him to let out a sound that was a combination of a gasp and a desperate groan.

“Shit, baby.” He breathes out, his mind malfunctioning at the feel of your hand against him- right where he needed you most “Feels so fucking good…”

“Eddie, you’re so big…” You flirt, continuing to palm him through his jeans and, goddammit, how was he supposed to control himself when you say shit like that?

“Yeah, baby?” He moans “You like that?”

“Mhm.” You flirt “Don’t know if I can take it all in my mouth.”

“Holy-“ His voice catches “You can’t- god!”

“Might gag on it.” You continue, paying extra attention to palming the tip. His knees began to feel weak under your touch.

“Sweetheart, please-“ He pleads “Don’t fucking say shit like that.”

“Why not?” You coo “You don’t want to hear me tell you that I love your dick? That I love how big it is?”

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie groans “You little fucking tease. You love it, huh? You love my big fucking dick? God, you’re fucking filthy. That dirty fucking mouth…”

“Shut me up then, Munson.” You grin “You know how to do it.”

And that’s when he fucking breaks.

“Get on your fucking knees.” He growls.

And just when you begin to sink down, to kneel in front of him and worship his cock- there was a knock at the door followed by your name.

“You’re needed on set in five!”

God…fucking…dammit.

────────

To Be Continued in Part 3…

────────

He was supposed to be off on Sundays- practically unreachable. It was a clause in his final contract that he signed almost 11 months ago. He had Sundays off with no disruptions. No calls, no emails, no meetings- and absolutely no work. So, when his phone rang through the quiet confines of his loft-style apartment, he groaned out in frustration.

Leave me the fuck alone, Paul…

He thought, slumping further into his couch as he slung his forearm over his eyes. He had nothing on his agenda besides a well-needed nap and some light D&D manual reading. He didn’t even plan on leaving his apartment. Just that.

So, when his phone stopping ringing, Eddie let out a sigh of relief- trying to doze off again before it started ringing again. Not even a five minute pause between the last call.

Whatever he wants, he can leave a goddamn message like everyone else.

He would get to it on Monday. Maybe. If he was lucky.

But no.

On the third attempted call, Eddie jumps off the couch with a groan- stomping over to his wall phone before picking it up.

“Munson.” He murmurs gruffly as he leans against the wall impatiently.

“Eds! Jesus Christ, kid! Pick up your damn phone when I call.”

“What do you want, Paul?” Eddie drones, already wanting to be off the phone as fast as he picked it up.

“Look, kid, I know you said no Sundays but-“

“Nuh-uh.” Eddie cuts him off “No. You know the rules. The only thing I asked for when we renewed my contract was that I get to be unreachable on Sundays. This-“ Eddie gestures to the phone in his hand even though he knew his manager couldn’t see him. It was all for emphasis, really.

“This is not unreachable.” He finishes “It can wait until Monday.”

“Look, kiddo, I know what you said but I don’t think this can wait.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

“Do not hang up on me, Munson! I know you’ve only got a month left of this but at least respect me enough to hear me out when I speak to you.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his temple in exasperation “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a gig for you. Trust me, kid, you’re gonna love it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Y’know, Paul, I feel like I’ve heard you say that before.” He points out.

“Nah, kid. I mean it. I’ve got something you’re gonna love. Meet me in my office in an hour.”

“What!?” Eddie exclaims “Hold on! Wait-“

But before Eddie could argue, his manager had already hung up- leaving the other end dead as he stood there in disbelief.

That fucking bastard.

────────

To say that the porn industry had made him jaded would be an understatement.

After three grueling years, a lot of fucking, faking it, and getting off enough women to start a Jim Jones-style cult- Eddie had had enough. He was retiring. For good.

The announcement to the porn industry had been a shock to everyone. Eddie “The Freak” Munson; the sex-industry’s “Prince of Porn” (Or “The Prince of Pussy” as some called him, for some odd reason) was leaving behind his legacy as the ladies’ favorite male pornstar. No one has seen anything like it. It was practically unfathomable that someone of his caliber- someone who jackhammered his way into the hearts of millions- was walking away.

To almost every man in America, Eddie “The Freak” Munson was living their dream. Eddie, however, was bored, tired, and lonely. It was fun while it lasted but he was ready to move on. You could only fuck so many blondes with huge tits and daddy kinks until it got completely played out and repetitive. It also didn’t help that, outside of filming, he wasn’t even interested in sex.

True be told, sex had become the last thing on his mind. Not that he couldn’t fuck anyone he wanted. Hell, he was sure there would be a line halfway to Europe if he did. He just didn’t see the point. It was like eating the same meal everyday for the rest of your life. You get tired of it pretty damn quick. What was the point of sex without the emotional connection? The passion? The lust? It was just a waste of time and energy.

Eddie rolled into his manager’s office an hour and a half later, taking his sweet time as he parked his van at the studio. He walks past the receptionists, sending a wink their way as he walked through to Paul’s private office suite. There have been many occasions when he overheard the girls at the front-desk fawning over him after he had just wrapped up a scene with some “up and coming” star that was completely underwhelming.

Sometimes he even thought about taking home one of the receptionists and dicking them down just to see if he felt something. That he wasn’t completely numb to getting someone else’s rocks off. But Paul would surely have his ass if he found out. Sometimes Eddie wondered why he even cared.

“Where the hell have you been?” Paul exclaims, turning towards Eddie once he walks through the door “I was just in the middle of calling you.”

Paul puts the phone down as he watches Eddie plop down into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. What are your other two wishes.” Eddie deadpans.

“You’re lucky that production pushed back today’s shoot by another hour otherwise you would’ve missed out on what the hell I even called you in for.” Paul chastises, earning an eye-roll from his client.

“Which is?” Eddie points out “You had me race across town in traffic and you haven’t even told me that the hell for. Let’s get on with it. What’s this gig you’re so obsessed about?”

“I found a girl for you.” Paul announces excitedly as if he were a matchmaker and not a manager for sex workers.

“….Okay.” Eddie replies slowly “That’s it?”

“Would you lighten up?” Paul replies incredulously “I’m getting there, okay? Just give me a minute to, you know, set the scene.”

“Paul, I don’t pay you 10% for you to ‘set the scene’ and waste my time. Let’s pick a lane here, and stick to it.” Eddie states, not mincing words. One thing he learned fast during his first year in the industry was that mincing words was what got you used up and stomped on.

“Alright. So, I found this girl. Her manager came to me. Her company is putting together a flick. Oral Fixation 5 or some shit like that. Anyway, they’re looking for a male costar for her. They want someone good. It’s the girl’s first time with a partner. She mainly does solo work. She’s a bit skittish but cute. Different than the type of girls you usually work with.”

“So, you want me to fuck an amateur?” Eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, no. Not an amateur. She’s been on film before.”

“Has she fucked anyone on film before?” Eddie challenges, eyeing his manager judgmentally. Leave it to Paul to call him in on his day off to ask him to fuck some newbie that probably has no idea what she’s doing.

“See, that’s the thing, you wouldn’t be fucking her.” Paul explains.

“Then what would I be doing? Feeding her bon-bons?” Eddie asks.

“Like I said, it’s an oral flick. No fucking. Very simple stuff. She basically does most of the work herself. She’ll start off solo, get herself nice and ready, you come in and eat her out, make her come, she’ll suck you off, let you come on her face and voila! Done! You’ll be out of here by noon tomorrow. So, whaddya say?”

“….What does she look like?” Eddie asks, leaning forward in his seat. He would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued. No actual fucking? Just some light oral work, a blowjob, and then done? Didn’t seem that bad.

“That’s why I wanted you to come in!” Paul explains “She’s here. In Studio B shooting some stuff for Hot & Horny. You can head over, give her a good look, see what she can do, and then we can book it if she makes the cut. Maybe if she’s up to your standards, we can use her for your big flick. But you have to decide today before someone else snags her. She’s cute, kid. A real looker. I don’t see her staying small for very long.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Really.” Paul assures him “What’re you thinkin’?”

“Alright.” Eddie sighs, standing up from his chair “Let me see her.”

────────

When he walks into Studio B, Eddie is expecting to find another cookie-cutter run of the mill porn girl. Big fake silicone tits, lip injections, and an overly-enthusiastic fake orgasm. Bonus points for bleach blonde hair. What he didn’t expect to find was you- the complete antithesis of all of the other girls he’s used to. You were a breath of fresh air.

You stood off to the side of your set- a cute little bedroom set up complete with frilly pink floral sheets, heart shaped pillows, and cute little teddy bears. Boy band posters were taped onto the fake set walls to mimic the feel of a girl’s bedroom. College student, girl-next-door. Young, hot, and sexy- and, boy, Eddie was into it. He was so fucking into it.

Production staff began setting up the scene, placing several different adult toys onto the rose-printed lacy duvet. A smorgasbord of pleasure instruments. Eddie was no stranger to solo girls scenes. He’s gotten off to many of them. But this one was different. He was sucked in- intrigued.

You were standing in a silky robe, covering up whatever production has asked you to wear. All Eddie could get a glimpse of was the thigh high white stockings with lace trim that adorned your long, sexy legs. No heels. Interesting.

You were talking to a set manager, batting your long mascara-ed eyelashes as your pink, kissable lips spread into a sweet smile. The set guy said something that got you to laugh, your head tilting back as you let out an adorable sexy laugh- your hair draping down like a luscious waterfall.

Fuck, you were hot. So, so hot.

“Told you she was a looker.” Paul chimes in as he sidles up beside Eddie- too distracted to notice that he was even in the vicinity “What are your thoughts so far?”

Eddie didn’t want to reveal his hand just yet. He didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Let me sit in for this one. I wanna see what she does.” He replies slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Before he knows it, the director calls you over- motioning for you to enter your set and get yourself situated on the cutesy pink bed.

Alright, Eddie thought, Show-time.

Before the cameras begin to roll, you gingerly untie the silk sash of your rope- taking it off to reveal your lingerie ensemble before handing it off to a set manager. Eddie’s mouth immediately went dry.

There you were in all of your glory, decorated head-to-toe in a baby pink lacy lingerie set that Eddie wanted to unwrap- desperately. You wore a bra that was practically see-through, your perfect tits hardly covered by the lace that adorned them. Through the fabric, he could spot your perky nipples- his mouth beginning to water at the thought of rolling his tongue around them- his hands full of your gorgeous breasts.

You wore a pair of lacy matching panties. Your beautiful cunt barely hidden beneath the fabric. Covered up just enough to leave him wanting more. Teasing him. You were a vision. You sat primly on the bed, your legs tucked to the side- like a proper lady- as you waited for your cue to start. Eddie began to move closer- not wanting to miss this.

He sidled up to the small herd of production members, standing firmly as a few of them greeted him with a nod. They were probably wondering what the hell he was doing there. He normally didn’t sit in to watch scenes. He was more known to shoot his own shit, get dressed, and leave as soon as possible. Yet, here he was, metaphorically sitting on the edge of his seat as he waited for you to start.

As if by the grace of god, the set director calls action- signaling to you that the camera was rolling. There wasn’t even a hint of intimidation as you started off slow and tantalizing. You place your fingers over your lips, blowing your signature kiss to the camera. Those lips. Those pouty, pink lips. Eddie hadn’t seen anything yet and he was already hooked- those soft kissable lips drawing him in. Soft lips that he wanted wrapped around his cock.

Continuing on with your tease, you trail up your body with your cute little hands, reaching up to your chest- gently massaging your tits through your lacy pink bra. The movement was slow and sensual, your hands kneading your perfect breasts- pushing them together seductively as you began to look straight into the lens of the camera.

Okay, Eddie thought, this was definitely not your first time doing this sort of thing.

He could tell, immediately- his eyes taking in the way that you were confident and deliberate with your touches. The way that your hands trailed up and down your body- grabbing, kneading, and tracing your irresistible curves. You were comfortable. In your element. Eddie could tell right away that, when it came to getting yourself off, you were definitely no amateur. He had barely even seen anything yet and he knew- and all he wanted was to see it in real time.

You reach up to hook your thumbs into your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders as you bit your lip- batting those pretty eyelashes at the camera lens. Reaching behind you, you began to unclasp your bra- sliding it off agonizingly slow. Eddie’s breath hitches as his eyes lock onto your bare tits- nipples hard and perky as you playfully toss the discarded bra onto the floor beside the set bed.

Eddie couldn’t help but smirk, loving the way that you teased the camera- staring it down as if it were the viewers at home. The sad, unfortunate losers that weren’t anywhere near as lucky as he was to see it in person- to even be offered the opportunity to get on his knees to please you.

You kneel onto the bed, giving the camera a good view of your lower half- your lace panties and stockings still on. Those fucking stockings. Eddie could feel the blood circulating to his dick, causing him to grow hard against the zipper of his jeans. You had barely even done anything but play with your tits and he was already starting to leak precum.

These days, it took a lot for Eddie to physically react to things. Being overly-exposed to sex in this industry tends to do that to you. So, the sheer notion that he was getting hard and horny for you when all he had seen so far were your breasts was pretty damn close to miraculous. You were barely even into your scene and he was sure that he’d have to use one of the private dressing rooms to rub one out afterwards.

You ran your hands down your stomach, staring down the camera as you caressed lower and lower down your body until you reached the waistband of your panties, biting your lip as you plunged your right hand into the fabric. Eddie had to stop himself from groaning at the sight. He had seen plenty of women touch themselves- he was a pornstar, for fuck sake- but the way that you did it was hypnotizing. His eyes become glued to your clothed core as he focuses on the way that your fingers moved and teased yourself behind the thin fabric.

So fucking hot. So goddamn sexy.

He wanted to see more- needed to see more.

Your nimble little fingers teased your clit, working behind the thin fabric of your panties as you threw your head back in pleasure- your hair cascading down as your free hand reached up to one of your breasts. You pinched the nipple between your fingers, letting out a light little moan that had Eddie’s dick stirring beneath his boxers.

Fuck, that’s hot. Eddie thought. Keep going, baby. Show me how you do it.

As if you could read his mind from across the room, your eyes open- flickering over to him as you inch your hand further down into your panties. You insert a digit inside of your pussy, causing yourself to gasp as the sensation.

Shit.

Eddie watches your knuckles work their way inside of your cunt as he strains himself to get even just a glimpse past what’s behind those pretty lace panties. He could bet that they were fucking sopping wet by the way that your muscles didn’t tense or stutter when you inserted another finger. You probably slid it in with complete ease. Like it was nothing- and that was so incredibly hot.

It went on like this for a while. Eddie staring at your lower half as you toyed with yourself from behind the panties. Just when he thought he was on the brink of getting blue balls, you slowly slipped your fingers out of your panties- the production lights on the studio set picking up the way that your digital glistened with your arousal. It was a fucking sight. Such a sight that Eddie didn’t even think about you upping the ante- taking your drenched fingers and sliding them into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them as you sucked them clean.

Holy..fuck.

Suddenly, the director called cut- the sound of his orders causing Eddie to snap his head over in horror.

Cut? No. No, no, no, no, no! You were just getting started! What the fuck?!

“Alright, babe, second act. Lose the panties and get into position. Legs spread, okay?” The director calls out, causing Eddie to sigh in relief. You weren’t wrapping yet.

Thank god!

You nod at the director, hopping off the bed as you begin to take your panties off, sliding them down your legs. Where Eddie was standing off-set, he had the perfect view as you bent over further and further to push your underwear off. You were bend over so low that he had a full fucking view of your glistening wet pussy, and he was right- you were sopping. It took all of the fucking strength and self-control he had to not stomp onto that set, pull down his jeans to free his raging hard cock and jam it into your fucking cunt. God, he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life. He wanted to tell production to fuck your solo scene so that he could start fucking you.

You straighten up, now standing as you kicked off the panties- leaving you completely nude aside from the white thigh-high stockings. You climb back onto the bed, perched near the edge as you opened your legs- sitting spread eagle in front of the camera. Eddie was fully convinced that he was about to pass out.

That perfect little pussy. It was wet, pink, and tight. The prettiest he’s ever seen and he’s seen a lot during his career. Yours was the first to make him go weak in the knees, wanting to sink down in front of you at the edge of the bed as he spread you open and devoured you- acting as if you would be his last meal.

Production came rushing in to fix your hair, smoothing away any imperfections before running off set- gearing up for your cue. You waited patiently like a good, good girl. Hands to yourself as you awaited permission to continue and, if it were up to Eddie, he would reward you. For being so good. So patient.

The director begins rolling, cuing you in to start and Eddie was hooked and ready to see what you would do next- spread out in front of him. Your eyes catch the camera, your hands roaming down to your core as you begin to play with your clit- now uncovered. No barriers in-between. Thank god.

Your middle finger does all of the work, slowly circling your sensitive little button as you throw your head back again, letting the sensation take over you. Letting your hands freely pleasure yourself as if no one were watching- as if it really were you in your bedroom alone. That, Eddie decided, was what made it so hot. You weren't putting on a performance for anyone. There was no theatrics, no drama- no over the top acting. It was you. Just as you were. Enjoying every little bit of it- and, goddamn, was it sexy.

You let out soft little moans and gasps that went straight to Eddie’s dick, twitching in his pants at the way that you sounded. You sounded sweet- melodic. Music to his ears as your breathing picked up. He stared as you moved your fingers from your clit and down through your folds, wet and glistening as you spread your arousal all over your sex. You were drenched. In all of his life, Eddie never even thought about wanting to be an appendage, but holy shit was he jealous of your fingers.

You use one of your hands to spread yourself open for the camera, causing Eddie’s eyes to almost roll into the back of his head. He was seeing so much of you and he hadn’t even met you yet. But he couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t look away.

You sink the middle finger of your other hand into your pussy, pushing it in until you reach your knuckle- so fucking deep with that little finger of yours. Eddie couldn’t help but want to take over, wanting to use his much bigger digits to fill you up just how you deserved.

Eddie watched as you slip another finger in, framing your soaked core with your pointer and pinky finger. The way that you touched yourself was hypnotic, putting him in a trance as you ramped yourself up closer and closer to your orgasm. Your moans grew louder, breathing heavier and more needy. Because there was something you needed- Him. Or maybe that’s delusional of him to think. But he knew that he needed you. He was hungry for you and he wanted a taste.

You begin fingering yourself, expertly delving your fingers into your pussy as you fucked yourself with your digits just the way that you liked. Eddie studies this, watching the way that you liked it- wanting to replicate it. No, he wanted to do it better. So fucking good that you couldn't even fathom the idea of anyone touching you but him. He was so drunk on your pussy and he hadn't even so much as touched it yet. He was fucked.

"Alright, angel." The director calls out, catching Eddie's attention for a moment "How about we get some footage of you with one of the toys? Get a really good build-up, climax, we'll do a closeup of the aftermath, and then we're done. Sound good?"

Toys? Eddie forgot about the toys. He was so fucked. He probably shouldn't watch this, knowing that he could very well finish in his pants- but he didn't care. He was rooted to the spot. Too addicted to move. He was drunk on you and your sexy body and your perfect pussy. He needed this. He needed to see you come undone. He needed something to think about tonight as he jacked himself off so hard that he would probably chafe. He'd have to use lube. His own spit wouldn't cut it. There's no way that he could rub himself raw when he knew that he was going to be lucky enough to be in your mouth the next day. Sucked off by those pouty pink lips.

His own thoughts and the view of you naked on that bed, toying with yourself, was becoming overstimulating. It was like an outer-body experience to watch. Even though he didn't feel like he was in his own body, he knew that there was nothing he wanted more than to be inside of yours.

His eyes are glued to the scene as you daintily reach for the toy of your choice. A purple Jack Rabbit style vibrator. You click it on, watching as the toy came to life in your hands. Eddie couldn't help but think about how much bigger he was than that stupid toy. How he would be able to reach places inside of you that the vibrator couldn't even come close to reaching. Places that you probably didn't even know existed. You deserved to be fucked like a queen. Not by some inadequate toy. Even still, he watched as you pressed the tip of the toy to your clit- causing you to gasp loudly in reaction.

Fuck, Eddie thought as he watched you slide the tip of the toy past your clit and through your folds- marveling at the way that your body shivered in reaction. The way that your body responded to pleasure was oh so delicious. Eddie was eating it up like he was starving.

He watches as the toy collects a thick coating of your arousal, making it so wet that Eddie had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.

Fuck, you were so wet.

You slide the toy back up towards your clit, pressing the tip against it harshly as your eyes fluttered shut- causing you to buck your hips.

So fucking sensitive.

You swirl the toy against your clit as you breath catches, followed by a soft moan that escaped those pretty lips.

Fuck, baby, let me hear you.

As if you could hear his thoughts, you let out a needy whine. You needed more. It wasn't enough. Not even close.

Before he could process it, you had begun to insert the toy into your pussy- falling back onto the mattress underneath you as you started to thrust it inside. Flicking your wrist with a motion that had you whimpering desperately. The vibration inside of your cunt causing your walls to contract around the vibrator- making it a tight squeeze to continue thrusting.

Eddie's eyes were wide as he watched. The sounds of your moans, the faint buzzing of the vibrator, and the wet squelching sound of your pussy completely overtaking him. Fuck, this was hot. The most erotic thing he's ever fucking seen.

You continue fucking yourself with it, picking up the pace as you sit yourself up enough to watch you fuck yourself with it.

Shit, yes! Bet you like to watch yourself get fucked, don't you?

You mouth falls open as you watch how slickly coated the toy was as you pushed it in and out of your pussy. Eddie was jealous that it wasn't his dick covered in your arousal, making it so easy for him to slide in and out of your cunt at an ungodly pace. He wanted it so fucking bad that his knees were weak.

Without warning, you finally find that spot. That perfect spot deep within you that had you going crazy. Toes curling, gasping for air, moaning out like crazy as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were close.

Fuck, baby! Just like that! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You pushed that pathetic little toy as deep as it could go, your mouth falling into a perfect little 'O' as you got closer and closer and closer.

Show me how you like it, baby. That's right. So fucking good!

Soon you couldn't control yourself, bucking your hips as you thrusted it in and out of hole as your moans became more loud and desperate.

Fuck, sweetheart, doing so good. You're almost there. Need to watch you cum.

You began to reach your peak, practically sobbing as you kept working for it.

C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Let me see it.

And as if on cue with his dirty thoughts, you cry out in pleasure. Finally peaking as your thighs began to shake, whimpering as you came all over that stupid toy- your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave.

Fuck, yes! That's it! Fuck, you are so fucking hot! Jesus fucking Christ!

You rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. It was so fucking hot. Eddie didn't know how he had gone this long in his career without fucking you. Without knowing you existed. A perfect little sex kitten that he wanted to play with. Hell, you alone were giving him second thoughts about retiring. Not before he could fuck you in every possible way imaginable. Fuck, he was so fucking into you that he could surely invent new ways to fuck you that had never even been thought of before. He'd have to create a whole new updated version of the Kama Sutra with you as his sole muse.

"That's a wrap! You did great!"

The director praises you as you slowly begin to sit up on the bed, hair wild with a blissed-out look on your face. Eddie had never seen someone look so beautiful post-orgasm.

A member of the production crew came over to you and handed you your silk robe. You stand up with shaky legs as they helped you put it on- making yourself modest after that fucking smoke-show that you had just given everybody. Eddie didn't know how no one else was crashing down like he was. He was leaking so much precum that he would probably need new pants. But it was worth it because you were...wow.

"See? I told you." Eddie whips his head over to catch his manager standing there next to him. Had he been there the whole time? Had Eddie been talking out loud? "What do you think, kid?"

Eddie's mouth was dry. He felt dehydrated from just watching. He felt like he needed to down a gallon of water after watching you get yourself off like a fucking professional. With an intensity that he's never fucking seen before.

"Is she still available?" Eddie croaks, his heart hammering in his chest. What if another guy had swooped in and booked the gig right under his nose while he was too busy ogling at you?

"I could give her manager a call and see if it's still open. I know they reached out to a few guys. That Chris Infamous guy being one of them. The jacked up one with the muscles. You know who I'm talking about."

Chris Infamous? Over his dead fucking body!

“Paul, go call her manager right now and tell them I’m in. Like, now.”

────────

The whole way home, he had been antsy. He had waited an hour after your shoot in his manager’s office as he called up your manager in an attempt to get in touch with them. There was no luck. Paul had missed them every single time- and Eddie made him leave a voicemail every…single…time. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his hands.

Eddie tried to busy himself with his previous plans that he had before leaving his loft earlier that day but he just couldn’t focus. The words in his Dungeons and Dragons player manual just blended together and his mind would wander off, causing him to read the same sentence over and over again.

He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. Your soft, supple body wrapped up in that pink lingerie. Those goddamn white stockings that you had kept on the entire shoot. The way your pussy glistened with your arousal underneath the production lights. Eddie was addicted- transfixed. He needed to do this scene with you.

He throws down his player’s manual, tossing his head back onto the couch. He stares up at the ceiling as he lets out a frustrated grunt. Waiting back for a response was torture. He just needed a yes or a no- hopefully a yes. God, he was hoping for a yes. But if the gig was taken, he wished he would know sooner rather than later in order to kill the anticipation.

He reaches onto the coffee table for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between his lips before lighting it. He took a couple of drags, the taste of nicotine barely doing anything to calm his nerves. He was so pent up. He had been ever since your scene. He was hot and bothered.

His mind drifts back to thoughts of you. Your perfect tits that would fit perfectly in his hands. Your perky nipples that he wanted to roll his tongue against, tasting them. But he mostly thought about your sex. What you would taste like. He imagined that you would be sweet- candy-coated beneath his tongue as he ate you up. Liquified sugar in the best way.

Eddie could feel his cock twitch beneath his pants as he fantasized- wanting to bury his head between your soft thighs as he worked his tongue against you so ferociously like it would be the last thing he’d ever do. He’d never wanted someone as bad as he wanted you- wishing that he could toy with your sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue. Teasing you until you begged for more.

Eddie began to unbutton his pants, feeling the ache in his cock that was dying to be satiated. He needed a release. His head was so full of you that he needed to do something to quell the heat that he felt in his groin. He needed to cum.

He pulls down his zipper, feeling a sense of relief as the pressure of the metal enclosure against his hard cock was finally removed. It was like releasing a long, pent-up sigh. He was painfully hard. Practically throbbing underneath his boxers as he slides his hand down past the fabric, gripping himself as he attempts to pull his dick out. He winces at the sensitivity he felt on his cock head.

When he pulls his dick free from his jeans, he looks down to find that his tip was nearly red, angry at the lack of attention that it was receiving. It had been a long time since Eddie had touched himself. He normally didn’t have to with the kind of work that he did. But this was different, he needed this. He needed relief.

He wraps his hand around his length, slowly moving it up and down the way that he liked but his member felt nearly hot to the touch. He was so worked up that it had made him ultra-sensitive to every little thing. Every stroke, every little flick of his wrist. He could feel everything with ten times more intensity than normal. And, god, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to jack himself off to completion on his living room couch. No, he wanted to sink his desperately hard cock into the velvety soft walls of your incredible cunt.

A pearl of precum leaks out of his tip, slowly dripping down until he collects it with his finger-swiping it up to use as lubricant and he began to buck his hips into his hand. It shouldn’t be his hand. It should be you. He didn’t want to settle for anything that wasn’t you. But he’d have to until he hopefully got the real thing.

“Ah! F-fuck!” He gasps as he picks up a faster pace, wanting to reach his peak as quickly as possible. He was desperate for it. He was needy and fucked out by the images of you that kept playing out in his head.

You on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you like the good girl you would be. Like the good girl he just knew that you were. He stroked himself fast and hard as he thought about how he’d want you to take his cock. He wanted your legs slung over his shoulders as he pounded into you hard enough to have you sobbing. He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat and jerk you back onto his cock as he fucked you from behind. He wanted to fuck you like a whore. Like you were made for it.

“Fuck, baby…” Eddie whimpers, more precum oozing from his tip as he imagined that it was your hand instead of his. Stroking him with those soft little hands of yours as you stared him down with those gorgeous eyes. Marveling at just how crazy you could drive him- at just how badly he wanted you.

“Shit….just like that, sweetheart. Fuck.”

Eddie could feel himself getting close, his breathing picking up faster and faster until they became needy grunts- trying to chase his high.

“Shit, shit, holy fuck…”

He kept stroking and he wouldn’t stop until he got there. Not when all he could think about was just how hot you looked when you orgasm. When all he wanted was to fuck you so good that you had to beg him to stop. How he wanted to make you cum on his cock over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to take you apart just to put you back together again.

Just when he was ramping up to his finish, a few seconds away from blowing his load into his hand, the phone rings- snatching him right out of his fantasies.

Fuck. No!

He growls in frustration, jumping off the couch as he stumbles towards the phone- barely stuffing his angry cock back into the confines of his jeans. A denim-clad prison.

“What?” He huffs as he picks up the phone, his breathing still heavy and ragged from touching himself.

“Eddie, listen, I got in touch with her management.”

“Fuck!” He sighs in relief, resting his back against the wall. “What’d they say?”

“They were pretty psyched that you wanted in, kid. Turns out you were first choice for them. Which is great because they were an inch away from giving the gig to Chris. Good thing I called when I did. Anyway, you got the gig. They’re excited. The girl’s excited.”

You were excited? Wait…You knew who he was?

“Wait, she knows who I am?” Eddie stammers, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Oh yeah.” Paul laughs “Apparently she’s a huge fan.”

“Fuuuck. No shit?” He asks, trying to fight the grin on his face. He felt on-top-of the-world fucking incredible.

“Have you ever known me to pull your leg, kid? She asked for you specifically. By name. Lucky you, playboy!”

Yeah, Eddie thought. No fucking kidding!

“She asked…for me?” He still couldn’t believe it. You were out-of-this-world gorgeous and you wanted him to be your first on-screen partner? Eddie hadn’t experienced an ego-boost this big since…well, ever.

“Yeah, kid. First on her list. She was worried we wouldn’t accept what her management was offering but I told her we’d make it work.”

Fuck, he would do it for free.

Wait…

“You spoke to her?” Eddie asks, jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Oh yeah,” Paul replied “She personally returned my calls. Wanted to thank us for accepting.”

“No fucking way.” Eddie swoons. It just kept getting better.

“She also wanted me to tell you that she hoped you were impressed at the shoot today. She said she was a little nervous when she saw you but hopefully you didn’t notice.”

You...naughty…little…minx. You had known that he was there the entire time? Fuck….

“Anyway, call time for tomorrow is eight a.m.” Paul adds “And Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fucking be late.”

────────

The next morning, Eddie had woken up early.

Not because he had something to do or somewhere to be. No vastly important errands that he needed to run. Eddie had woken up early because his body couldn’t stand to stay dormant and asleep any longer. Because, for once in a long time, his reality was better than sleep. He had something to look forward to- you.

He had never felt this way before, never took his work too seriously- honestly, what was there to take seriously? He just showed up, fucked, picked up his check, and went home. He never put much thought into things. He just did them. But today was different. Today, he seemed to be putting too much thought into everything.

He agonized over whether or not to drink coffee, worried that the caffeine might make him come off hyper or on edge when he finally had the opportunity to speak to you. He debated foregoing breakfast, giving himself an excuse to invite you out to post-work brunch if things really took off between you two. This was the start of all of his worries. The closer it got to his call time, he got more and more in his own head.

