#eddie munson fake marriage

[blueywrites]

I Will Wait

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness

18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. fem!reader

one (9.9k) | next | masterlist | AO3 | 🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. if you didn't check out the prequel publications (hot off the press on our series masterlist), make sure you do, since they provide important backstory for the IWW universe! read them carefully; there are secrets. 😉

Your mind is a buzzing whirl, just like that of the streets of New York City below, visible through the thick glass of your apartment window. Below, where you can hear the blare of honking horns, can see people loitering on the side of the road, hands waving high in an attempt to hail one of the taxis rushing past. You watch as people dart across busy intersections, dodging oncoming cars, scattering like ants across criss-crossed streets that teem with activity even in the dead of night.

It’s a constant, a comfort, something you can cling to as anticipation bubbles and wells in your gut. 

Outside, the sun is beginning its slow descent; glowing bright skies begin to deepen into a powdery orange, hinting at a day starting to close. Your fingers press against the window, a mental note already forming to clean it once you step away, eyes peering out into the bustling city streets. You work your way down the mental list once more: dishes washed, already set aside in the drying rack; laundry ironed and folded, pressed neatly into your drawers in categorical order; counters wiped down, shades dusted, furniture polished; dishwasher emptied, cups, plates, bowls and utensils placed in proper cabinets; AOL inbox checked, your confirmation for the time you would be meeting your new boss responded to, while the rest of the emails were placed into proper folders or deleted completely.

You’ve already changed your outfit three times. Laid multiple options out on your bed and ironed them all. You had held them to your body in the reflection of your bedroom mirror and tossed them into a heap at the foot of your bed. This wasn’t just any day, after all. The importance isn’t lost on you. This isn’t like any of your temp jobs that came before it. This is the first you’ll be working alongside someone with undeniable notoriety in the music space. 

A celebrity, really. 

“I can see your mind working, you know?” Angela, your roommate, glances up from where she sits at your kitchen island. There’s a magazine in front of her with some likely-falsified article about the newest Hollywood “IT” couple on display, dressed to the nines with glowing, airbrushed features. Her nails tap along the countertop, stark red against pale cream, as she arches a brow in your direction.

You’re already walking into the kitchen to join her, skirt sliding against your tight-clad thighs as you reach down beneath the sink to grab a bottle of windex, sights set on the fingerprints on your floor-to-ceiling windows. She twists in the chair while you rustle about, ignoring her as you grasp paper towels from the rack.

“This is a good thing,” she says, sighing with an exasperated shake of the head. Your reflection obscures for a brief moment, replaced by blue spray, before you wipe your lingering prints away. “You’ve wanted to travel for so long. You know, see the world and all of that. This is your opportunity to do it. And shit, it beats working for that asshat you used to deal with. What was his name again?” 

You slip back into the kitchen to throw the towel away, heels clacking against tile. “Carver,” you reply, just as the lid to the garbage falls closed. You lean back against the countertop, smoothing your sweaty palms along the sides of your skirt. “Pretty sure anyone would be better than him. I still can’t believe that Mr. Harrington came to the office looking to mitigate all that tension between Mr. Munson and Jason by trying to partner up Carver Distilleries and Corroded Coffin for a commercial, and Jason went and ruined it by running his mouth. I wish you could have seen it, Ange. Mr. Harrington was so disgusted with how he behaved, he extinguished the deal completely right there in his office.”

“Exactly, because even he knows that man is vile,” she sighs with a pout, her form slipping down from off of one of your shoddy barstools, curly blonde hair swaying around her shoulders as she walks. You snort when her hands curl around your forearms, shaking you lightly. “What did your new boss say? Something about you being more than equipped to handle this position? Didn’t he, oh I don’t know, request you specifically for his client? You’re going to be fine; in fact, you’re going to be wonderful. If there’s anyone in this world who can handle the notorious Eddie Munson, I think it’s you.”

With a newly restored confidence, you set to the bustling streets of Manhattan, sights poised on the recording studio address you were given. You thought your first day might start with something akin to an office introduction. Something, at the very least, a little less imposing than this. But you double checked your email from Mr. Harrington before you left and printed the directions that now sat clutched tight within your hands. 

The building that stands before you at the end of your trek looms arresting and proud in the midst of the bodies swarming around you. Your eyes lift hesitantly to the glass door, your mirrored reflection leaping back at you. Angela’s words ring true in your ears; you are more than adequately equipped. You wouldn’t be invited here if it were not fate itself beckoning at your door. With a resigned exhale, your fingers twine around the cool, metal handle and step inside. 

Schmackin’ Records is a world unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. From the moment your feet hit the mat at the front door, company logo etched into it, you know you’re no longer sitting at the front desk of Carver Distilleries. Your head tilts upward to the records dangling from the ceiling, then lower to the endless sprawling walls littered with posters boasting of accolades achieved by the success of the artists that have roamed these halls. You’re struck with the realization that you’re standing in the shadows of legends that have also trailed this path before you. 

This— this place and this moment, are your current reality. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be the new assistant, would you?” The woman at the front desk catches your attention. Your head whirls, fingers slipping from where they rest along a glass case affixed to the wall, proclaiming a recently obtained platinum record. Her face softens at your visible nervousness. “Sorry to scare you, dear.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I’m… ah, I’m actually here to meet with Mr. Steve Harrington. He gave me this address….” You hold aloft the directions in your hand, heart dancing in your chest as your heeled shoes propel you over to where she sits behind a glass panel. The woman before you glimpses down at your directions printed from MapQuest with a pitying grin, her head bobbing before her fingers clack away on her keyboard. 

“That’s right! Hold on one moment, sweetie.” You open your mouth to speak as she lifts a phone from its receiver and dials a number quickly. You can faintly hear a voice on the other end. “Mr. Harrington? Yes, this is Joyce speaking. Mr. Munson’s new assistant is here looking for you… okay— yes, that’s fine. Thank you, yes— I’ll let her know. Goodbye.” 

Your legs plant beneath you firmly, shoulders ramrod straight, head tilted up in anticipation of your new role. Joyce only resumes in her typing, head tilted down toward her computer screen, leaving you to simmer alone in the tense silence. 

“Mr. Harrington will meet you on floor five. Just take that elevator down this hall on your left,” she says, head lifting abruptly from her work. 

“Thank you!” 

Somehow, the directions only bring you more nervousness. The knowledge that all that stands before you and your new role is five floors. A short elevator ride. Merely a few moments in time remain stretched between you and the catapult into a lifestyle you’ve only seen on television prior to this opportunity. 

Your shoes clack against the laminate flooring, a foreboding tap tap tap as you shuffle your way down the short hallway and press the call button for your elevator. The doors open with a soft ping, heart ricocheting against your ribcage as you step inside and the silver metal closes behind you. Hesitant fingers raise to press the number five, the circle bursting to life and illuminating your selection. You step into the center of the room, hands clasped at your side, eyes ahead of you on your distorted reflection upon the surface. 

You settled on a simple outfit for the day. Something pristine and professional. A thin black long-sleeved shirt, pale gray tweed skirt, black tights, and dark heels. Simple and understated, though still maintaining your own preferences for stylistic choices. Those same clothes cling to you now. Your tights suddenly seem too tight, heels increasingly pinchy around the back of your heel, skirt prickly and coarse against your thighs, the neck of your sweater digging into your throat. You’re parched, though you doubt any amount of water would assist you now. 

The door opens to reveal sprawling wooden walls, as well as the figure of Steve Harrington standing before you in a pair of slacks and a simple button up. He looks exceedingly kind just as he did the first time you met him. Dark, depthless eyes with a wide grin spread across finely hewn features. His fingers card through his hair as you step out to greet him, hand coming to extend before you at the ready. 

“You’re here! Oh, thank god.” He shakes your hand briefly and nudges you toward the opening of a hallway, those endless panels of wooden walls surrounding you on either side. The voice that spills from him in a rush is a frantic murmur of, “I’m sorry to have contacted you on such notice. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble—”

“Oh, not at all, Mr. Harrington,” you interrupt, swallowing thickly as he pauses in stride. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Please, call me Steve. Mr. Harrington is what people call my father,” he says, smiling softly. There’s a comfort in his gaze, a warmth that oozes from him. The tightness in your chest loosens, a deep breath pouring out. “We’ve… well, his last assistant quit abruptly, you see, and therefore we were obviously left with no notice. So when you said you could start as soon as possible, it was almost a godsend.”

Your hands grip tighter to the band of your pocketbook draped over your shoulder, leather still cool from the afternoon air. “I’m here for whatever you need, Mr. Ha— Steve.”

The hallway leads to a door, dark and imposing, with a wide silver handle. His fingers curl around it and hesitate, head turning over his shoulder to gauge your expression. The worrying of your lip pauses, teeth releasing from their tense position against your skin. Your mouth quirks upward into a hopeful smile, willing those nerves bubbling to subside. 

“What exactly have you heard about Eddie Munson?” he asks you. 

You know he’s not expecting a true answer. Not really. You’ve done minimal research. A quick Yahoo search brings up more articles than you know what to do with in reference to the infamous Eddie Munson. Most of which had brought you to pages detailing his altercation at the Grammy Awards in 1994 and the numerous escapades he’s gotten himself into in the course of his still newly established stardom, as well as his whirlwind romance with his wife. 

“Not much,” you admit, and while it is the truth, Steve seems to deflate a bit. 

His shoulders drop, hand coming to run through that full head of dark hair on him once more. That easy demeanor shifts, mouth turning southward. “Eddie is… he means well. He’s just— well, he’s gone through a few assistants in the past few months, as you know. In the few years I’ve known him, I can tell you with certainty he is dedicated to his craft, but he tends to veer into the wilder aspects of life. What he needs right now is someone who can handle him, and I truly believe that person is you.”

You feel your stomach drop. Initially, when Steve had offered you the position, he boasted of a fast-paced role that required adaptability. Your previous job had been nothing but back to back phone calls, fielding all the incoming clients and their questions, managing the schedules of your manager, and ensuring all issues were handled accordingly. 

Babysitting a rockstar hadn’t exactly been on your agenda; yet even despite all of that, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity and had accepted the job offer. 

“And the others?” you question, hand coming to rub along your bicep.

“I wouldn’t worry about it so much,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “You handled Carver. Eddie should be a breeze.”

Carver Distilleries was not your ideal job, but it was the job you acquired shortly after a brief stint as an administrative assistant for a local community college. The company touted a prolific background of over thirty years in business and you jumped at the prospect. It had been straightforward enough most days. The phones rang around the clock and you handled the calls as expected, passed them off to their proper channels, and made sure the son of the CEO was happy at all times. 