He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about himself. Anything that you could nit-pick when you finally met. Did you like tattooed guys? What if you didn’t? Would you think his tattoos were stupid? Did you prefer guys with short hair as opposed to long hair? What if he wasn’t your type at all in the slightest and none of this even really mattered? It only got worse by the minute.

Then he reminded himself that you knew him. You’ve seen his work. You were a fan. There was obviously something you must have liked if you chose him out of any other guy in the industry. You were so pretty that you could have requested anyone you wanted- and you chose him. Eddie desperately wanted to know why.

He prepped and primped himself in the bathroom like a teenage girl. He took extra care in the shower, scrubbing every inch of himself vigorously with the soap that smelled extra good.

He washed and conditioned his hair. Hell, he actually brushed it and applied product instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it good. He fucking styled it- putting it into a low bun with a hair tie that he found in his medicine cabinet. He knew just how much wearing his hair up drove women crazy- and he hoped that you weren’t any exception.

He paid extra attention to his downstairs area, making sure that he was perfectly trimmed and proper for you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get on your knees for him and be met with an unkempt jungle. He wanted things to be neat and tidy. He also hoped that landscaping the bush would make his dick appear prettier- something that you’d want to put in your mouth.

An hour before his call time, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt like he was in high school again, nervous and skittish around the female population of Hawkins High. Which was ironic considering what he does for a living these days. Over the years following graduation and leaving that hellhole, Eddie had begun to gain a sense of self-confidence. His demeanor changed.

He became sure of himself, finally believing that he was worth women’s attention. That he was far more attractive than he initially gave himself credit for- and the critical feedback on his work as a porn actor definitely proved that. If twenty year-old Eddie could see just how many women would flip their shit over him, he’d have probably dropped dead in disbelief. But none of those women mattered. None of the porn girls that he had previously filmed with mattered. Even the girls from Hawkins didn’t matter anymore. You mattered.

The whole drive to the studio was anxiety-inducing. Multiple people tried to cut him off on the freeway- gotta love L.A. traffic. Some douchebag in a fucking Corvette flipped him off because he forgot to use his blinker, which seemed to worsen Eddie’s mood as he just kept overthinking himself. How was he supposed to talk to you, let alone shoot a scene, when he couldn’t even drive straight?

When he finally pulled up to the studio and parked his van, Eddie was officially a wreck. He had no idea what to do with himself. You were probably already inside trying to pretty yourself up for your scene together. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what you would wear- hell, why did he even care if you wore anything at all?

He wondered if you were just as nervous as he was. Granted, you had an excuse. This would be your first scene with a partner, meanwhile, this wasn’t anywhere close to Eddie’s first rodeo. Yet, he felt like a virgin on prom night.

He enters the studio, trying to act normal as the front desk girls greet him. Even the choruses of “Hi Eddie…” in their seductive voices weren’t enough to get him out of his own head. He just gave a small wave and a slight tinge of a smile on his lips. Normally he would’ve leaned up against the receptionist desk and flirted- given them just a scrap of his attention. But not today. Not when he felt like he was going to be sick.

He drifted all the way back to Paul’s office, casually knocking on the door a couple of times before letting himself in. His manager looks up from his desk, suddenly adopting a confused look on his face once he laid eyes on Eddie.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Paul asks, tilting his head in confusion.

The comment takes Eddie aback, immediately causing his stomach to drop. Was he missing something? He was supposed to be here…right? Then he felt the dread seep in.

Fuck. The shoot’s cancelled. No way. There is no…fucking…way.

“I…uh…I’m confused.” Eddie replies slowly, shaking his head as he tries to keep it together. This could not be happening.

“Aren’t we shooting today? I came before call time. Did they fucking cancel?” He panics, running his ring-clad fingers through his hair in agony. Fuck!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Paul says “Nobody cancelled. Shoot’s still on.”

“But…I thought…you said you were surprised that I’m here.” Eddie tries to reason.

“Yeah,” Paul nods, looking at Eddie as if he were nuts “I’m surprised that you’re here before call time. I’ve managed you for the past three years and I can barely remember a time when you’ve ever shown up on time. Let alone early.”

“Oh.” Eddie replies, dumbfounded.

Well, at least the shoot is still on.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Paul asks, looking Eddie up and down as he stood awkwardly in front of his desk.

“Oh.” Eddie breathes “Yeah.”

That has Paul even more confused. Eddie always smelled nice but it was always just his natural scent- laundry detergent, a woodsy musk from the deodorant he wore, and a hint of cigarette smoke. Eddie never deliberately put on cologne unless he was trying to impress someone- and Paul knew this.

“Alright, well…” Paul starts, not knowing what to say to make things less awkward than it already was “Your leading lady is here. Dressing room A.”

“She’s here already?” Eddie gapes, taken by surprise. He thought he had more time to prepare. For what? He didn’t know.

“Yeah, kid. Unlike you, the leading lady happens to know a thing or two about punctuality. Speaking of which, why don’t you go see how she’s doing? Bet she’s sweating like a sinner in church. First time on-camera partner and all that.”

“Do you think she’s nervous?” Eddie asks, out of concern but mostly to gauge if you could be nervous because of him.

“No idea, kid, but it would be nice for you to have a conversation with each other. You know, before you stick your dick in her mouth.” Paul suggests.

To which, he had a great point. Eddie probably should go and say hi. Hopefully he can pull himself together enough to be charming and personable for you. Or, if anything, at least make you feel a bit more comfortable with him before he went down on you in front of a whole camera crew. This could either go very well for him or become a complete disaster.

────────

Eddie stood outside of your dressing room door, his body so tense that he felt like stone. On the other side of this door was you- the girl of his wet dreams that he somehow, begrudgingly, didn’t know existed until yesterday. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. Eddie’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots and the last thing he wanted was for you to see that he was nervous. No, he had to play it cool- confident and sure of himself. He could do this. Even if it was all a facade.

He begins to knock, so nervous that he could practically break into a sweat over it. He was definitely glad that he decided to wear cologne today but then Eddie began to worry that maybe the cologne would make it seem like he was trying too hard. He was worried that you could sense it and that it would turn you off. Turning you off was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

He could hear shuffling from behind the door, the sound growing closer before the handle turned and the door swung open- revealing you. All dolled up with completed hair and makeup. Wearing that short little silk robe. As soon as you saw him, your face broke into a smile.

Okay, Eddie thought, that’s a good sign.

“Hey,” he smiles, trying to be smooth but it was so fucking hard when you looked at him with those eyes “I’m Eddie. I’m…uh…I’m your scene partner for today.”

Not that he had to introduce himself. You knew exactly who he was. You had gotten off to his scenes more times than you could count.

“Right, of course!” You exclaim, extending out your hand in greeting as you introduced yourself to him. Eddie raised his eyebrows when he noticed that you hadn’t given him your porn name. No, you had given him your real name.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you….properly.” Eddie jokes, causing you to laugh. God, he loved the way your lips curled into a smile- how your eyes lit up. You were so damn pretty.

“Me too.” you nod, looking at him for a beat too long to be accidental. With a cheeky little glint in your eyes as you casually looked him up and down.

Oh, Eddie thought, so we’re flirting now?

“You mind if I come in? Or are you going to make me hang out in the hallway?” Eddie teases “Which I wouldn’t mind. As long as you keep looking at me like that.”

Your heart flutters in your chest “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” You bite your lip nervously- and, boy, does Eddie notice.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He smirks “So, you gonna let me in or?”

“Right!” You shake your head “Come in.”

You step aside, letting him walk through the door before closing it for privacy. Not that you expected anything to happen. Not off-camera, at least.

Eddie walks over and sinks down onto the small loveseat that was against the wall in the dressing room. He sits seductively, legs spread apart as he leans back on the sofa like he owned it. Honestly, he was so charming that he could tell you that he did, indeed, own it and you’d believe him. You, on the other hand, sank down into the hair and makeup chair across from him.

“So, I…uh….I should probably say thank you for accepting. My management probably already told you but it’s my first time doing a scene with someone else. I normally do solo work.”

“So I’ve seen.” Eddie replies, a cocky smirk on his lips. He wanted you to know that he had seen you in action. Not that he needed to tell you. No, he just wanted to remind you of the fact.

“So, my manager might have told me that you had requested me specifically…..by name.”

As soon as the words left his lips, your face began to heat up in embarrassment. “He told you that?”

“Mhm.” Eddie hums, his eyes devouring you.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie smiles slyly “I was pretty flattered, actually. Not gonna lie, it kinda gave me a big head.”

And, to tell you the truth, I wanna show you my big head, Eddie wanted to say.

But he didn’t want to come off crude and overtly sexual during your first meeting.

“Really?” You mumble bashfully, trying to look anywhere but at Eddie but it was so hard when he was so fucking hot.

“Yeah.” He confirms “Especially coming from a girl like you. So, tell me, sweetheart….why me?”

The sound of his deep, sexy voice calling you sweetheart was enough to make you light-headed. Lord have mercy….

“Well,” you sigh “My management really started to float the idea of me doing stuff with a co-star. They thought it might push my career a bit more and give me more opportunities. To be honest, I wanted to do it but I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. So, I told them that I would only agree to do it as long as I could pitch at least one guy that I thought I could feel…comfortable with.”

You thought you could feel comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something about him that you felt was different than all of the other porn guys. You were far too shy to admit it but Eddie was your favorite male pornstar. You didn’t know what it was about him but he just felt safe. Like you wouldn’t be completely in your head if you were to work with him.

You had seen so much of his stuff that you had witnessed exactly how he treated other girls-putting their pleasure first so much so that he made sure to at least get them off twice before he finished, himself. It wasn’t just that but how soft he seemed with them. Like every one of them and how they felt was important. For your first time, you didn’t want to feel like a piece of meat. You wanted to feel cared for. You were certain that Eddie Munson would be the perfect guy to pop your first-time cherry with. He didn’t want to settle for anything else.

“I make you feel comfortable?” He asks, looking at you in a way that had you on the brink of melting into your seat. However, truth be told, it was Eddie who was trying not to lose his shit. You felt comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something different about him than the others. You felt something.

“That’s, uh, really flattering.” Eddie clears his throat, trying to stifle the very turned-on moan that he felt coming. "Can I maybe ask why you feel comfortable with me? Y'know, so I can lean into it while we're shooting the scene?"

And so I can use it as spank bank material tonight…

“Well, I don't really know what it is exactly.” You begin, wringing your hands nervously in your lap “I guess it’s the vibe you give off. I’ve seen your stuff and I just….there’s something about how you treat the other girls that makes me feel like I’d be safe. Cared for, I guess.”

“Okay, yeah." He nods.

Keep it together, Eddie. Jesus Christ...

“I want to make sure you feel cared for. It's important to me. Especially it being your first time. I'm really flattered."

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, of course. How could I not be?' Eddie admits “You're, like, super gorgeous....and you picked me, for some reason."

He says it as if he's not one of the most sought after guys in the industry. Like he was nobody. Like he couldn't have a harem of girls hanging all over him if he wanted to.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m looking forward to it. Making you feel cared for...and safe."

"Thanks, Eddie." You reply bashfully "That means a lot to me."

"Um....so....since we're being truthful and shit...can I admit something?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Yeah." You agree "Absolutely. Safe space and all." You smile and, god, it makes Eddie's dick so hard.

"I...uh...I've kinda got a little crush on you." He blurts out before he can back out of saying it.

"Oh." You breathe, your eyes widening in surprise "You have a crush...on me?"

Eddie fucking Munson just admitted that he had a crush on you.

"...Yeah." He winces "I've kinda been down bad for you since yesterday."

"Really?" You repeat "Me?"

"Why do you keep saying it like it's hard to believe or something?" Eddie laughs.

"I mean....because it is. You're...you know..."

"I'm what?" He pushes, wanting to hear you say it.

"You're Eddie 'The Munch' Munson, for god's sake."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie laughs "That’s a new one."

"I mean...it's not not factual." You argue "When you...you know...eat pussy like that....you could have basically any girl that you want."

"Hm." Eddie hums, as if he were doubting it.

"Oh please," You tease "Don't act all modest. You know you're gifted."

"Oh, I am, am I?" He flirts, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips.

"As if you don't know." You scoff, trying to avoid his gaze. But how could you when he was so hot?

"Well, sweetheart, that's really flattering coming from you." He compliments "At least I know that I have a pretty good chance of pleasing you later."

The comment went straight to your core, causing you to shift in the hair and makeup chair as you clamp your thighs together. You tried to be inconspicuous about the fact that him and his words had such a strong effect on you, but Eddie's eyes shift to your long, sexy legs as you crossed them in your seat. His lips curl into another smirk. He was loving this.

"Don't look at me like that." You practically whisper, your face heating up bashfully.

"Like what?" Eddie teases, that fucking shit-eating-grin still plastered on his face.

"I don't know. Like-"

"Like I wanna eat you?" Eddie interjects, raising an eyebrow at you seductively.

Cocky asshole....

"What if I do wanna eat you, sweetheart?" He asks, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, staring you down.

"I-"

"'Cause I do. As a matter of fact, since this is a safe space and all, I'm going to tell you that I wanna eat you so fucking bad. Real bad."

You were so fucking wet. Holy fucking shit.

"And if I'm being real honest, baby, I wanna eat you so good that I make you cry. But I get the feeling that you just might like that."

"Eddie..."

"But only if you want me to." He adds "I don't wanna misinterpret anything."

He couldn't misinterpret anything if he fucking tried. How you felt about him was so fucking obvious.

"Anyway," He says, quickly standing from his seat on the sofa. “I should probably go freshen up for you. Y'know, seeing as I'm about to get really lucky in the next..." He checks his watch "Thirty minutes."

He looks up from his watch, his big brown eyes falling upon you- drinking you in.

"See you out there, Princess."

────────

You were so fucking nervous. You stood off-set, watching as production set up lighting- making sure there was the right amount of brightness on the scene stage. The set was a small brick-walled room with an expensive looking black leather sofa in the middle. White shag rug underneath it and some vibrantly green foliage plants in the background.

It was reminiscent of those “casting couch” scenes that porn companies liked to shoot- but this one was classy. Not cheap and sleazy. Like it was the middle of someone’s living room- a glimpse into a private passionate moment between a couple and not just two strangers fucking. Eddie Munson was going to eat you out on that couch. The thought of it made you somehow even wetter than you already were.

Just as you were allowing yourself to get lost in the fantasy, you feel a large hand on your waist- causing you to look over to find Eddie standing next to you. Staring at you with softness in his eyes.

“Doing okay?” He asks, searching your face for any indication that you weren’t, indeed, doing okay.

“I’m okay.” You breathe shakily “Just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie whispers, leaning into you so intimately that only you could hear “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me. You’re safe with me, okay?”

And somehow those five little words felt like they’ve lifted so much weight off of your shoulders. He was right. It was just him. You could trust him.

“Okay.” You whisper, looking into his warm, brown eyes. Everything was going to be okay.

“How about this…” he starts, beginning to think “If things become too much or you need to stop, I want you to tap my arm twice. I’ll get them to cut and we’ll take a break.”

“Won’t they get mad?” You ask, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“It doesn’t matter.” He states “What matters is that you’re comfortable. This is about you, sweetheart. Without you, there’s no scene. You have the upper-hand. You are in control here. Nothing happens here that you don’t want to happen. Understand?”

“Yeah.” You nod “Okay.”

“You trust me?”

“I trust you, Eddie.”

“Good.” He nods “Because there’s nothing to worry about. If things start to get overwhelming with everyone watching just close your eyes and just focus on feeling, okay? That’s my job. To make you feel good.”

You didn’t think it was possible to be even wetter than you had been before but Eddie being sweet on you had practically opened up a floodgate inside of you. If it weren’t for the scene, you’d throw yourself at him right there.

“Well, hopefully I’m able to return the favor.” You say “I’ve never done that before…on camera.”

You were alluding to giving him a blowjob. It’s not like you haven’t given blowjobs to ex-boyfriends and casual hookups before. But this was different. You would be sucking off Eddie Munson- a man that’s probably received far too many blowjobs to count. He’s probably experienced some mind-blowing shit and there’s no way that you’d ever be able to compare to what other porn girls have been able to do to him with their mouths. You were embarrassed to even try.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, trust me. I’m not picky.” He laughs “Blowjobs are like pizza. Even when it’s not the best pizza, it’s still good because it’s pizza. Not that I expect you to be bad or anything.”

“…I don’t know if that’s supposed to be encouraging or not.” You reply, starting to retreat back into your own head.

“Sweetheart, what I’m trying to say is that it’s going to be fine. Don’t think too much about it.”

“But how could I not think about it when-“

You were cut off by Eddie grabbing for your hand, squeezing it affectionately as he looked into your eyes.

“I thought said you trusted me.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I do.” You reply hastily “I just-“

“Like I said, focus on feeling. When we get to that part, I just want you to focus on what feels right. Things will be fine. Honestly, there’s also nothing sexier than a girl that’s into it, y’know?” Eddie explains “You don’t have to be the best at something. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy doing it and I want you to enjoy yourself. ‘Kay?”

“Okay.” You nod, letting his words sink in.

“Also, sweetheart, with lips like those, I’m sure you suck cock like a champ but I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out.”

Your heart skips a beat at his dirty confession and you almost think about smacking his arm before one of the production managers approaches you.

“You’re on in five.” They say “Start stripping down and we’ll get you on set.”

You felt your blood run cold.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, voice low as he strokes your back with one of his large hands “If it gets to be too much just look at me, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the entire time.”

You take a deep breath before nodding. Eddie gives your hand another squeeze before letting you walk to take your place on set. He had successfully gotten you out of your head even just a little bit. Now Eddie just had to get himself out of his own head about cumming too soon.

────────

Eddie stands back near the camera as the director calls action. He had been watching you like a hawk, eyes peeled for any sort of sense that you were beginning to panic. He stared as you dropped your robe, handing it off before gingerly taking a seat onto the black leather sofa.

“Alright, start off slow like you normally do. Take as much time as you need. Start off with slowly taking the panties off. We’ll do some light touching, maybe some fingering. Get yourself nice and ready then Eddie’s gonna come in and take care of you.”

Hearing those words immediately felt soothing to you.

You look over towards the camera and lock eyes with Eddie. He was right there like he told you he would be. He winks at you, setting off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You began to follow directions, waiting for the director to give you the okay before you started. Then you began to do what felt right. Just like you were doing a solo masturbation scene. You began to touch and caress your body, getting yourself worked up as you got into the scene.

You began with your breasts, reaching your hands up as you began to knead them through the red lacy bra that you had chosen for this scene- something that made you feel sexy and confident. In your head you began to repeat it like a mantra.

You were sexy and confident.

You are sexy.

You are confident.

You could do this.

You push your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the lace bra and you gasped at the feeling. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to be in the moment and just feel. Just like Eddie had told you.

Eddie, on the other side of the set, was watching. His eyes were hyper-fixated on every little thing. The way your soft hands roamed your supple body and you tossed your head back in pleasure as you teased yourself. He was too far away but he was sure that you were letting out the tiniest little moans as you touched and squeezed and felt your sexy body with gentle hands.

Eddie had been halfway hard all morning but now his cock was starting to respond to every little thing you did. Every pinch, every grasp, every flick of your fingers against your tits. He could’ve sworn that it was starting to get hot in there and your bra wasn’t even off yet.

“Okay, honey, start to naturally drift down more. Get to the panties and take them off. We want it nice and slow, alright? Tease the camera.”

Tease the camera? Eddie definitely won’t be lasting long enough for the planned cum shot if you kept going on like that. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. He didn’t want to immediately gain a reputation for finishing fast even when he had so much pornographic proof out there that he wasn’t a fast shooter. You were the first girl in the industry that made him worry that he was going to finish in his pants as soon as he got a taste of you.

Nevertheless, your hands began to drag down, lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your panties. Red lace just like the bra. You didn’t even have to feel yourself to know that you were ready to go. You knew as soon as you had locked your eyes on Eddie from where he stood off-set that you were going to be drenched. But your right hand still delved into your panties, swiping at your folds as you felt just how wet you were.

Eddie watched, heart pounding as he stared at your hand down your little red panties-playing with your sopping wet core until you slowly removed your fingers. Drawing them out to reveal a thin coating of your arousal. Eddie’s breath hitched as your eyes bore into him. You were staring at him. Your gaze was locked in on him. All of this was for him.

You bring your slick fingers to your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you popped them into your mouth, sucking them nice and clean.

Fuck, you dirty girl….

Eddie’s dick begins to strain against his jeans at the action. God, was he ready to find out what you tasted like. He couldn’t take the teasing and direct eye-contact for much longer. He was so fucking ready for you.

Meeting the expectations of the director, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, seductively shimmying your hips as you pulled them down tantalizingly slow- agonizingly slow. Eddie watches with greedy eyes.

You laid back onto the sofa, panties wrapped around your thighs as you begin to lift your legs up, pulling the wet lacy fabric the rest of the way down your legs that were lifted slightly into the air- giving the camera a nice view of your pussy. Thighs pressed together in a way that had Eddie staring hungrily. He wanted so badly to sink down to his knees and hold those legs up like that as he ate you. The sight was mesmerizing.

After the lacy panties were off, you flung them across the set- right in Eddie's direction and he swore he saw a cute little smirk on your face when you did it. God, you were so naughty- and he was going to teach you a lesson.

"Okay, honey, now lay back on the couch. Spread your legs. Great! Perfect! Can we get some finger action in there?"

Eddie realizes just how well you follow directions as your body melts into the back of the couch, bringing your legs up onto it as you open them for the camera- spreading them open for everyone to see and, god, it was a fucking sight that was so fucking unholy. Yet, Eddie couldn't look away. Not when you were bare and spread out in front of him for his eyes to feast upon. That gorgeous body, those lace-clad tits, that glistening wet pussy. You were going to fucking kill him.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any hotter, you looked off near the camera- eyes trained on his as you used your fingers to spread yourself open for him. He could have passed out right there.

Fuck, he was really gonna give it to you.

He was going to devour every fucking inch of that tight little pussy until you were screaming. Fuck the cameras, fuck the scene, fuck everyone who was watching. They didn't matter. All that mattered was what he wanted to fucking do to you.

Your fingers began to tease your hole as you glided them up and down your slit. You were so fucking wet that it was making Eddie weak in the knees. Your sopping wet pussy was none other than a holy altar in which he wanted to bow down and worship. Eddie wasn't religious but you were a fucking goddess that he would devote his entire fucking life praying to if you let him.

You began to play with yourself, using your fingers to rub your needy little clit in slow circles. You threw your head back against the back of the sofa as you close your eyes. Focusing on feeling. Making yourself feel good. Getting yourself nice and wet for Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie fucking Munson with his huge fucking cock and his soft-looking lips and those big brown eyes. How he made you feel. So cared for, so safe. Your fingers begin to work your clit a bit rougher. You had seen him on screen so many times fucking so many girls and now it was finally going to be you. His head between your thighs. His tongue in your folds. Sucking on your clit. It was getting you so fucking worked up.

You insert two fingers into your pussy as you begin to fuck them into yourself. You let your mind take over, moans tumbling from your lips as you try to fuck yourself with your fingers as deep as you can- wanting to hit that spot within yourself that had you curling your toes.

You shove them as deep as you go, trying to reach it but you just couldn’t. It felt like something was missing. But you kept trying. It felt good, of course it did, but you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Like you were struggling. Now you were beginning to wonder if closing your eyes and thinking about Eddie was what did you in.

You had no issues in the past with using your fingers on yourself to get the relief you needed but now they just felt inadequate. As if they suddenly weren’t enough. It was so odd. Was Eddie jinxing you? Were you maybe more nervous than you originally thought? Were you-

“Alright, honey, how are we doing?” The director asks, bellowing out to you from behind the camera. “You look good, babe. Gorgeous. We’re going to add Eddie in. Are you ready?”

You look over at Eddie as he begins to strip off his shirt, his brown curls still tied back in a low bun. As he removes his t-shirt, you can’t help but stare- zoning in on his sexy, toned body. He was so fucking hot. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more turned on by him, he looks up at you- making sure that you were okay. That you were comfortable.

You both lock eyes, staring at each other with so much sexual tension that the whole room could probably feel it. You wanted Eddie Munson so bad- his body, his mouth, this hands touching all over you. You wanted him so bad that your body felt hot to the touch. He had been your industry crush for so long and now you were going to have his mouth on you- tasting you.

You give the director the okay, still spread out on the couch. As Eddie prepares to join you on-set, he can’t help the way that his eyes wander over your beautiful body. Your perky tits, your long legs, your pretty face, your sexy curves- but, most of all, your glistening wet sex. You were practically dripping with arousal as he shamelessly stared at you- the most gorgeous angel he’s ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t even gotten his mouth on you yet and he knew that he was in for trouble.

“Alright, you’re on.” The director nods towards him, giving Eddie his cue. It was the moment that he had been thinking about for hours.

His hardened cock was surely very noticeable beneath his black jeans. He could’ve sworn that there was so much blood rushing to his dick that he would pass out from the sheer lack of it being anywhere else in his body- and it was only getting worse with the way that you were looking at him. As if he were the most delectable man on the planet. Which, you would have to admit, was pretty accurate.

Your eyes stay glued to him and the pure fucking sex god that he is as he crosses onto the set, introducing himself to the scene. You loved the way that the black denim of his jeans hugged his waist. You loved the silver chain that dangled against his right hip as he strode over to you. You loved the soft tufts of dark hair that made up the happy trail leading down into the waistband of his pants. Eddie Munson was a fucking dream. He was a king- and you wanted to be his queen.

“Hey, you.” He whispers, eyes on you as he sinks down onto his knees in front of you “Doing okay? Not nervous?”

He was checking on you. Fuck, there was no way this man could be any hotter.

“I’m okay.” You whisper back “Just a little overwhelmed.”

The way that Eddie looked at you with those chocolate brown eyes made you want to melt.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice still low enough for only you to hear- sharing this intimate moment with you only.

“Just a little.” You answer. You were trying not to focus on your nerves but you could feel the space that they occupied in your body.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and relax. I’m here to take care of you.” He says, his eyes warm “Remember what I said? If it gets to be too much just focus on me. Just forget that anyone’s even here. Okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper back, staring at him as you nod.

“Good.” He says “Now, how can I help you get comfortable? What do you need? Hm?”

God, he was making you so wet…

“….I….I, uh, can you use-“ You immediately felt embarrassed, your face flushes as you try to look away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey…” He tsks “Eyes on me. Look at me, angel.” He reaches for you, taking your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger- guiding you to look at him. “Tell me what you want. It’s just you and me here. It’s just us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You bite your lip, nodding along.

“Say it.” He demands, maintaining eye contact “I want to hear you say it. Need to know that you’re with me. That it’s just me and you in this room right now. Nobody else. Just us, okay? Tell me.”

“I….It’s just us.” You breathe, your body feeling as if it were on fire from the intimacy “You and me. No one else.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just you and me. Now, tell me, what….do you….need?”

What did you need?

“You, Eddie. I need you.” You gasp lightly, causing his lips to form into a smirk.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks “Gotta use your words or I won’t be able to understand.”

“I want….I need you to kiss me. Please?”

Eddie lets of a short, low growl from the back of his throat as his hands fly to your waist, grasping tightly as he jerked you towards him- wanting you closer.

“C’mere, baby.” He rasps, straightening his body to become level with yours before he uses one of his large hands to grab the back of your neck- pulling you into a rough, hungry kiss that was so intense that it could have knocked the air out of you.

And Eddie fucking Munson was an amazing kisser.

The way that his lips slotted and molded against yours. The way that his mouth moved against yours as he nipped and licked and sucked at your bottom lip. The way that he slid his tongue into your mouth as if you belonged to him- causing you to want him to make you his.

You moaned into his mouth as his tongue fought for dominance against yours, taking your breath away with how desperate he was to kiss you harder and more passionately than he already was- if that were even possible.

How hands were all over. Grabbing your waist, his fingertips trailing up and down your back in delicate touches. The way that his thumb slipped underneath the clasp of your bra. He pulled his thumb back to stretch out the band then released it to let it snap back against your soft skin- earning him a surprised gasp.

He removes his lips from yours, beginning to pepper light kisses along your jawline before trailing his lips down your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as he kisses down the column of your throat and then back up- working his way over until he began nibbling on your ear. You thought you were dreaming when he whispered in your ear.

“Can I take your tits out?”

You probably seemed needy and desperate as you fervently nodded your approval. You worried that you probably looked pathetic but, to Eddie, there was nothing hotter than seeing how worked up you were getting.

“P-please.” You mutter, voice coming out breathy and shaky.

“Mmm…good girl. Wanna look at those pretty tits when I fuck you with my fingers.”

You let out a startled squeak at his filthy works, causing him to grin.

“Fuck, sweetheart, does that turn you on? Listening to me tell you that I wanna put my fingers in you? Hm? That I wanna stuff you full?”

“Fuck, Eddie…” You moan.

“God, sweetheart, you’re already moaning my name and I haven’t even touched you yet. So needy for me. I fucking love it.”

He reaches both hands around to your bra clasp, expertly popping it open and removing it as if it were the easiest thing on earth. To him, it probably was. He’s probably taken off so many girl’s bras that he could do it with his eyes closed.

He pulled the bra off, taking it in his large hand before flinging it somewhere on the set. Not that it mattered. As hot as it was, it was getting in the way of what he really wanted. Your tits in his mouth.

“Mmm fuck, baby.” He groans, staring lovingly at your gorgeous chest- your hardened nipples. “You are so goddamn pretty, angel. So beautiful. Can I put my mouth on them?”

“Please.” You moan, arching your back in order to bring your tits closer to his face. Eddie chuckles at your eagerness.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He laughs “You want me to put them in my mouth? Yeah? These sweet fucking titties….”

He keeps one hand on your waist while the other snakes up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your boob as he squeezes it in his hand.

“So fucking soft, honey. So warm…..so perfect.” He teases, voice low and seductive. “Perfect little tits. Want me to put them in my face? Suck on your perky little nipples? Fuck, they’re so hard for me.”

You don’t know what came over you but you instinctively grasp at Eddie’s hand that was left grabbing your waist as you draw it up and onto your other breast, wanting him to have two handfuls of you.

“Look at you, sweet girl. You want both my hands paying attention to your tits? So bossy.” He tsks “Could’ve just asked. But that’s okay. I’m gonna give you what you want. But you’re gonna have to do something for me too.”

You look at him with curiosity in your eyes. You had no idea what he was going to ask you. Truth be told, it made you a little nervous.

“Since both my hands are full, sweetness, I’m gonna need you to use yours to play with your pussy for me. Think you can do that for me? Hm?”

Fuck

You stare at him as he surveys your body, now fully nude in front of him. God, you were a beautiful sight.

“Okay.” You squeak out, nodding your head.

“Atta girl.” He whispers “That’s my good girl. Now start rubbing your clit.”

────────

To Be Continued in Part 2…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed part one. Sorry that I cut it short, I didn’t want to make the fic too long and I also wanted to get it out before I left for vacation next week. I feel like I’ve already held this back from you all long enough. Please excuse any spelling errors. I’ll go back and edit later

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If anyone had asked Eddie Munson to describe you, his answer would've been embarrassingly simple: quiet, pretty, funny when you actually spoke, and an absolute menace on rhythm guitar.