Jason Carver was, to put it lightly, the devil’s incarnate. Most days you wondered if he’d been placed in this life for the sole purpose of bringing suffering to all those around him, with a pitchfork in one hand and tail swishing behind him as he stomped through the halls of the building. 

You couldn’t recall off the top of your head a day wherein he had ever been happy. Shockingly so for someone born from wealth and thrusted into the limelight, silver spoon in mouth at birth. Jason was proof that money hardly ever solved all problems.

He reigned as the crowned Prince of the company, his father’s shining star, who never raised his finger to do anything. For years, he rode on the back of his father’s coattails and treated those around them like they were beneath him, nose always upturned, sneer firmly planted on his face. 

That evening you were already overwhelmed. There was an issue down in the marketing department regarding a mixup in schedules, leaving the Carver’s seated next to a family they didn’t particularly have positive dealings with at an upcoming gala. To add to the rising tension, Jason sent you on an errand to retrieve his requested cappuccino. Light foam, two sugars, extra hot. When you’d returned, he was still in a meeting with some of his fathers business executives, hidden behind a glass door. You left the cup for him there, as requested of you, and rushed back to the front desk just as Mr. Steve Harrington walked into the building. 

He’d come in looking like any other businessman you’d seen grace the building in the past. Perfectly tailored suit and tie, briefcase in hand, hair coiffed neatly atop his head. Steve Harrington, though young, harnessed a professionalism about him that Jason Carver lacked. There were no sneers aimed your way as he approached the desk and greeted you pleasantly, nor did he scoff at the hand you’d extended in greeting, welcoming him with a soft thanks. 

“Mr. Carver is just finishing up another meeting and will be out to retrieve you,” you advise him, walking out from behind your desk. “Would you like coffee, water… tea?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” he says, holding his briefcase tighter within his palm as he made his way over to the small couch positioned across from you, nestled beside a potted plant. You retreated back to your desk as he pulled a phone from his pocket, voice rising just enough to ask, “Do you happen to have—”

“What is this?!” Jason’s voice boomed from down the hall. 

A loud thump echoed from his office, likely from something he’d tossed off his desk in frustration, and you knew well enough to duck behind the covering of your work space. You frantically thumbed the spacebar on your computer to bring it back to life, assuring everyone in your vicinity that you appeared occupied as a shock of blonde hair filled your peripheral. He’d bursted into the room with the dejected coffee in hand, hair strewn about messily atop, eyes narrowed in heedless anger. 

Your eyes flickered to the cup, then settled back on the opened email on your desktop computer. The subject line held a request for a flower arrangement you were set to purchase for Jason’s wife, Chrissy, because he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself. 

You let out a soft sigh and explained, “It’s the coffee you asked for.”

His nostrils flared like a bull, the embers burning behind his eyes glowing brighter. “I know it’s the coffee I asked for. I don't pay you to answer me with that sarcastic bullshit—”

“Mr. Carver—” The rise of your voice caught you both off guard, only further angering him. 

His eyes narrowed, brows knitted tight across the middle of his forehead, vein pulsing against taut skin growing redder by the second. “I asked for a cappuccino with light foam, two sugars, and asked that you make sure it’s extra hot. This isn’t extra hot. This isn’t even warm. It’s cold.”

“Yes, Mr. Carver. It was hot when I left it on your desk two hours ago. Would you like me to go and get you another one?” You try your best to retain a neutral tone. You’re aware of Steve’s eyes trailing along both your forms, interrupted from his own work by your increasingly heated argument. 

He barked out an incredulous laugh, head shaking. “No, I don't want you to get me another coffee. You should have known my meeting would run long and planned accordingly. I don’t know where you get the nerve to talk to me like you are when you seem to have forgotten you are no more than a rece—”

“Mr. Carver.” You both paused at the finality of your tone, throat filled with the bitter taste of the degradation he attempted to throw your way. “Your two thirty meeting for the Tennessee Maple Whiskey commercial is here.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting a glower your way. You already anticipated a meeting in his office later wherein he reminded you of all the reasons why your behavior was unacceptable and why you were lucky to still have a position at Carver Distilleries. 

“Fine. Mr. Harrington, give me one moment and I will call you back into my office. I just need to finish running something by my father. As for you—” His eyes darted back to your form. “—I will deal with you later.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh of relief as the blonde haired man sauntered back down the hall, leaving you to the comfort of your generally quiet front desk. Steve still lingered there, one hand curled around his phone, the other lifting the briefcase he held off his lap to set it in the seat beside him. You watched as he rose to his feet and dropped his phone within his pocket, gliding over to your desk with a small white card in hand. 

You didn’t need to read the words there to know what he’d slid across your desk. It was an instantaneous understanding, the knowledge of a new opportunity, of a way out from beneath the weight of the man who wanted nothing more than to rule with an iron fist and remind others that they were all beneath him. 

He glanced briefly down the hall to ensure no one was listening and leveled his gaze with yours, voice a quieted whisper as he said, “You work well under pressure. Carver is… well, Carver’s an ass. I can offer you more money, if you happen to be looking for another job. You could travel the world working for me instead of sitting behind this desk. Let me know.” 

Standing before Steve, you feel the questions swirling of the validity of the hope he’d placed inside of you. Had it been premature? He’d only seen one encounter between your prior manager and yourself. That was hardly enough to base a whole career off of, and yet his fingers tighten around the door handle all the same, ready to pull it forward and open you up to a world of newness beckoning you. 

Your sweaty palms slide down the sides of your tweed skirt, fabric rustling about your thighs as you step nearer to the door, hardening your resolve. 

It’s now or never, you suppose. 

“Remember,” Steve warns, just as you move to step inside the recording studio. “He means well. I should also warn that he can tend to be a little… flirtatious. But I would try and pay it no mind. You’re going to be great.”

The room inside is grandiose. Roof to floor wooden paneling shrouds everything in a honey warmth. There are a couple of couches near the far wall, one of which seemingly occupied, and a coffee table that sits in front of it. You catch the slow glug of a water dispenser in the distance, nearest to a coffee station in preparation of the long night that lies ahead of you all. To your right is an open closet, then further still a bathroom. The room itself is dim, lights adjusted for a cozier feel. Intimate and fitting for the tracks that are to be laid today. 

The same room, previously full of echoing laughter and vibrant conversation, fizzles into deafening silence as Steve leads you into the room, calling out, “Guys, there’s someone I'd like you to meet!” The announcement has every eye in the room darting your way, faces drawn tight to get a sight of the newest visitor. Only you’re not a visitor, because one of these men is about to be your new client. Steve turns to you then, hand lightly brushing your shoulder to nudge you forward as he says, “This right here is the new assistant, Y/N.”

A round of introductory greetings reach your ears, your voice full of certainty as you return them. “It’s great to finally meet you all.” However, you’ve yet to capture the elusive image of your client, as two of the band members stand closely together, obscuring him from your direct field of view.

Steve continues, “This is Gareth Parsons, drummer of Corroded Coffin.”

The first of the group steps forward. His shaggy head of brown hair flops as he moves, reaching forward with an extended hand in greeting. The warmth of his palm fills the space within your own, squeezing lightly. You feel a little bit of that boiling tension dissipate, the weight on your chest at the notion of a room full of new people unintentionally judging you lightening. 

His voice is kind, edged with humor as he says teasingly, “Nice to finally meet Eddie’s new babysitter.”

The next band member makes himself known. He has dark skin, dark hair and lovely brown eyes, full of a kindness that has your mind easing further. Those same comforting eyes flash quickly to his bandmate, a stern flicker of his warm gaze resting on Gareth’s, the latter of the two huffing from his nose.  

“Behave,” Jeff warns, voice a low murmur that has Gareth resigning to his defeat. That warm hand releases from your own and he steps back enough into the fold of the remaining members to allow Jeff to step forward. “The name’s Jeff. I’m on rhythm guitar and synth. It’s so nice to meet you.” He flashes you a white smile, and you can’t help the grin that blooms across your features at his easy acceptance of your presence. 

“Thank you,” you say, truly grateful that the first two introductions have thus far proceeded smoothly. “Both of you.”

Seemingly pleased with how things are processing, Steve clears his throat. “So that’s Jeff, who you’ve now met. And then you’ve got Harry, who would be the bassist of Corroded Coffin.”

Harry steps forward, his hulking frame shadowing your own, to shake your hand. You lock your hand within his and he opens his mouth to work over the words he’s going to say when a voice cuts through the silence. 

“The name is Harry Cox. And if you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll show it to you.”

“Eddie, fuckin’ really?” Jeff asks brusquely, whirling around in the Eddie Munson’s direction.

You’re not sure what to expect as the men shift and separate, bodies moving one by one to reveal the figure that’s so far remained hidden from your view. In theory, you’ve seen pictures of him. One would have to be living under a rock to not have come across a photograph of Eddie Munson somewhere. The infamous photo of the men standing around you, dated back to when they were teenagers, boyish frames huddled together in the halls of their high school before they had skyrocketed to fame at a trajectory no one ever anticipated; the clippings from not so flattering headlines showing his swift rise and downfall, leaving him on thin ice; the photos documenting his hasty nuptials to his actress wife. However, none of those compare to the intimidating figure that commands the presence of everyone around him as your hesitant eyes clash with his beneath the dark shroud of his sunglasses. 

Your eyes settle on the dark swath of ripped jeans over coltish limbs. Black material stretches tight over sinewy muscle, thighs splayed out in front of him, scuffed Doc Martens thrown carelessly against the cherry wood of the coffee table. Your eyes start the slow crawl upward, tracking along black shirt stretched over his broad chest, with an equally dark leather jacket hugging his biceps. His arms rest over the top of the couch, a confident sprawl of elongated limbs against plush cushions. His face is almost feline, predatory and intimidating, most of the upper portion of his face obscured by those aviator sunglasses. The parts you can see are striking: lengthy, wavy hair that falls to his shoulders, soft and feathery against the leather jacket; those long fingers adorned with silver rings pushed flush against knuckles, broad hands covered in intricate tattoos; the pale skin over high cheekbones, an indent on his cheek that hints at a dimple if he weren't looking your way in disdain; full lips, soft nose, and the slightest hint of shadow along his jaw. 

The Eddie Munson portrayed in the tabloids Angela had showed you over the years pales in comparison to the man that sits before you. This man oozes presence— owns this sort of magnetism that pulls the attention onto him in the center of the room with the mere sound of his voice. 

“And that would be Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist for Corroded Coffin,” Steve explains, the arresting presence of the man sitting on the couch in front of you rooting you in place. 

Gareth coughs out a quiet, “Resident douche.” 

Jeff shoots him another scathing look. It’s enough of a distraction to draw your attention away from your new client, uneasy laughter welling up from you. Your stare drifts momentarily to Steve, his warm smile easing your tension, hand unfurling in front of him. The gesture has you faltering, understanding his intent is for you to make a proper introduction. 