You'd been Gareth's best friend since elementary school, which automatically made you part of the group years before Eddie ever showed up. Somewhere between band practice in Gareth's garage and late-night drives to nowhere with cheap gas station snacks, you'd just... become one of them.

You usually sat with your combat boots kicked up on an amp, cigarette hanging lazily between your fingers while Jeff and Gareth argued over chords and Eddie rambled about whatever had caught his attention that week.

Sometimes horror movies. Sometimes a new Metallica album. Sometimes some insane campaign he'd spent six straight hours writing instead of doing homework.

You'd just listen, smile every now and then. Throw in the occasional dry comment that made everyone laugh harder than anything else said that evening. Then go back to quietly restringing your guitar.

As far as Eddie knew, that was the extent of it. He knew you liked metal. He knew you preferred your coffee black. He knew you kept a denim jacket covered in patches draped over the back of Gareth's couch because you were over there so often.

He knew you could play Iron Maiden riffs cleaner than half the guys he'd met. He knew he had the most pathetic schoolboy crush on you imaginable. He also knew Gareth would never let him live it down if he acted on it.

So he didn't.

He flirted just enough that everyone thought that's simply how Eddie talked to girls. He'd throw you a grin. Call you sweetheart. Offer you the first beer. Let your shoulder bump against his when everyone piled onto the couch.

Nothing serious, nothing obvious. Nothing that would risk screwing up something that already worked. Because having you around was better than making things awkward and losing you altogether.

You, meanwhile, had somehow convinced everyone you had absolutely zero hobbies beyond music, which was exactly how you preferred it.

Nobody knew about the stack of fantasy novels hidden underneath your bed. Nobody knew about the little notebook full of campaign ideas. Nobody knew about the afternoons you'd spent reading through Gareth's Player's Handbook after he'd accidentally left it at your house when you were fifteen. And absolutely nobody knew that after borrowing it once, you'd gone out and bought your own.

Then another, and then another. By now you owned enough books that your bookshelf looked suspiciously like a tiny game shop. Not because you actually played; you'd never had the courage.

You just liked learning about it. The stories. The worlds. The maps. The mythology. You found it fascinating. But somewhere along the line, quietly reading had turned into quietly memorizing.

Which was why, every time Hellfire met in the theatre room after school, you intentionally sat just far enough away that you couldn't hear very well.

Because if you could hear...You'd start correcting people, and nobody likes that person. So you kept your mouth shut. It worked for months.

Until one rainy Thursday when band practice got canceled because Gareth's parents wanted the garage cleaned out, leaving the entire group with nowhere to be. Hellfire happened to be meeting.

"You should just stay," Dustin insisted.

"You literally sit here anyway."

"I'm not playing."

"You don't have to."

Jeff chimed in from somewhere behind him. "Yeah, just hang out."

You looked toward Gareth; he shrugged, "Might as well."

So you settled into one of the empty chairs against the wall with a comic book you'd barely read a page of while Eddie started spinning another one of his ridiculously elaborate campaigns.

You weren't trying to pay attention; you really weren't. But you couldn't help overhearing bits and pieces. Names you recognized. Places you recognized. Monsters you recognized. And honestly? He was really good.

Animated. Creative. Completely invested. Watching him practically stand on top of the fake throne to voice an evil wizard was charming enough that you forgot to hide your smile.

Then it happened. "So naturally," Eddie declared dramatically, "the basilisk's gaze instantly petrifies all three of you permanently—"

You physically looked up, and your eyebrows pulled together, lips parting. No. No, no, no.

You looked back down at your comic. You could ignore it. You should ignore it. Dustin was already reacting. Mike was planning around it. Lucas looked mildly horrified.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Stay quiet. Stay quiet. Stay—

"...Actually..." The word slipped out before you could stop it.

Every single head turned toward you. You immediately wished the floor would open beneath your chair.

Eddie blinked. "Hm?"

You stared at your comic. "...Nothing."

He tilted his head. "No, c'mon."

You sighed through your nose. "...A basilisk's gaze doesn't permanently petrify you."

Silence. "It can," Eddie answered carefully.

"It can…but not instantly."

You paused, rethinking your life’s choices, but decided to follow through. "It requires you to fail the saving throw."

Dustin slowly looked between both of you like he was watching a tennis match.

Eddie folded his arms. "...Okay."

You already hated this.

"And how exactly do you know that?"

You mumbled the answer.

"What was that?"

"...Monster Manual."

"What?"

You looked up reluctantly. "The Monster Manual."

He stared, and you stared back.

"...Page seventy-three."

Absolute silence. Jeff's jaw slowly fell open. Gareth looked at you, a mix of suspicion and pride forming. "...Since when?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I don't know."

"You own a Monster Manual?"

"...Yeah."

Eddie's voice got quieter. "...Anything else?"

You made the mistake of answering honestly. "I've got most of them."

He blinked. "Most... of them."

"The books."

"The books."

"Yeah."

He looked genuinely speechless. Then, very carefully, "...Name five schools of magic."

You frowned. "There are eight."

His eyes got wider.

Without thinking, you started listing them. "Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, Necromancy, Transmutation."

By the time you finished, Eddie was staring at you with an expression somewhere between existential crisis and complete infatuation.

He looked over at Gareth, looked back at you, then looked at Gareth again.

"You've been hiding this from me?"

You blinked. "I didn't think anybody cared."

"Cared?"

He sounded personally offended. "Cared?"

You shrugged helplessly. "I don't actually play."

"So?"

"I just read them."

"So?"

"I like lore."

"So?"

"I didn't think it mattered."

Eddie dragged both hands down his face, then looked at you again with something that almost looked pained. "I have spent three years desperately searching for people who voluntarily read sourcebooks."

You looked confused. "...Really?"

"And Gareth has apparently been gatekeeping the coolest girl in Hawkins."

Gareth immediately defended himself. "I DIDN'T KNOW EITHER."

Eddie looked back at you. Then, with complete sincerity, "Please join Hellfire."

You laughed.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"No, seriously." He leaned across the table. "I am literally begging you."

You couldn't help smiling. He looked completely smitten, like something had clicked into place. Like the cute girl he'd been trying not to flirt with too much had suddenly started speaking his favorite language.

And judging by the ridiculous grin spreading across his face, you had absolutely no idea what you'd just done to him.

It started small: a little less space between you on Gareth's couch. Conversations that accidentally stretched long after everyone else had wandered into another room. The realization that if Eddie had a campaign idea, your opinion was one of the first he wanted.

At some point, it became completely normal for Gareth to call your house and ask if he could come over to work on music, only to show up twenty minutes later with Eddie in tow and an armful of graph paper, dice, and notebooks.

Band practice would last an hour; campaign brainstorming would last four.

You'd all end up around your bedroom floor or the dining room table with pencils scattered everywhere, Eddie pacing barefoot because he'd inevitably kicked his shoes off halfway through explaining something.

"No, okay, listen," he'd insist, waving his hands around wildly. "Imagine the town thinks they're cursed because people keep disappearing into the woods."

You'd be scribbling notes already. "They're not disappearing."

He'd stop. "No?"

"They're being taken."

"By what?"

You'd chew on your pencil for a second. "They think it's a monster."

"But?"

"It's not."

He'd grin. "But?"

"It's a druid."

His eyebrows would shoot up. "Oh?"

"They're taking people because something older is waking up underneath the forest and they're trying to keep them away from it."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Gareth, without missing a beat, would throw a crumpled piece of notebook paper at him. "You are so unbelievable."

"What?"

"You don't even hear yourself."

"Hear what?"

"'That's why you're my favorite.'" He mocked. 

Eddie would look genuinely confused. "I meant campaign-wise."

"Mhm."

"I did."

"Mhm."

Jeff would snort from wherever he happened to be sitting. You'd duck your head to hide a smile while pretending to be very invested in your notes.

Eventually Eddie would wander over anyway, leaning over your shoulder to look at whatever you'd been writing. His hair would brush yours.

His hands would be slightly closer to yours against the table. He'd smell faintly like cigarettes and weed and that cologne you complimented one time, and he refused to wear a different one since. 

"Holy shit."

You'd glance up. "What?"

"This is so much better than what I had."

He'd snatch your notebook. "Eddie."

"Nope."

"Eddie."

"This is mine now."

"You can't just steal my ideas."

"I absolutely can."

He'd flip another page. "You drew maps?"

You'd immediately reach for the notebook. "No."

He'd lift it over his head. "You drew maps."

"Eddie."

"You color-coded the districts."

"Eddie."

"You made economic systems."

"Oh my god, give it back."

He'd be laughing too hard to defend himself as you reached for it, nearly climbing over him in the process. Somewhere behind you, Gareth would let out the most exhausted sigh known to mankind.

"Jesus Christ."

Neither of you would even notice. You'd finally grab the notebook back, smoothing out the bent page with exaggerated offense.

"You suck."

"I know."

"You bent it."

"I'll buy you another."

"I don't want another."

"I'll buy you five."

"They won't have my notes."

He'd soften immediately. "...Good point."

Then, almost sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

You'd just smile. "It's okay."

And somehow that stupid little interaction would live in his head for days afterward.

The problem was that spending more time around Eddie wasn't making your crush go away; it was making it catastrophically worse.

It was one thing to think he was attractive from across Gareth's garage while he played guitar. It was another thing entirely to watch him get excited over stories.

To watch him grin when you challenged one of his ideas and immediately start building on yours instead. To watch him get genuinely delighted when you beat him to a fantasy reference. He really listened to you. Like, actually. 

Half your conversations started with him saying, "Wait, what do you think?"

Nobody had ever asked you that so often before. It made your chest hurt a little. Then there were the little things.

He always sat next to you. Always offered you the first slice of pizza. Always saved you the root beer because he'd noticed it was your favorite after seeing you pick it out exactly twice.

One afternoon, he disappeared for ten minutes while everyone argued over music. When he came back, he tossed something into your lap. You looked down: a little pewter dragon pin.  Nothing fancy, probably from the flea market. Its wing was chipped, and one eye had faded paint.

"I saw it and thought of you."

Your heart nearly stopped. "It's cool."

"I figured you'd put it on your jacket."

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "I will."

He looked suspiciously pleased with himself. Across the room, Gareth watched the exchange happen in complete silence before rubbing both hands over his face.

Jeff noticed. "What?"

Gareth looked at him. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

He pointed between the two of you. "This."

Jeff looked over. "...They're talking."

"They're in love."

"They're discussing dragons."

"They're discussing dragons in love."

Jeff started laughing, then Gareth stood up dramatically. "Eddie."

"Hm?"

"You know you can just ask her out."

The room went completely still. Eddie looked genuinely horrified. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No?"

"Ask her out."

He immediately looked at you, then away again so quickly it almost gave you whiplash. "I am not asking her out."

"And why not?"

"Because she's your best friend."

"So?"

"What if she says no?"

You looked down at your hands, and Gareth threw both arms into the air. "And what if she says yes?"

Eddie looked personally offended by the suggestion. "Don't mess with me."

"I'm literally not."

Jeff had gone completely silent, clearly realizing something much larger was unfolding.

Gareth pointed at you now. "And you."

Your head snapped up.

"When are you gonna tell him?"

You nearly choked. "Tell him what?"

He stared. "Oh, don't even."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You look at him like he personally invented the damn game himself."

Your face instantly went hot. "I absolutely do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You literally smile every time he walks into a room."

"I smile at everyone."

"You do not smile at Jeff."

Jeff looked mildly offended. "Hey!"

You buried your face in your hands. "This is awful."

Gareth groaned loud enough to shake the walls. "I swear to God, one of you has got to grow a spine."

Eddie looked over at you. You peeked at him through your fingers. The second your eyes met, both of you immediately looked somewhere else.

Gareth stood there for another few seconds before muttering to himself and grabbing his jacket. "I'm going outside."

Jeff followed. "Me too."

The door shut behind them. You were still looking at the floor while Eddie was rubbing the back of his neck.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke. "...For what it's worth..."

You looked up.

"...I don't think he's completely wrong."

Your stomach did a complete somersault. He looked terrified; you probably looked exactly the same. Then, somehow, despite both of you being objectively hopeless at this sort of thing...

You both started laughing. The nervous, embarrassed kind that comes out when there's nothing else left to do.

"So..."

"So."

Then both of you started talking at exactly the same time.

"I'm sor—"

"I didn't mea—"

You stopped, he stopped, and you both laughed again. Eddie shook his head, looking down at the floor with the kind of smile that only appeared when he was genuinely embarrassed.

"I've fought people with knives, and somehow this is scarier."

That made you smile. "I don't think Gareth was supposed to say all that."

"He definitely wasn't."

"He looked like he was gonna explode."

"He has looked like that for weeks."

Your eyebrows pulled together. "Weeks?"

Eddie looked up, immediately realizing he'd said too much. "...Maybe."

You studied him for a second. "You knew?"

He let out a long sigh. "I knew he thought something."

"And?"

"And I kept telling him he was making it up."

"You did?"

"Mhm."

"And was he?"

He looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting, "...No."

Your heart gave one heavy, impossible thud. He looked back down almost immediately.

"I just figured..." he started, picking at one of the rings on his fingers. "I don't know."

"You can tell me."

He laughed softly to himself. "I figured I was reading into things because I wanted to."

He shrugged. "You laugh at my jokes."

"They're funny."

"You always sit next to me."

"So do you."

"You remember everything I tell you."

"So do you."

"You still have that stupid dragon pin."

You instinctively looked down at your jacket hanging over the chair across the room. It was still there, pinned right over your heart.

You looked back at him. "...Of course I do."

His ears turned pink as he smiled to himself. "I kept thinking maybe you were just nice."

"And I kept thinking you flirted with everybody."

"I do flirt with everybody."

"I know."

"But not like that."

You looked at him. He was still staring at the floor. Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he added, "Not like you."

He took another breath. "I didn't want to make things weird."

"I didn't either."

"I didn't want Gareth to think I was making band practice complicated."

"I didn't either."

"I didn't want to screw up the friend group."

"I didn't either."

That earned another little laugh from both of you. It was almost ridiculous, months of overthinking condensed into a handful of matching sentences.

He shifted a little closer on the couch. "...Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, but he hesitated anyway. "If Gareth comes back in here and starts laughing at me, I'm moving to Canada."

You couldn't help smiling. "I don't think you’d make it that far."

"I've got enough gas money to reach Ohio."

"Fair."

Then he just blurted it out. "...Would you maybe wanna go on a date with me?"

No dramatic speech, no rehearsed line, no confidence. Just Eddie, visibly terrified, trying to act like his entire future wasn't hanging on your answer.

Then your mouth betrayed you before your brain could. "...I thought you'd never ask."

His eyes got impossibly wide. "...Really?"

You laughed. "Eddie."

"No, seriously."

"I'm serious."

"You mean yes?"

"I mean yes."

"You actually mean yes?"

"I do."

He blinked twice. Then covered his face with both hands. "Oh, my God."

You could hear him laughing behind them. "Oh, my God."

He dragged his hands down slowly, looking somewhere between relieved and completely stunned. "I had a whole backup speech."

"You did?"

"It was terrible."

"I would've liked to hear it."

"No chance."

"Please?"

"It somehow involved dragons."

You laughed so hard your head dropped forward. "I absolutely believe that."

He looked at you for another second before another thought visibly crossed his mind. "Oh."

"What?"

"So..." He scratched at the back of his neck again. "This is kind of embarrassing."

"What is?"

"I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"So you don't have a date planned."

"...Not exactly."

You bit back a smile.

"I had approximately seventy-three fantasies and zero logistics."

"I appreciate the honesty."

He thought for a second, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait."

"What?"

"The open-air market."

"The one over by Main?"

"Yeah,” he smiled. "My uncle goes every few weeks."

"I've never actually been."

"You haven't?"

You shook your head. 

"They've got old records and books and weird antiques and flea market junk and people selling handmade jewelry and all kinds of random stuff."

He was getting animated now, talking with his hands the way he always did when he got excited. "And this old guy that always has boxes of fantasy novels for like fifty cents."

Your eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"

"And another booth with vintage band shirts."

"Oh?"

"And there's usually a food truck with cider donuts."

"...Eddie."

"What?"

"I already said yes."

"I know."

"I'm just making my case."

"You don't have to."

He grinned. "So..." His voice softened. "Tomorrow morning?"

You smiled. "I'd like that."

"You would?"

"I would."

"What time?"

"Whenever you pick me up."

His grin somehow grew even bigger. "Nine?"

"Nine."

For another second, neither of you moved, just smiled at each other like two complete idiots. Then the front door flew open. Gareth walked in carrying two sodas, took one look at the way you were looking at each other, and immediately stopped.

His eyes narrowed. "...No."

Neither of you said anything. He looked at Eddie, he looked at you, and then he looked back at Eddie once more.  "...No."

Jeff stepped around him. "What?"

Gareth pointed dramatically. "They're smiling."

Jeff looked. "...Yeah?"

"The weird smiling."

"They smile."

"No."

He pointed harder. "The smile."

Jeff watched for another second, then slowly grinned. "...Oh."

Gareth closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Did one of you finally grow a spine?"

Eddie looked over with a smile he couldn't suppress if he tried. "...Maybe."

Gareth stood perfectly still, then set both sodas on the coffee table. Then walked over and hugged you. Then hugged Eddie.

Then immediately pushed him away again. "If you break her heart, I'll kill you."

Eddie nodded solemnly. "Fair."

Gareth looked at you. "If you break his heart, I'll kill you too."

You nodded just as seriously. "Also fair."

He looked between the two of you one last time before throwing both hands into the air. "Jesus Christ."

Jeff laughed. "What?"

"I HAVE BEEN WATCHING THIS FOR SIX MONTHS."

He turned toward the ceiling. "THANK YOU."

And somewhere beside him, Eddie's hand quietly found yours for the very first time. He didn't make a joke. Didn't look at you. Didn't say anything at all.

He just laced his fingers with yours like he'd been wanting to for a very, very long time. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.

The next morning, you were standing on your front porch at exactly 8:58 when you heard the familiar rattle of Eddie's van coming down the street. Not that you'd been waiting by the window or anything…definitely not.

The van pulled into the driveway, and before it had even fully stopped, you could see Eddie leaning across the passenger seat.

The door swung open. "Good morning."

You laughed. "It's nine in the morning."

"And?"

"You look entirely too excited."

He grinned. "I got a date."

Your stomach immediately betrayed you. The stupid thing was that you'd known Eddie for years now. You'd spent countless afternoons with him. Late-night band practices. Movie marathons. Campaign planning sessions.

Yet somehow, the word "date" made everything feel different.

You climbed into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the stack of cassette tapes scattered between the seats. "You cleaned."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I moved things."

"Eddie."

"The important garbage is still here."

Neither of you had to struggle for conversation. You talked about music, about the campaign you'd been helping him write. About the ridiculous argument Jeff and Dustin had gotten into over whether dragons or vampires were cooler. By the time the market came into view, you'd spent half the drive laughing. 

The open-air market occupied an old fairground lot just outside town. Rows of tents stretched across the grass. People wandered between booths carrying coffee cups and paper bags. Music drifted through the air from somewhere. The entire place smelled like baked goods, fresh grass, and sunlight.

"This is cute."

Eddie looked weirdly pleased by your approval. "Right?"

You followed him through the aisles, taking your time. Every booth seemed to have something different. Old records. Handmade jewelry. Vintage books. Antiques. Hand-painted signs. One tent was entirely dedicated to old movie posters. Another sold homemade candles.

A woman was knitting behind a table full of scarves despite the weather being far too warm for scarves.

"This place is amazing."

"I know."

"You come here often?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes with Wayne."

You stopped at a table full of records while Eddie flipped through another crate beside you. Every couple of seconds, one of you would hold something up.

"What about this?"

"No."

"This?"

"Absolutely not."

"This?"

"Now we're talking."

It felt easy, like everything else did with him. Eventually you reached a booth covered in old band shirts hanging from racks.

Your eyes immediately lit up. "Oh, my God."

You were already digging through them. Most were faded, some had holes, and a few were clearly older than both of you combined.

You found a Black Sabbath shirt and held it up. "Eddie."

His eyes widened. "No way."

"It's my size."

"That's illegal."

You immediately bought it. He found a faded Dio shirt twenty minutes later and looked just as excited.

"You are absolutely getting that."

"I don't know."

"Eddie."

"It's kinda expensive."

It was eight dollars. You stared. "Eddie."

"Okay, when you say it like that."

You rolled your eyes. He bought the shirt, and you continued wandering. At some point, your shoulder started brushing his when you walked. 

Then you found the books, a whole tent full of them. Secondhand fantasy novels stacked in crooked towers. Leather-bound collections. Old paperbacks. Forgotten adventures.

You immediately disappeared inside. Eddie smiled before you were even fully gone. Of course this would be your favorite booth. He watched you crouch beside a stack, completely absorbed within seconds.

Your fingers carefully turned pages. Your eyes scanned titles. You smiled when you found something interesting. And God, maybe it was pathetic. But he could've stood there all day watching you be happy.

Instead, he wandered a few booths down, and that's when he saw the flowers. A little elderly woman sat beneath a striped canopy surrounded by buckets overflowing with blooms. Sunflowers. Wildflowers. Daisies. Lavender. Tiny pink roses. The entire booth looked like something out of a storybook.

Eddie wasn't really a flower guy, at least he hadn't been. But then he spotted a small bouquet sitting in a glass jar. Nothing fancy, just a handful of wildflowers tied together with twine. It looked like something someone had picked during a walk.

For some reason, it immediately reminded him of you. The woman caught him staring.

"Got a girl?"

Eddie immediately looked away. "No."

She smiled knowingly. Then glanced toward the book tent where you stood.

"Honey."

He groaned.

The woman laughed. "That one's cute."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"You should buy her flowers."

"What if she thinks it's weird?"

The woman gave him a look. "Son."

"Yeah?"

"She's here with you at the crack ass of dawn, isn’t she?"

Fair point.

Five minutes later, he was walking back with the bouquet hidden awkwardly behind his back. You still hadn't noticed him. You were standing in front of a shelf with three books pressed against your chest, completely focused.

"Find anything good?"

You looked up immediately. "Look."

You handed him one. Then another. Then another. By the end of your explanation, you were smiling so hard that he almost forgot what he'd been doing. 

"Oh."

"What?"

"I got you something."

Your eyebrows lifted. "You did?"

He suddenly felt sixteen years old. "Yeah."

Then he awkwardly revealed the bouquet, and immediately regretted every decision he'd ever made.

"I saw them and—"

You froze. "Oh."

His heart dropped. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe flowers were too much. Maybe—

"Oh, my God." You looked genuinely shocked. "Eddie."

Your expression softened into something so sweet it nearly killed him. "They're beautiful."

The relief that hit him was immediate. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You carefully took them from him.

"They reminded me of you." The words slipped out before he could stop them.

You looked up, and his face immediately turned red. "That sounded cooler in my head."

A laugh escaped you. "No."

You glanced down at the flowers again, then back at him. "It's actually really sweet.".

The crowd continued moving around you. People walked past. Music drifted through the air. Yet somehow it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to that tiny space between you. And somewhere in the distance, a vendor yelled that fresh cider donuts were ready.

Eddie immediately pointed. "Okay."

You laughed. "What?"

"Before I say something embarrassingly romantic and ruin my reputation—"

"You don't have a reputation."

"I absolutely do."

"You really don't."

He grinned. "Cider donuts?"

You looked down at the flowers in your hands. "Lead the way, Munson."

His smile was so bright it almost rivaled the morning sun. And for maybe the first time in his life, Eddie couldn't think of a single place he'd rather be

The funny thing was that absolutely nothing changed after you and Eddie started dating. And simultaneously, everything changed.

Band practice still happened in Gareth's garage. Hellfire still met every week. You still spent entirely too much time arguing over music and fantasy novels and campaign mechanics.

Eddie still stole your fries. You still stole his jackets. On the surface, very little was different.

Except now Eddie could kiss you whenever he wanted, which turned out to be a problem. Because Eddie Munson was possibly the most physically affectionate human being to ever walk the earth. You discovered this approximately forty-eight hours into the relationship.

It started innocently enough. A hand on your lower back. His arm around your shoulders. His knee pressed against yours whenever you sat together. Normal boyfriend things. Then it escalated…rapidly.

Somehow Eddie always needed to be touching you. Not in an overbearing way, just constantly. If you were sitting beside him, his hand would find yours without him even realizing it. If you were standing next to him, he'd hook a finger through your belt loop. If you were walking somewhere together, his arm would automatically settle over your shoulders.

Movie nights became nearly impossible because he'd slowly slide lower and lower until his head was in your lap. You'd look down halfway through a film to find him completely comfortable, stealing handfuls of popcorn and using your thigh as a pillow.

"Eddie."

"Hm?"

"You have your own seat."

"This is my seat."

"No, it isn't."

He'd just smile, close his eyes, and settle in deeper. Hopeless, absolutely hopeless. Then there were the kisses.

God. The kisses. Eddie kissed you constantly. Not because he was trying to be smooth. Mostly because he genuinely seemed incapable of stopping himself.

The top of your head. Your cheek. Your temple. Your shoulder. The back of your hand. Sometimes he'd walk into a room, kiss your forehead, and then continue whatever conversation he'd been having as though nothing had happened.

The first few weeks, it caught you off guard every single time. Months later, it still made your heart do stupid little flips. One afternoon you were helping him organize campaign notes at his trailer. You'd been focused on a map for nearly twenty minutes when suddenly—

Mwah.

You looked up. "What was that for?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You just kissed me."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He looked genuinely confused. "You looked cute."

Then immediately went back to writing, as if that was a perfectly normal explanation. Which, for Eddie, it apparently was. Wayne found the whole thing hilarious.

"You know," Wayne had said one evening while watching Eddie practically drape himself across you on the couch, "for a fella who spent years actin' tough, you sure turned into a sap."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Wayne pointed; Eddie was literally entirely in your bubble. 

"And now?"

"I'm comfortable."

"You followed her into the kitchen earlier because she went to get some water."

"I was thirsty."

"You don't even like water."

Eddie opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at you.

"...That's not the point."

The truth was that Eddie had spent so long convincing himself not to cross the line that once he finally could, all that affection had nowhere to go except directly toward you.

And honestly? You loved it. Because underneath all the teasing and dramatics, he was impossibly sweet. He remembered everything, every little thing.

Your favorite candy. Your favorite records. The books you'd mentioned wanting but couldn't find. The exact coffee order you got at the diner. One time you casually mentioned liking a specific fantasy author. Two weeks later, he showed up with a battered secondhand copy he'd found three towns over.

Another time you'd complained that your hands were cold. The next day he brought you a pair of fingerless gloves he'd found at the market. They were hideous and completely ridiculous.

You wore them all winter.

Ironically, your first kiss had been nothing like what you’d expect.

It had happened a couple of weeks after the market, after band practice. Everyone else had left. Jeff had work. Gareth had dinner. You'd stayed behind to help pack up equipment while Eddie finished putting away cables.

The garage had been quiet, just music playing softly from an old radio. You'd been sitting on an amp while he rambled about a campaign idea. Something about dragons, obviously.

At some point, he'd stopped talking, and you'd looked up and realized he was already looking at you.

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"You stopped talking."

"I know."

You smiled. "That's unusual."

His laugh had been nervous, which should've tipped you off immediately. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth, only for a second. And suddenly your stomach was somewhere near your shoes. Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

Then Eddie had done something completely out of character. He asked quietly, almost as if he wasn't sure he was allowed, "...Can I kiss you?"

You remembered the way your heart had nearly exploded. The way he'd looked terrified. The way he'd immediately started backtracking when you didn't answer fast enough.

"I mean—you don't have to—I was just—"

You kissed him before he could finish. Mostly because if you'd let him keep talking, he probably would've apologized and fled the state.

For a second, he froze, as if his brain needed a moment to process what was happening. Then one of his hands found your jaw, and suddenly he was kissing you back. Soft and careful, like he couldn’t quite believe it. 

Months later, Eddie still brought it up sometimes, usually when he wanted to annoy you.

"You know."

You immediately knew that tone. "What?"

"You kissed me first."

You rolled your eyes. "Here we go."

"I'm just saying."

"You literally asked."

"Technically."

"You were halfway through a panic attack."

"Technically."

"You would've talked yourself out of it."

"Possibly."

"Definitely."

He laughed, then leaned over and kissed your cheek. "Good thing you saved me, sweetheart."

By the time you and Eddie had been dating for about seven months, Hellfire had developed a new problem. Or, more specifically, Eddie had developed a problem. And that problem was you.

"Okay," Dustin said, pointing accusingly across the table. "This is bullshit."

The entire campaign immediately ground to a halt. Eddie looked up from behind his DM screen.

"What is?"

"This,” Dustin gestured wildly.

"Define this."

"You giving her special treatment."

You nearly choked on your soda.

Across the table, Mike immediately nodded. "Thank you."

Lucas pointed. "Finally somebody said it."

Eddie looked genuinely offended. "I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I absolutely don't."

Jeff snorted. "You absolutely do."

Even Gareth joined in. "Dude."

Eddie looked around the room. "You guys are insane."

Then slowly looked toward you. "...Back me up."

You immediately betrayed him.

"Oh, no." His jaw dropped. "You too? Babe."

The entire table collectively groaned; even the nickname irritated them now.

"Babe?" Mike repeated. "You call her babe in-game too."

"It slipped out once."

"It happened three times last session."

"That's not important."

"It kind of is when you're talking to a barbarian."

Eddie pointed dramatically. "None of you have evidence."

The room exploded. "No evidence?"

"Dude!"

"You literally gave her a dragon."

"It was a baby dragon."

"It was still a dragon."

"It was injured!"

"You let her keep it."

"She nursed it back to health."

"You gave her a dragon."

"...Okay, maybe the dragon thing wasn't helping my case."

"THANK YOU." Dustin practically stood up.

The truth was that they weren't wrong. Eddie tried to be fair; he genuinely did. But every time he sat behind that DM screen, all logic immediately left his body.

You'd mention some random piece of backstory you'd thought of at two in the morning, and suddenly there was an entire side quest dedicated to it.

You'd casually mention that your ranger grew up near the ocean. Next thing everyone knew, there was a mysterious coastal kingdom appearing in the campaign.

One time you'd joked that your character liked collecting shiny rocks. Two sessions later, Eddie had created an entire magical gemstone subplot. The man had no self-control, and everyone knew it. 

Especially Gareth, who had spent months witnessing it firsthand. The latest offense had happened approximately twenty minutes earlier. The party had entered a ruined cathedral.

A dangerous encounter, lots of enemies, high stakes. Or at least it should've been. Unfortunately, Eddie had described a hooded traveler sitting alone by the fire.

A traveler who immediately recognized your character. A traveler who apparently knew your character's family. A traveler who had information specifically relevant to your backstory. A traveler who somehow only wanted to talk to you.

The entire table had immediately erupted. "NO."

"Dude."

"Again?"

"This is ridiculous."

Eddie had tried defending himself. "It makes sense narratively."

"No, it doesn't."

"It absolutely does."

"It absolutely doesn't."

Now, twenty minutes later, they were still arguing about it.