You shuffle your way toward the man, disregarding the way he barely even acknowledges your presence within the room. He’s not once moved, back pressing further into the curve of couch cushions, eyes peering up over at you through the top of his sunglasses. Dark and depthless, an endless swirl of ink, devoid of any emotion that might give you insight into how he thinks this initial meeting is going. You hear it then in the vestiges of your mind. A soft howl, nearly imperceptible—the whisper of wind in the distance, echoing in your ears. A warning, an insinuation of something to come. Still, your hand stretches into the spaces between you, left to linger in the open air.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Munson.” Your voice remains firm— unwavering, despite the fact that he dismisses your hand.

Jeff scoffs from beside you, head shaking slightly as his foot comes to shove Eddie’s off of where they rest against the wooden surface. They hit the ground with a dull thud, though Eddie’s posture remains lax, facade unwavering. “She’s talking to you.”  

Eddie remains silent for a time, those dark eyes sliding up over the top of his sunglasses, voice hollow as he mutters, “You can call me ‘Sir.’” It’s innocent enough until the corners of his lips tug into a salacious smirk, fingers moving to push his sunglasses further up onto the bridge of his nose, head tipping upward a bit so he’s now level with your unrelenting stare. You worked with Jason long enough to understand this game, the ploy to see if you’ll break at the first sight of tension, and you’re not falling into that trap now. 

You take a step closer, hand hovering in air untouched, voice unyielding. “I’ll call you Mr. Munson, or Eddie. Take your pick.” 

Gareth chuckles at your left, but your eyes remain focused on Eddie in your battle of stares. Him, veiled through darkened lenses, and you in your refusal to grant him the satisfaction of looking away for even one moment and admitting defeat. You hear that soft howling again, a quiet whir in your ears, just as Steve claps his hands and a new man enters from the recording room, voice slicing the strained silence. “This right here is Argyle. He’s the producer and sound engineer working on this project. Today, the guys will be laying down the tracks for their latest album, so you’ll be here to take care of anything Eddie might need in the interim.” 

Your head turns, breath catching at the unexpected arms that loop around your shoulder, fingers reaching up to press against the hawaiian print on his shirt, those long strands of his dark hair smooth beneath your fingertips. He steps back to take you in, head bobbing animatedly as he says, “Nice to meet you, my dude—dudette. I’m the king of this music castle here. Can’t say I’ll be of much assistance, but if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” His greeting concluded, Argyle meanders back over to his seat again, contentedly rocking the swivel chair back and forth with his feet.

There’s a sudden creak of leather that draws your attention; Steve runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the waves as his gaze darts from you to Eddie, who’s now rising from the couch. Eddie cracks his neck to the side, finally pulling off the aviators and dropping them haphazardly to the coffee table, where they skitter before meeting the magazine stack beside you. You push the top one back into place with the tip of your finger.

“Call me if you need me,” your boss says, one broad hand landing on Argyle’s shoulder, crinkling the Hawaiian print. “Good luck,” he mutters, patting him twice before moving toward the studio door.

You aren’t sure who Steve had been wishing luck to, but since his parting words don’t seem to phase the producer, you figure they must have been meant for you. 

The heavy door thumps closed after him, echoing through the silent room. You can feel almost everyone's eyes on you— the outlier, the new variable in this equation, the only one here who doesn't have a pre-existing role in the narrative. As your gaze darts from one man to another in the span of that brief silence, you see a variety of expressions: curiosity, pleasantness, neutrality. But only one expression truly matters, and of course, unfortunately, it’s the expression of the only man whose gaze is averted as if reluctant to acknowledge you.

You take a moment to study your client now that you can clearly see his face, and what you see does not fill you with confidence. Eddie Munson's eyes are large and brown and framed by long, soft lashes, but there is only hardness in his dark stare. The crinkled lines at their corners would be charming, but they're wrinkled in a critical squint, not with a smile. Instead, though his lips are plush and pink, they're twisted in a faint sneer as he gazes at the plexiglass of the recording room, decidedly away from you.

He means well, Steve had said. But you can't help but think that this man doesn't look like he means anything but ill will towards you, his new assistant. Despite the welcome from others around you, it's making those new-job jitters deepen.

In the middle of your examination, those dark eyes—very suddenly and unexpectedly— flick to yours.

It's an impact you couldn't have braced for. Instantly, a rush of prickling heat crawls up your spine as if Eddie is looking through you, past skin and bone and muscle, straight to your very center. It’s a look that pins you down, flays you open, leaving you entirely exposed in its disapproval.

Blessedly, because of the time you'd worked with Jason Carver, you have perfected your customer service poker face. There is no outward appearance of your inward reaction, aside from the dampening of your palms; smoothly, you run them down textured tweed in the guise of fixing wrinkles before clearing your throat lightly.

It does the trick. The room, which had been suspended in silence following Steve's departure, suddenly stirs as Argyle spins in the chair to face you all fully, folding his hands over his belly. “Well, all right, brochachos,” he says, nodding slowly, his long curtain of black hair swaying as he does. “You ready to record some shit?”

"Fuck yeah, dude," Gareth answers immediately, pushing up from his knees, an enthusiastic smirk splitting his face as he leads the way to the recording room. Harry follows next, his hulking form shuffling from behind the coffee table. He pauses before reaching you as if he's afraid to enter your space; you shift quickly, moving closer to the coffee table to make more room as he fits himself around you. 

"'Scuse me," he mumbles, and the gentle baritone of his voice coupled with the tiny tinge of pink on his cheeks makes you smile. 

"No, I'm sorry," you're quick to assure him, "I was in the way." 

He smiles shyly back as he passes by you, pausing by the recording room door to let Jeff enter first.

Distracted as you were by the exchange, you’re hit with a tiny spike of panic when you realize Eddie has begun to follow them, seemingly with no intention to address you again. It would leave you adrift with no direction— no inkling at all of what you can do to assist him, especially as Argyle already said he won't be much help— and that makes you act hastily. Impulsively.

Your body tilts forward, jerking after him, and your hand flutters out of its own accord, stopping just shy from making contact with his jacketed elbow. Eddie stops abruptly as his eyes dart to you; he squints as his gaze flicks down to your outstretched fingers. Your cheeks heat as you feel almost chastised, but you don’t let your embarrassment show. Instead, you let your hand drop, looking evenly into his dark brown eyes as you ask, “How can I best assist you right now, Mr. Munson? Is there anything in particular you'd like me to do?”

His stare sharpens, plush lips curving in the whisper of a smirk. “You a fan, sweetheart?” He asks, voice gritty with smoke and a quiet smugness as if he already knows the answer. 

You keep Steve’s words in your mind, his warning about Eddie’s potential flirtatiousness. The shift— from thinly-veiled disdain to this— is jarring, but you figure it's probably meant to throw you off. “Of you or of Corroded Coffin?” you ask, expression carefully schooled to neutrality. Eddie's smirk tightens at the corners, grows a little more defined, but you continue before he can respond. “If I’m honest,” you tell him, “I’m not really well-acquainted with your music.”

His brows jerk, and when his eyes scan down your body before returning to yours, they’re narrowed again. “Let me guess. You’re a TLC girl? A little Backstreet Boys groupie?” 

There’s a heavy shade of judgment in his voice that tells you he isn’t really interested in learning the answer, only in confirming for himself that your musical taste leaves much to be desired. You can't deny that the implication rankles you. You bristle at the thought that he presumes to know you when you've only just met, that he considers you lacking before you've given any reason for him to. The injustice of it makes you rush hot again, but not with nerves— with irritation. 

Still, you maintain that mask of professionalism. You don’t let it show. “No,” you reply evenly, meeting his gaze dead-on, unhesitant and unashamed to share your preferences. “More like Smashing Pumpkins. Hole, too.” You ignore how his expression suddenly glints with salaciousness. “Though I do also appreciate harder stuff. Like Alice in Chains, for example,” you add, following it up with a small, polite smile. And it's true— you do appreciate some metal, despite it not being your go-to. It's not as though you don't like Corroded Coffin's music on principle.

But this answer doesn’t seem to excite him. Instead, Eddie’s sharp gaze dulls slightly as you refuse to play into his game. “Right,” he says, expression easing for the first time. “Well then, I do have something you can do for me, sweetheart.”

Pet name aside, it's the most pleasant he's sounded so far, and you brighten, having expected him to put up more resistance. Maybe all you needed to do was show that you were truly here to help him. 

"Okay," you say, face expectant as you await his instruction.

Eddie’s lips twitch up into a tiny, crooked smile. “You see that door over there?” He flicks his finger lazily toward one of two narrow doors on the far wall, set into the wood paneling. You nod obediently, and he leans in, eyes wide and brows tugged up, pitching his voice low and soft like he’s coaching you through something secretive. “Well, inside, there’s a box. A box of all our recordings. Yeah?” 

He waits until you nod again, a little more hesitantly this time. “What you can do for me is go in that box and listen to everything inside. Every album, every EP, every demo. Even the shitty garage recordings. Even the b-sides.” He pauses, tipping his chin down. And though he doesn't raise his voice, its softness sharpens to granite. “Because I’ll be goddamned if my personal assistant doesn’t even know my music.” 

Your face was too eager for him not to notice the way it falls, and Eddie straightens, putting distance between you as he stuffs his hands in his back pockets, elbows jutting in satisfaction. That ghost of a smirk returns as he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, raising his chin and leveling you with one last look through his long, feathered lashes before he turns away.

His clear dismissal sinks into your chest, and you huff lightly through your nose, rushing with disappointment. Almost as if he can sense the crack in you, he whips back around abruptly; it startles you, and your spine straightens as you jerk to attention. “When we’re done recording, there’ll be a quiz,” he says, and the sharp smile on his face becomes a threat.

You can't help it— a bit of nervousness leaks through your expression then. That seems to finally please him, and Eddie releases you from his dark gaze as he, at last, joins his bandmates in the recording room. The sound of instruments tuning surges before the glass door thumps closed behind him, muffling to silence again.

Now left alone with your task assigned, you turn toward Argyle a little helplessly. He’s gazing at you with an absent smile on his face, still in the same position with his hands folded on his belly, seeming entirely unphased by the contentiousness of your new client. You exhale a quick breath, using it as a reset before asking him, “Can I get a pair of headphones and a Walkman or something?"

"Certainly, my little dudette." He points toward the same door Eddie had indicated. “There’s bound to be some somewhere in that closet.”

Lovely. You nod slowly, flashing a quick smile through pursed lips. “Thank you,” you say before turning and making your way over to help yourself.