"I just think," Mike said, crossing his arms, "that maybe the rest of us deserve emotional character development too."

"You have emotional character development."

"When?"

"You got stabbed."

"THAT'S NOT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."

Jeff nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Meanwhile, you were actively trying not to laugh, which wasn't helping.

Eddie noticed immediately. "You think this is funny?"

"A little."

The rest of the session dissolved into more good-natured ribbing until the guys finally started packing up their dice and minis, trading complaints about favoritism all the way out the door. 

Gareth shot you both a knowing look as he left last, muttering something about "not wanting to know what happens next."

You started gathering scattered papers and pushing chairs back into place, the faint scent of dry-erase markers and lingering pizza still thick in the air.

Eddie watched you for a moment from the end of the table, that familiar wicked little smile tugging at his lips. Then he rounded the table, coming up behind you as you reached for a stray miniature.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.

"You look like this," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "and they still act shocked I can't keep my hands off you." His voice dropped lower. 

"Can't really blame me though. Look at you, sitting there all session like you weren't thinking about what I’d do to you once they left."

You shivered as his mouth found the side of your neck. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, then scraped his teeth gently over it, sucking lightly until your breath hitched.

One of his hands splayed across your stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace slow circles on your skin.

"Eddie," you warned, half-laughing, half-breathless. "We’re supposed to be cleaning up."

"Mm, we are," he said against your throat, kissing lower and more open-mouthed. "I’m just… multitasking."

His other hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you back against the growing hardness in his jeans. 

"Been hard half the session thinking about bending you over this table. You know that?"

You turned in his arms, intending to tell him to behave, but his mouth crashed into yours before you could. The kiss was messy and eager, all tongue and teeth, the kind that always left your lips swollen. 

He backed you toward the edge of the massive wooden table, hands roaming under your shirt until he cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples through your bra.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your mouth. "Need you. Right here. Been dying to feel how wet you get for me after I’ve been staring at you all night."

You gasped as he lifted you onto the table, shoving aside papers and a few forgotten dice that clattered to the floor. He stepped between your spread thighs, grinding against you as he tugged your shirt up and off. 

His mouth returned to your neck, sucking marks you’d have to hide tomorrow, while his fingers worked your jeans open.

You reached down to palm him through his pants, earning a low, wrecked sound from deep in his chest. "Eddie…someone could come back."

"Let ‘em," he muttered, nipping at your collarbone as he pushed your jeans and panties down just enough. "Let ‘em see how fucking perfect you look when I’m buried inside you." 

He dropped to his knees briefly, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss between your legs that had your head falling back with a moan. One quick, filthy lick, then he was back up, freeing himself from his jeans and lining up.

He pushed in slow at first, savoring the stretch, eyes locked on your face. "That’s it," he breathed, voice strained. "Take me so good, like you were made for this." 

Once he was fully seated, he gave you barely a second before he started moving; deep, rolling thrusts that made the table creak beneath you.

Your hands fisted in his hair, legs wrapping tight around his waist as he fucked you harder, the drama room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your shared, ragged breathing. He kept kissing your neck, your jaw, whispering filthy praise between thrusts.

"Love how you squeeze me… fuck, you’re dripping down my cock already. My perfect girl."

The angle had him hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, chasing the building heat. Eddie’s rhythm faltered as he got close, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit.

"Come on, baby," he panted against your mouth. "Want to feel you come on me. I’ve been so good to you all night."

The combination of his words, his fingers, and the relentless drag of him inside you sent you over the edge with a cry.

He followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, you stayed tangled together, foreheads pressed close, catching your breath in the quiet room. Eddie kissed you softly, peppering kisses all over your face, jaw, and neck. 

You laughed breathlessly, tugging lightly at his curls. "We’re never going to finish cleaning up at this rate."

"Worth it," he said, already leaning in for another kiss.

well, hey! hope you all enjoyed ;) i have an inquiry for you all. going forward with requests, would you prefer...

taglist:

@bitterestwillow @lnnn1n @youngbrokefab @ludachrissy @sisteramycatherine @izzycstairs @britttzy267 @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @sariahs-stuff @cciessuzi @lilyquinnmunson @julxsxx @kozume-ko @obsessed-eddie @doomdabss @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-of-asphodel @whitakerstorm @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullsteve @peachpuffs25 @micheledawn1975 @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18 @ggdawgg @velvetdimond @enne02  @ludachrissy @izzycstairs

@abbysleftbicepp @britttzy267 @ssculker @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @kylorensbaby

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispers with a gentle tone as his fingers pinch your chin trying to get your gaze to meet his but you hold firm, scared you’ll beak if you don’t.

“I’m actually super tired and not very hungry anymore, could you just take me home Steve.” Robin huffs from the backseat. Despite her anger, you’ve never been more thankful for her diverting his attention.

Steve finally leaves your personal space curious eyes darting between the both of you.

“Okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?” Putting the car in park he crosses his arms refusing to move.

The silence is enough to make your palms sweat, part of you hoping Robin will just tell him right now so you don’t have to be the one to break his heart. She’d never let you off that easy though. The three of you sit like this for what feels like hours, all of you too stubborn to admit defeat.

The sound of a car door slamming shut echo’s loudly, cutting through the thick tension. A squeal and turn of an engine is followed by the faint sounds of Dio’s Rainbow in the Dark. You don’t even have to look to know it’s Eddie making his departure.

“Munson was here?” Steve questions as his van speeds recklessly past you, the dirt of the road kicking up in big clouds behind his tires.

“Yeeeeeep.” Robin mutters sliding deeper in her seat crossing her arms. Inside you know this is killing her and it makes you hate yourself more.

“Can we please just go Steve.” You finally speak eyes meeting his for the first time. The lights from the dashboard of the car hit his face in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat.

He holds your gaze trying to decipher what’s hidden behind them. You were never good at poker faces. It takes all of your will power to hold his gaze, desperate to leave the party and your terrible choices behind.

Giving up Steve’s face goes cold “Fine.” his frustration becoming more then apparent as he starts the car. It kicks on with quiet hum compared to the clamorous start of Eddie’s van, a perfect comparison of the two boys. “If no one’s actually going to talk to me I guess I’ll just be your taxi.”

His comment adds even more guilt to your conscience, it was never meant to be this complicated. Steve didn’t deserve complicated again, he deserved certainty. Choosing him tonight doesn’t change what you allowed to happen in Rick’s bathroom. Choosing him tonight doesn’t excuse your lack of self control. Choosing him tonight doesn’t change the damage that’s been done.

Winding through the back roads, you desperately try to think of a way to turn back time.

The warmth of Steve’s touch shocks you, jumping lightly you peak up at him. Despite being annoyed with you he can sense your anxious behavior. With a soft smile his fingers wrap around one of your fidgeting hands in your lap. Selfishly you don’t pull away, his closeness becoming one of the only things that could calm you down. Lacing his fingers with yours he brings your hand to his lips, his signature move. Suddenly you feel like your going to be sick and you have to look away.

The pain in your chest deepens so much you feel like you might split in two. Eddie’s still fresh between your thighs, the rip in your tights serving as a constant reminder of your poor choices. Eyes brimming with tears it takes everything inside of you to fight them back. You can’t cry yet.

Squeezing your hand again Steve is still silently begging you to look at him, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You don’t look at Steve until he’s parked in front of your place, not his. Robin no longer in the backseat, leaving with just a slam of her door. You do your best to ignore Eddie’s van parked three doors down, catching the light on in his bedroom window.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why you won’t kiss me? Why you won’t even look at me?” You can hear the pain in his voice after the last question. “Baby, what happened at that party?”

The pet name stings when it leaves his mouth.

“I fucked everything up.” You finally manage to get out, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. Hot tears hit your cheeks, the dam finally breaking. Looking up through blurry eyes all you want to do is kiss the crease in his brows away, hating yourself even more that you can’t.

Steve’s body stiffens at your ominous admission, his mind replaying Eddie’s van speeding off remembering how weird it was that he didn’t even throw a glance in your direction or even be the one to take you and Robin home.

Without letting go of your hand Steve starts rubbing soft comforting circles with his thumb. He’s got you talking, he doesn’t want to ruin it by coming off tense. Even if his heart is in his throat.

“What did you fuck up?”

It takes you a minute to muster the courage to tell Steve everything, you knew he deserved the truth and you deserved the consequences coming your way.

“Last week, after our date at Enzo’s...” You pause to to wipe your dripping nose with a sniffle and the sleeve of your jacket. “Eddie kissed me.”

Steve’s thumb falters it’s movements for a split second before resuming its circular motions. He knows there’s more to spill from your trembling lips.

“So, I cut him off. I ignored him all week, because, because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Steve’s chest swells at your admission despite the bitter edge to your voice, despite knowing the other shoe was about to drop. He wasn’t falling in love with you, he was already there.

“So then, when Robin invited me to this party I didn’t want to go. I knew, I just knew he was going to be there.” Wiping your eyes your voice finally starts evening out. You’re in the home stretch now. “And then of course, he was. I tried to get away before he could talk to me but then he cornered me in the bathroom.”

Steve does his best to remain stoic, but even he can see where this story is going. Still, he continues his circles with an encouraging squeeze to your hand to continue.

“He told me he broke up with Chrissy, then he told me he was in love with me.”

Mind reeling, the only solace he can find right now is the fact that even after the man you’d been in love for years confessed his feelings, you were still here with him. That had to mean something.

“Steve.. I don’t know what happened, but we- we had sex. And what’s worse is Robin walked in during the middle of it. That’s why she wanted to go home. She didn’t want to keep it a secret from you, and she didn’t want to be near me. It didn’t last long, but it still, it still happened and I’m so fucking sorry.” With fresh tears hot on your face, you yank your hand away from Steve’s. The comfort of his touch overwhelming you at how underserving you are of it.

The cold of the winter air bites at your wet face as you make your exit, the gravel under your feet slick with ice as you make your way towards the porch steps.

“Hey - Stop!” Steve’s car door opens as he jumps out after you. “You’re seriously not even going to let me respond to everything you just told me?”

“What’s there to respond to?” Hand on the railing you turn around on the first step, you aren’t expecting him to be so close the added height making you eye level. His features somehow even more striking from dead on. “I fucked everything up, I fucked it up with you, I fucked up my relationship with my best friend. What else is there to talk about?”

“You’re just confused.” Steve states simply after letting you finish your rant. “If I’m gonna be honest, I would be too.”

There’s nothing but disbelief written all over your face, anger rippling through your body that he was still being so nice despite everything you had just admitted. How incredibly Steve. Now you were getting the Nancy treatment and you hated it.

“Get some fucking confidence Harrington. I just told you I fucked my best friend at the party you picked me up at, and you’re comforting me?” You knew you were lashing out, but you needed him to hate you as much as you hated yourself.

Steve lets your insults roll off his back with a hand through his hair, your fingers twitch at your sides wanting to reach out and do the same.

“Look, all I’m trying to say is that if I was in your position I can’t say what I would have done in the moment either okay?” Tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, his finger tips linger only just for a moment. “I think we both just need some time to process what’s happened these last few weeks. Figure out what you want.”

It takes a minute to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, lingering the most on the “figure out what you want” part. Too lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice when Steve leans forward. The press of his lips on your forehead catch you attention, but when you go to meet his eyes again he’s already half way back to his car.

“What do you mean figure out what I want?”

Opening the driver door he leans himself over the top of the roof, wind blowing his hair in a way that makes him look like he should be on a magazine cover.

“I meant that if it was me and Nancy cornered me with a love confession in the bathroom. I know now, that I would choose you. It’s always going to be you. I’m just waiting for you to choose me.”

With out giving you a chance to respond he slips back into the warmth of his car, un moving from your place on the steps you watch him until his headlights disappear taking your heart with him.

——

The next few days are spent tucked away in your bedroom, with the curtains drawn. You know your mom doesn’t believe you have the flu, but she lets you skip anyway. The lack of Eddie’s presence and seeing Steve more then she ever had before, she could put two and two together.

There’s a knock on your door before the low creak of it opening.

“Look, I’ll give you one more day. But sooner or later you’re gonna have to face the music.”

Huffing into your pillow you hated when she was right, avoiding everything just felt nice. Almost as if none of it happened as long as you didn’t leave the four walls of your room.

“Get some sunlight, you don’t live in a cave.” Her feet pad across your floor before ripping your blinds open, like a vampire the sunlight makes you hiss. “Get up, get in the shower, and go be the strong woman I raised you to be. I don’t know what’s going on, you don’t have to tell me but moping won’t change anything.”

Just like Steve she doesn’t stay long enough for you to respond before she’s walking out the door. Looking at the clock you know she’s headed out for work, you had slept well into the afternoon.

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumble, she can’t hear you but it doesn’t matter she knows you’ll listen.

Knowing what the right thing to do is easy but actually doing it? That’s another story.

You knew first you had to face Eddie again, the hole in your chest left in his absence was only becoming bigger by the day. The need for your best friend weighing heavy on you. He was everything to you, every step of your adolescent life had been with him by your side. The perils of high school and the growing pains of puberty. Every memory of your firsts has him as your co star. You loved Eddie more than anything, but finally allowing yourself to love and be loved by someone in a way that you had always craved made you realize the difference.

You weren’t actually in love with Eddie anymore. Building your childhood crush up so much, you never even allowed yourself to see anything else. Convinced from the moment your hormones started raging that he was the only one for you. You just had to wait for him to see it, even if that meant closing yourself off to everyone else.

When Steve’s lips met yours at midnight on New Years he changed the trajectory of your life. He creeped up on you in a way that blind sided you, so wrapped up in feelings you convinced yourself were permanent you didn’t realize you had fallen in love with him till it was too late. He brought you the kind of comfort you had never experienced before.

All those nights seeking each other out, limbs tangled under the covers you both healed each other in a way neither one of you had ever intended on. It wasn’t just a matter of choosing Steve anymore, you needed him. You needed the way he always knew how to make you smile, you needed his patience, his complete and unconditional love accepting of your human mistakes.

Not a single person in this world should be worthy of that kind of love, but here he was offering it you. All you could do is try now, try to show him just how truly special he was. Show him how at the end of all of this he was your first choice.

——

The walk to Eddie’s trailer is filled with the kind of nerves that make your stomach do flips.

You knew he was home, the sounds of his guitar spilling through his open window. A smirk tugs at your lips knowing the only reason his window would be open in the dead of winter is to try and clear the smell of weed. Always trying to pull it off, failing every time. You can already hear Uncle Wayne giving him an earful, the same argument every winter.

When you finally make it to his front door, it takes a second to work up the courage to knock. Taking a deep breath you count to ten before bringing your hand up. It doesn’t even make contact with the wood before the door is flying open and your best friend is pulling you into a hug.

“I fucking missed you, don’t disappear on me like that ever again okay?” His voice sounds muffled wrapped up in his bear hug. All of your nerves melting away, inhaling deeply you bury yourself further into his arms.

“You’re not mad at me?” Breaking away you finally look up into his brown eyes, the normal butterflies you used to feel stay dormant for the first time.

“I mean, yeah of course I was. But I’ve also had a few days to think about things, calm down a little.” His eyes search yours hating how much pain is hidden behind them. Hating that he was part of it. “Besides do you understand how boring Gareth is? Like on a day to day basis?” The snort that leaves your nose makes Eddie’s face light up, he can’t help but pull you back in.

“Eddie, I’m in love with Steve.” You finally give taking advantage of not having to look at his face when you say it.

It takes him a minute to respond but he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I know.”

You both allow yourselves to stay in this moment for a little longer before finally letting each other go.

“I’m sorry I made a mess of things.” Your voice is low but you don’t look away, done trying to run from your mistakes.

“We both did.” He gives scratching the back of his neck. “My feelings haven’t changed, but it was selfish of me to put you in this position, I know it’s too late. I knew it was that night too.”

Grabbing his hand you squeeze it trying to comfort him, you know exactly how he feels. He’ll move on from it eventually just like you did. Your friendship being far too important at least not to try.

“Do you think we’ll ever get back to way it was?” The question pains you to ask but you need to know.

With tears brimming in his eyes squeezing your hand like you just did, his voice cracks slightly when he finally answers.

“We’ll keep working on it, but your stuck with me for life. I’ll take you in whatever capacity you’ll give me.”

He knew he missed his shot with you, being too blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. It was bittersweet, because here you were despite everything still desperate to keep him in your life. He knew Steve was a good guy, he was probably the only guy in this shitty town that would treat you the way you deserved. The way Eddie never got to do, the way he did to the wrong girl right in front of you breaking your heart and hers in the process.

Here you were just two best friends sitting with the consequences of their careless actions.

——

Anxiety on ten the chime of the bell scares you when you step into family video. Looking around you scan the surprising somewhat empty store, just a few people browsing not the normal evening rush you were expecting. The universe doing you favors for some weird reason. Robin’s blue eyes meet yours from behind the counter and narrow instantly. Maybe not too many favors.

“Steve’s not here.” Her tone is flat when she talks making you wish you could hide inside yourself.

Clearing your throat nervously you do your best to remember how to talk. “I’m- I’m not looking for Steve.”

“Coming to pick out a movie for you and Eddie?” The light jab makes you wince, you deserved that.

“No, I came to talk to you.” Getting your feet to move you hesitantly start towards the counter fully prepared to leave if she didn’t want to hear you out.

She doesn’t say anything, which you take as a good sign.

“I know you told Steve, so if that’s why you came here consider your conscious cleared.” Turning her back to you she goes back to working on the large stack of returned videos.

“I came here to apologize to you.”

Her shoulders tense briefly before they relax, she doesn’t offer you a response but she doesn’t tell you to leave. Taking this as a signal that she’s willing to listen you decide to continue.

“You should have never been put in that position to keep something from your best friend. I went to that party to try and be a good friend to you and somehow fucked it all up and made it all about me. I’m sorry Robin, I’m so sorry I did that to you.” Voice cracking you take in a shaky breath trying to calm yourself down. You don’t need her to comfort you like Steve did.

Turning her head she doesn’t say anything but you know she’s listening, nothing but the soft hum of the rewinder in the background.

“You’re the most important person in Steve’s life, I know that. Actually you’re probably the only person on this planet that’s deserving of his love.”

Finally turning around she cuts you off before you can finish.

“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes look confused, assuming this was just damage control so it wouldn’t destroy your friend group that you and Eddie realized you loved each other at the expense of Steve’s heart.

“I’m telling you this because I’m in love with him Robin.” You have to look down at the counter feeling self conscious being so vulnerable with someone who isn’t exactly your biggest fan right now. “I told Eddie, I told him it’s Steve. I want him, I don’t want anyone else. I know it was a backwards way to figure it out bu-“

“Then why the hell are you here talking to me right now?” She snaps, her frantic behavior returning as she starts searching through the stacks of VHS tapes on the back counter. Knocking over pens and papers shuffling through them like she’s lost her mind.

“Robin, calm down what’s going on?” Making your way around the counter you try to figure out what’s got her so intense.

“There’s a movie I need him to watch, you’re going to go bring it to him and tell him all those nice things you just told me.”

Stunned you try to wrap your head around the fact that Robin was now helping you get her best friend back.

“I’m confused, you’re helping me?”

Sighing loudly she pauses her search to finally look at you, her eyes meet yours with the softness you were used to.

“Look, as mad as I am about everything that happened, Steve loves you. Even if I don’t think you deserve how understanding he’s being. If there’s even a small chance I can see him be as happy as he’s been these last few weeks, I’m going to take it.” It’s not the nicest thing anyone has said to you but it’s a peace offering that you could accept. it would take time to earn her trust back but it’s a challenge you’re more then willing to take on.

Shoving Moonstruck in your hand she gives it a gentle push encouraging you to go.

“Quit wasting time, Dingus is probably moping drinking that nasty bourbon in his basement.”

Your heart swells at the image she’s painted, it was that nasty bourbon in his basement that started all of this. You could still remember what it tasted like on his lips.

“Thanks Robin, I don’t deserve this.” Reaching over the counter you squeeze her hand and she doesn’t pull away, you’ll take that as progress.

“Yeah I know you don’t, but he does.”

She was right, she was doing this for him, even if it meant helping you. She’d do anything to make him happy. Here you were with Robin’s blessing desperate to make him feel loved, to fix what you messed up.

Leaving the store in a rush, your feet won’t carry you fast enough to the place where it all started. The special place that was only ever reserved for you two, the place where Steve Harrington stole your heart.

———

When you reach the sliding glass door of his basement, you need a moment to catch your breath. Lungs sore from the cold, there’s a light sheen of sweat coating your forehead despite the frigid cold from the run over here. Your heart pounds so hard in your chest you think the nerves might give you a heart attack.

Looking through the window you see him in his spot on the couch, head lulled back against the cushion. One long arm outstretched over the top, stretched out over your spot. The only light in the room is whatever movie he wasn’t paying attention to playing on the big TV. Spotting the crystal glass full of bourbon, you can’t help but smirk at how well Robin knows her best friend.

Before you can over think anything, you bring your fist up to the glass giving it two solid knocks. Steve jumps at the noise, hazel eyes darting to the door with fear before his features viably relax when he sees it’s you. Getting up from the couch you get to take him all in, light grey sweat pants hang low on his hips with a simple white shirt covering his broad chest. His hair looks like he’s ran his fingers through it one too many times, ends sticking wildly in every direction but somehow they still look like that’s exactly where they are suppose to be. Seeing Steve this casual felt like a privilege, even in sweats his handsomeness was effortless. It hits you all at once how much you’ve missed him. Fingers twitching all you want to do is be close to him.

When Steve opens the door, you’re hit with a burst of warm air that heats up your cold cheeks. Red splattered across your skin, you don’t even care that you ran here in 30 degree weather.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing out here. What are you doing?!” You can’t stop your lips from tugging up, even after everything he’s still being a mom.

All you do is lift up the VHS Robin gave you.

“Robin said this is a good movie, wanna watch it with me?”

It takes a Steve a minute to fully comprehend what you’re doing, his eyes going from the tape to you.

“Wait did you run here?” He finally asks, the wheels turning slowly in his head trying to piece everything together, too nervous to get ahead of himself.

“Come on Harrington, I’m trying to be romantic right now.” Rolling your eyes playfully you do your best to be patient with his thought process.

Steve’s eyes continue to move from the tape to you a few more times before it looks as if a lightbulb flashes over his head. You were here, in front of him with a movie from Robin asking to come in. Asking to spend the night with him like you used to, like all the nights that made him fall in love with you.

Without wasting another second Steve pulls you into the heat of his house. Closing the door behind you, both of you stand close enough together to see the flecks of color in each other’s eyes. Everything smells like Steve and you can’t seem to calm your heart beat or catch your breath.

“Are you really here right now?” He finally asks, one hand reaching up tentatively not wanting you to disappear, his fingers gently trace along the cold skin of your cheeks. Eyes closing you can’t help but lean into the warmth of his touch.

One of your hands finds its way up to cover his, pulling his palm to your lips you place gentle kisses on his skin. Opening your eyes you meet his with an unwavering stare you need him to understand how much you mean what you’re about to say.

“Yeah, I choose you Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at your admission, your lips kissing the inside of his wrist. It’s hard to keep up with all the emotions that flash through his eyes but when they finally settle on you, a small smirk pulling up at the corner of his mouth.

“Say it again.”

With a wide smile you’ll do anything he wants.

“I choose you.”

Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you flush against his chest, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Just say it one more time for me.” With that shit eating grin on his face how could you say no to him.

“I choose you Steve Harring-“

Cutting you off with his his lips, they move against yours with so much intensity you think you might faint. Tongues and teeth clashing together trying to convey the depth of your feelings through a kiss. Only breaking away when the need to breathe becomes too much.

“I want to take care of you tonight, will you let me do that?” Your request is sweet when it leaves your lips, noses pressed together you could stay this close to him forever.

Licking his lips all he can do is nod, no one ever asking him that before. Steve the baby sitter. Steve the caregiver.

Pressing your lips to his one last time you gently pull away, grabbing his hand you lead him back to the familiar place on his leather couch. Pushing him down gently you stand between his legs, removing your coat you toss it to the side before your fingers curl under your sweater pulling it up and over your head discarding it the same.

“Fuck baby, you’re so beautiful.” His feet curl behind yours pushing you forward, sitting up straight his face is eye level with your chest. Gentle fingers trace up your stomach goosebumps covering your skin, their tips hit the bottom of your bra before wrapping around your torso pulling you in so he can pepper kisses where he just touched.

Your fingers finally tangle themselves into his hair, something you’ve wanted to do for days. A content sigh leaving your lips as his kisses become sloppier, teeth nipping after each one.

“Hey, hey hey.” You finally give once his mouth makes its way to the tops over your breasts tongue darting out over the curve of your cleavage.

“Hmmm?” Its muffled as his fingers make their way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work to remove the offending fabric from blocking his view.

“ I said I want to take care of you tonight.”

Finally peeling himself from your chest, he looks up at you a devilish smirk on his lips as he gently glides the two straps down your shoulders.

“This isn’t taking care of me?” Arching an eye brow he tosses your bra off landing on the already growing pile of clothes on the floor. “Fuck, it’s only been a few days but sweetheart you take my god damn breath away.”

Steve’s words and the way he’s looking at you makes your skin flush, biting your bottom lip you drop down to your knees. You can already tell he’s ready, the tent in his sweat pants becoming more prominent as each piece of your clothing comes off. Wrapping your fingers around his calves you slowly slide your hands up his legs, the bulge his pants growing as you inch your way up the top of his thighs. When your fingers curve over the top of his sweat pants it’s your turn to arch a brow.

“No, this is what I meant when I said I wanted to take care of you Stevie.”

Pulling them down you push them to his ankles, pleasantly surprised at his lack of underwear when his cock slaps against his stomach. The sight making your thighs press together, the growing wetness between your legs needing friction.

Greedy fingers wrap around his length and you can feel just how hard he is in your hands, flattening your tongue you lick a stripe from his base to his head, before taking the mushroom top between your lips collecting the precum with a swirl of your tongue letting it fall from your mouth with a loud exaggerated pop.

“Holy shit.” Steve huffs throwing his head back, big hands covering his face.

From where your sat between his legs on the floor, you can see the peak of his happy trail from under his shirt. Biting your lip you can’t help but rest your head against his thigh, admiring the view of him in front of you.

Slowly dragging his hands down his face, his eyes meet yours from between his fingers. He thinks you look like a vision looking up at him with that lovestruck look in your eyes. Reaching down he cups your face with a warm hand, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheek bone.

“I just need you to know how much you deserve.” Its barely above a whisper when it leaves your mouth.

You can see the tears form in his eyes when his thumb falters at your words, turning your face you kiss the palm of his hand again before gently moving it away. Wrapping your fingers around his length you waste no time taking him fully into the heat of your mouth. Determined to make him feel good your tongue swirls around him as you bob up at down. Hands wrapped around anything you couldn’t fit you pump him with a slow and steady rhythm.

“Baby, baby, baby” Steve is a whimpering mess underneath you. Fingers gripping tightly in your hair you let him guide the pace.

Humming you take a hand to cup his heavy balls adding more suction with your mouth hollowing out your cheeks. The action makes Steve’s legs start to shake cuss words falling from his lips with closed eyes.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.” He gets out through gritted teeth gently tugging at your hair trying to get your attention.

Letting him fall from your lips, a trail of spit still connects you to his messy head. “That’s kind of the point Steve.”

“No, no I wanna be inside you when I cum. I need to be inside you sweetheart.” Tugging your arm he pulls you to your feet, fingers making quick work of the button of your jeans.

Resting your hands on the top of his shoulders you keep your balance as he gently tugs them down your legs, giving you enough leverage to step out of them. He sucks a breath in when he sees the wet patch on your underwear.

“All this for me?” He doesn’t look at you when he asks almost like he’s talking to himself amazed at how worked up you are. Fingers curl around the sides of your panties as he pushes them down his finger tips dancing across your legs.

“Your shirt needs to come off too.” You mumble feeling more exposed then him, a subtle blush spreading across your cheeks at his hungry stare.

“Anything you want.” Its simple when he says it but you can see the deeper meaning buried behind his eyes when they meet yours.

Tugging it off he tosses it aside before pulling you on his lap, with your legs on either side of him you can feel all of him like this. With his hard length pressed between your slick folds he cups your face between his hands holding your gaze, he just wants to look at you. You can’t believe there’s still nervousness hiding behind the way he’s staring at you.

Capturing his lips in a messy kiss, one hand snakes between the two of you guiding him to your entrance. Breaking away with foreheads pressed together you wait till he’s looking at you before you tell him.

“I love you.”

Sinking yourself down on him you don’t give him time to respond. Loud moans mixing together as he bottoms out inside of you. His hands leave their place from your face to grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh trying to hold you in place. The intensity of it all becoming almost too much for him.

“What’d you just say?” He knows what you said, he just wants to hear it again.

Rocking your hips against his firm hold, your lips find his again. They are gentle this time as you try desperately to convey not only how sorry you are for taking so long to catch up, but how much you realized you loved him.

Nipping at his bottom lip you pull away to meet his gaze.

“I said, I love you Steve Harrington.”

His grip on your waist tightens, slowly he pushes himself into you hitting you deeper then he ever had before. Taking his time with you his eyes never leaving yours, holding you in place as he continues to push into you at a slow and steady pace. Feeling every inch of him with each thrust, you can’t help but start to meet his hips when you feel yourself start to get close.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” His lips make their way to your neck when he asks, tongue and teeth scattering bruises across your skin.

All you can do is nod eyes closed tight as his hips start snapping into you with more force, his own orgasm trailing dangerously close behind yours.

“I want you to look at me, I always want you to look at me when you cum.” His voice is just as desperate as his hips, pulling you forward he presses his forehead against yours his eyes meeting yours with such intensity you almost forget how to breathe.

“I love you too.”

His words and the fervor of his hips is enough to send you over the edge, nails digging into his shoulders as your legs shake around his thighs. His name won’t stop falling from your lips. Doing as he asks you keep your eyes on his while the intensity of your orgasm rakes through your body.

The feeling of your soft walls fluttering around him and the look of pure bliss in your eyes is enough for his cock twitch before he’s spilling himself deep inside of you catching the end of your orgasm with his own. The rapture of it all making tears fall from the corners of his eyes.

Pressing feather light kisses across his face you whisper how much you love him against the heat of his skin as he falls apart inside of you. Your fingers combing through his damp hair as you wait for him to come to.

Wiping a tear from his cheek you press more kisses to his face “I’m right here baby.”

His arms wrap themselves around you somehow pulling you even closer, its his turn to be shy burying himself in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t hide from me now Harrington, we just confessed our love for each other.” Your fingers gently tug at his soft hair needing to see his face again.

When his watering eyes meet yours, the adoration dancing around them is enough to make you heart swell.

“Say it again?” His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks.

You would spend every moment of forever saying these next three words to Steve Harrington if that’s what he wanted.

It was the way Eddie looked at her like she put the stars in the sky that really killed you. You kept telling yourself to stop staring at them, but the masochist in you kept yourself pressed against the wall in Steve Harrington’s living room. Red solo cup in hand filled whatever concoction that was thrown together in the large punch bowl, watching your best friend fall in love with someone that wasn’t you from across the party.

“One hour till Midnight!”