The interior of the closet is lit by a single dangling lightbulb, and despite the polished fixings and thorough decor of the recording studio itself, this room is bare-bones in its furnishings. Metal shelving crowds the narrow walls, and the floor is plain poured concrete, barren compared to the plush rug in the lounge area. Your heels clack hollowly as you edge tentatively into the space, avoiding loose cords until you’re standing in the center of the tiny room, directly under the lightbulb. Your hands plant on your hips as you survey your surroundings: shelves and shelves of identical cardboard boxes, all unlabeled aside from an occasional errant number or acronym that means nothing to you, some stacked three high.

Of course.

It takes a good half an hour to finally uncover the correct box. Thankfully, though the labels on the outside are useless, the contents within are masking-taped with far more descriptive labels, written in a messy but still legible scrawl. When you open the box, seeing ‘CC’ on the top CD case feels promising, and a little shuffling reveals some hand-drawn album artwork complete with a coffin and bats that can't be for anyone other than Corroded Coffin. With the correct box secured, you pick your way back to the closet door, setting it down to begin your search for a Walkman, some headphones, and a tape player, since you’d seen a couple of loose cassettes in there, too.

You’re nothing if not thorough. No one can ever accuse you of not doing your job.

When you re-emerge from the closet, the recording room behind the plexiglass is not peaceful like you’d left it. It looks like a television set put on mute as you see Gareth’s hair whipping, Jeff’s shoulders swaying, Harry’s nose scrunched in a concentrated grimace, and Eddie’s lips hugging the mic, pink crawling up the base of his neck, its cords stretched tight with effort. You avert your eyes to Argyle, whose long straight curtain of ink-black hair sways with each bob of his head, his ears enveloped by an oversized pair of fancy headphones. Everyone seems to be moving in time with one another, rocking to a rhythm you can’t hear, and the utter silence in the room combined with those frenetic movements strikes you as comical as you carry your box and its contents over to the smaller couch, placing it on the cushion beside you.

As instructed, you dig out each CD and cassette, organizing them methodically in chronological order and choosing to begin with the oldest one. The faded marker on the front tells you it’s from 1986, and the marker’s haphazard scrawl matches the scrawl of sound that blares from the tape deck when you slip the headphones over your ears and depress the play button. The sound is tinny, echo-y as if it’d been recorded in someone’s garage. And you suppose it probably was. Judging by the year, you figure they were probably still in high school or not far from it when they recorded this.

The Corroded Coffin of 1986 is not particularly remarkable. The kick drum holding the beat isn’t quite precise enough, and the bass is somewhat sloppy. Not every transition is tight; sometimes a beat that should be synchronized is just a split second too soon or late, whether guitar-strum or cymbal-strike. But there’s an unmistakable energy to the sound— a fervor, an insistence that demands you pay attention. You can feel that pouring-out of teenage aggression through the growls and licks and chugging of the guitars, through the lyrics sung in that voice that, though it sounds higher and less smoky than the voice you’d heard from your client today, is still unmistakable Eddie. Corroded Coffin has something to say, and you can’t help but listen.

Your gaze drifts up to the plexiglass of the recording room. Your eyes see them as men, but your ears hear them as boys. And you can almost picture them in that garage, surrounded by brightly-striped lawn chairs and deflated pool floaties, youthful bodies jerking and swaying with no less enthusiasm than what you see before you now. When you think about it, it’s kind of touching to imagine them as young boys with nothing but a dream. Clearly, it took years of effort to become what they are now. You watch Eddie’s long-lashed eyes scrunch closed and his dark curls cling to the sides of his jaw with sweat, and a sense of wistfulness wells up inside you as you think of your client as that boy in the garage, a boy who didn’t know what he’d eventually make of himself.

You’ve only heard three songs before the play button pops up, signaling the end of the tape. Quickly, you move to the next two— more garage recordings, all short and sounding similar— before you’ve exhausted the cassettes and are ready to begin on the CDs. The first is marked as a demo from 1988, so you know it’ll likely be longer than what you’ve listened to thus far. You slip it into the player, settling back against the cushions as you begin, eyes wandering over the wood-paneled walls as you imagine Corroded Coffin recording it right here seven years ago.

It begins with the ticking of cymbals, the clatter of the snare, and the whine of a guitar. Much more polished than the garage recordings but so unmistakably eighties in its sound that you can’t help but feel your lips curl up in a little deprecating grin. Still, your foot bobs along, and you end up listening to half of it before your curiosity for more overwhelms you. You switch to their debut studio album, which is what that demo eventually became, and that same song— now track  begins the same way— the ticking of cymbals mixed with a snare’s clatter, but you recognize the difference immediately.

This— this— is Corroded Coffin.

Eddie’s voice is grittier and deeper, and the band is tighter, and the addition of those grinding metallic sounds and the electronic synth parts, which have clearly evolved past that stereotypical pop-eighties style, create something truly special. You’d been truthful before when you told Eddie that you hadn’t listened to much of his music, but now that you are, you find it genuinely enjoyable. 

Time passes. Argyle’s head bobs, the guys grow sweatier, and your foot steadily bobs until Pretty Hate Machine concludes. And you should move on to the next EP, but you instead find yourself skipping back, back, back until the disc whirls in a blur of muted blue and pink and the first track starts again. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in it until a muffled commotion of voices and thumps rouses you. It’s the guys exiting the recording room, chests heaving, shirts tacky against their chests, looking tired but pleased as they converge on Argyle in a tight circle. You watch their faces light up with smiles and eager chatter, smiling yourself as they seem all of a sudden more boyish for it. Even Eddie, whose visage was once marred with disdain for you, is grinning toothily; as the joy turns his dark eyes amber, you feel a tiny pang low in your stomach at the sight. 

Nuh-uh. None of that. 

It fades quickly under your quick dismissal, smothered by a reminder of the pride you take in your professionalism. He’s objectively attractive, sure. But he’s still your client, and nothing would change that.

Before long, the group around Argyle disperses. Gareth and Jeff wander towards the couches while Harry stops at the water cooler, gulping down two fills of the plastic cup dwarfed by his meaty hands. You quickly move the cardboard box beside you to the floor and pull the headphones from your ears as you watch Eddie divert from the path, heading back into the recording room without his bandmates.

“What’s he doing?” you ask Gareth as he flops down, sagging against the arm of the large couch across from you. He shakes his damp bangs out of his eyes, flicking sweat that narrowly misses you before he replies.

“He’s laying down the rest of the synth parts for the most recent track. We have to record it separately.” His lips tilt in a grin as he adds playfully, “Ed might be talented, but even he can’t sing and strum and play keys at the same time.”

You find your interest piqued as Eddie folds himself onto the bench behind the keyboard. “He doesn’t need a break?” You watch as he stretches his back with a grimace before shaking out his hands, ruddy fingers turning to a blur. 

Jeff just huffs out of his nose, drawing your gaze. His dark skin is shiny with the evidence of his exertion. “Oh, he needs a break,” he says, exasperated though his eyes are fond. “He just won’t take one.” 

“Yep,” Gareth adds, “He’s a stubborn bastard. Won’t stop ‘til it’s done.” Gareth and Jeff each accept a tiny plastic cup from Harry gratefully, and you shuffle closer to the couche’s arm to make room for him next to you. You tilt toward him as he sinks down carefully beside you, but it doesn’t draw your eyes. They’re stuck on Eddie, on the look on his face as he nods at Argyle: focused, as if his fatigue is nothing to him but an insect to be flicked away. Argyle nods back, tapping a button on the complex board of switches and sliders in front of him. As Eddie’s head begins to bob, you realize what they just recorded must be playing in that plexiglass box, silenced from your ears.

Before you can overthink it, you rise from the couch, the muffled thumps of your heels shifting from thick, plush rug to clack against wood. As you come up next to Argyle, he remains gazing evenly ahead, eyes never wavering as his head bobs in time with Eddie’s. You’re considering whether or not to interrupt him when, without looking at you, he asks mildly, “What can I do for you, brochacha?”

“Are you able to play it out loud?” 

Argyle glances at you then. “Alright,” he drawls, stretching out the word as if impressed. “You wanna hear the bitchin’ beats? Certainly.” 

And with the push of a button, the once-silent studio fills with sound. 

It’s a perfect marriage of grit and polish, evoking both the garage recordings and their first album in the best way. The distortion on the vocals makes Eddie’s voice sound even more imposing than it was in person when you first met him, and you watch his shoulders rock, brow scrunched tight. “This world rejects me. This world threw me away. This world never gave me a chance; this world’s gonna have to pay.” Eddie’s voice projects over the speakers, though his plush lips are motionless now. With such ease you almost don’t notice them, his fingers begin to dance over the keys, adding a subtle electronic melody beneath the drums and grating synth. 

You can feel the tension of the song— the building of something carnal, something furious brewing beneath the surface, threatening to whip your hair back from your cheeks. Its energy builds and builds as Eddie’s voice goes almost breathy underneath the effects, singing, “Something inside of me. It screams the loudest sound. Sometimes I think I could…”

You sense it’s coming, and yet you’re not prepared for it when Eddie’s voice becomes practically a howl: “I’m gonna burn this whole world down!”

The guitars, the drums, the bass and synth— they all explode out in a whirlwind of thrashing sound and driving noise as Eddie’s body rocks, fingertips turning white as he forces sound from the keys. His teeth are grit, his face is pouring sweat, and the sight of it speaks to one thing: determination. 

You can’t help but admire that.

You don’t even notice that your head’s been bobbing along to the beat until it ceases, and as you grow still, it whips to the guys at the couch. This song is better than almost all their others. If the rest of the album is like this… Your eyes sparkle with the force of your excitement as you beam at them, and in their pleased smiles and behind their eyes, you can see it: pride and confidence, knowledge that this album they’re creating is going to become something big.

That feeling is effusive, bubbling in your blood as the door to the recording room opens and Eddie emerges. His curly bangs are plastered to his forehead, his eyes are ringed by dark circles and his lips sag in fatigue. Yet despite it, from within, he’s positively glowing.  

Caught up in the moment, all you can do is blurt, “Holy shit.” You blink dazedly at Eddie for a moment as his face goes slack, and then he tosses his head back and laughs. 

Eddie’s laugh is husky and wild, unrestrained in his amusement. Utterly unfiltered. He laughs as if you’ve told the funniest joke he’s ever heard, and it’s then you realize this is your first day on the job, and you’ve just cursed in front of your client. 

Your face fills with heat, cheeks burning as you stutter, “Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry, that was entirely inappropriate—”

Eddie snorts, waving you off, looking not only unbothered but positively tickled that you’d cursed in front of him. To give yourself a moment to recover, you spin, clacking toward the water cooler to fill up one of those little plastic cups like you’d seen Harry doing earlier. You stammer past your indiscretion, and as you focus on expressing yourself, you feel the burn in your cheeks begin to recede. “I shouldn’t have forgotten myself like that. But that song was just… I mean, seriously. It was like… like a return to your roots or something, but not just that.” You pass him the cup carefully, falling back onto your hip as you cross your arms and your eyes dart to the ceiling. You’re trying to put it into words, and you feel frustrated that you’re struggling to. “Okay. It sounded like those early garage recordings where everything was just raw. It’s gritty and angry and cathartic. But it also feels so… new. Like compared to your last album, but also compared to what other bands are doing right now. You know?”