Rolling your eyes you throw back the rest of your drink, the warmth of the liquor coating your stomach. When you see Eddie start playing with Chrissy’s perfect pony tail while he’s got her caged between himself and table you decide you’ve finally had enough. Pushing yourself off the wall that had been your home for most of the night you shove through the sea of dancing drunks, the bass of the loud music vibrating under your feet. You don’t even understand why Steve throws these parties, every time you would find him at one he never seemed like he was ever having any fun. This one though, this one you knew he threw in hopes Nancy would come. Ever since Jonathan moved to California his determination to get her back has been at an all time high. But when Nancy shows up tucked under Jonathan’s arm excitedly telling every one the story about how he surprised her, Steve disappears. Unlike you he didn’t like to torture himself. At least not to the degree you were willing to go.

The kitchen is empty when you walk in, letting out a relived sigh not having to engage in small talk with anyone. You make your way to the crystal punch bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, stepping on cups, streamers, and party hats on the way.

“Slobs” you mutter under your breath.

You’ll help Steve clean up tomorrow, misery loves company right? At the rate you were drinking you weren’t making it home tonight. Even after a night of pathetic pining you weren’t going to subject yourself to a car ride home with the two of them.

“It’s still not midnight yet?” The sound of Steve’s voice makes your blue eyes snap up from the red liquid you were pouring in your cup. He looks like someone kicked his dog. You can’t help but want to reach out and hug him because you know exactly how it feels, and something tells you that you probably look the same.

“I’m afraid not.” You hum with an equally sullen tone taking a big gulp from your cup.

Steve’s eyes go soft on you taking in your slightly wobbly frame, filling up your red solo cup for probably the sixth time that night. Steve knows how you feel about Eddie, you two had actually become closer in your similar predicaments. It just felt good to be with someone who understood how much it hurt all the time. On nights where neither one of you could stand being alone, you’d keep him company in his giant empty house, with his parents never anywhere to be found It had become a comfort to both of you. So much of a comfort that your weekly hangs outs had become almost nightly. You’d spend your evenings watching whatever movies Robin sent him home with, talking till the sun would slowly peak through his blinds. Sometimes you two wouldn’t even talk at all, wrapped up in each other’s arms you’d do your best to will the loneliness away.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Steve doesn’t even have to ask you twice.

No one notices when the two of you sneak off to the basement together, hand in hand. You can’t help yourself when you take one last look in the direction of Eddie, breaking your own heart into oblivion when you see his lips pressed firmly against hers, fingers still wrapped in that damn pony.

Squeezing Steve’s hand tighter you follow him down the stairs vowing to yourself to never look back.

Steve flicks on the light revealing the one part of the house he’s kept off limits from the rest of the party. It’s your special place.

The sliding glass door that leads to his back yard gives you the perfect view of the crisp cool winter night. The trees look frozen in the cold. There’s a small bar nestled in the corner opposite of the worn leather couch that you had grown to be your favorite place to sleep. His Dad’s expensive crystal glasses twinkle in the moonlight, A half drank glass of already poured bourbon sits on the wood of the coffee table. The TV was on but muted, some New Year’s Eve count down show playing silently. So this is where Steve had been hiding. There’s a small part of you thats mad he left you up there alone to fend for yourself, but a new feeling rises up in you one that you weren’t expecting when you realize tonight was never about you. Jealousy.

“Wanna glass? It’s better then whatever that punch is that you’ve been pounding all night.” He’s smirking slightly reaching over to grab the solo cup from your hands, his finger tips brush against the top of yours and you think it’s the alcohol that makes his light touch go straight to your core. You couldn’t actually like Steve could you? You were in love with Eddie and he was in love with Nancy. You two didn’t make sense. His hazel eyes stare intently into yours almost as if mirroring your thoughts pouring the expensive liquor into an even more expensive glass. You run your fingers along the top of the couch nervously before taking your usual spot next to his empty one.

“Thanks for finally saving me Harrington, only took you less then an hour till midnight to do it.” you can’t help but give him a hard time, hoping your usual banter will ease the new tension you can feel stifling the air.

“Yeah, look I’m sorry about that I just needed to be alone for a minute. This whole night kinda blew up in my face if you hadn’t noticed.” There’s a light clink of the matching bottle closing before he makes his way over to you, Steve’s fingers are gripping around the rim of the glass when he’s hands it to you, your eyes becoming eye level with the crotch of his jeans. How had you never noticed how well they fit before? The sight makes you swallow thickly shaking your head, a creeping guilt for thinking of someone other then Eddie like that.

When you meet his apologetic eyes you can see they are slightly bloodshot. Steve had been crying and it almost makes you want to burst into tears yourself.

Taking the drink from him you quickly reach out with your free hand grabbing tightly onto his before he can pull it away. Steve doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t try to move, his eyes locked onto yours the two of you stay in a comfortable silence. The bass and muffled chatter from the party upstairs drown out the sound of the quickened beats of your hearts.

“It’s okay Steve.” It’s simple when it leaves your mouth in just above a whisper afraid your voice might crack “We’re gonna be okay.” You decide in this moment comforting Steve is going to be the only way to make you feel better too.

You rub soft circles with your thumb on the top of his hand there’s something unrecognizable dancing behind his eyes when they darken, the intensity of it making you shift deeper into the cushions of the couch tugging at him as you go.

For the first time all night you see Steve smile, this one just reaching his eyes but you’ll take it. Grabbing his own drink off the table Steve only lets go of your hand to get situated in his usual spot next to you. The short sleeves of his dark blue polo accentuate the muscles in his arm as it lifts to wrap around you, tucking you tightly into his side. His fingers tangle themselves into your hair scratching lightly at your scalp, a position you two have found yourselves in before. Something felt different about this time, the lazy strokes of his fingers make your eyes roll in the back of your head the smell of his cologne swirling around you invading your senses makes you dizzy.

“At least we have each other tonight.” He whispers his lips ghosting over your hair line all you can do is nod into his chest, lost in the feeling of his touch. You wished you weren’t holding this damn glass of bourbon you didn’t even want, the strong urge to wrap your arms around him greedy to get him closer.

“We got 15 minutes left of this god awful night.” Your eyes snap open to see the countdown on the TV screen, the seconds slowly clicking down. The thought of Eddie pulling Chrissy in for a kiss instead of the sloppy cheek kisses you’d grown accustomed to every year at midnight made you want to slam the expensive liquor down your throat, and that’s exactly what you did. Pulling roughly away from Steve you down your drink, it’s surprisingly smooth as it slides down your throat. Warmth tingling through your whole body as you slam the glass down on the coffee table burying your face in your hands.

“hey, hey! Holy shit that was a sipper y/n” It takes Steve a minute to process your sudden outburst when his eyes go back to the TV he sees a couple kissing giddily confetti falling around them. Setting his glass down he scoots closer to you, your thighs press together as his hand starts rubbing softly up an down your back with gentle pressure. It was Steve’s turn to comfort you.

“He’s an idiot, I should know he’s my friend too.” Steve tries when you don’t lift your head up he bites his lip desperately wanting you back. “It’s never gonna want to work with him and Chrissy, not in the long run.”

That makes you snap you head up at him, the rage and hurt in your eyes has him drowning.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice Steve, someone’s after thought. Like ‘Oh, I guess y/n’s always been there lets give that a try.’ “

With your faces inches from each other Steve is finally noticing just how beautiful you are. Steve had always thought you were attractive but with you both so wrapped up in other people he never noticed just how much you took his breath away. The way the moonlight from the window is hitting the shine in your hair makes it look like there’s a halo on top of your head.

“What if someone didn’t know you were a choice.”

Your eyes widen at the double meaning in Steve’s words, his hazel eyes hold a nervous glint in them as they dart back and fourth from your lips.

“Steve” his name falls from your lips in a whisper, you don’t pull away too afraid to say anything but not wanting him to stop either. His hand travels from your back to the nape of your neck, his fingers wrap around the curve pulling you towards him. Your eyes are locked on each other, silently trying to communicate how much you both need this right now.

His lips brush against yours for the first time and it makes you suck a breath in, your body already reacting to him. His other hand comes up finger tips dancing across your cheek, before they tangle themselves into your hair pulling you in finally closing the gap.

You weren’t expecting to like kissing Steve so much, but when his tongue runs along your bottom lip all you want is more. When you finally push the unnecessary guilt away and lose yourself in him you can’t help but finally shove both hands in his infamous hair pulling yourself closer, and it’s just as soft as you thought it would be.

Steve grunts lightly when you give his hair a gentle tug, your tongues dancing for dominance in each other’s mouth, his fingers leave their place from your neck to dig into the soft flesh of your hips the thin material of your dress riding up as he pulls you on his lap, the bulge hidden underneath his denim hits your clit at just the right angle when your knees rest on either side of his thighs, the moan that leaves your mouth is almost pornographic. With just the fabric of your underwear as a barrier you know exactly why his pants fit him so well now, and you can feel Steve’s lips turn up into a cocky smirk against yours.

His mouth leaves yours to leave wet sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking at the special spot in the dip that you never told anyone about. Rocking your hips against his you can feel the pressure of your orgasm starting to build at the delicious friction of his denim. Your hands still buried in his hair you pull him even closer needing more. Steve was making you needy.

“Tell me what you want.” he breaks away nipping the spot he as just sucking on, his hands keeping a firm grip on your hips, rocking you at a slow pace against him. When he looks up at you, you’ve only seen his eyes look like that when they were directed at Nancy. But Steve was looking at you like that tonight.

“I want you.” You hold his gaze when you say it, you want him to know that you’re sure. You’re sure of him.

Leaving his place from your neck he captures your lips again, your words giving him all the confidence he needs. They move against you more sure and deliberate then before, slower. When your tongues meet each other again they move lazily against each other, your hips still grinding at his slow pace you know you’re leaving a mark on his jeans.

“Need you Steve.” You can’t wait anymore reaching down between you two popping the button of his jeans, helping you he shimmy’s his pants down just enough for his erection to pop out of its painful confines. He was even bigger then you had pictured, with a slight curve you could see the large vein popping out of the side. All the rumors you heard in school were true.

Biting your lip you reach out wrapping your hands around him his hips jutting up to meet your grip.

“Fuck- you got me so hard baby.” Hearing how worked up you had Steve made your strokes more deliberate loving how good you were making him feel, you could feel yourself becoming addicted to it. “Need to be inside you before midnight.”

Almost forgetting there was an entire New Years Eve Party going on upstairs you turn around to look at the TV to see 3 minutes. 3 minutes until everything changes.

Lifting yourself up on your knees you push your soaked panties to the side, lining him up at your entrance. His tip hits your barrier and it makes him throw his head back against the couch, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips.

“So fucking wet - jesus.”

Working slowly at his length you push yourself down on him, your walls sucking him in tightly and it makes you feel full when you are completely sat on his lap. Your hands shoot out grabbing onto his shoulders needing him to feel grounded.

“You’re so big baby, fuck you feel so good Steve.” Your voice comes out in a whine as you slowly start to rock yourself against him, the curve of his dick hitting your sweet spot with every jut of your hips.

“God, it’s like your swallowing me alive sweetheart. I’m not gonna last long” he makes quick work of the straps of your dress pulling it down to reveal the blue lace of your bra, taking two handfuls his eyes watch as your tits move up and down with each bounce. The moon light hitting you perfectly for the second time tonight, Steve thinks you look absolutely gorgeous riding his dick. You’ve been here this whole time.

“10”

The chant of the party upstairs has both of you becoming desperate to find your release, Steve’s hips starting to meet yours with every thrust. The new intensity has you teetering over the edge, and you can feel your eyes start to close as the tension builds.

“9”

Steve’s movements become more sporadic as his own orgasm threatens to burst, and he wants your lips again. He needs your lips again, grabbing your chin he roughly pulls you to him. You kiss like your trying to devour each other both of you needing more even this close and you can feel your walls start to flutter around him.

“8”

“I’m so close Steve, I’m gonna cum.” Your lips break away from his as you focus your attention on finding your high, rolling your hips trying to take him even deeper. His hands rest on your thighs giving you an encouraging squeeze sitting back slightly watching you take what you want from him. “Look at me when you cum, you’re so beautiful like this.”

“7”

Steve’s words are enough to send you flying over the edge, your eyes never leave his when your orgasm washes over you, nails digging into his shoulders, back arched, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“6”

“Jesus- that was so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me cum baby.” Steve’s grip on your hips gets even tighter as he starts chasing his own release, his hips pushing up into you in a desperate rhythm. He’s close.

“5”

When you finally calm down enough to get a good look at Steve, his hair is everywhere but somehow looks like it’s exactly where it’s suppose to be, bouncing with each thrust of his hips. His eyes look blown out, completely taken over by lust and they swallow you whole. His bottom lip is tugged between his teeth and all you can think about is how much you can’t wait to kiss him again.

“4”

You hands leave their place from Steve’s shoulders to cup his cheeks holding his face as his thrusts become short and quick you kiss the tip of his nose and his cheeks before you hover above his lips “Let go for me baby, you did so good.”

“3”

When Steve cums he thinks he might cry, your words mixed with the way your walls continued to close around him the entire time milking him for everything he was worth, he doesn’t think he’s ever cum this hard in his life. Perched on his lap, your hair mussed up from his fingers, your lips swollen from his lips, Steve wishes he could take a picture.

“2”

Both your hands find their way back into his hair, knowing him you better be careful with that not wanting him to think you’re obsessed but you can’t resist. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, the remains of you two slowly leaking out as you pull yourself closer to him.

“What do you want for the new year Harrington?”

“1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR”

Steve doesn’t answer you, crashing his lips into yours he does his best to try and show you just how special this night was, how special all your nights have been. He’d just been a fool to not see what was in front of him and if Eddie wasn’t going to show you how special you were he was going to his damnedest to try to.

────────

“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.

When you’d grown tired of just twiddling your thumbs, you finally called Jaxon’s sister, Suze. The phone rang for nearly a full minute before you heard, “...Hello?” She sounded groggy.

“Hey, Suze, just making sure you made it in.”

“Wh—Huh?”

“Jax told me about coming to pick you up, so I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“He told you what? Sorry, I’m still half asleep—I haven’t seen Jax today.”

You sighed. Honestly, you should’ve known. 

You muttered off apologies to Suze—Sorry, I think I got mixed up, goodnight—before hanging the phone back on the hook so aggressively it rang out in the quiet studio. 

Peeking through the glass into the booth, you watched Eddie, the frontman of the band, pick at his guitar. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell by the papers crumpled up at his feet and the way he seemed to be singing softly to himself that the new song wasn’t coming along as smoothly as the band had been hoping for.

You heard Gareth and Jeff grumbling about the track as they left earlier. It seemed they were at a stalemate. 

You flopped back onto the sofa, snatching the Rolling Stone magazine from the coffee table. Of course, it was Corroded Coffin’s 1989 issue. You had this exact issue in your apartment, sitting on your coffee table too, actually, but you couldn’t help but drink in the cover like it was the first time you’d seen it.

Eddie stood in the middle, looking down at the camera. His chest was bare, showing the expanse of his pale skin littered with black ink. His guitar rested against his lower half, partially blocking his pants, but the shine of the leather was still noticeable. His fingers, adorned with rings, of course, gripped the neck of the guitar. One eyebrow was quirked slightly beneath his bangs; his lips were parted gently. You could see his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek.

Jax, Jeff, and Gareth were around him, posed similarly, albeit more clothed—almost every rock band of the era was going for this look—but there was something about Eddie that kept drawing your eyes back to him. He oozed charisma and sex appeal, even through the glossy pages. 

You guessed that was why he was the frontman.

You flicked through the magazine, attempting to read the stories but inevitably skimming through them. You’d just read it too many times.

Not long after, the door clicked open and Eddie emerged. 

His hair was sticking up like he’d been running his fingers through it (he probably had been). Despite it being just a studio day with no planned public appearances, he still wore a studded belt and rings on nearly every finger.

He blinked at you, stuttering out your name. “I didn’t realize anyone was still here. Jax said you had to go pick up Susan—”

“He,” you corrected, flopping the magazine back atop the table. “He went to get Suze.” You put airquotes around the latter part of your statement. Jax’s behavior wasn’t exactly a secret, so what was the point in even pretending?

Eddie’s forehead wrinkled like he was holding back a wince. “Shit, I’m sorry—and he just what? Left you here?”

“Said he was coming back to get me, but I guess he got too lost in whatever groupie’s pussy—” You sighed, scrubbing your eye with a fist as heat rushed to your face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shot you a small smile. It was laced with something close to pity. “I mean you have every right to be mad, sweetheart; he—” He raised a ringed hand to scratch above his eyebrow. “Honestly, I thought you were done after the Layna incident.”

Layna was a well-known Corroded Coffin groupie. Around a year ago, she’d totally disappeared from the scene, then reappeared three months ago with a baby, claiming Jax was the father. Too bad Jax admitted to fucking her before the paternity test came back negative.

You don’t think you could ever forget the way his face fell when he heard the news—like he’d wanted to be the father. You’d left for around three weeks before coming back that time.

It wasn’t even that you still had feelings for Jax. It’d be impossible for that at this point. It was more so just routine, and sure, maybe it was selfish, but you enjoyed hanging around with the band.

Drinking and hanging out with Jeff’s girlfriend, Livie, at concerts; dinner with Gareth and his wife, Aleah, on Sundays. Sure, you could’ve still hung out with Livie and Aleah without being Jax’s girlfriend, but you wouldn’t have had an excuse to see Eddie anymore. It’d dwindle to only seeing him on paper or grainy television screens.

You couldn’t imagine he’d hang out with his bassist’s ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah. Me too, to be honest.” You sighed. “How’s the song coming? It sounded good earlier.”

Eddie sighed back, moving to plop next to you. He let his head fall back against the top of the couch, his eyes closed. “It’s, hah, I dunno.” He turned to look at you. “Missin’ something, I guess.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” You wrung your hands together in your lap, giving him a small smile.

Sitting on the couch like this, your faces were close. You forced yourself to keep your gaze on his nose and above—no glancing down any further. 

But Eddie didn’t abide by this rule. His eyes darted down to your lips. He must’ve not meant to do it because he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and successfully hiding his face from you. He cleared his throat.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked.

You raised your eyebrows, but before you could answer, he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions again. “Sorry—I’m sorry. I dunno why I—” He ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know why I asked you that. ‘M being unfair.”

“It’s—You’re fine.” You tried to keep your voice steady despite the confusion that was rising within you.

“Can I ask you something?” He was looking at you again.

“Sure.”

“Why are you still with him?”

You blinked. You couldn’t pretend you hadn’t been asking yourself that same question.

“Guess I just got used to it. It’s my routine…” You shook your head. “Honestly, I don’t know. He treats me like shit. Left me to go ‘pick up his sister.’ I called her, and she hadn’t even talked to him. I mean, I already knew he was lying…Well, I figured he was. Still, it–it fucking sucks that he sucks.” You laughed a little, self-pityingly. 

You sighed again. You mumbled, “Dick’s good, I guess.” An afterthought to yourself, really. You weren’t sure why you said it to Eddie Munson of all people. It wasn’t like it made you look any less pathetic—only made it worse, if anything. You dropped your head in shame the moment the words left your mouth. 

Why would you bring up your sex life with your shitty boyfriend to his very attractive bandmate—

“Yeah right.”

Your head snapped up and over to Eddie. For a moment, you thought you might’ve imagined it. “Wh—huh?”

Eddie, who any other time was the opposite of nonchalant, was suddenly cool and composed. He shook his head as one shoulder rose. “Just find that hard to believe, ‘s all.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from retorting,“You some kind of sex expert or something?” Oh God, why did you say that, why did you say that, he’s going to think you’re a total freak—

“Maybe. Never heard that one before, but I haven’t heard any complaints either.” 

Heat rose up your neck. 

Haven’t heard any complaints. 

Suddenly you were plagued with the images of the girls you’d seen leaving Corroded Coffin’s shared apartment. Girls with makeup smeared across their faces, their hair a mess—even then you’d known just sleeping didn’t make you look like that, but you’d forced the thought from your head.

“Know I’m better than your shithead boyfriend, that’s for sure.”

You couldn’t stop your brows from shooting high on your forehead. Eddie was talking about Jax like they weren’t bandmates—weren’t friends. Your thoughts must’ve been clear on your face because Eddie added, huffing out a laugh, “You ever see me get along with him?”

Your gut instinct was to say yes, but the more you mulled it over…had you?

You thought back to last week at the bar. Had you seen Jax and Eddie speak? You could only remember Eddie addressing you. Then, a few weeks earlier, at their apartment for dinner…again, only you. 

Your face flushed. You’d been so caught up in your own interactions with Eddie, you hadn’t even noticed the tension between the two.

“I could be better than him.” Eddie was so close, you could see specks of gold in his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

“What are you saying?” you asked, eyes trailing from the curve of his lips up to where his eyes seemed to be boring into you.

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

“Are you really playing games right—mmph—”

A flash of brown hair was the only warning you received before his lips met your own. Your eyes were wide and you were taken with how soft his lips were. Frozen, you couldn’t get your body to react.

Eddie was kissing you. He was kissing you, and it wasn’t weird. He was kissing you, and he tasted like cherry chapstick and tobacco.

He slowly pulled away, and you realized you hadn’t kissed him back—you’d just sat there, unmoving. His eyes darted away from you. “Oh Christ, I’m sorry I–I don’t know wh—mmph—”

You rushed forward, meeting his lips again. For a moment, like you had been, he was frozen in place, but he quickly relaxed into it. His hand met your hair, and you easily let his tongue into your mouth as his grip tightened on you.

You brought your own hands up to his chest as his hand shifted from your hair to your neck, tugging you closer to him. You moved together, the only sound in the empty room the slick clicks of your mouths.

Eddie pulled back, rubbing his nose against yours. “Can I ask you something?” His thumb was running up and down the side of your throat, and you worked hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

“Ye—” You cleared your throat. “Yeah.”

His eyes left yours. “Feel free to smack the shit out of me if you want—”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He didn’t look convinced, so you added, “I’m not gonna hit you, okay? Just ask.”

“Well,” he started. “I had this idea for the record—”

Okay. Maybe you would smack the shit out of him. “Is now really the time for that?”

“Yeah, actually.” He glanced from you to the recording booth. “The record—What it’s missing—” He sighed before starting again. “I think you can help me.”

You leaned back in his grip to laugh. “Me? I can’t sing, let alone play an instrument. I can’t even play the triangle.” 

“I think you can do the kinda singing I need.” His eyes darted down across your body, and it felt like they’d shot lasers at you.

“Wh—I’m not sure I know what you’re saying.”

“I don’t mean to make assumptions here, sweetheart, but if we, ahem, keep goin’...” He nodded his head as he spoke, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Could we move it to the booth?”

“You mean—” You blinked and gestured a finger at the both of you.

“Yes.” He quickly added, “But only if you want to.”

“But…everybody’ll hear me.”

“Nobody has to know it’s you. I won’t say anything.” A small smile peeked at his lips. “It can be our secret.”

Your secret. Your secret with Eddie. It made you giddy like a schoolgirl to think about. You could be on the song. More specifically, you and Eddie having sex could be on the song. You didn’t want to dwell on why that made your stomach flip and your neck hot. 

Everyone who bought the record would hear you and Eddie. Even before that, the band would hear you and Eddie. The band, including Jaxon, would hear you and Eddie—

“Oh my god Jaxon.” Your stomach flipped again but this time, soured. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about Jaxon—He’ll hear and–and he’ll know—”

“I thought you said you didn’t know why you were still with him?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“This’ll show him he can’t get away with just treating you like this. He’s always blowing you off and treating you like shit. Somebody needs to show him what happens when you take a pretty girl—a good girl—who has always done right by you and you treat her like garbage.” Eddie’s chest was nearly heaving, and he looked down at himself slightly, like he wasn’t sure where all that had come from. “But—I mean—only if you want to. Of course.”

You swallowed. He had a point. I mean, where was Jaxon now? Definitely not with his sister, that was for sure. You thought back to the number of times he’d ditched you and were embarrassed to realize it was easily in the double digits just this month. 

You frowned. When had you decided you were fine with being treated like a doormat? When had you decided that this was what you were worth—

Eddie must’ve interpreted your silence as rejection. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to bash you or–or something. I just—You deserve better.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to do this with me. Or–Or you can, but we don’t have to—” He shot a thumb back towards the recording booth. “You can forget I asked. I can figure something out. It’s, uh, not a big deal.”

You wondered what ‘figuring something out’ looked like. Dropping the idea all together and trying something else for the record? Or asking someone else?

Your stomach rolled at the idea of Eddie asking another woman. You knew he wouldn’t have any issues doing so either. Part of you knew it was unfair to be jealous about it, but that didn’t matter. 

You stood from the couch abruptly. You had made your mind up—honestly, you had made your mind up the moment he asked you.

“We can just forget this happened—” he started, but instead of moving towards the exit, you moved towards the door to the booth.

“Are you coming or what?” you asked, narrowly biting back a smirk. 

You’d never seen him move so fast.

You tried to maintain your confidence, but something about Eddie melted it down to mush. “B-But is it—”

“It’s recording, sweetheart; don’t worry.” 

You were both seated on a couch in the recording booth. You hadn’t ever thought of Eddie as muscular per se, but he’d pulled the couch from the studio into the booth effortlessly. 

He cradled your neck as he planted kisses along your throat.

“Oh—Okay.” You were nodding, and you knew you should’ve been embarrassed at how desperate you were from just a few kisses.

Eddie sure didn’t seem to mind. His cool rings pressed against your neck as he pulled you closer to him. You braced yourself with both hands on his shoulders, quickly moving them to caress up and down his shoulders in an attempt to mask the fact you were truly gripping him for dear life.

Getting impatient at the attention your neck was getting, you grabbed his hand from your waist, moving it to your center. You felt his teeth as he smiled against you.

He pulled the button from your pants with one deft hand, and you bit back the jealousy that was stewing. How many women had he practiced on to get that just right? Not that you had any room to talk considering you had a boyfriend, albeit a shitty one, but—

You didn’t have time to overthink when Eddie immediately tucked your panties to the side to run agile fingers up and down your folds. You instantly noticed the calloused pads of his fingertips—that of a guitarist.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He leaned back to rub his nose along your cheekbone. “You get this wet for him, or is this just for me?”

For a moment, a stab of guilt ran up your spine, making you sit up straighter, but it quickly morphed to arousal when you felt the tip of his finger dip into you.

“Eddie, I—mmph—” He trailed his finger back up to dance around your clit, never quite giving you the pressure you needed.

“Yeah? Tell me something, baby.” He was still nosing across your face.

“D-Don’t wanna talk about him.”

“Hm, that’s right. You don’t need him when I’m here, huh?”

You shook your head shamelessly—the wetness between your legs had already given your desperation away.

Eddie smiled. “Sweet girl.”

You leaned into him at the nickname, making him chuckle. 

Suddenly, he took a step back, pulling his hand from your pants, leaving you suddenly cold without the warm touch of his fingers.

Your lower lip jutted out into a pout, and he chuckled at you again. “I know. Here.” He tapped his fingers that had just been at your cunt across your lips. “Get ‘em wet for me, baby.”

You opened your mouth instinctively, wrapping your lips around the digits. Overcome with the desire to be good for him—to even remotely wreck him the way he already had you—you bobbed your head, taking his fingers down to the glittering silver along his knuckles.

He was watching you, his lips slightly parted as you gagged around his fingers. “Knew you’d have a sweet fuckin’ mouth.”

You gagged around him, the sound wet and humiliating, but you couldn’t be embarrassed—not when his mouth lolled open while he watched. You went to bob your head again, but he withdrew his fingers, leaving your mouth empty and waiting.

Without hesitation, he gripped your cheek, four digits on one side, his thumb on the other, as he pulled your mouth to his. He spread your saliva across your cheek with his fingers.

With your chest heaving, you could only peer at him through your lashes.

Eddie paused, drinking in your features. “Is–Is this okay?” He moved like he was going to retract his hand from your face.

You nodded eagerly, grabbing his hand to keep it there. You nuzzled your face towards his hand as best you could with his grip on you. “I—” Your face was warm, and you were starting to feel a little dizzy. “I like it dirty.”

For a split second, you couldn’t read his expression. But then, you noticed the sparkle in his eye. “Yeah? Sweet girl likes it dirty? I should’ve known.” He tilted your chin back. He planted a surprisingly chaste peck on your lips before murmuring, “Open your mouth.”

You blinked up at him, and God, all he could think about was painting your pretty fucking face with his load. Especially when your lips parted so obediently. 

He didn’t hesitate to spit directly into your waiting mouth, not missing the way your thighs pressed together. He watched your throat bob as you swallowed his warm spit, shamelessly removing his wet hand from your face to adjust himself in his jeans.

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Tell me,” he insisted.

“Yeah.” Your voice came out breathy and high. “Yeah, I like it, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he practically groaned. “I need to see you.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else, instantly moving to pull your pants down, stumbling about in your attempts to be swift. You felt your face heat, but when you looked over at Eddie, he was too busy pulling his own belt from its loops and shucking his pants down to his ankles, just as desperate.

As if he felt you staring, he suddenly looked up. His hair was unruly against his forehead, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed deeply. His eyes darted from yours, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks were dusted pink, but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting.

You lifted your hips to finish pulling your bottoms over the swell of your ass, and Eddie quickly jumped into action. His jeans rustled as he kicked them off his legs. One foot got caught at the bottom, causing him to jump and flail until it flew onto the floor with a thump.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you.

Here was Eddie Munson—rock band frontman, guy you’d seen smash paparazzi cameras for getting too close—dancing around, trying to get his pants down his legs. 

Somehow, he made it not dorky, though. Okay, maybe it was dorky, but he managed to make it charming.

“Whatcha laughing at?” He approached you again.

You would’ve thought Eddie was the type of guy to wear tight black briefs. In your head, he was in a perpetual state of chains and leather. But instead, he wore a pair of loose blue checkered boxers, clearly choosing comfort over his typical garb.

He put his hands against your pants at your knees, looking up at you from beneath his bangs. He raised his eyebrows at you. “Is this okay?” He suddenly sounded worlds smaller.

You nodded incessantly, helping him tug your pants the rest of the way down your calves. He balled them up and threw them in the general direction of where his own pants were. 

You pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he quickly got the hint, pulling it over his head. 

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times. There was the Rolling Stone cover (along with countless other magazines), outdoor Corroded Coffin shows where he’d inevitably end up shirtless, even days when he’d invite the band over to his fancy rooftop apartment to lounge by the pool in the summertime. But you’d never been this close.

Close enough to see the spot on his chest beneath his collarbone where the one of the legs on his spider tattoo was a shade more faded than the rest.

Your gaze shifted down his torso to the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his boxers. Suddenly struck with the fact you’d been blatantly ogling him for the past few minutes, you looked back up to his face quickly, expecting to find him already staring at you.

He was staring at you, just not at your face like you’d expected.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where his gaze was, but it was without a doubt far below your neck.

You were naked, sure, but something about the way he was so openly peering at you made you feel even a step past naked. It was like he’d stripped a layer of you back, and was looking at you completely. It made your skin prick with something beyond arousal. 

For a moment, you wanted to sink in on yourself—you couldn’t name a time you’d felt more exposed. But the way his boxers were tented replaced any mortification with something hot injected straight into your veins.

He finally looked up at your face, shameless about being caught, and leaned in, closing the gap between you. Your lips met and his moved against yours like second nature.

His tongue licked into your mouth like he was trying to map it. You suckled at the warmth of his tongue as he began to pull at the hem of your shirt. You parted long enough for your shift to join the pile of the rest of your clothes. 

Eddie’s hand met your face and caressed you gently, a stark contrast for the way his tongue was ravaging your mouth. Your chest heaved as you moved impossibly closer to him, centimeters from being entirely in his lap.

“Here,” he mumbled against your lips before softly turning you around until you were over the back of the couch.

Your breasts pressed against the top of the couch, your nipples pebbled on the rough fabric, as your knees sunk into the cushions of the seat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposefully push your ass out, presenting yourself to him.

The wet spot in your underwear was growing uncomfortable and you were painfully aware of it as you pressed your thighs together in a lame attempt to ease the incessant throbbing in your core.

You sat up on your elbows to peer over your shoulder. Eddie was running his tongue over his bottom lip, and when you noticed the slight jerk of his arm, your gaze trailed lower to watch him tug on his cock slowly. You couldn’t help the way you arched your back further.

He’d dropped his boxers just enough to free his cock and for a moment, you (embarrassingly) hated you missed the exact moment he’d pulled it out—hated you missed the way it surely had bobbed up towards his stomach from the sheer weight of it once he’d pulled his underwear down.

He paused at the base to squeeze tightly, and God, it gave you the opportunity to truly admire it.

You knew he would be big. I mean, come on. It was clear by the way he acted that he would be packing. But shit, your imagination really had nothing on the real thing.

Thick and long—you were sure your hand wouldn’t be able to fit around its girth. Against his hand it seemed even bigger. A pronounced vein ran up the side to the rosy tip.

Eddie gave it another slow stroke, a smirk on his face. “Big enough for you, sweetheart?”

Your only response was the slight shift of your shoulder and chin. 

He squeezed his cock, mumbling under his breath, “Too fuckin’ sweet.”

You didn’t have any time to react before Eddie was diving down onto his knees, his mouth latching onto your glistening pussy.

“Oh!” You jumped, and Eddie wrapped his arms beneath your thighs to keep your cunt held tightly against his hungry mouth.

He licked a stripe from your clit to the edge of your tightest hole. For a moment you thought his tongue was going to keep going right across, and you weren’t sure if you liked the way the mere idea of it made heat crawl up your neck, but he stopped to pull back.

“Sweet girl, even sweeter cunt.”

Cunt.

“Eddie,” you whined, feeling your heartbeat in your ears.

He sucked two fingers into his mouth before you felt them run along your slit.

“Yeah, baby?” He rested his cheek right below the swell of your ass. “Talk to me.”

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the recording equipment surrounding you and picking up every word, sound, and rustle. You dropped your face to the top of the couch, rubbing your nose against it.

“Hey,” Eddie mumbled. His hand shifted and ran across the globe of your ass. “I can delete it if you don’t like it.” His other hand came up, then he was caressing the expanse of your ass broad with both his wide palms. “I’m still enjoying myself, okay? I’m not just doing this for the record, I…” You heard him swallow. “I think you’re gorgeous—fuckin’ perfect, really—and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about you before…like this.” 

Leave it to Eddie to make you blush when he just had his entire face in your cunt. 

You lifted your head to peer over your shoulder at him. “No, no—I, uh. I wanna keep going. And I want you to use it for the record. I just—” You sighed. “I don’t wanna sound stupid.”

He immediately bristled. “You’re not gonna sound stupid.” He brought his hand down a few times on your cheek, not quite a spank. “Here, turn this way.” He helped you maneuver until your back was against the couch cushions. “Help me out, baby.” He pressed your legs up from beneath your knees, and you tucked your arms there, holding yourself open for him.

He made a low sound in his chest, and you realized how exposed you were. You didn’t get bashful though. You managed to keep yourself the way he wanted, even with the way you felt heat rising up beneath your skin.

“Don’t think so hard about it, okay?” Eddie said as he lowered himself back down to you. “It’s just you ‘n me.

And the recording, you thought, but his words eased you nonetheless. 

You were suddenly thankful he had you holding your legs as his nose prodded your hole as he moved to suckle at your clit. 

“Oh, th–that—yeah,” was all you managed to spit out.

“Mhm?” he hummed against you, and you swore you felt it down to your toes.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

A hand reached down to swipe his thumb across your clit as his tongue finally dipped into you.

You whined. “Please.”

“Hm? Talk to me, sweet girl, d’you want it?”

“Mhm, I’wan’it.” Your words all slurred into one another.

When you felt his middle finger prod at your hole, you couldn’t help the desperate sound that left you.

“Yeah? That what you need?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Ah…c’mon. Tell me.”

“That’s what I need, Eddie,” you quickly breathed out. In that moment, you would’ve done anything he asked you.

“There we go,” he said, more to himself, as he finally sunk a finger into you. 

You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore with the sounds that left you. You were so wet, you could hear the slick sucking sound everytime he fucked his finger into you, and he quickly added another. 

“So wet. She’s sucking me in.” He didn’t even look up as he spoke. Your pussy was drooling around his fingers and down his wrist, his rings now coated with milky white. Your clit was puffy and swollen, peeking out with every thrust of his hand.

You raised your hips as he continued, following him as he curled his fingers up into you, hitting that spot. You hadn’t even realized your mouth had been wide open, sounds falling out freely.

“Ed—oh.” You bit your lip harshly. “Your mouth.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, never one stopping his ministrations. “Huh, baby? She want a kiss?”

You nodded eagerly, hands slipping along your thighs that had become balmy with sweat. “Yeah, yeah, please.”

“I’ll give her a kiss, baby.” The last thing you saw before he lowered his head again was the flash of his smile. 

When his lips met you, you gasped. He closed them firmly around your clit and the wet sound was so loud you were certain the microphones were picking it up. You didn’t care anymore—you couldn’t care, not if it felt this good.

His tongue on your swollen bud paired with his fingers inside you—curling so perfectly you swore your vision whited out every time he did it—brought you barreling towards your release. You could barely pant out, “I’m–I’m gonna—” before you were cumming loud and unabashedly. He worked you through it, finally stopping when your whines got especially pitchy. 

The moment he raised up from your core, you dropped your legs, now boneless. Your heartbeat was still a steady pulse in your clit. You caught your breath, swiping the sweat from your face. 

“Good?” Eddie asked, looking a little too smug (though you guessed it was earned).

“Better than good,” you said, your voice already halfway ruined. 

You sat up properly on the couch as Eddie maneuvered back over to his pants, pulling something from his pocket. He turned back around and now had a condom pulled over the length of his dick, making you sit up even straighter. 

Once your legs had stopped feeling like jelly, you had had every intention of returning the favor. You started, “Y’don’t want me to—”

“No, no.” You heard the smack of his hand against his dick. “Fuck. I mean, yeah, sweetheart, ‘course I do, but I need to be inside you, like, now.”

“Next time, then,” you said, narrowly biting back a smirk.

He quirked a brow at you, not bothering to bite back his smirk. “Next time?”

“Yeah.” You spread your legs, making room for him. “If you don’t kill me first.”

He fit perfectly between your legs, crowding you against the couch. His gaze was glued to your slippery cunt as he tapped the spongy tip of his cock against your clit. He raised his eyes long enough to say, “Could say the same for you.”

He slid his length up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices. You tried to be patient, you really did, but when he tapped his head against your clit again with a wet squelch, you couldn’t help the whine that left you.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled. He said it so gently and lovingly, you swore your pussy spit out another half gallon. “I’ll put it in, now you just gotta sing for me. You’ll do that for me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You were nodding eagerly. “Please, please, please just put it in. I need it. I—oh—” 

He sunk in easily, you more than prepared after your first orgasm, but his size still made your breath catch in your throat. He groaned like he wasn’t doing much better.

“She’s choking me, baby, fuck.” He sounded pained, the veins in his arm flexing where he was holding himself up over you. 

It was a stretch, and you could feel every inch of him in you, yet you still clawed at his arms, wanting—no, needing more.

“More, come on, I need it all—” No quicker than the words left your mouth, Eddie pushed all the way in with a loud groan.

Now, it was you that sounded pained, but you’d never felt better in your life. It felt like he’d sunk completely up through your stomach and into your throat. You could feel him everywhere. Your head flew back against cushions and you gripped his bicep as you looked down where you were taking him.

He had been staring up at the ceiling, his mouth wide open, but when he saw where your gaze was locked, he lowered his own, and you watched as his neck all the way down to his chest grew red. 

“Fuck, I’m, fuck—” He pulled out maybe an inch before sinking back in, like he couldn’t bear to pull out. He couldn’t. “She’s sucking me right in.”

Finally, he began to shallowly thrust into you and the grip you had on his bicep tightened as your mouth fell open. His heavy cock was splitting you right open and felt like it was hitting every spot, if that was even possible.

Eddie raised one hand to cup your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “C’mere, baby,” he said lowly.

He lowered his face to yours and spat right into your waiting mouth. As he did, he pulled all the way out, leaving his tip kissing your hole, before plunging back in completely. You didn't recognize the strangled, pornographic sound that left you.

His spit was warm in your mouth and you could feel your slick gushing from between your legs with every thrust of his fat cock. You were easily gripping him for dear life—both with your hands and your cunt. 

He shifted until his dick was kissing that spot that he’d so easily found with his fingers. The sounds—your whining, his moans, the slick sound of your bodies meeting—seemed to bounce off the walls, and the recording equipment couldn’t have been further from your mind. All you could think was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

It seemed to be the same for him, the way your name left his lips in desperate puffs. “Touch yourself, please, I’m so—” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but never once stopped his eager pace.

You dropped your hand between your legs immediately, your fingers slippery as they scrubbed across your clit.

“Right—right there.” You had squeezed your eyes shut. You were right at the edge of your release, you just needed— “Right there, right there, right—ohmygod—”

“Yeah? Yeah, baby? I got you, I fuckin’ got you—” 

You clung to him, your vision spotty and your chest heaving, as you came with a loud whine of his name. He buried himself to the hilt with a shout of your name, the hair at the base of him borderline overstimulating your sensitive clit.

He dropped down against you, his cock softening inside you. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt he was trembling. You weren’t in much better shape.

“Are you—” He stopped to inhale shakily. “Jesus, you okay?” 

You hummed. Your bodies were both slimy with sweat and other juices, which sounded more than uncomfortable, but you found the warm weight of him comforting. 

He peered at you, petting your hair away from your face. “You sure?”

“‘M good,” you finally croaked. “You—I—” You paused to laugh, shaking your head. “I think you fucked my brains out."

He laughed, strands of his damp hair shaking with the force of it. 

“Yeah, well, if that’s the case then you sucked out my soul.” He ran a finger along the length of your face. “You know, through your puss—”

“I get it,” you cut in, laughing. You glanced over to the window to the production room. “Think we got anything good?”

Eddie looked at you like you’d grown three heads before his lip curled, a devious smile on his face. “I dunno…might better do it one more time. Just to be safe.”

Six months later.

“Eddie, you gotta tell us, man.” The interviewer leaned over his desk towards him. “Everybody’s dying to know about…that part on the new record.”

“What part, Howard?” Eddie shot a knowing glance at the audience, which got a few cheers. “I know Gareth killed the drums on the bridge.”

The crowd laughed.

“You know the part,” Howard insisted, laughing. “I think everybody knows the part.”

“I think it speaks for itself,” Eddie said. “Don’t really have much to say on that.”

“Well, your fans have had a lot to say about it,” Howard continued. 

“No denyin’ that, that’s for sure.” Eddie tugged at the collar of his shirt, making the crowd laugh.

“I think one of the biggest questions has been…well.” Howard shrugged. “I don’t know how else to ask it—but well, was it real?”

Eddie looked from Howard to the audience. Right before he opened his mouth to speak, the television flickered off.

“Hey!” you called. “I was watching that.”

Eddie sat the remote down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch next to you. “You’ve watched it at least ten times since it aired.” 

“Maybe I was trying to make it eleven.” 

He hummed, his arm coming around your shoulders. You melted into his side easily. 

“How’s the new guy?” you asked, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

“Good. He’s a great fit for the band.” He dropped his cheek and rested it on top of your head. “Jaxon hasn’t tried to reach out anymore. Or showed up at the studio wasted, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried.” It was true—you weren’t. You knew Eddie would handle everything. He always did.

“Good.” He planted a kiss on your head. 

You sat up and grabbed the remote from the table. He groaned as you turned it back on.

“You could probably recite this word-for-word by now.” He shook his head.

You pressed back against him, pushing your tongue to your teeth to prevent a smile. 

“Everyone’s dying to know who it is,” Howard was urging. “At least give us a hint.”

On the screen, Eddie shrugged, clearly trying and failing to seem nonchalant. You couldn’t stop yourself from mouthing the words along with him as he said, “Well, it’s my girl.”

The first days of anything new always suck. But the first day of school during your senior year in a small town where everybody seems to know everyone and everything? That shit blows. 

So, naturally, when you walk into your first-period English class, you keep your eyes down and your appearance small. You kept your focus on the rows of desks instead, searching for an empty seat that wouldn't require you to introduce yourself to anyone before eight in the morning.

You slid into the chair, setting your backpack on the floor with a quiet sigh of relief. If you could just make it through today unnoticed, you'd consider it a win.

You knew the routine by now. Keep your answers short; don't volunteer any information people didn't ask for; smile just enough that you don't come across as rude; and, above all else, don't give anyone a reason to remember you. 

If everything went according to plan, today would be painfully uneventful. By the end of the week, you'd just be another student sitting in the back of the class, and eventually people would stop wondering where you came from altogether.

That was the goal. Unfortunately, fate had apparently taken one look at your plan and decided it could use the laugh.

"I love your shirt."

The voice came so suddenly from beside you that your shoulders jerked, your hand flying to your chest before you turned toward it.

A girl with short, feathered hair was looking at you with a genuine excitement that couldn't have been faked, even if she tried. She leaned sideways in her chair, chin resting against the back of it as though she'd been waiting for the right moment to say something.

"Sorry," she said immediately, though she didn't look particularly sorry. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, you're fine." You let out an embarrassed laugh. "I just... wasn't expecting anyone to talk to me."

"Fair." She nodded once. "But that's a killer Fleetwood Mac shirt."

You glanced down instinctively, smoothing a wrinkle from the faded black fabric. "Thanks."

"They're my favorite."

"You've got good taste."

"I've been told."

Her grin widened, pleased with herself.

Up close, she noticed the rest of you almost by accident. The silver hoop through your nose. The dozens of piercings tucked along your ear. The random, pointless tattoos littered across your skin. 

"Holy shit."

You blinked. "What?"

"I just realized you're, like..." She gestured vaguely in your direction. "Cool."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "I don't know about that."

"No, seriously. We don't really..." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "...get a lot of variety around here."

You looked around the classroom. That, you could believe.

"Polo shirts," she continued, counting on her fingers. "Pastels. The occasional denim jacket if somebody's feeling rebellious."

"I wore flannel."

"I like you," she decided.

"You've known me for, what, thirty seconds?"

"Thirty very informative seconds."

Before you could answer, the classroom door swung open.

"Made it before the bell," a voice announced. "That's gotta be some kind of personal record."

You looked up just as a guy stepped through the doorway, dark curls tucked beneath a bandana, a worn leather jacket hanging over a faded Dio shirt. A handful of silver rings flashed as he adjusted the backpack slung over one shoulder, scanning the room with practiced ease before his eyes landed on the two of you.

More specifically...you. He slowed just enough to be noticeable.

"There he is," she muttered, mostly to herself.

The guy wandered over, stopping beside her desk before hooking a thumb in her direction.

"I leave you unattended for five minutes, and you're already recruiting?"

Robin looked offended. "I am making a friend."

"You've said that before."

"And sometimes it's even true."

His attention drifted back to you then. He took you in, eyeing you up and down, quickly assessing what to say. 

"...Hi."

You smiled politely. "Hi."

"I'm Eddie."

You gave him your name. He repeated it once under his breath, as if testing how it sounded, then nodded to himself. "Cool."

Robin watched the exchange with poorly concealed amusement.

"You had something else," she prompted.

"I did."

"You forgot it."

"I absolutely did."

"You do that a lot."

"I know."

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you an awkward grin before looking back at you.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat. "Your shirt's cool."

Robin snorted. "I literally just said that."

"Oh," Eddie replied, refusing to look at her. "Then, I'm agreeing."

By the time first period was halfway over, your plan to remain invisible had been thoroughly dismantled.

It wasn't entirely your fault, though. Robin had an almost supernatural inability to whisper, and Eddie seemed physically incapable of letting the room stay quiet for more than five minutes.

Most of it wasn't even directed at you. It was little observations muttered just loudly enough for the two of you to hear whenever the teacher turned toward the board.

"...That's the third metaphor in ten minutes."

Robin didn't bother looking up from her notebook. "You're counting?"

"I have to entertain myself somehow."

Five minutes later…

"If Shakespeare wanted us to understand him, he would've written in English."

"He... did," you murmured.

Eddie frowned. "...Oh. Yeah."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

By the time Mrs. O'Donnell called on someone to read aloud, you had already made the mistake of glancing toward Eddie whenever he sighed dramatically or whispered another running commentary under his breath. 

Every time your shoulders shook with another laugh, he caught it from the corner of his eye, fighting a grin of his own before pretending to pay very close attention to whatever was happening at the front of the room.

Robin leaned toward you just enough to murmur, "Careful. He gets encouraged way too easily."

"I heard that," Eddie whispered.

"You were supposed to."

"I know."

The bell finally rang before Mrs. O'Donnell could assign anyone another passage, and the room erupted into the familiar scrape of chairs and conversations picking back up where they'd left off forty-five minutes earlier.

Robin was already slinging her backpack over one shoulder. "Lunch?"

You blinked. "Already?"

She nodded. Eddie appeared beside the two of you, adjusting the strap of his own bag. "Cafeteria cuisine awaits."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You should be."

The three of you filtered into the hallway with everyone else and were immediately swallowed by the rush of students moving from every direction. 

Lockers slammed shut in uneven rhythms, teachers called after kids who'd forgotten homework, and somewhere farther down the hall, someone was already arguing about Friday night's basketball game. The cafeteria wasn't much quieter.

You had barely stepped through the doors before Robin angled toward an empty table tucked near the windows.

"That's us."

"You have an assigned table?"

"We're creatures of habit."

"And deeply unpopular," Eddie added cheerfully.

Robin shrugged. "That too."

As the three of you crossed the room, a voice cut through the noise. "Well, would you look at that."

Tommy Hagan leaned back in his chair with an amused smirk, Steve and Nancy sitting across from him. Steve looked up first, following Tommy's line of sight before immediately realizing where this was headed.

"The Freak found himself another lost puppy."

A few nearby tables snickered, but Eddie didn't even slow down. "Morning to you, too, Hagan."

Tommy's grin widened. "Didn't realize Hawkins was taking transfers for the circus."

Before Eddie could answer, Nancy sighed loudly enough for everyone at their table to hear. "Tommy."

"What?"

"You don't have to be an asshole every time someone walks into a room."

"I'm just making conversation."

"No," Nancy replied evenly. "You're making yourself annoying."

Tommy rolled his eyes but finally shut up. Steve, who looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, offered Eddie the smallest apologetic nod.

Eddie answered with one of his own before continuing toward the empty table as though nothing had happened.

You glanced back once, surprised. Nancy caught your eye for only a second before giving you an almost embarrassed smile, one that seemed to apologize for the entire exchange without saying a word.

Robin noticed. "Huh."

"What?"

She pulled out her chair. "I don't think I've ever heard Nancy Wheeler willingly tell Tommy to knock it off."

Eddie dropped into the seat beside her. "Maybe Hell froze over."

Robin snorted. "Or maybe she's finally realizing he's exhausting."

You looked back one last time. Nancy had already gone back to her lunch, though something about the way she'd frowned down at her tray made it seem as if her mind were somewhere else entirely.

Lunch came and went quicker than you'd expected. Maybe it was because Robin had managed to carry ninety percent of the conversation on her own, effortlessly bouncing from stories about her mom to complaining about Hawkins High's criminal lack of decent music programs. 

Eddie chimed in whenever the opportunity arose, usually with dramatic commentary that had you laughing into your milk carton before you could stop yourself. Somewhere between the cafeteria mystery meat and Robin's passionate argument that The Breakfast Club was wildly overrated, you realized you'd almost forgotten why you'd been so anxious that morning in the first place.

By the time the bell rang, the cafeteria erupted into organized chaos. Chairs scraped across the floor, backpacks were slung over shoulders, and students poured into the hallways as if someone had kicked over an anthill.

"You've got chemistry next, right?" Robin asked as the three of you spilled into the crowd.

You nodded. "I've gotta stop at my locker first."

"We're headed the other way," Eddie said, hooking his thumb down the opposite hall. "Government. Which, by the way, is a completely made-up subject. They already have a government. Why do I have to learn about it?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "You say that every week."

"Because every week it's still true."

She looked back at you. "We'll see you after? You have gym, right?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

The two of them disappeared into the stream of students, Robin nudging Eddie after he nearly walked into a sophomore because he wasn't paying attention.

The corridor was quieter now, most everyone already filtering into their classrooms. A few lockers slammed shut somewhere behind you, followed by hurried footsteps echoing against the linoleum. 

You spun the dial, worked the stubborn latch open, and reached inside for your chemistry notebook. Something white fluttered forward and landed at your feet, causing you to frown.

It wasn't notebook paper; it was heavier, folded neatly into thirds. Slowly, you unfolded it. Inside, there were only two sentences.

You can change your address, but you can't outrun what happened. Welcome to Hawkins, bitch. — A

The blood drained from your face then. No. No. Nobody here knew; they couldn't.

The newspaper articles had disappeared. Every report, every interview, every mention of your name had been scrubbed before you'd even left town. The police had called it a gas leak; the government had made sure of it. Your aunt had promised you, over and over again, that it was over. 

Your fingers tightened around the paper until it crumpled in your hand. Someone fucking knew.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

Mrs. Halpern called on you twice in Chemistry, and although you answered both questions correctly, you couldn't have recalled a single thing she'd actually taught by the time the bell rang. The folded note sat heavy in your backpack, tucked inside your notebook, where you kept catching yourself checking to make sure it was still there.

By the time you reached the girls' locker room for gym, you were still trying to convince yourself there had to be a logical explanation.

Someone from your old town moved here. Someone overheard something. Someone was playing a cruel joke. Anything was easier to believe than the alternative.

The locker room hummed with the usual pre-class chatter, metal doors clanging open and shut as girls changed into oversized gym shirts and tied their hair back.

Robin dropped her backpack onto the bench beside yours with an exaggerated groan. "If Coach makes us run the mile, I'm transferring."

"Can you even afford to transfer?"

"I'll transfer emotionally."

You laughed quietly, grateful for something that felt normal. "I think that's just called giving up."

"It's called self-care."

Robin spun the combination lock on her locker. "You'll learn."

The latch popped open. Almost immediately, something slipped free and drifted onto the bench between you.

"Huh." Robin frowned.

You glanced over. "What is it?"

"Probably another announcement." She reached down casually, unfolding the piece of paper without much thought.

The smile disappeared from her face. It wasn't obvious, but it was just gone. Like someone had flipped a switch behind her eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on the page for only a second before she folded it again so quickly you barely caught a glimpse of the handwriting.

"You okay?" you asked.

Robin blinked. "What?"

"You just... froze."

"Oh." She let out a tiny laugh that didn't quite sound real. "No, it's nothing."

She crumpled the note into her fist. "Just some idiot."

"What kind of idiot?"

"The anonymous kind."

She shrugged, forcing another smile as she shoved the balled-up paper into the pocket of her bookbag. "You know. Hawkins High. Thriving intellectual community."

Robin was talkative, almost relentlessly so. But for the rest of the time she changed, she barely spoke at all. Only once the two of you started toward the gym doors did she finally clear her throat.

"So..." she said, her usual brightness returning just a little too deliberately. "If Coach says 'give me two laps to warm up,' we fake our own deaths, right?"

You laughed. "I thought you were transferring emotionally."

"I've decided that's too much paperwork."

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself, and Robin smiled back.

The note remained crumpled in Robin's backpack. She didn't look at it again until long after the final bell. When she finally unfolded it in the privacy of a bathroom stall, the words were exactly where she'd left them.

You can hide behind jokes all you want. Doesn't change who you look at when she isn't paying attention. How long before Hawkins notices, too? —A

By the time the final bell rang, Hawkins High emptied itself into the parking lot in waves.

Engines turned over one after another, buses hissed as their doors folded shut, and clusters of students lingered on the sidewalk, stretching out conversations they could've easily continued tomorrow. Eddie took his usual route toward the far corner of the lot, keys spinning lazily around his finger as he walked.

"You coming?" Robin called after him.

"In a second."

She narrowed her eyes. "You said that yesterday."

"And I meant it yesterday, too."

She snorted. "See you tomorrow, Munson."

He threw her a lazy salute before peeling away toward the battered van sitting by itself beneath the chain-link fence. Most people parked as close to the school as they could.

Eddie had learned pretty quickly that giving everyone else a little extra space saved him from finding mysterious dents and spit on his windows. He dug through his pocket for his keys, already fishing out a cigarette with the other hand when something caught his eye.

There was a folded piece of paper tucked beneath his windshield wiper.

He frowned. "Seriously?"

Probably another parking warning, or some freshman trying to be funny. He pulled it free, flattening the crease against the van's hood. 

Guess the apple didn't fall very far from the chop shop. Wonder what Uncle Wayne would think if he knew what you and your daddy really did during your father-son “bonding.” —A

The cigarette slipped from between his fingers, landing forgotten on the pavement. No.

He read the note again anyway, then a third time. By the fourth, he realized his grip had tightened enough to wrinkle the paper.

"Eddie?"

Robin's voice carried across the parking lot, and he looked up.

She was halfway out of her own car, watching him. "You good?"

He glanced back at the note. Without thinking, he folded it once, then again. By the time Robin reached him, it had disappeared into his pocket. 

"Yeah."

She studied him. "You don't look 'yeah.'"

He forced a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just realized I forgot I have homework."

Robin stared at him for a beat before laughing. "That might be the worst lie you've ever told."

"I've told worse."

"I know."

She gave him one last suspicious look before climbing into her car. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He waited until her taillights disappeared out of the parking lot before climbing into the driver's seat. For a long time, Eddie just sat there, staring at the folded note resting in his lap. 

By the time Nancy stepped through the front door, she was already mentally sorting through calculus homework and college applications.

"Kitchen!" Karen called from somewhere down the hall.

Nancy slipped off her backpack. "I'm home."

"There was something in the mail for you."

Nancy paused. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know." Karen appeared around the corner, drying her hands on a dish towel. "Large envelope. I put it on the kitchen table."

Nancy's stomach gave a hopeful little flip. Emerson, it had to be. She'd been waiting all week. She crossed into the kitchen, already smiling to herself as she spotted the manila envelope sitting neatly beside the fruit bowl.

No return address, strange. She picked it up anyway. It wasn't heavy enough to be a packet. No school logo, no crest, nothing.

Her smile faded as she slipped a finger beneath the seal and pulled it open. A photograph slid onto the table.

It took her a second to understand what she was looking at.

It was her. Jonathan stood across from her beneath the pavilion at Lover's Lake, the two of them caught in the soft glow of a lone flashlight. She was smiling at something he'd said, one hand resting lightly against his arm while he looked at her with an expression she knew all too well.

The moment right before someone leaned in.

Another photograph. Same night, but closer, their faces inches apart. Then another. And another. Each one taken from somewhere in the darkness beyond the light. Someone had been watching them.

At the bottom of the envelope was a folded index card. Nancy unfolded it with suddenly trembling hands.

Poor Stevie. He still thinks he has you all to himself.  —A

"Nancy?"

Karen's voice floated in from the living room. "You okay?"

Nancy's eyes never left the photographs. Someone had followed them. Someone had stood in the dark, close enough to capture every glance, every smile, every hesitation she hadn't even admitted to herself. She hurriedly gathered the photographs into a pile just as her mother stepped into the doorway.

"What was it?" Karen asked.

Nancy forced the envelope shut and tucked it beneath a stack of textbooks before looking up.

"...Nothing."

Karen frowned. "I thought it was from Emerson."

"So did I."

"Maybe tomorrow," Karen offered gently.

Nancy managed a smile that felt brittle around the edges. "Yeah."

Karen returned to the kitchen. Nancy waited until she was gone before pulling the photographs back out. 

Jonathan didn't get home until well after dark.

The grocery store had been busier than usual, and by the time he pulled into the driveway, every light in the Byers' house except the one over the stove had already been turned off. Joyce had left for her night shift an hour earlier, and Will had almost certainly gone to bed.

He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, rubbing his eyes tiredly before climbing out. Something sat in front of the screen door: a cardboard box, no bigger than a shoebox. No shipping label, no postage stamp. 

Just his name written neatly across the lid in black marker.

Jonathan frowned. "...Mom?"

He glanced toward the road, but nothing greeted him.  He picked the box up and carried it inside, setting it carefully on the kitchen table. For a second, he considered leaving it unopened, but curiosity eventually won, and he peeled back the tape. Inside was a thick stack of photographs. His stomach sank before he'd even picked one up.

Steve. Nancy. The photographs from the school's developing room, the ones he'd sworn he'd thrown away. One after another.

Steve with his arms around Nancy. Nancy lifting her shirt. Steve kissing her neck. Every single picture he'd secretly taken through the trees that night.

His breathing slowed. "No..."

He knew these; he knew every frame. Hands suddenly unsteady, Jonathan thumbed through the stack faster. They were all there, every single one. Even the negatives. Tucked beneath them was a folded piece of paper.

Poor Johnathan. Can’t have her all to himself, so he settles for watching from the outside. Would be a shame if Nancy saw these, wouldn’t it? —A

Steve didn't think twice when he got home.

His parents were gone, as usual. The house sat in complete silence, the only sound coming from the grandfather clock ticking somewhere deeper inside. A note rested on the kitchen island in his mother's handwriting, letting him know dinner was in the refrigerator if he wanted it.

He tossed his keys into the bowl by the front door. "I'm home," he called anyway.

No answer.

"Shocking."

He took the stairs two at a time, already reaching for the collar of his polo to tug it over his head. By the time he pushed open his bedroom door, he was thinking more about tomorrow's basketball practice than anything else. Then he stopped.

There was an envelope sitting in the middle of his bed. Cream-colored, perfectly centered against the navy comforter.

Steve frowned. "...What the hell?"

He crossed the room and picked it up. Steve.

He slid a finger beneath the flap. A single photograph slipped into his hand. Nancy. Jonathan. Lover's Lake.

She was smiling at him. Not the polite smile she gave strangers, not the one she wore in yearbook pictures. The real one.

Steve stared at it. Then another photograph. Jonathan was looking at Nancy like she was the only person in the world. Another. Their hands brushed as they walked. Another. The distance between them disappearing.

Steve's jaw tightened. Folded beneath the photographs was an index card.