It doesn’t seem entirely adequate, but that’s all you’ve got— all you can do to express that almost intangible quality that you felt but can’t describe. You finally let your chin drop to meet Eddie’s eyes and are surprised to see them no longer dark and shuttered or squinty with mirth. Eddie’s eyes are wide and bright, amber like sun shining through whiskey as they stare unwaveringly into yours.

"Yeah, you picked up on that?” For once, there isn’t a sharp edge to his voice; in fact, he sounds almost pleased. “With this album we're experimenting with something a little different, really trying to focus on the textures and moods. Trying to find ways to create sound that’s not music. Not in a traditional sense, at least.” 

You nod eagerly, caught up by the enthusiasm in his voice. “Yeah! That’s it. I don’t listen to metal much, but it just doesn’t sound like what you typically hear nowadays.”

Eddie crosses his arms, holding his elbows as his tongue plays against the inside of his cheek. “You’re right,” he concedes, so easily that it comes as a surprise. “In a way, we are going back to our roots; all the way back to being the freaks who don’t want to be packaged up in some neat box. Especially seeing where this industry is going. Like, I’m watching bands that got me through the hellscape of high school crumbling and folding to the pressure. I mean, fuck.” A whip of sweat-damp curls as he shakes his head, his gaze heating with molten passion, pinning you so intently that you couldn’t look away if you tried. “Do you realize the irony of a genre that prides itself on being anti-establishment becoming part of the establishment?”

“Fuckin’ bullshit, man,” Gareth pipes up from the couch, and Eddie’s arm flies out, an eager finger shaking in his direction as his eyes go wide and almost wild.

“Fuck-ing bullshit,” Eddie enunciates, and as his voice roughens, he almost seems to puff up with the strength of his ranting. “Look, I do get it. They’re not the first to end up caught in the wheel; happens before you even realize it. But you know what you’re left with at the end of the day? Jack fucking squat. And we’re just as angry and powerless as we were as kids.” He jams two ruddy fingertips against his open palm, brows raised in emphasis as if willing you to understand. “This— this music was our escape back then. And it’s going to be our escape now. And I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about it.” 

He’s nearly craning over you now, breath hot as it puffs against your face, face drawn tight with his fervor. But you aren’t afraid. Because though he’s nearly yelling, Eddie’s ire isn’t directed at you. Your expression doesn’t harden up or crumble under the weight of his passion; instead, you accept it, letting it whip against you without faltering. 

Your steadfastness seems to temper him as the tension in his face eases slightly, though he doesn’t back away. More quietly, he says, “All they want is the next sound-bite, the next commercial success. Sorry, Arg,” he throws a glance toward his producer, “but I honestly don’t give a shit whether there’s even one song on this album that would be a successful single. It’s not meant to be consumed that way— picked apart like fuckin’ buzzards on a corpse.” 

Eddie’s amber eyes hold you as he breathes, “This album is raw. It’s ugly, and it’s personal—”

His words choke in his throat, and for a moment, there’s something tentative connecting you, drawn thin between your gazes. Something fragile but nearly tangible, like the foam of the sea that bubbles against sand but melts to nothing if you reach for it.

But then Eddie blinks, and the connection is severed as he seems to realize he’s talking to you: his personal assistant. 

His glorified babysitter. 

All at once, the passion is gone. He flattens, taking a step back. And there is no preamble to the sudden switch in his demeanor as he demands, “Where’s our dinner?”

the next chapter will be released on @abibliophobiaa's blog!

🌿bluey's masterlist | 🌙luna's masterlist | 💌myo's masterlist

#blueywrites #i will wait #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #corroded coffin #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson soulmate au #eddie munson fake marriage #myos ideas

[harrywavycurly]

“Will you be my husband really quick?”: A fake marriage with Eddie Munson AU.

Part 2: Here

Part 3: Here

A/N: I have been wanting to write this prompt for a while and I’m glad y’all want it too! There’s gonna be a part 2 don’t worry.

TW: Cursing and Eddie hits someone and this eludes that your ex wasn’t the nicest.

Eddie is two beers in on what he figured was going to be a normal Friday night at the Hideout when he feels a hand grip his arm as he’s leaned over the bar grabbing a lighter from behind the stack of napkins and straws. He pauses his movements as he looks down at the hand that’s still on his arm and slowly his eyes move upward until they finally land on your face. He notices your eyes are wide and you’re looking everywhere but at him as you scan the room as if you’re looking for someone, Eddie just stands up straight and places the lighter on the bar next to his half empty beer.

“Will you be my husband really quick?” Eddie knows he must be hearing things as you finally make eye contact with him. He watches as you seem to visibly relax a bit as you stare at him with a hopeful look on your face. “Please?” He doesn’t know what it is about you but he feels like if he tells you no he might actually regret it so instead he takes a quick sip of his beer as your hand falls from his arm and before you can react he’s draping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“Who’s the target?” Eddie’s voice is low and you can feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear before placing a quick kiss to the side of your head, already playing into his husband role.

“Red shirt by the door.” You answer as one of your arms wrap around his middle, you feel Eddie lean away from you for a moment so he can get a good look at who you’re talking about.

“Jason fucking Carver?” You look up at Eddie who is glaring at the blonde haired man by the door and you feel yourself tense up as Eddie reaches for his beer so he can finish it off. “He your ex or something?” Eddie asks as he places the now empty bottle on the bar and motions to the bartender for another one.

“Yeah he’s uhm my ex.” Eddie can tell by your tone of voice you’re nervous and it makes him wonder what Jason did that caused the two of you to go your separate ways. “I’m sorry this is dumb I shouldn’t have bothered you.” You mumble as you try to move away from him but Eddie is quick to just pull you into him and wrap both arms around your shoulders making your cheek rest on his worn out Metallica shirt.

“Now what kind of husband would I be if I let you storm off like that?” Eddie begins running one of his hands up and down your back making you let out a soft sigh because for the first time in a long time you felt an odd sense of security and who would’ve thought that of all places it’s while wrapped in the arms of a stranger. “I’ve got you okay?” You look up and Eddie is already looking down at you making you feel even more at ease because his eyes are soft and his smile is sweet as he looks at you.

“Okay.” Is all you can say making Eddie’s hold on you tighten slightly as he leans down and places a small kiss to the top of your head in an attempt to help you relax a little more. “Uh so what’s your name?” Eddie laughs as he looks towards the door to check on the location of your ex.

“My name is Eddie.” You just nod and tell him your name in return as your hands somehow find their way into his back pockets as you wrap your arms around his waist. “I can see my wife is a little handsy huh?” You hide your face in his chest as you try to slide your hands from his pockets. “It’s okay sweetheart we’re married remember? No need to be shy.” You can’t help but laugh as Eddie goes back to running his hands up and down your back.

“So how do you know Jason?” You feel Eddie tense up at the mention of your ex’s name and it lets you know whatever memories Eddie has of him aren’t good ones.

“He was my high school’s official asshole.” You look up and rest your chin on Eddie’s chest as you watch his eyes look towards the door of the bar. “I take it he hasn’t changed much?” He asks as he looks down at you with a raised eyebrow making you look away as some memories of your relationship with Jason reply in your head.

“Yeah he hasn’t changed.” Eddie doesn’t miss the way your voice shakes a little as you answer his question.

“I can kick his ass right now if you want me to sweetheart just say the word and he’ll be on the ground.” You may not know Eddie but something tells you he’s not kidding and that he’d get a lot of joy out of beating Jason up. “Let me add that I feel that since I’m your husband it’s kinda my job to beat up your asshole ex boyfriends.” Eddie smiles to himself when he hears you laugh and just shake your head at him.

“As your wife it’s kinda my job to keep you out of trouble.” Eddie lets out a dramatic huff as he drops one of his arms from you so he can reach over and grab his beer and take a long swig from it. “I uh like your rings.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down to yours as he watches you give the rings on his hand that’s holding his beer a good once over.

“Yeah? Which one is your favorite?” He asks as he puts his beer on the bar so he can let you get a better look at his rings. You unwrap your arms from around him so you can take his hand in yours, Eddie tries to ignore how soft your hands feel as you look at his rings giving a lot of attention to his skull one. “You like the skull?” You just nod making Eddie smile because the skull one was also his favorite.

“What are you doing?” Eddie ignores your question as he brings his hand up to his mouth and you feel your eyes go wide as you watch him take his skull ring off and hold it between his lips for a moment before grabbing it. “I can’t take this.” Eddie rolls his eyes as he gently grabs your left hand so he can slide the ring onto your ring finger.

“How are you supposed to be my wife without a ring?” Eddie asks as he reaches over and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“You’ve got the be fucking with me.” You feel your heart drop to your stomach as Jason’s voice fills your ears. Eddie’s arm drops from around you so he can turn and block you from Jason’s view. “Not the freak still hanging around the Hideout.” You see Eddie’s hands form into fists as Jason laughs his almost evil sounding laugh.

“Fuck off Carver don’t you have a ball to go toss into a basket or something?” You giggle making Jason move so he can get a look at you, Eddie is quick to move so he’s still standing between you and the ex jock.

“What the fuck is going on?” Eddie looks at you over his shoulder making sure you’re okay and you just give him a reassuring smile as you place your hand on his lower back.

“Just enjoying a night out with my wife.” Jason’s eyes go as wide as golf balls as Eddie explains what the two of you are doing at the Hideout.

“Your wife? Wow okay I mean even you…Munson the town freak can do better than her she’s-” Jason doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Eddie’s fist collides with his cheek knocking him to the ground.

“Next time you think about saying anything about her,” Eddie kneels down as he speaks so he’s only a few inches away from Jason’s face as he groans in pain. “Don’t.” He spits as he stands up and turns so he can grab your hand and walk you towards the back of the bar. “I’m sorry…I am so sorry.” You just shake your head as Eddie’s hands gently cup your face as he looks you over to make sure you’re okay because he’s never gotten into a fight before let alone knocked someone to the ground and that’s the last thing he wanted you to have to deal with tonight.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him as you place your hands over his that are still on your face. “Thank you.” Eddie just shrugs as he gives you a small smile.