Funny thing about second choices... ...they never know they're second until someone better comes along. —A

His first instinct was to laugh; it had to be fake. Some asshole with too much time on their hands. Nancy loved him.

Didn't she?

The next morning, you told yourself yesterday had been a fluke. One note, one sick joke, and nothing more.

You repeated it in your head while getting dressed. On the drive to school. Walking through the front doors. Even as you smiled at Robin when she waved from farther down the hallway.

Normal, everything was going to be normal. You reached your locker before first period, balancing your chemistry book against your hip while you worked the combination.

The latch clicked, and you pulled the door open. Something slid forward. It didn't flutter to the floor like yesterday's note; it hit the tile with a dull slap.

A newspaper clipping, yellowed around the edges, and folded in half. Slowly, your knees bending almost without permission, you picked it up. The headline stared back at you: 

LOCAL TRAGEDY LEAVES DOZENS DEAD

No. No, no, no.

Your hands shook as you unfolded the rest. The article had been blacked out in places with thick marker, entire paragraphs disappearing beneath uneven strokes, but one grainy photograph remained untouched.

At the bottom of the clipping, written across the photograph in neat black ink: 

Still think it was an accident? Run all you want. It’ll find you anywhere; I’ll make sure of it.  —A

You burst through the side doors, the crisp morning air hitting your face like ice water as you crossed the practice field without looking back. The grass was still damp with dew, soaking through the canvas of your sneakers as you headed toward the line of trees bordering the property.

Only when the school disappeared behind the branches did you finally stop. Your hands found your knees. Your chest tightened until it felt like someone had wrapped steel bands around your ribs.

"This is not happening," you whispered to yourself. "It's not happening."

The clipping was still clenched in your fist, crumpled beyond recognition. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Hey..." The voice was so soft you almost missed it. "...Sweetheart?"

Your head snapped up.

Eddie stood a few yards away, one hand still holding the cigarette he'd apparently forgotten to smoke. His backpack hung lazily from one shoulder, concern replacing the easy grin he usually wore.

"You okay?"

You immediately wiped at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. "Yeah."

He looked at you for a long second. Then, with the smallest shake of his head, he started toward you.

"Usually," he said carefully, "when girls are crying and tell me they're fine..."

A corner of his mouth tugged upward. "...they're generally not."

A watery laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "Is that right?"

"It's one of the few things I've actually learned in nineteen years."

You looked down at the ground. "I just... needed a minute."

"Mhm."

"I'll be okay."

"Mhm."

"You don't believe me."

"I believe that you think you'll be okay."

He shifted his weight, glancing toward the school before looking back at you.

"But I also think whatever made you sprint into the woods before first period probably wasn't a pop quiz."

"...Hey."

You looked up.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong." His voice stayed quiet. "But... whatever happened back there scared the hell outta you."

You swallowed. "I know."

"And I know we've known each other for..." He checked an imaginary watch. "...roughly twenty-four hours."

A weak laugh escaped you.

"So maybe I'm overstepping."

"No."

"I just..." Your voice caught before you could finish.

"There are..." You paused, searching for words that didn't sound completely insane. "There are things that have happened in my life that..." You shook your head. "Nobody here is supposed to know."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Okay."

"I mean nobody. But somehow, someone else does.”

Eddie looked away for a second. "...When you say 'someone else'..."

"...You mean..." He stopped himself. "...Things nobody should know?"

You stared at him. "...Yeah."

Eddie reached into the inside pocket of his vest. He didn't say anything; he simply unfolded a wrinkled piece of paper he'd been carrying around since yesterday and held it out toward you.

You looked down. The handwriting. The black ink. The signature. Your stomach dropped.

You looked back up at him. "...You got one."

"I got one."

"When?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "Yesterday."

Your heart started racing all over again. "You didn't tell anybody?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face. "I figured somebody was screwing with me."

"I thought..." You looked back toward the school. "...I thought somebody had followed me here."

"I don't even know who'd know mine." He sighed. 

Your fingers tightened around the crumpled newspaper clipping. "...Mine shouldn't exist."

Eddie looked at you. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated. Then slowly opened your hand just enough for him to see the edge of the yellowed newspaper.

Not enough to read it, just enough for him to realize it wasn't from yesterday. His eyes flicked from the clipping to your face.

"...Jesus."

You nodded once. "I wasn't lying."

"I know."

"No, I mean..." Your voice cracked. "I really don't know how they know."

"...Are you kidding me?" Robin's voice carried through the trees a second before she did. She pushed through the brush, hands thrown up in disbelief as she looked between you two.

"What the hell, guys?"

Eddie looked over. "Oh. Hey, Rob."

She blinked. "'Hey, Rob?'" she repeated. "Why aren't either of you in class?"

You instinctively wiped beneath your eyes.

"...Were you crying?"

"I'm okay."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe either of you."

Eddie pointed at you. "See? I told you."

"Told me what?"

"That whenever somebody says they're fine while actively crying..."

Robin finished the sentence with him. "...they're usually not."

She looked between the two of you again. "I went to English."

Neither of you said anything.

"I figured maybe one of you overslept." She shrugged. "Then neither of you showed up."

"So I told Mrs. O'Donnell I had to use the bathroom."

"You skipped class?" Eddie asked.

"I skipped five minutes of class."

"You've changed."

"Oh, shut up."

Robin's gaze drifted to the folded paper still hanging loosely from Eddie's fingers. "...What's that?"

Eddie looked down, then back at her. For a moment, it looked like he was weighing whether to answer. Finally, he held it up.

Her eyes scanned the page, the color draining from her face.

"...Where'd you get that?"

"On my van."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"You... never said anything."

"I wasn't exactly eager to advertise it."

Robin swallowed. "...It was signed, wasn't it?"

Eddie frowned. "...Yeah."

Robin let out a slow breath through her nose. "No way."

"What?" Eddie asked.

She stared at the ground for a second before reaching into the pocket of her jacket.

"I thought..." she muttered. "I thought somebody was just being an asshole."

She unfolded a wrinkled piece of notebook paper. The black ink matched Eddie's perfectly. The same sharp handwriting, the same signature at the bottom.

—A

"You too?" you asked quietly.

Robin nodded once. "I found it yesterday."

"You didn't tell anybody?"

"I was kind of hoping if I ignored it, it'd magically become somebody else's problem."

Eddie gave a humorless laugh. "How'd that work out?"

"...Poorly."

Neither of you asked what the note said; Robin was grateful for that. She folded it back up before either of you had a chance to read it, stuffing it into her pocket with a practiced shrug that fooled absolutely no one.

"It was..." She searched for a word, eyes fixed on the dirt beneath her shoes. "...Personal."

Eddie looked from Robin to you, then back toward the school barely visible through the trees. "I don't think this is a coincidence anymore."

Robin shook her head. "No."

You tightened your grip around the crumpled newspaper clipping still hidden in your sleeve. "...Neither do I."

You made it back before second period ended, after Eddie insisted on walking you to the side entrance, the two of you agreeing, without ever really saying it aloud, that whatever was happening would stay between the three of you for now.

At least until you understood it.

By seventh period, you hadn't retained a single thing your teachers had said. Every unfamiliar face in the hallway made your stomach tighten. Every folded piece of paper you saw sticking out of someone's notebook caught your attention for just a second too long.

When the final bell rang, you waited for the hallway to thin before ducking into the girls' bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water on your face would make you feel less like your heart had been living somewhere in your throat all day.

Someone stood at the sinks with their back to you, shoulders rigid beneath a pale blue sweater. You recognized the chestnut curls before she turned around. Nancy Wheeler.

She startled at the sound of the door closing, hastily folding a piece of paper in half. 

"Oh."

Nancy quickly wiped beneath one eye, forcing the kind of smile that only made it more obvious she'd been crying.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I... didn't know anyone else was in here."

You shook your head. "It's okay."

You'd spoken exactly twice before. Once when she'd apologized for Tommy in the cafeteria. Once in Chemistry, when she'd handed you a pencil after yours rolled beneath a lab table.

"...It's Nancy, right?"

She nodded. "...Yeah."

"I'm..." You gave her your name.

"I know."

Nancy looked down at the folded paper in her hands, almost instinctively trying to hide it behind her sleeve.

Your eyes followed the movement. Then slowly, very carefully, you asked, "That’s from A, isn’t it?"

Nancy's head snapped up, the color draining from her face. "...What?"

"You heard me."

"...How..." she whispered. "...How do you know that?"

You reached into your backpack. Without saying a word, you unfolded the now-soft newspaper clipping you'd carried around all day.

Nancy's eyes flicked from the article to the black ink scrawled across the bottom, then to your face. 

"...Oh my God."

You nodded once. "I'm not the only one."

Nancy looked back at the letter in her own hands. "You too?"

"Me."

"My friend."

"...Actually..." A humorless smile tugged at your mouth. "...Four of us."

Nancy looked up quickly. "...Four?"

You nodded. "Eddie, Robin…"

"And now..." Your eyes settled on the paper still trembling in her hands. "...You."

Nancy leaned back against the sink as though her knees had suddenly forgotten how to work.

Nancy barely had enough time to fold the letter back into its envelope before the final bell echoed through the building. Students spilled into the hallway in every direction, conversations overlapping into one constant wall of noise.

She looked at you. "...I don't think I can do this by myself."

"You don't have to."

The two of you stepped out of the bathroom together and were immediately swallowed by the crowd.

"Nancy!"

The voice cut through the hallway sharply enough that people nearby turned to look. Steve.

He was pushing through the crowd, jaw tight, one hand clutching something so tightly it had crumpled around the edges.

He stopped in front of her. "What the hell is this, Nance?"

Nancy frowned. "...Steve?"

He held up a photograph. Even from where you stood, you recognized Jonathan's jacket. Nancy's eyes widened.

"...Where did you get that?"

"So it's real?"

"Steve, let me see it."

He pulled it back before she could reach it. "No."

His voice wasn't angry so much as... hurt. "You tell me why somebody left this in my locker."

Nancy's face went pale. "Locker...?"

Steve flipped the photograph around. On the back, written in thick black marker, were three words.

Ask your girlfriend. —A

Nancy felt the blood drain from her face. "...No."

Steve stared at her. “‘No' what?"

"No, I mean..." She shook her head frantically. "Steve, somebody's doing this."

"Doing what?"

"They—"

"They what?"

"They've been sending—"

"Nance." His voice cracked. "It's a picture."

He turned it back over. This time, you saw it clearly: Nancy and Jonathan, standing beneath the pavilion, Jonathan's hand cupping her cheek, and Nancy kissing him.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?"

The hallway had gone almost completely silent around them. People slowed as they walked by, and the whispers started. 

Nancy took one desperate step toward him. "It wasn't—"

"What? What it looks like?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Steve let out a hollow laugh. "I defended you."

His eyes shimmered with disbelief more than anger. "When Tommy started running his mouth yesterday, I told him to shut up."

He looked down at the photograph again. "I thought we were okay."

"We are."

"Are we?"

Steve didn't say another word. He looked at Nancy for one long, unreadable moment before turning on his heel and shoving his way through the crowd.

"Steve!" Nancy hurried after him. "Steve, wait!"

By the time the three of you spilled out into the afternoon sun, Steve was already halfway across the parking lot, moving with long, determined strides.

"Steve!" Nancy called again.

Then Steve stopped, not because of Nancy, but because he'd spotted Jonathan. Jonathan had just stepped out of the school, camera bag slung over one shoulder, as he headed toward the student lot.

Steve changed direction without hesitation.

Your stomach dropped. "Nancy..."

Jonathan looked up just as Steve reached him. "What—"

His sentence was never finished; Steve's fist connected squarely with his jaw. Jonathan stumbled backward, crashing into the side of a parked car before sliding onto one knee.

The parking lot erupted while Nancy shoved past you. "Steve!"

Jonathan wiped at the blood already forming at the corner of his mouth, looking up in complete disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Steve was breathing hard, and his hand was still clenched into a fist. "You wanna tell me?"

"I don't even know what this is about!"

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. "No?"

He reached into his backpack and yanked out a thick manila envelope. "You don't recognize this?"

Before Jonathan could answer, Steve threw it at his chest. The envelope burst open the second it hit him. Photographs scattered across the asphalt, dozens of them.

Nancy instinctively looked down, her face draining white.

She recognized herself immediately. Standing in Steve’s bedroom, shirt rising over her head, then another of them kissing, then her bra…

Jonathan stared at them, his entire body going still. "...No."

Nancy slowly bent down, picking up one of the photographs with trembling fingers. Then another, then another. Each one felt worse than the last.

She looked up at Jonathan. "...You took these?"

He couldn't answer. "Nancy..."

"You were watching us?"

"It wasn't—"

"You were watching us."

Steve shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. "This is the guy you cheat on me with, Nance?"

Nancy's eyes never left the photographs in her hands; there were simply so many. So many moments she'd never known someone else had witnessed.

Then, something caught your eye. Another folded piece of paper had slipped from the envelope, drifting beneath Jonathan's shoe. You reached down before anyone else noticed and unfolded it. The now-familiar handwriting stared back at you.

Smile for the camera. Everybody loves a good love triangle. —A

"What the hell's going on?" Robin's voice carried over the crowd as she and Eddie hurried across the pavement, weaving around students who had already formed a loose circle around the fight.

"Move, move—excuse me—"

She squeezed between two juniors just as Eddie stepped around the edge of the crowd.

His eyes found you immediately. "Hey."

He reached your side, his expression pinched with concern. "You okay?"

You looked at him, still clutching the folded note, but before you could answer, his gaze dropped to the photographs scattered across the asphalt.

Nancy. Steve. Jonathan. Dozens of them. Some half-crumpled beneath students' shoes, others fluttering in the breeze.

"...Oh. Oh fuck."

Robin finally reached the front of the crowd beside him, her eyes darting from Steve, who was still glaring at Jonathan, to Nancy standing frozen with a photograph in her trembling hands.

"What..." She bent to pick one up. "...the hell?"

She looked up at you. "This..." she said quietly. "This isn't..."

You gave the smallest nod. "...Yeah."

Eddie's eyes narrowed. "It's them."

You nodded again. "The same person."

Robin's stomach dropped. She looked back toward Steve and Jonathan, neither of whom had noticed the three of you yet.

"...They don't know."

"They have no idea," you replied.

Eddie watched Steve shove Jonathan back another step before looking down at the photographs littering the ground.

His jaw tightened. "...This is exactly what they wanted."

Robin frowned. "Who?"

Eddie looked between you and Robin. "The person sending the notes."

It wasn't just three separate secrets anymore; it was one game. And somehow, all of you had been invited to play.

A fr.

well, I hope you all enjoyed :)))) part two will be out soon, promise.

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The music is loud. The bodies are close. The lights are flashing. The drinks are pouring. 

You can’t focus on what’s in front of you, but you smile, head thrown back. The liquid in your cup sloshes back and forth, spiked with whatever was in the punch bowl. Everything is so perfect. 

Except for the urge to pee. 

You begin to push through the crowd, but your muscles feel weak. Drunk. You stumble over yourself and someone catches you. The words are a haze, so you ignore them and keep pushing forward. Your hand grips the stair rail, and you work your way up, slowly, but you get there. The hallway is dark, and the bedroom doors are all shut. Moans ring through the air, and the floor vibrates around you, music just as loud up here. 

At the end of the hall, a light shines through the crack in the door. Your legs carry you there before you even think about it. Your hand rattles the door, making an attempt to open it, but you just can’t. Maybe it’s locked. You look to your other hand for help, but it doesn’t help because it’s holding a drink. A drink that’s not even there. You don’t recall putting it down or giving it to someone. 

As you stare at your hand, words make their way to your ears, but you can’t understand them. You look up but your head falls back before you can stabilize it. You’re so drunk. 

More words move through the air, and your eyes glance over. You blink once, then twice. Eddie Munson! 

His frizzy hair falls behind his shoulders, black shirt highlighting the shadows on his face. If you were more aware, you would be getting as far away as possible. Your friends have warned you, saying he’s no good, a freak, to stay away from him. But you don’t see it. You’ve seen him as kind and protective. He stands up for what he believes in, and you admire it. 

His fingers snap in front of your face, more words incoherent. Your eyes fall to a red solo cup filled with red liquid. Your drink! A grin forms on your face as you make an attempt to thank him, reaching for it. But he pulls it back behind him, and you slam into his chest. His heart is pounding. 

You step back out of his space, his eyes analyze you. Words mumble from your lips before you can stop yourself. He squints. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. His lips move, and you stare blankly before returning to the door. Your head wobbles as you try to open the door. Maybe it’s locked. You step back and accidentally fall into the wall, sliding to the floor.

His eyes widen, and he comes down to your side. His fingers filter through the back of your hair. It feels so good. Your eyes close, head dropping in front of you, but he lifts it, setting you softly against the wall. He stands and opens the door. 

A warm glow of light caresses your eyes. You fail to understand how he did that. You look to Eddie and back to the room, helpless. You feel arms hoist you up, helping you walk in. 

The room is quiet, almost noise-cancelling. A bed sits right ahead and two nightstands sit on each side. To your left, a closet door. The same closet door you’ve played 7 minutes in Heaven in too many times to count. A bathroom door is on the right. 

Your legs begin to move, but somehow go nowhere.

You slur your words, “I,Pee. I-the bathroom.”

Eddie turns and looks at you, confused, meeting your gaze.

“Do you need the bathroom?”

His voice pierces your ears, it’s so quiet and clear compared to all the noise. You nod, and he carefully walks you over, letting you stabilize yourself against the counter. You watch him through the mirror. 

“Uh-I’ll be here. I mean, I’m going to be out here.” He points to the bedroom. “You’re in here.” He runs a hand over his face and exhales deeply. “Yell if you need anything.”

He walks out, closing the door behind him. The bedroom is nicer than anything he's ever had, and it angers him more than he'd like to admit. 

He sets the solo cup down on the dresser beside the bathroom door, then makes his way to the window. The front yard is littered with drunk people, some lying down, some half-naked on top of each other, and some puking. This will definitely be the talk of the year. 

His hand reaches into his pocket, pulling out a blunt he saved for himself. He had sold everything else tonight. It’s terribly easy when people are desperate.

The bed creaks as he lies down, blunt dwindling between his fingers as he smokes it. The room is quiet, so quiet he forgot you were in the bathroom until the door flies open, and you stumble out more sober, but just as confused. 

“What is going—Oh! My drink!” You pick it up and slide it up to your lips. Eddie jumps off the bed and snatches it from you before you can take a sip. 

“Absolutely not, you are not drinking anymore.” 

The air stills between you two. Then you pout.

“Why not? We’re supposed to be having fun and I’m getting too sober.” You drag out the last syllable, and then sniff the air. “Have you been smoking weed?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He shifts like a kid in trouble as you scan him up and down. He inhales sharply looking for any kind of grounding but instead your perfume fills his nose, and he has to fight his eyes from rolling back.

Your tongue runs over your teeth with a smile, and you step into his space, “Am I making you nervous, Edward Munson?”

His eyes widen and he stutters. To be honest, you’ve always made him a nervous wreck. Anything you do, his heart pounds through his ribcage—and right now might as well break free.

“Eddie?” You drag out, walking him back toward the wall. Your finger runs down his shirt. The alcohol is making you braver than you've ever been. He hits the wall, a squeak escaping his lips that he hopes you didn’t hear. 

You get on your tiptoes and hover close to his ear, “Do I make you nervous?”

He clears his throat, “You’re drunk, we-” He feels your mouth on his jaw and his eyes roll back. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“No, I think we should. I want you Eddie.” You kiss under his ear.

“You’ll regret this tomorrow. I’m drunk, you’re high,” his knees buckle as you suck on a sensitive spot. “I mean you’re drunk and I’m high. We-” His breathing become stutters as you move down.

“We can. We should. I know you want me. I’ve seen it. Tell me you want me Eddie—please.” 

Your hands travel down to the bottom hem of his shirt, lightly brushing against his lower stomach. His cock grows painfully against the confines of his jeans. But he knows. He wants you to want him for more than a one night stand.

You push off of him suddenly and step back, sobered up by the rejection. You bite your lip and then turn on your heel to walk out. The door you couldn’t open 30 minutes ago, you easily pull it open, but then it slams shut.

Eddie towers behind you, hand on the door. His voice husks, “Go on a date with me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me!” You spin around. 

“I’ve always wanted you—but for more than sex.”

You smile. “Tomorrow night? We can go wherever you want.”

His heart swells. “Pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

Your fingers interlace, and the heat drains from your system. Your eyes dwell on him a second too long, you always wanted him for more than sex, and he's been too blind to notice. Suddenly, he can’t wait till tomorrow. 

You move to leave, but he pulls you into him, crashing your lips onto his. The door locks behind you with a click. He breaks the kiss to scoop you up and carry you over to the bed. 

“I thought you said—” 

He lays you down like you’re made of porcelain, slotting himself between your legs. His lips continue on yours, dodging the question. His hands run down your sides, stopping on your hips. You break the kiss, breath coming fast.

“Eddie.”

“I know what I said," he pants, forehead resting against yours. "But it'd be a sin to let you walk away now. This doesn’t change tomorrow. either.”

You smile and bite your bottom lip, before craning your head to kiss him again. This time it's desperate and consuming. Your lips slow as your lungs strain for air, head going fuzzy—but he doesn’t stop. You put your hands against his cheeks and lightly lift his face. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He pecks your lips. “You’re so intoxicating.”

Your lips curl into a smile and he kisses you again, rougher. Your teeth clash against one another before his tongue slips against yours. His hand laces in your hair, tugging it back, and you let out a moan. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

His fingers move to the bottom hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss to take it off. Your fingers meet his and slowly peel the shirt upwards, revealing a lacy black bra. His breathing shallows. 

“Are you even real?”

Giggles escapes and you blush hard. Your fingers meet the bottom of his shirt and tug, silently asking him to take it off. He does so without hesitation, tattoos appearing one by one. You run your fingers over them reverently.

“I like these.”

He grins at the compliment. “And I like you.”

His lips attack your neck, sucking and nipping. There’s definitely going to be marks tomorrow. His hands palm your breasts through the bra, but it’s not enough. You need to feel his skin on yours. 

“Take it off, please.” You whine.

He freezes afraid. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he never gotten this far before. He’s seen things before in films from Family Video Store or magazines, but that's nothing compared to this.

“I—Uh, Okay.” 

You sit up. “Eddie, do you know how?”

He nods his head. “Yeah, I’m just," he swallows hard, "I don’t want to mess this up.”

You reach for him, voice gentle. “We don’t have to do this.”

His eyes widen, panic flashing for a second. “No—No, I really want to. I do," he inhales sharply, "I just don't want to make a fool of myself."

You shake your head, dismissing the thought. Your hands move to his thighs, grounding.

“Can I take care of you?” You tenderly ask.

He nods, words not forming properly. You sink to your knees in front of him. His chest heaves as your hands slowly unravel the components of his jeans. You stop your movements, opening your mouth to speak, but he does instead.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

His hips restrain from bucking forward, as you tug down his jeans. The tent in his boxers is impossible to ignore. He’s huge.

Your hand traces the outline of him, and he whimpers. His hand smacks over his mouth, unbelieving he would let out such a noise, but your walls flutter.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds." You murmur. "I wanna hear all of them.”

His knees weaken at your words.

Your fingers hook in the elastic and drag his boxers down. His cock springs up, slapping against his stomach.

The tip is excruciatingly red and swollen, glistening with precum. You spit on your hand before wrapping it around the base, squeezing tighter as you get closer to the head. He lets out a guttural moan and bucks up into your hand. 

"Does that feel good?" You tease before wrapping your lips around him, enveloping him to the base.

His legs tremble with a loud moan as he hits the back of your throat. Your throat spasms around him as you push further, nose meeting his stomach. His hands immediately fist your hair, pulling you back off of him.  

You peer up, saliva dribbling down the corners of your mouth. His pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, eyebrows knitted together. 

“Don’t—”

“It's okay. Guide me Eds.” You reassure him and prop your hands on his thighs. Your cheeks hallow and guide him until he touches the back of your throat. Then you pull back and swirl your tongue around his tip.

"Holy mother of—"

He tries to watch but it's so overwhelming. Whimpers flood the air and he recollects your hair into a high ponytail. You repeat the motion, occasionally tracing the vein prominent against your tongue. His whimpers turn to moans rattling off deep and relentless.

With each sound, you move faster and harder. Heat pools low, soaking through your panties. The ache for relief twists tighter in your stomach, tears pricking your eyes as your body demands more. You shift, pressing your clit against the seam of your jeans, and when you hit it just right, a moan rumbles through your throat, vibrating straight into him.

His hips stutter, pushing further into your throat. He glances down to apologize but is cut off by the sight. He’s had dreams about this. Too many. The look in your eyes and the way it’d happen. But nothing like this. 

“Oh fu—fuck. I can’t—I, I’m gonna—” 

His cock pulses, grip tightens in your hair as his vision goes white. His seed hits the back of your throat, dripping down.  

He slowly pulls you off, fingers trembling as they brush through your hair. You lift yourself up, hands cupping his face. His eyes are glazed, chest heaving with uneven breaths. Your fingers trace every line with a soft, reverent smile. He’s unbearably beautiful.

His gaze catches the subtle swallow of your throat before his lips meet yours. You can feel the faint tremor of his hands on your waist, the way he holding you—like he’s afraid to let go. Maybe he’s been as lost in you as you’ve been in him.

His voice comes out raspy, “Let me taste you. Please.”

The words steal your breath, and he starts rambling. "It's not because you—well, yeah—but because I want to.”

“Are you su—?”

"Please."

A yes that sounds more like a moan leaves your lips. He catches your mouth in a distracting kiss, and his fingers move behind your back. You feel him smile against you as he unclips your bra, gently tossing it into the pile of clothes.

He leans down and places soft kisses in a trail to your breasts. Each motion is deliberate—tongue swirling, fingers teasing—every movement igniting fire on your skin. He glances up quickly, catching your half-lidded stare, and his pulse hammers. A whine escapes at the loss of contact, thighs squeezing together—needing more.

He looks down at your jeans, then kisses his way toward the buttons, kneeling on the ground, eyes locking with yours.

“Can I?”

“God, yes please—” You close your eyes, overwhelmed. “Please.”

His fingers fumble with the buttons and as the zipper slides down, black lace panties peek through—a matching set. He groans at the thought before tugging both layers of fabric down. The sweet scent of your arousal filling his senses, making him dizzy. His cock throbs once again, straining with need.

"Lay back on the bed for me angel."

You step back and collapse softly onto the sheets, the bed creaking under you. He follows on his knees, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to meet his mouth. His breath fans across your folds, eyes devouring you before his lips do.

Your thighs try to close, aching for friction, but he moves first. His tongue traces a slow, teasing line up to your clit and the most sinful moan spills from your lips. The sound only drives him deeper into you. He sucks harshly at your clit before moving lower, fucking you with his tongue. The pleasure is blinding.

Your fingers reach down, tugging at his hair, coaxing soft moans from him in return. He pulls back for air, chin slick with your arousal. A light touch grazes between your folds, and before you can look, he’s sliding a finger inside you, curling it just right. He pumps it slowly in and out, and as your back arches, he adds another finger without hesitation.

“Holy fuck! I—” You cry out, hips bucking forward. 

He hums before attacking your clit once again. The added stimulation is too much and your eyes roll back, walls squeezing his fingers. He carries you through your orgasm and doesn’t stop what he’s doing until you're writhing away.

When you lift your head, vision hazy, you find him licking your release from his fingers. Your head drops back against the comforter at the sight. He moves to hover over you, capturing your lips in a kiss—you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your hand floats down, wrapping around his cock.

He mumbles against your lips. “I don’t have a condom.”

You break the kiss. “I don’t mind, I know the risks. But if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to.” 

He huffs out a breath, half a laugh. “No, I know the risks too. And I think—” he inhales, like the thought alone rattles him, “I think I’m ready to be a mother.”

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Jesus Christ Eddie. I think sex-ed failed you.”

“Good thing I have you.” He raises his eyebrow teasingly. 

Your legs wrap around his and pull him into you. His hand reaches down, sliding his tip between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. You quiver at the sensation. 

He pulls back abruptly and you look up, confused. 

“Ride me, please.” He begs and you nod.

He lies down, and you flip over—knees meeting each side of his hips. 

He lines himself up at your entrance before moving his hands to your hips. Your hands brace against his shoulders as you sink down slowly. Streams of curses and praise fill the air.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you inhale sharply. “Holy hell, you’re really big.”

He lets out a breathless laugh that melts into a groan when you accidentally flutter around him, an apology tumbling from your lips.

Your fingers graze across his tattoos, and his skin twitches beneath your touch. You trace up to his collarbone, slow and deliberate.

“You’re beautiful.”

Before he can respond, you roll your hips and drag your nails lightly down his chest. The sound he makes is soft and broken, like he didn’t mean to let it out, but all it does it egg you on. You roll again—once, then twice—settling into a steady rhythm that has his breath stuttering beneath you.

Your moans grow louder as the pace builds, fusing with his, filling the room. You dip down to his neck, lips and teeth grazing the sensitive spot you found earlier, and he starts to twitch inside you.

His hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to hold on but you slow, grinding against him, teasing, drawing it out. He lets out a choked sob, this might as well be torture to him, and he can't withstand it another second.

His hips snap up to yours harshly, hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises. But can’t bring himself to stop. You feel too good. And this feels too right.

Something tight and overwhelming snaps inside you as he presses his forehead to your shoulder, a sound leaving him that'll replay in your head forever. Neither of you is sure who gave in first, only that you held onto each other through it, trembling, breathing each other in, as if letting go might wake you from the dream.

He’s not sure how long you stayed like that, before your forehead rests against his, lips brushing in a soft, lingering kisses. You drop your head down to rest in the crook of his neck, murmuring something incoherent. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself as he notices your breathing evened out, a deep sleep taking you under. 

He tries to stay with you as long as possible, but his thoughts won’t slow, won’t quiet. He was never deserving of any of this. He’s a freak. Freaks don’t belong with girls like you.

He slides you off of him and tucks you under the covers. Part of him wants to leave you there, give you the chance to wake up and decide he was a mistake. But the other part wants to lie next to you, and give you the chance to wake up and love him—even if it scares the hell out of both of you.

You stir and reach out to where he should be, brows furrowing as you realize he’s not there. Your hands come up and rub the sleep from your eyes, tears falling heavily.

He immediately tiptoes over and slides into bed. “Hey—hey, I’m right here.”

You reluctantly open your eyes as if this was a dream. There's a pout across your lips. It’s a look so wounded it almost breaks him.

“I thought you left me.”

“Never.” 

You chose for him without realizing.

So when you were sprawled in bed on a nothing Saturday, Supernatural playing as background noise from your laptop, spooning melting ice cream straight from the tub while doomscrolling Instagram, the ad for the hardcore metal show thirty minutes away was exactly what you needed.

You screenshotted it and fired it into the group chat—the one that had survived the messy, half-finished end of your relationship? Situationship? Five years together and somehow the friends had stayed shared property. Nobody wanted to pick sides.

Steve texted back first.

Steve: metal show? like with screaming and shit?

You: yes steven. thats generally how they go. also i need a ride pls and thank youuuu

Jonathan: fuck it. im in if you buy the ticket.

You: perfect. anyone else?

Robin: nance and I have plans but have fun! dont die!

Steve: you have gas money?

You confirmed. Heart already lighter.

Then your ex texted back—Busy. Which was code for hanging out with her, the girl who’d hated you from day one and had been circling ever since the split like she was waiting for the body to cool. Your blood went hot under your skin. Fuck that. Fuck him. You weren’t rotting in your room over it.

You texted Chrissy instead, half as a distraction. Told her about the show. She replied in under a minute that it “sounded fun” and invited herself. At least she was trying.

Nighttime arrived sticky and gold-edged. Steve’s car idled at the curb, windows down, some old classic rock playlist already humming low. Cramming four people into it was an exercise in physics and unresolved tension. Jonathan and Chrissy folded themselves into the back seat—Jonathan long-limbed and unbothered, Chrissy trying not to take up space in her little sundress. You took shotgun because “someone’s gotta navigate” and because the back felt too much like being babysat.

The drive was a strange little pocket of almost-normal. Steve’s fingers tapped the wheel in time with the music. Chrissy leaned forward between the seats asking wide-eyed questions—“So people just… run into each other on purpose?”—and you answered with the patience of someone who’d done this a hundred times. Jonathan mostly watched the passing streetlights and occasionally muttered something dry that made Chrissy giggle.

The venue was small—barely more than a converted warehouse with a low stage and a bar that had seen better decades. By the time you pulled into the lot it was already swarming. Black band tees, leather jackets, chains, shaved heads, long hair, tattoos everywhere. The air outside smelled like hot asphalt, cigarette smoke, and sweat from the bodies already packed together.

Inside was worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.

Packed. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, the heat of a hundred bodies already turning the air syrupy. Red and purple lights strobed across the low ceiling. The floor vibrated under your boots even though the band hadn’t started yet. People were already moving in loose, anticipatory clusters near the front—pockets of space that would become the pit the second the first chord dropped.

Steve and Chrissy looked like they’d wandered into the wrong dimension.

Steve had gone for “I can hang” in a black t-shirt and jeans, but his shoulders were tight, eyes flicking over the crowd like he was calculating exits. Chrissy’s sundress and soft curls stood out like a flare in a blackout. Both of them drifted closer to you the deeper you pushed into the room—Chrissy’s hand brushing your arm, Steve’s presence a steady warmth at your back.

Jonathan took one look at the growing energy near the stage, grinned that slow, knowing grin, and leaned in so you could hear him over the pre-show noise.

“I’m gonna go find someone to smoke with. You got this?”

You nodded. He squeezed your shoulder once and disappeared into the crowd like smoke himself—easy, unhurried, already chatting up some guy in a Misfits shirt by the time he reached the side wall.

You steered Steve and Chrissy toward the back, near the bar where the floor rose slightly and you could still see the stage but weren’t in the direct line of fire. A guy in a cutoff already had blood on his knuckles from earlier “fun.” Another cluster near the front was already shoving, testing the boundaries.

“Trust me,” you said, voice raised over the growing roar. “We’re staying back here for now.”

Chrissy’s eyes were huge. “Is it… always like this?”

“Only the good ones.” You offered her a small smile. “Pit’s gonna be nasty tonight. People are already stage diving. I don’t want you getting caught in that.”

She nodded fast, relief flickering across her face. Steve didn’t say anything, but he stayed close—closer than necessary—his arm brushing yours every time the crowd shifted. You could feel the tension in him, the way he kept scanning like he was ready to pull you both out if it went sideways. It was almost sweet. Almost annoying.

The lights dropped. The crowd surged forward like a single living thing. Then the band hit the stage and the room exploded.

Distorted guitars ripped through the air. Drums like artillery. Vocals that sounded like someone screaming into a broken microphone and meaning every word. Bodies slammed. Fists pumped. Someone launched themselves off the stage and vanished into a sea of catching hands. The pit became a churning, violent ocean—people shoving, spinning, lifting each other, stage diving in arcs that looked like they shouldn’t be survivable.

From the back you could feel it all without being swallowed by it. The bass still rattled your teeth. The heat still pressed in. But here you could breathe. Here you could keep an eye on Chrissy’s wide-eyed wonder and Steve’s protective hovering. Here the music could do what it always did—scour the leftover anger out of your chest, drown the image of your ex with someone else, leave nothing but the thrum in your bones and the knowledge that you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Chrissy’s fingers found your wrist during a particularly brutal surge near the front. You covered her hand with yours and didn’t let go.

Steve leaned in, mouth close to your ear so you could hear him. “You do this a lot?”

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes—close, too close in the press of bodies. The lights painted his face in flashes of red and shadow.

“Every chance I get.”

He held your gaze for a second longer than necessary. Something unreadable moved behind it. Then he nodded once, like he was filing that information away, and stayed right where he was—shoulder brushing yours, eyes on the stage but body angled toward you like he was still on guard duty.

Jonathan reappeared twenty minutes later smelling like weed and cheap cigarettes, looking more relaxed than he had all night. He slotted in on Chrissy’s other side without a word, just bumped your shoulder in quiet greeting and let the music take him.

You stayed at the back.

For now.

The pit could have you later—when your friends were safe, when the worst of the night had burned itself out, when you could finally let go and throw yourself into the beautiful, violent mess of it. But tonight you had people who needed an anchor. And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t mind being the one holding the line.

The music kept coming. Loud. Mean. Perfect.

Between sets the lights came up halfway and the crowd loosened like a held breath finally released. The band had torn the room apart for forty minutes straight—bodies flying, voices raw, the pit a living bruise—and now everyone was drifting, sweating, laughing too loud, already craving the next hit of noise.

You needed air.

You caught Chrissy’s wrist the same way she’d held yours earlier and tugged her toward the side door. “Come on. Before it starts again.”

She followed without question, still a little wide-eyed from everything she’d seen. The smoking area out back was barely more than a cracked concrete slab someone had strung with cheap fairy lights and a couple of sagging umbrellas that did nothing against the night. It smelled like old cigarette butts, warm beer, and barely concealed weed. A few people were already out here—leaning against the brick wall, passing a joint, talking shit between bands.

You dug your cigarettes out of your pocket, shook one free, and offered the pack to Chrissy. She took one even though she didn’t really smoke, just held it between her fingers like it was part of the costume. You lit both with the same flame, then leaned back against the cool brick and let the first drag burn the leftover adrenaline out of your lungs.

For a minute neither of you said anything. The muffled thump of the next band doing soundcheck bled through the walls. Inside, somewhere in that heat and dark, Steve was probably still posted up where you’d left him and Jonathan was probably already halfway to finding another smoke buddy. Out here the air felt thinner. Cooler against your damp skin.

You exhaled hard and the words came out before you could stop them.

“I’m so fucking tired of it,” you muttered, staring at the glowing tip of your cigarette. “Like… I knew it was over. I knew. But hearing he’s with her again? Actually with her? It still makes me want to throw something. Or throw up. Or both.” Your voice cracked on the last word and you hated how small it sounded. “She hated me the whole time we were together. Acted like I was temporary. And now she gets to win? Just like that?”

Chrissy stayed quiet, listening the way she always did—soft, present, not trying to fix it. That almost made it worse.

You kept going, the whine creeping in despite yourself. “I keep telling myself I’m over it. That I’m fine. And then he texts ‘busy’ like I’m supposed to just… what? Be happy for him? Fuck that. And Steve being here tonight doesn’t help. It’s like I can’t escape any of it. The whole group chat still feels like it belongs to that version of us and I’m just… tagging along in my own life.”

You took another drag, sharper this time. The fairy lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting soft little halos on the concrete. Your chest felt tight in a way the music inside hadn’t been able to touch.

Chrissy opened her mouth—probably to say something kind, something about how you deserved better—but then her gaze shifted past your shoulder and her whole expression changed.

“Oh,” she breathed, almost to herself. “Wow.”

You followed her line of sight.

He was leaning against the far end of the wall near the overflowing trash can, one boot propped up, a cigarette dangling from his fingers like he’d forgotten it was there. Long curly dark hair—wild even in the low light—framed a face that looked like it had been made for trouble and knew it. His smile was easy, crooked, the kind that reached his eyes and made the whole thing unfairly bright. Tattoos scattered across his arms and what you could see of his legs where his ripped black jeans didn’t cover— random little symbols, a spider, something that might’ve been a demon, but the one that caught you and held was the cluster of bats inked along his forearm. Detailed. Sharp. Like they were mid-flight across his skin.

He laughed at something the guy next to him said and the sound carried—low, warm, a little raspy. It did something stupid to your stomach.

You felt Chrissy shift beside you, her shoulder brushing yours.

“God,” she said, voice pitched low so only you could hear. “He’s hot. Like… unfairly hot. Do you see the hair? And the tattoos? Jesus.”

The words landed exactly where you knew they would.

That old, ugly twist started low in your gut before you could kill it. Of course she noticed. Of course she thought so too. It wasn’t even that it happened every time—you two didn’t clock the same guys often—but when you did, when there was that rare spark of mutual oh, it was always Chrissy who got the second glance. The smile back. The conversations that turned into something more. She didn’t even have to try. It just… happened. Like gravity.

You weren’t ugly. You knew that. But standing next to her—soft curls, big eyes, that effortless pretty that made people want to take care of her—you always felt like the afterthought. The one they talked to while their eyes kept drifting. The friend. The safe choice. The one who got the “you’re cool” conversation instead of the “I can’t stop looking at you” one.

It made your skin feel too tight. Made the cigarette taste bitter.

You forced a little laugh that didn’t reach your eyes and took another drag, trying to swallow the sting before it showed on your face.

“Yeah,” you said, voice carefully even. “He’s… something.”

Inside your head the voice was louder, meaner— Of course she thinks he’s hot. Of course she said it out loud. And now if anything happens it’s going to be her he remembers, not you. Same as always.

You hated how fast the insecurity rose up, hot and familiar, mixing with everything else you’d already been dumping on her—the situationship wreckage, the ex who was probably balls-deep in the girl who hated you, all the ways your life had gone shitty lately.

Chrissy was still looking at the guy with the bats, a soft, appreciative little smile on her face like she couldn’t help it.

You flicked ash off your cigarette and told yourself it didn’t matter.

Told yourself you were used to this.

Told yourself the music would be loud enough to drown it out when you went back inside.

But the bats on his arm kept catching the lights every time he moved, and your chest stayed tight in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke.

You went back inside when the next band started tuning up, the concrete slab and open space already feeling too small, too exposed. Chrissy didn’t say anything else about the guy with the bats, but you could feel the knowledge of him sitting between you like a third person. She kept glancing at you with that soft, knowing look she got when she thought she was being subtle.

The venue was still packed, bodies shifting and resettling like the whole place was breathing. You told yourself you were just moving through the crowd because you were thirsty. That’s all. Water. Maybe the bathroom. Normal things.

But he was everywhere.

First it was at the bar. You were reaching for a cup of water when the crowd parted just enough and there he was, three people down, shaking sweat out of that wild curly hair. The bats on his forearm flashed under the red lights as he grabbed his own water and tipped it back. You froze with the cup halfway to your mouth. He didn’t see you. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. Just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinned at something someone said, and melted back into the bodies like he’d never been there.

You told yourself it was nothing. Small venue. Coincidence.

Then the next set started and the pit went feral again. You’d stayed back with Chrissy and Steve like you planned, but Jonathan had wandered closer to the edge “just to feel it.” You were watching him when movement on the stage caught your eye—someone launching themselves off like gravity was optional. Long hair flying, tattoos stark against pale skin under the lights, that same cluster of bats on the arm that caught the stage lights as he flew. He disappeared into a sea of hands and reappeared laughing, already shoving his way back toward the front like he belonged there more than anyone else in the room.

Your stomach did something stupid and traitorous.

You didn’t say anything then. Not with Steve standing so close you could feel the heat of his arm whenever the crowd surged. Not with Chrissy still occasionally glancing toward the stage like she was looking for him too.

But later—between the second and third band, when you’d all drifted toward the side wall near the merch table because Chrissy needed a break from the noise—you made the mistake.

You were sipping another shitty water, trying to cool down, when the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“There’s this guy,” you said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “Long curly hair, all these tattoos. Bats on his arm. I keep seeing him everywhere. He’s… so fucking hot it’s actually rude.”

Steve’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost laughed. Jonathan just raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was already entertained.

“Bats?” Steve repeated, scanning the crowd immediately like he could summon the guy with sheer willpower. “Where? Point him out.”

“That’s the thing,” you muttered, already regretting it. “Every time I look he’s gone. Like a ghost.”

Jonathan leaned forward, following Steve’s line of sight. “What’s he wearing?”

“Black. Like everyone else in here,” you said dryly. “But the hair’s impossible to miss. And the bats. You’ll know when you see them.”

They spent the next twenty minutes trying.

Every time the crowd shifted they’d crane their necks—Steve standing on his toes at one point like an idiot, Jonathan squinting through the haze of smoke and lights. You caught glimpses— once near the pit again, hair sticking to his neck as he shoved someone playfully; once by the side door like he was heading out for air; once just a flash of that forearm as he reached over someone to grab a flyer off the merch table. But every single time Steve or Jonathan turned to look, he was already gone. Blended back into the sea of black and leather and sweat like he’d never existed.

“Swear to God you’re making him up,” Steve said after the fourth failed attempt, half laughing, half frustrated. He bumped your shoulder with his. “Trying to mess with us?”

“I’m not,” you insisted, but there was a flush creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the heat. “I saw him stage dive. Saw the bats clear as day. He was right there getting water earlier too.”

Jonathan just smirked, watching the crowd with new interest. “Sounds like the universe wants you to keep running into him. Or he wants you to.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words stuck. Because it did feel like that. Every time you turned a corner or the bodies parted or you went looking for something as simple as water, there he was—wild hair, easy grin, bats flashing like a secret only you were supposed to notice. And every time Steve and Jonathan tried to catch sight of him, he vanished like smoke.

Chrissy had wandered off toward the bathroom a few minutes ago, and part of you was grateful. You didn’t want to see if she was still thinking about him too. Didn’t want to watch her eyes light up the same way yours probably did every time that goddamn tattoo caught the light.

Steve was still scanning, shoulder brushing yours every time someone pushed past. “Next time you see him, grab me. Or at least get a picture so we know we’re not chasing a ghost.”

You didn’t answer. Because the next time you saw him—and you already knew there would be a next time—you weren’t sure you wanted to share.

Not yet.

The music started up again, louder than before, and the crowd surged forward like it had been waiting for permission. You stayed where you were for a second, letting the bass rattle your bones, letting the frustration and the stupid fluttering in your chest settle into something you could carry.

You needed another cigarette.

The venue felt too loud, too close, too full of everything you didn’t want to feel. So you caught Chrissy’s eye and nodded toward the side door again. She followed without asking why. The concrete and fairy lights were starting to feel like your own private corner of the night—quieter, cooler, easier to breathe in despite the heavy smoke.

You didn’t talk much this time. Just smoked in silence, the second cigarette burning faster than the first. Your head was a mess of bats tattoos, Chrissy’s soft “he’s hot” echoing in the back of your skull, and the low-grade ache of everything you’d vented earlier. By the time you stubbed the butt out under your boot, you felt marginally more human.

When you pushed back inside, the next band was still mid-set, the crowd a living wall of motion. You scanned for Steve and Jonathan and found them near the same side wall you’d left them at.

They were both grinning like idiots.

Mischievous. Too mischievous.

You narrowed your eyes as you and Chrissy reached them. “What did you do?”

Steve and Jonathan exchanged a look that made your stomach drop.

Jonathan shrugged, fighting a smirk. “We found your ghost.”

You blinked. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, way too pleased with himself. “Tracked him down near the pit. Long curly hair, bats and everything. Name’s Eddie.”

You were still processing the fact that they’d actually found him when Jonathan kept going, casual as anything.

“Told him you and Chrissy thought he was hot.”

The words hit like a bucket of ice water.

Fuck.

Your face went hot so fast it was almost painful. “You what—”

Of course they’d said both of you. Of course they’d made it a two-for-one thing. Like you couldn’t even have your own embarrassing crush without it getting shared.

Steve at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. Jonathan just looked entertained.

Before you could properly spiral, the crowd shifted and there he was—walking straight toward your little group like he’d been summoned.

Eddie.

Up close he was even worse. Taller than you’d realized, all long limbs and easy confidence, that wild dark hair sticking to his temples with sweat. The bats on his forearm were even more detailed than you’d thought, stark black against his skin. He had a crooked, charming smile already in place, like he knew exactly how this was about to go and found it funny.

He stopped in front of you, glanced between you and Chrissy with clear amusement, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So,” he said, voice warm and a little raspy from yelling along with the band, “I hear there’s been some… appreciation happening.”

Your soul tried to leave your body.

He continued before any of you could answer, still smiling but gentle about it. “Look, I’m flattered. Really. You’re both gorgeous and the ego boost is appreciated. But I’ve got a girlfriend. She’s actually here somewhere—.”

The girlfriend news landed with a dull thud in your chest. Not devastating, but… yeah. Of course he did. Guys who looked like that usually did.

Eddie’s grin turned a little playful as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. A shorter guy with shaggy hair and a Corroded Coffin shirt was hovering a few feet back, looking equal parts amused and mortified.

“This is Gareth. He’s single. Very single. And he’s down if either of you want to make out about it. No pressure.”

Gareth gave a little wave and an awkward smile that said please don’t actually take him up on this.

You didn’t even have to think.

“Ah… no thank you,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out on a half-laugh that was more embarrassment than anything. “Appreciate the offer, though. Really.”

Eddie laughed—full and bright and stupidly nice—and clapped Gareth on the shoulder. “Worth a shot. You guys have a good night, yeah? Enjoy the rest of the show.”

And just like that he was gone again, disappearing back into the crowd with Gareth in tow, like he really was some kind of ghost that only appeared when he felt like it.

The four of you stood there in stunned silence for a second.

Steve let out a low whistle. “Well. That was something.”

Jonathan was straight-up laughing now. Chrissy looked like she was trying very hard not to.

You just pressed your hands over your face for a moment, the heat in your cheeks refusing to fade.

The next set started and you tried to lose yourself in it—let the music and the bodies and the noise drown out the mortification. It mostly worked. Mostly. Every time the crowd surged you caught yourself scanning for curly hair and bats without meaning to. Steve stayed close. Chrissy kept shooting you little sympathetic glances. Jonathan looked far too pleased with the chaos he’d helped create.

By the time the band finished their last song and the lights came up halfway again, you were done.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” you said, already stepping back before anyone could offer to come with you. “Alone. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You didn’t wait for an answer.

The side door felt like an escape hatch. The smoking area was empty this time—no one else had wandered out yet. Just the lights buzzing softly overhead, the distant thump of the venue still going, and the cooler night air against your overheated skin.

You lit another cigarette with slightly shaky hands and leaned back against the brick wall, letting the smoke curl up into the dark.

Eddie.

Girlfriend.

Steve and Jonathan telling him you and Chrissy thought he was hot.

The whole thing played on loop in your head, equal parts humiliating and strangely funny now that you were alone. Your chest still felt tight, but at least out here no one could see the flush on your face or the way your thoughts kept circling back to that stupid, charming smile.

You took a long drag and exhaled toward the moon.

You were sitting on the cold concrete with your back against the brick wall, phone in your hands, thumb moving on autopilot. Scrolling through nothing. Instagram stories you didn’t care about. A text from Robin you hadn’t answered yet. Anything to keep your brain from replaying the whole “we told him you and Chrissy think he’s hot” disaster on loop.

Inside, the final band was probably getting ready to go on — you could feel the low thump of the soundcheck through the wall. You weren’t ready to go back in yet. Not with Steve’s knowing looks and Jonathan’s shit-eating grin and the lingering sting of everything that had happened in the last hour.

You didn’t even look up when someone dropped down beside you on the concrete.

Not until they spoke.

“Mind if I crash your very important phone date?”

You turned your head.

Eddie.

Up close like this, with no crowd and no awkward wingman audience, he was somehow even more magnetic. Wild curls still damp at the temples, black band tee stretched across his shoulders, the bats on his forearm stark when he rested his elbows on his knees. He had that same easy half-smile, but it was softer now. Less performance, more real.

You blinked, brain short-circuiting for a second. “Uh… yeah. Sure.”

He settled in like he belonged there, long legs stretched out in front of him, boots crossed at the ankle. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cigarette smoke, sweat, and something warm and spicy underneath.

“So,” he said, glancing at you sideways, “that was… a lot. Earlier. Sorry about the Gareth thing.”

You let out a short, embarrassed laugh despite yourself. “It’s fine. Really. I think my friends started it.”

“They definitely started it,” he agreed, grinning. “Ambushed me right as I was coming out of the pit. ‘Hey man, these two girls think you’re hot.’ Bold strategy. I panicked and went full ‘I have a girlfriend’ mode. Classic move.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So it's she real or?”

Eddie nodded his head, curls bouncing. “Yeah. She couldn’t make it tonight. Work thing. I was just trying to be polite and not lead anyone on in front of your whole crew.” He tilted his head, studying you for a second. “Didn’t expect to find you out here alone though. Figured you’d be inside losing your mind in the pit.”

“I needed a break,” you admitted, locking your phone and letting it rest on your thigh. “It’s been… a weird night.”

“Yeah?” His voice went a little softer, curious. “Weird how?”

You shrugged, but the words came easier than you expected. “Ex drama. My friends being assholes. The usual.”

Eddie nodded like he got it. “Sounds exhausting. Music helps though, right? That’s why we’re all here. To forget the bullshit for a couple hours.”

“Exactly.” You smiled, small but real. “And then my friends had to go and make it weird by telling you I thought you were hot.”

He laughed — low and warm and way too nice. “I mean… I am flattered. And for the record? The feeling’s mutual. You’ve got this whole ‘I'm secretly a lot wilder than I let on’ energy that’s kinda working for me.”

Your face went warm again, but this time it didn’t feel like embarrassment. It felt like something lighter. Something that made you sit up a little straighter.

“You’re smooth,” you said, trying for teasing.

“I try.” He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours. “So what’s your name, anyway? Or am I just gonna keep calling you ‘the girl who keeps appearing everywhere I go’ in my head?”

You told him. He repeated it once, like he was tasting it, then grinned. “Fits you.”

The conversation flowed from there — easy, natural, the kind that made the rough concrete under you and the distant music inside feel like background noise. You talked about the bands you’d both seen live, the worst pits you’d ever been in, how he’d never been to this venue before. He asked about your favorite shows, listened when you talked about the freedom of it, the way the music made everything else shut up for a while.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he reached over without warning and plucked your phone right out of your hand.

“Hey—”

“Relax,” he said, already unlocking it like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I’m not going through your texts. Just making sure we don’t lose each other in the void again.”

You watched, half-indignant and half-amused, as he opened Instagram, searched his own account, and hit follow on himself from your phone. Then he handed it back with a little flourish.

“There. Now you’re stuck with me. Fair warning — my stories are like… 80 percent bullshit.”

You looked at the screen. His profile was exactly what you expected — chaotic, loud, full of music and friends and that same crooked smile in half the photos. You followed him back without thinking twice.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t mute you,” you said, but you were smiling.

“You won’t,” he replied, confident and a little smug. “We vibe too hard already.”

And the worst part? He was right.

You stayed out there even when the final band started inside. You could hear the muffled roar of the crowd, the guitars ripping through the walls, people screaming along. But neither of you moved. Eddie’s knee brushed yours every so often when he shifted. The conversation kept going — deeper now, easier. He told you about his band. You told him about the shows that had saved you over the years. He made you laugh more than once, that warm raspy laugh answering every time.

At some point he lit a cigarette and offered you one without asking. You took it.

The last band played their whole set while the two of you sat on the concrete like the show inside didn’t exist. Like this little pocket of night and easy conversation was the real main event.

And for the first time all night, you weren’t thinking about your ex, or Steve, or Chrissy, or the awkward wingman disaster.

You were just thinking about how Eddie’s smile looked under these lights.

And how you really, really didn’t want this conversation to end.

The drive home was pure insanity and you barely registered any of it.

Steve’s car felt even smaller than it had on the way there — four bodies crammed in, the windows cracked to let out the smell of the joint Jonathan had produced the second you all piled in after the show. Chrissy had taken the back with Jonathan again, leaving you up front with Steve. The weed had hit fast and warm, softening the edges of the night, but it couldn’t quite touch the loop running in your head.

Eddie’s laugh under the sparkling lights. The way he’d plucked your phone out of your hand like it was nothing. The bats flashing every time he moved his arm. That low, raspy voice saying we vibe too hard already like it was a fact.

Your friends, unfortunately, had noticed you were checked out.

“So,” Jonathan started from the back, voice lazy from the joint, “you gonna tell us why you vanished for the entire last set or are we supposed to guess?”

Steve glanced over at you, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the steering wheel in time with whatever was playing low on the radio. Even in the dark you could see the smirk. “Yeah, you were out there a while. Noticed bat guy was missing too. What was his name again? Eddie?”

Chrissy stayed quiet, but you could feel her looking at you in the rearview mirror.

You kept your eyes on the road ahead, thumb mindlessly scrolling nothing on your phone screen. “We were just talking.”

“Talking,” Steve repeated, like the word was hilarious. “For like forty-five minutes. While the final band played. Inside. Where the music was.”

Jonathan snorted. “She’s got it bad already. Look at her. She’s not even defending herself.”

“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were smiling a little despite everything. “Shut up. Both of you.”

Steve reached over and flicked your knee, gentle but teasing. “We’re just saying. You disappear with the hot tattoo guy and come back all quiet and smiley? We’re allowed to rip on you a little.”

You didn’t answer. Just took another hit when Jonathan passed the joint forward and let the smoke curl out the window into the humid night air. They kept going — light, stupid, brotherly teasing — but your brain was already somewhere else. Back with Eddie’s easy grin and the way the conversation had felt like the only thing that had made sense all night.

By the time Steve dropped you off, your head was pleasantly fuzzy and your chest still carried that low, familiar ache from earlier. Your stupid ex. The way everything had felt messy and loud until Eddie sat down next to you like he belonged there.

You waved them off, climbed the stairs to your place, and didn’t even bother turning on the big lights. Just kicked off your boots, changed into something soft, and crawled onto your bed with your phone.

Eddie’s Instagram was exactly what you expected and somehow better.

Way too many stories from the show tonight — blurry videos of the pit, him flipping off the camera with a grin, a quick clip of him stage diving that made your stomach flip. His feed was mostly music— his band, old show posters, random photos of his hands on a guitar, a couple of him laughing with friends. One picture from a couple months ago caught your eye — black tank top, hair tied up, bats tattoo on full display as he leaned against a van. You were still staring at it when your phone buzzed.

A DM.

eddie.munson: hey. you make it home okay or did your friends actually murder you for ditching them?

You bit your lip, the weed making everything feel a little softer around the edges, the sadness from earlier still there but quieter now. Your fingers moved before you could overthink it.

fam0uslastw0rds: alive. barely. they spent the whole drive home roasting me for disappearing with you during the last set

eddie.munson: lmao i’m honored

eddie.munson: worth it though right? that concrete slab was way better than whatever was happening inside

You smiled at your screen.

fam0uslastw0rds: way better. you’re a surprisingly good distraction

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

eddie.munson: surprisingly? ouch

eddie.munson: i was going for devastatingly good distraction but i’ll take it

You laughed out loud in the quiet of your room.

fam0uslastw0rds: devastatingly is a strong word

fam0uslastw0rds: but… yeah. tonight was kind of shit until you sat down. so thanks for that

eddie.munson: anytime. seriously. you seemed like you needed it

eddie.munson: and for the record? i needed it too. your friends weren’t wrong about the “hot” thing either 😉

Your stomach flipped. The weed made you bolder than usual, the low ache in your chest making you want to lean into the attention instead of pulling back.

fam0uslastw0rds: bold of you to say that after the whole “i have a girlfriend” thing earlier

fam0uslastw0rds: fair. she’s real. but she also wasn’t there tonight and you were. and i’m not gonna lie and say i didn’t notice you before your friends ambushed me

You stared at the screen for a second, heart beating a little faster.

fam0uslastw0rds: you’re dangerous when you’re flirty

fam0uslastw0rds: i’m stoned and sad and you’re making it worse (in a good way)

eddie.munson: stoned and sad is my favorite flavor of honest

eddie.munson: tell me about the sad part if you want. or we can keep pretending i’m just some mysterious guy you met at a show who’s really good at making you smile at your phone

You bit your lip again, thumbs hovering.

You typed before you could stop yourself.

fam0uslastw0rds: mysterious guy at a show is working for me right now

fam0uslastw0rds: keep talking

The typing bubble came back fast.

eddie.munson: careful what you wish for

eddie.munson: i’ve got all night and zero plans

You settled deeper into your pillows, the joint haze making everything warm and slow and a little dangerous in the best way.

It had been a little over a week since the show and your phone had barely left your hand.

Eddie had given you his number that same night after the DMs started getting long — “so we don’t have to fight Instagram’s shitty messaging,” he’d texted — and from there it snowballed fast. What started as casual “made it home safe?” check-ins turned into hours-long threads. Funny stories from his day, voice notes of him playing guitar riffs, random questions about your favorite t.v. shows, your worst pit experiences, what you were eating for dinner. He was easy to talk to. And he never once mentioned his girlfriend.

You didn’t bring her up either.

You added each other on everything. Facebook (mostly for the mutual friends and old photos he didn’t care about curating). Twitter, where he posted chaotic band memes and you replied with worse ones. Snapchat became the real danger zone. Streaks started. Good morning snaps. Good night snaps. Playful ones with filters, stupid faces, sometimes just his hand holding a coffee or his guitar. The flirting lived there most of all — disappearing photos with captions that walked the line, voice notes that lingered a second too long, the kind of back-and-forth that made your stomach flip when your phone lit up.

Your friends noticed immediately.

You were sprawled on Chrissy’s couch one afternoon, half-watching some reality show none of you were actually paying attention to, when your phone buzzed for the third time in ten minutes. You smiled without thinking, thumbs already moving.

Steve, who had claimed the armchair, raised an eyebrow. “There it is again.”

Jonathan didn’t even look up from his phone. “The Eddie smile. We’ve got a code name for it now.”

Chrissy sat up straighter, eyes bright. “Okay but seriously — who is he and why does he make you look like that? You’ve been glued to that thing since the show.”

You tried to play it off, locking the screen and setting it face-down on your stomach. “We’ve just been talking. He’s funny. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing my ass,” Steve said, grinning. “You disappeared for an entire set with the guy and now you’re over here giggling at your phone like a teenager. Spill.”

Jonathan finally glanced up, smirking. “He still an hour away?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “So it’s just texting. Snapchat mostly.”

Chrissy’s expression shifted into something softer, more determined. She’d moved on from the whole “Eddie has a girlfriend and politely rejected us both” thing within twenty-four hours — classic Chrissy. Now she was in full “help your friend get over her shitty ex” mode.

“Babe, you should flirt with him,” she said, leaning forward. “Like, actually flirt. Your ex is out there living his best life with that bitch who hates you. You deserve to have fun. Eddie’s hot, he clearly likes talking to you, and it’s not like you’re gonna run into him at the grocery store tomorrow. Live a little.”