“Like I said it’s my job as your husband to beat up your asshole ex boyfriends.” You laugh as Eddie leans in closer, he pauses as he get a few inches from your face. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” Eddie doesn’t have to wait for your answer because your lips are on his in a mater of seconds for a sweet kiss.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #fake marriage au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #jason carver #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson scenario #Eddie Munson prompt

[steddieunderdogfics]

For fics with colors in the title: Lavender Overload by Mr_Flamingo! It's technically mostly about Steve & Robin, but Eddie's there too and it's just such a sweet story <3 (Lavender is a color right? Surely??)

Lavender Overload by Mr_Flamingo

@unfinishedslurs

Rating: Mature

22,487 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: lavender marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Gay Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, but no actual homophobia in the fic, the domino effect ft. Steve coming out, and every teenager in the vicinity realizing smth about themselves, Steve becomes an unwilling gay mentor, steve: pls ask anyone else I’m as clueless as you are, the party: but Steve what other older gay friend will answer our awkward, and increasingly invasive questions, robin and eddie: Am I A Fucking Joke To You, this is a stobin love letter, bc i love them

Summary:

Four months after he comes out on the floor of the Family Video bathroom, Robin sits him down on his bed. “Okay, I’m gonna suggest something completely insane, but I’ve actually put a lot of thought and research into it and I need you to hear me out.” Steve squints suspiciously at her, but shrugs agreeably. “Yeah, okay.” “We should get married.”

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with colors in the title!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#challenge monday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #Fake marriage #fluff #getting together

[kittythelitter]

CW: Chrissy's mom. Specifically being body shamey and ableist. Also characters being pressured into a relationship they don't want to be in.

Okay but ST season 4 AU where everyone lives, including Chrissy and Jason. Like, Vecna breaks his victims and traps his victims in their own minds instead of killing them so he can feed off their life forces or whatever and Chrissy is found in the trailer broken and covered in upsidedown goop but still alive so everyone's like. This is some weird supernatural bullshit. And Jason still leads a witch-hunt.

After it all, Chrissy is awake and recovering and she breaks up with Jason for being the worst. And her mom is like. You're legally an adult, you chased away a good man, because you're bed bound for now you lost your cheerleading scholarship and the only thing that makes you worth anything. You can't even get a job in your current state. You need a man. If you let me set you up with a rich eligible bachelor and don't fuck it up, we will pay your hospital bills, maybe even college.

Meanwhile Steve is a hero, and is a publicity asset for the Harringtons, and for the first time since he graduated high school has some kind of value to his parents. He's being celebrated, and if they set him up with one of their business partner's kids they can curry favor. More so if it's the poor injured Cunningham girl who is beloved and lauded by the town for being victims of the bizarre serial killer, Henry Creel.

(Ignore the goo and the vines and the crack in the ground that used to be main street there was a serial killer and an earthquake and they were totally unrelated.)

So Steve and Chrissy are both being pressured by their parents into a relationship that even conceptually makes them uncomfortable. But she can't back out without starting adulthood in a wheelchair in crippling debt. And while Steve could probably survive being disowned and his parents' ire his abandonment issues and desperate people pleaser tendencies make him not want to piss off his parents, disappoint the Cunninghams, or hurt Chrissy's feelings.

So they go on a lot of very uncomfortable dates. And they kind of get along. And Steve breaks down and full on Robin word vomits that she's great and he's sure she'll find a great guy but he really doesn't want to upset their parents or hurt her feelings- but he really really doesn't feel that way about her- and it's not because she's in a wheelchair or anything- one of his kids is in a wheelchair- well not his kid- there's these kids he babysits- that's not the point- he's really really sorry, but he kind has a crush on someone else, and he can't keep pretending to date her to make other people happy, and he's really sorry. And she's like. Holy shit.

And he just broke down so she feels comfortable explaining her situation and he, overwhelmed by his protector instincts, agrees to keep up the appearance of dating until her hospital bills are paid and she can make her own choices about what she wants.

So they keep doing public dates and stuff. But outside of that, he invites her to meet his friends, cause she lost a lot of hers in everything. She's been really lonely, and she's very sweet and kind of dorky so she gets along with everyone.

And Steve told Robin everything because she's Robin, but not everyone else because he didn't want to get into his parents bullshit or expose Chrissy's baggage so they're all nice to her and get along but they're a little weird about it because that's Chrissy Cunningham. And Steve's dating her???

Also Robin is weird around her because hot girl, but everyone thinks she's jealous which is a weird dynamic. Chrissy thinks Robin is Steve's crush and keeps talking Steve up to Robin and talking about how Robin's great and how close she and Steve are and how nice that is. And it's very awkward.

Eddie is insanely jealous and he knows that Robin's a lesbian so he's like. Oh she has a crush on her best friend's straight girlfriend. That sucks. And he also hates that he can't hate Chrissy, because she's so fucking nice and sweet to him.

(Nancy, Jon and Argyle are all on varying levels of knowing something is up but are staying out of it because they are too stoned to parse what specifically is happening or too stubborn to admit that they made some wrong assumptions.)

(the kids don't care much beyond being glad that Steve wasn't flirting with every age appropriate girl he crossed paths with anymore)

And then Chrissy figures out that a) whoops she has a crush on her fake boyfriend's best friend (Robin). b) Steve and Eddie are in love. And c) Eddie thinks she and Steve are for real. So Chrissy tries to explain to Eddie that their relationship is fake without spilling Steve's baggage, and mentions that she doesn't even like Steve like that she actually likes Robin.

Through some miscommunication Eddie now thinks Steve is unknowingly Chrissy's beard. And he doesn't want to out Chrissy but he's a little upset that she's using his crush totally platonic guy friend this way.

Meanwhile Chrissy tries to team up with Robin to get Steve and Eddie together. Because Robin clearly loves Steve and Eddie and wants them to be happy even if she hates Chrissy for some reason. (Again Robin doesn't hate Chrissy she's just super awkward).

Boundless shenanigans ensue.

#stranger things spoilers #stranger things #Chrissy Cunningham #steve harrington #steddie #robin x chrissy #platonic stobin #shenanigans #miscommunication plot #fake dating #arranged marriage #ish #Robin Buckley #eddie munson #this was just going to be #Chrissy and Steve being unexpected friends who can relate because of parental expectations #but it got away from me #i want Chrissy to be in the party #she and Eddie deserve to become friends

[stillgoingsteddie]

steddie and ronance fic where Steve is the prince of a kingdom and he’s best friends with his personal knight Robin and Nancy is the princess of a neighboring kingdom and she’s best friends with her personal knight Edward

The kingdoms are constantly at war so to fix it the royal families agree to an arranged marriage of their kids. When the heirs meet they are absolutely appalled that they have to marry one another. Sure they’re friends but nothing more.

Soon the heirs meet each other’s knights and all of a sudden an “arranged marriage” doesn’t seem so bad after all

#cosmicthoughts #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy weeler #arranged marriage #fake dating #steddie #ronance

[bittlebarnes]

when we were young (Chapter 3/3)

Stranger Things | E | Steddie | 14,817 | 3/3 |

Snippet:

It was inevitable, wasn't it? After Steve dragged him, ripped up and bloody from certain death. After hell opened up and spilled out into Hawkins. After a borderline bald little girl shoved it all right back from where it came. He was lost from the first time he found himself curled up in Steve Harrington's bed, still trembling from a nightmare. He couldn't risk keeping Wayne up at night, so when Steve offered his guestroom, who was he to say no? And when Eddie tossed and turned sleeping alone? Who was he to say no to the offer to share the King's bed?  Becoming friends with Robin kind of happened by accident. Sure, they knew each other from school, but he never had a real reason to keep up with the band kids besides waiting for Gareth after practice. Seeing her run off to keep pace with Harrington was…something. Getting to know her? Robin was amazing. Funny and bright and just the kind of friend Eddie had been missing. At the time, he thought he’d recognized a bit of himself in her. The shameful secret parts. The part that nearly got him killed.  A kindred spirit. A fellow freak. But no. He’d thought he’d been the only one sneaking glances at Harrington when no one was looking. Apparently not. And the worst part? The worst part? He gets it. Fuck, if Steve had ever caught him looking, had ever even vaguely looked back, Eddie would’ve taken the plunge. That’s why he can’t face her. Robin’s an actress, for fuck’s sake. She’s successful. All the shit they talked about. All the dreams they cooked up in the dark of the night, curled up in Steve’s way too massive bed. All Eddie’s wanted to do is see her on Broadway. Watch her on fucking TV (holy shit Robin’s on TV), but he can’t. How do you face someone who’s supposed to be your best friend when you’ve fantasized about deepthroating her husband? Yeah. Better to just cut ties. At least it was.

It was a sprint at the end, but I'm proud to say I've finished my entry to the @steddiebang of 2023! Super excited to share with all of you. Special shout-outs to the amazing people who helped get this project done. My amazing betas  sarasmiling and house_of_chant for making this fic readable! All the love in the world to my artist artist adreannaness whose work is available on both twitter and her ao3.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #fake marriage au #steddie big bang #steddie bang #steddie big bang 2023

[hellcheersource]

Fake Relationship Hellcheer

It's a classic trope for a reason, and we're so lucky in the Hellcheer fandom to have some wonderfully talented writers creating work for us all to enjoy. So here's a little selection of some of our favorite fake dating (or marriage!) Hellcheer stories

Twenty-one rules by Eleanor_Gamgee

Eddie and Chrissy start fake dating to keep her ex-boyfriend out of her hair. Together they decide on twenty rules for the relationship. Eddie gives himself one extra rule to live by

Voted Most Likely to Run Away With You by @blondiest

After Eddie saves Chrissy from Vecna, they know they both need to get out of town. Fast. But pretending they're a married couple will avoid so many questions, it makes perfect sense. Right?

(Title is from Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift, which is just the perfect Hellcheer song and a lovely Easter Egg! We might do a works influenced by Taylor collection soon!)

We’re a lie (you and I) @ebongawk (makeshiftcandy)

Chrissy needs to show Jason that she is deadly serious about not wanting to date him. Dating Eddie seems like the perfect way to make him realise that.

Life after Death and Taxes by Eleanor_gamgee

A second entry from this author, with a guest appearance of Henry Creel as a scumbag landlord. Bonus points for also kind of being a coffee shop/D and D shop AU... maybe we need to do a coffee shop universe list as well

#hellcheer #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #hellcheer au #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #fake dating #friends to lovers #fake marriage au #*

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Looking For Something Dumb To Do

Author: @justhere4thevibez

Rating/Warning: Explicit, referenced ED

Chapter Count: 2/?

Description:

Eddie and Chrissy both have problems that can be solved with one simple solution: marriage. The only issue? They're more like casual acquaintances than lovers. But if they want to pull this off, they've got to make it look convincing.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, future fic, fake relationship, slow-burn, friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, hurt/comfort, angst, pining, Mechanic!Eddie, College Student!Chrissy, eventual smut, we hate jason, we hate laura, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: WIP

#Alternate Universe- no vecna #future fic #fake relationship #slow-burn #friends to lovers #marriage of convenience #hurt/comfort #angst #pining #Mechanic!Eddie #College Student!Chrissy #eventual smut #we hate jason #we hate laura #alternating POV #multiple chapters #status: WIP #eddie munson #eddissy #eddie and chrissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy deserved better #munningham #eddsy #chreddie #hellcheer #stranger things #chrissy cunningham

[eddieschains]

Dream Come True

Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3

Word Count: 2.8k

TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!

It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.

Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.

He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.

He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.

In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.

You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.

“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.

You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.

You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.

“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.

“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.

Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.

“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.

“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.

“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.

This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.

You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”

“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”

“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.

“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.

Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”

“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”

“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.

You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”

Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.

You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.

“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”

“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.

“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.

He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.

You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.

“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”

You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”

“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.

He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.

The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.

“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.

He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.

He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.

You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.

“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.

“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.

“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”

“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.

He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.

You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.

“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.

He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.

You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.

“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.

You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”

You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”

“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.

“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”

All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.

Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.

He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.

“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.

“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”

He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”

You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.

You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.

“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.

“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.

“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”

You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”

You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #older!eddie #older!eddie fic #older!eddie smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie x fem!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

The Writers: @abibliophobiaa, @blueywrites, @breddiemunson & @myosotisa.

Collaborators: @fracturedarkness, @myosotisa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson & @abibliophobiaa.

(Make sure to follow along with all writers and collaborators, because you never know who might be posting blurbs for upcoming chapters...)

-

Soulmate!FakeMarriage!AU with Rockstar!Fboy!Eddie and Personal Assistant!Reader

Also Featuring Ronance

Eddie Munson has always cursed fate. Fuck you, fate, he says. I built my own success. You don’t dictate my life. And with dark flashing eyes and a manic smile, he proves his defiance.

Fuck you, fate, he says when the crowd is nothing but five drunks, so he toils and sweats until everyone knows his name.

Fuck you, fate, he says when the ink doesn’t take to his soulmark, so he buries it in black and red til it can’t be seen.

Fuck you, fate, he says when his publicist makes him marry an actress, so his hotel room becomes a revolving door of one night stands.

Fuck you, fate, he says, and Eddie Munson becomes someone who can’t be tamed.

But then you become his assistant. He kicks and claws, spits and sneers, fights til his knuckles go bloody and his nose stings with coke and tears.

In the end, he stops saying it.

18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. Fem!reader, Fake marriage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Soulmate AU, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Angst (with a happy ending)

-

Shmackin’ Tunes (Playlist)

Hot off the Press! (Prequel Material):

01/ 02/ 03/ 04/ 05/ 06/ 07/

Masterlist: (tag list open) 🏷️

Chapter One: NOW POSTED @blueywrites (9.9k)

Chapter Two: NOW POSTED @abibliophobiaa (9.1k)

Chapter Three: NOW POSTED @blueywrites (15K)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson soulmate au #rockstar!eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x f!reader #rockstar!eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie munson x you #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #IWillWait

[musedblues]

FOREVER AND FOR REAL

(photo edits by @pitifulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: daisy jones eat your fucking heart out. i present yet another rockstar!eddie fic. this one features fem rockstar!reader, a fake marrige, a lot of reckless behavior and lovely little ending.

warnings: descriptions of sex, drugs, rock and roll, themes abt alcoholism/addiction, mentions of abusive ex partners, god-awful rom com tropes, fantastical bullshit. sorry not sorry for this yall know i love a good fake marriage 

30k

MINORS DNI

/// New York 1988 -

"So, how did it start with you and Eddie?" The woman from the Rolling Stone smiled as she quizzed you. Her voice was low, her demeanor was patient.

"He asked for my autograph." You revealed with a laugh.

///

Sunset Strip 1986 -

The rooftop party was in full swing. Your labels oldest and most endeared studio musician had announced his retirement and everyone who was anyone showed up to his celebratory send off.

Ozzy was stumbling from guest to guest. Prince was casting smug grins from his poolside perch. You were being reprimanded by you manager in the middle of the shindig.

"Go wish Terry a happy retirement and maybe go catch up with some other studio musicians while you're at it. You can't let your last guitarists new rumors ruin your reputation. We'll need to hire some of these people to record your next album, you know?" Kelsey snarled, his cigarette-stained smile repulsing you. He was a hard ass. That made him a damn successful manager. And a shitty fucking person.

You grumbled and spun to do what he said, trying to stay in favor with the musicians who worked under your label was a must. If only you would have known falling in love with your last guitarist would result in the messiest breakup of all time. If only he hadn't spread such vial rumors about you to his fellow studio musicians and the press.

But they were just rumors. And you had proven yourself to be one of the music's scenes most prominent figures in the past few years. You wouldn't let this hiccup be the one to topple over everything you worked so hard to achieve.

On your mission to save your name, you stopped by the rooftop bar. There were a cast of patrons who parted to let you ahead in line. That was a good sign. You still held an absurd amount of social import. After asking the man behind the counter for a vodka soda, a commotion turned everyone's gaze.

Out of thin air, was the illustrious Eddie Munson. In a flash he jumped behind the mini bar and proceeded to pour the drink you asked for. He was hammered, the drunkest of any attendee. He was smiling at you as you accepted the vodka... and then he introduced himself.

"I of course know who you are." Eddie smiled, ignoring the bartender who was frustratedly insisting the guitarist get out from behind the workspace. Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you laugh and roll your eyes. Of course, he knew you. And of course, you knew him. He was the newest name attached to your shared label, but perhaps the most famous.

In the one year that Eddies band Corroded Coffin had appeared on the scene, their music and personage had taken over rock and roll. Their tours were selling out, their greenrooms were stuffed with groupies, their producers were booking studios so far out in advance your next session had to be postponed.

"I've known who you are since your first single became the soundtrack of the summer of '84. I've had your posters on my walls. Would it be impossibly tacky of me to ask for your autograph?" Eddie slurred, but past his inebriation lied a sparkle in his eye that you read as genuine.

"Our generations most admired guitar virtuoso is asking for my signature?" You snorted. "I should be asking for yours. Could sell it for millions." You grinned back, watching Eddie's wide smile faulter as the bartender had started swatting his shoulders, demanding he leave.

"Okay, okay. I'll go." The rockstar turned and submitted with a sigh, and a paused smirk. "But only after one more shot." Eddie spun to grab a bottle of whiskey, lifting the nozzle to hold over his opened mouth, draining more than a shot worth as the small crowd of party goers cheered him on. The bartender cursed Eddie, snatched the bottle back, and announced he was calling security. Eddie had heard enough, hoping over the bar, his boots shinning across your field of vision as he whizzed past you, landing stealthily, and grabbing your wrist on his sudden escape.

"That way!" You chuckled, just buzzed enough to let yourself enjoy the change of pace. Eddie darted in your demanded direction and found a pair of elevators around the rooftops pool, busied by party goers.

As the pair of you lunged into the lift, you reached for the buttons to shut the doors fast as possible. They slid together in slow motion as your fingers fumbled over the buttons, pressing a couple different floors by mistake as the ride descended. Eddie's laughter rang in your ear as he drunkenly bobbed to find footing. But soon as the pair of you were being lowered to freedom, your ride creaked eerily to a halt. The doors did not open. The ride did not move.

"Oh no." You called, racing to press more buttons but worrying that your initial doing so was what had stopped the ride. But surely the button meant to press for an emergency was safe, right?

"We stopped?" Eddie realized, his lithe grin faltering, sobriety bubbling into his gaze.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." You turned to face the rockstar, who was just realizing the gravity of your situation. Just then a crackly voice rang through the rides system, informing the pair of you that your alert was received and asking what had happened. A nice enough woman assured help was on the way and insisted the pair of you stay calm. You started to apologize to Eddie once more when he waved to dismiss you.

"No, it's my fault for dragging you away with me. I'm kind of a pro at causing so much trouble."

"There are worse rockers to be trapped in an elevator with." You chuckled, leaning back against one of the walls railings.

"Took the words outta my mouth... I do want your autograph. Heartbeaten was the only album I played the winter it came out."

"You're a very dangerous flirt, you know that?" You warned, looking the guitarist up and down. It was beyond flattering to hear your music complimented by a musician you admired all the same. It didn't hurt how easy it was to look at Eddie, either. Leather clad, hair a mess, eyes glazed over by the night's events. You'd forgotten for a moment that you were trapped.

"Is it getting hot in here? I'd say it's cause of you but I don't really like this..." Eddie tried to play off his worry but you watched his chest rise and fall and remembered you were trapped and suddenly everything became more realistically grim. You pressed the emergency button once more and the kind woman insisted the fire department was on their way up now.

"Just a couple more minutes." You nodded toward Eddie. "We'll be out of here before you know it."

"Thank God." Eddie noted. "But I might just miss you, ya know?"

All of a sudden it hit you. Everything you'd been through in the past year played like a montage through your mind, leading up to this moment. You realized you hadn't been trapped so much as given a golden opportunity to ask a very important question to what seemed like the exact right person.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"I'll sign my album for you if you do something for me?"

Just then a loud scraping against the metal entrance broke your collective focus on each other. A group of firemen pushed open the elevator doors by aid of some tools, informed the pair of you had been stuck on the 17th floor, and escorted you down the stairwell asking a few questions about how everything had gone down.

When you and Eddie reached the lobby, a woman you'd recognized from the label's office came hurrying toward the pair of you. She had to be Eddie's manager.

"I think it's time we go." The woman offered you a polite smile before turning a stern gaze to Eddie. "You've already pissed off three of the four bartenders here tonight. And I'm sure you've overstayed your welcome in her presence, Munson." She eye'd you.

"Actually, he was just agreeing to meet me in my studio over the weekend." You blurted. Eddie was the best player on the scene. He was your best and maybe only hope. Eddie beamed at you, realizing that this was your barter for giving your autograph to the rockstar.

"I'd love to work together." You spoke quickly enough to result in a blush of embarrassment. You were usually good at keeping your cool. But something about Eddie made you giddy and terrified and everything else all at once. You watched as Eddie's manager nodded in contemplation.

"I know Kelsey. I'll give him a call to set up the times." She dropped your managers name and yanked Eddie away in a hurry. The rocker didn't go without flashing you a smile and a wave before stumbling off through the lobby. After that, nothing was keeping you at the party any longer, either.

///

Century City L.A. 1986 -

When Eddie breezed into your recording booth the next weekend, he was refreshingly sober; and made sure you knew how grateful he was for the invitation. He slung his guitar around his back and shook your hand and listened intently to your vision for the music you were creating.

Eddie's presence was magnifying. But differently than you'd expected. You'd seen headlines and heard rumors float about from countless greenroom groupies and stagehands. Eddie Munson had gained quite the salacious reputation within the year fame had found him. He was no stranger to romantic quarrels and quandaries, legal battles, displays of public intoxication, the whole shebang. You knew he was going to captivate you, he already had. But he was not so unruly as the press made him out to be.

Eddie was respectful, desperate to fully understand your musical vison. Eddie was kind, complimenting your work and the tracks you'd scrapped together so far. Eddie was brilliant, adding licks and riffs right away that you'd never dreamed you'd be lucky enough to have featured throughout your music. He helped you write what you hadn't finished. He made you laugh in the middle of recording and apologized profusely when you had to start over and over again.

He said he could only stay for a couple of hours. But two hours turned into two days, turned into two weeks. When it was finished, your third album, Steel & Stone, had a healthy dose of Eddie's input sprinkled throughout. It was more a collaboration than a solo record. It was fucking Beautiful. Your producers thought so too. They said your sounds married well together.

That made Eddie laugh. And then it gave him an idea.

"The album cover should be a wedding! I've got it all figured out!" He excitedly sketched out his suggestions for your albums cover; and because he was so excited, you humored the guy by scheduling a photoshoot. A week later you were cutting up an old, thrifted wedding dress in Eddie's back garden. He'd hired a fake priest and invited some friends over to fill the background.

The pair of you looked fetching, Eddie in his size too small tux. loose tie, hair pulled back. You, in a ragged old dress, pearls hanging past your torso. The photos for the album cover came out killer, you and Eddie looked like a bride and groom out of a horror show. It was perfect.

The paparazzi thought so too. Somehow, someone with a camera and a lot of guts managed to snap a bevy of photos of your make-believe wedding over the hedges of Eddies back garden.

The photos were all over the tabloids the next day, and Hollywood went berserk at the news of your presumed wedding to the rock God. You found out when your phone clattered to life at 7am the next day. You answered the line to a frantic Eddie, who was less concerned about the rumor that you two had gotten legitimately married than the fact that his privacy was so easily invaded. So, you suggested he schedule a meeting with your real estate agent to find a safer, better shielded home. And because he was too frantic to take notes, you huffed and headed over to his humble abode to help the poor boy plan.

It wasn't even twenty-four hours later that rumors the pair of you were house hunting together sparked interest alongside the blurry wedding photos. News of your alleged link to Eddie traveled fast, but your management worked faster. Forty-two hours after the gossip spread, you and Eddie were called in to address the rumor mill.

///

"Sit, both of you, and listen to our pitch in completion before you voice opinions." Eddies manager, Brooke, was stood before an oak desk, she was a sharply dressed middle aged cunning sort of a woman you respected for rising to ranks men usually dominated in the industry.

You and Eddie gave each other a look as you settled in opposite armchairs. This was going to be interesting. Your manager was sat at the head of the desk, eager to have his turn of attention.

"In the past few months, both of you have been in a little trouble with the press, no?" Kelsey began, gazing over his tinted glasses to meet your eye.

"Try the past year." Eddie huffed a laugh, sitting back. The musician really had always been linked to some salacious headlines since his rise to stardom. You were rather new to the negative press, but had done a better job beating the allegations, you thought.

Brooke slid a trio of papers across an oak desk then. One showed a collage of tabloid write ups from the past few days. Every word gushed over the supposed connection you and Eddie shared. It was an overwhelming collection of rose-colored journalism. The other two papers looked like contracts.

"We think," Brooke breathed, glancing to Kelsey, "given the immense positive reaction to your supposed wedding, that you and Eddie staying allegedly betrothed is a divine PR opportunity to push alongside the new album you're each equal parts credited to have made."

"You want us to pretend to be married?" Eddie laughed. The kind of chuckle that burst from behind his teeth, like a kid in class that couldn't help but disrupt.

"Of course we do. Just for five months, till the start of next year. Besides being a brilliant PR move to promote Steel & Stone, it could save your ass, Munson."

"What's my ass got to do with anything?" Eddie quipped.

"Edward, now is a good time to inform you that your label is threatening to drop you if you don't get your shit together before this year ends. You don't want to pass the point of no return, do you?" The news hung in the air with, menacing finality. Eddie's carless behavior was catching up with him.

"Settling down in general is a good look for you. Settling down with this world famous takes no shit rock and roll chick is even better. You both get to remain reckless, except now with morals. America just creamed their pants. The tabloids have already begun rebranding Eddie, let see what was it..." She picked up a daily newsprint to quote...

"Ah yes, 'From Don Juan to I Do, can this wild rocker finally be tamed?' Cheesy but you get the gist. This positive spotlight might be your last before you're dubbed hopeless!" Brooke tossed the newsprint in Eddies lap. He grumbled back a "Hey!"

Then Kelsey spoke up...

"Of course you're not in such hot waters," He pointed your way, "but the sooner we clear up the mess you let your last guitarist make, the better off you'll be."

"I didn't let-"

"You will sign these contracts." Kelsey boomed, jabbing his finger on the dotted line of the paper in front of you. The room went quiet as his voice rattled the walls. "We'd hate for the premier of your new album to be delayed while you remain obstinate."

"You can't do that." You stated. You worried.

"We're going to talk about this." Eddie stretched from his seat and swatted your shoulder to meet him in the hall. You followed gladly, anxious to get out of the tension filled room.

A few steps closer toward the stairwell, Eddie slowed there. "Kelsey is a scary fucker, huh?"

"A lot of information just came at us at once. I think we should-" You tried to reason as you stalled at his side.

"I don't want to delay your album." Eddie blurted; brows pressed tightly together. "I don't want you to have to lug me around for five months either." He leaned against the wall, jamming a fist in one of his many leather pockets for a cigarette.

"I won't be lugging you around, doofus." You laughed, kicking his boots with your heel. "I dunno. You do need a bit of a boost in the social department. Every girl I know has a story about you, Edward Munson."

"Yeah, I know. Got outta control on tours. But you know I've been doing better, we talked in the studio about how big of an idiot I used to be. But I'm tryin'. Apologizin' and shit! I don't want you to feel like you gotta save me. I'm working on that myself!"

"I've witnessed the progress you've made! Lita called last week to gossip and she didn't curse your name once!" You noted, dropping the name of the mutual friend and one Eddie's many ex-lovers.

"See! You don't need to be fake married to me. I'm my own personally savior. Hey, that's a good lyric..."

"Listen. If we did this, it's mostly because I'm worried about the album's release being threatened. And only a little bit because I would want to help clean your social slate and save you from being dropped from the label. So..."

"Awe, you like me enough to clean up after me? Gives me reason to keep making messes..." Eddie sing songed, breathing out smoke and shooting you a wink that made your eyes roll. You had been given a small thrill when you helped Eddie escape disaster upon your first meeting. You wouldn't mind having to look out for him for a few more months in a row.

"Look, do you want my help or not? My offer is about to be swiftly redacted!" You'd been moved to this major act of charity after spending that week in the studio, learning about the guy behind the guitar. He was much more than all those famous songs and infamous rumors and those silly rambled in the broken elevator. He was funny and smart and you liked him enough by now to consider doing this insane fucking thing. But too, there was a pit opening in your stomach that warned if you didn't do exactly as Kelsey wished, he would fuck shit up for you worse than he originally threatened.

"Okay! It seems like we're doing this. But no lugging me, got it!" Eddie sighed past his smoke, decided all of the sudden. You barely had time to process what you'd both agreed to before agreeing, but there you were.

"No lugging!" You echoed, rounding your shoulders as you slinked back into the room with the papers. You didn't like your work being held over your head. But you didn't see much harm in letting the rumors go on a little longer. You were looking at the tabloid cover story about what a perfect couple you made. All very sanguine. Why fix something that wasn't broken?

The pair of you signed on the dotted line.

That same afternoon, you were sent to pick out wedding bands. You quite admired a tiger-eye stone; but before you could ask how much it would cost, Kelsey had picked out gaudy diamond studded rings for both you and Eddie. You then realized this wasn't your relationship at all. None of this was up to you. But you'd be expected to act as if it was.

///

The Beverly Hills Hotel 1986 -

"Tell us about the wedding! Did you write your own vows?" A voice called from a pit full of reporters, each one of them as sly and insatiable as the last.

You and Eddie were sat shoulder to shoulder at the press conference meant to discuss your collaboration album that hit shelves the midnight before. And too, Eddie was meant to announce his L.A residency and you were meant to announce your upcoming tour. But you both knew your alleged wedding would be the subject on the tip of every tongue. This was it. The real test.

"I wanted to sing my vows but apparently that was too theatrical." Eddie joked, charming the room, shooting winks and stretching out smiles. What a fucking bullshitter.

"You've always been a showoff." You glanced to the man out of the corner of your eye as you spoke into your mic on the table before you. He was eating this up.

"That's right. I'm my best self in the spotlight. So now I'd like to announce for the next two months I've accepted a residency at the Roxy. One show every weekend until November. Dates will be in Rolling Stone this Monday!"

Cameras clicked and voices muddled over one another as reporters clamored to ask a million things. Your manager picked one man with a notepad out of the mix. His question was for you.

"Will you be able to enjoy a honeymoon before your husband goes back to work?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes,

"I'll be going to work myself. I'm touring this summer, a few dates need decided before tickets go on sale next week. We've got to promote this new album. Any questions about Steel & Stone? Any at all?"

The crowd roared louder than before. Reporters demanded to know why you and Eddie would be spending so much time apart so soon after tying the knot. Questions about the strength of your love and were directed at you like shrapnel. They wanted to know how two musicians with separate demanding schedules could maintain a happy life as a couple. They wanted to know why a honeymoon had failed to be arranged.

"If you must know, we're spending the weekend in Hawaii. Then, my wife and I will get to work promoting this very well made new album that you should all buy and review warmly!"

Oh, this motherfucker. Eddie was concerned about you lugging him around given this arrangement? Well, he never warned you about the bullshit antics he was eager to pull first shot he got a chance. You should have known better than to sign up for anything with this wildcard of a man.

To your surprise, Eddie's little joke couldn't be left to rest. By the end of the press conference Kelsey had your meetings canceled and a flight booked for Honolulu Friday morning. Shit, this was about to be a really weird year.

On the way out of the conference hall, you let Eddie kiss you on the cheek where the cameras could see before hurrying into a shared limo.

"Are you sure you wanna spend two days and three nights in Hawaii together?" You wondered, settling into the ride as it started zooming off. "You might get so sick of me we blow this whole thing."

"Relax babe, we'll be so chill beach side that we won't worry about stuff like that. Plus, why not make the most of this thing? Enjoy it!" Eddie shrugged and looked at you with a softness in his gaze. You saw a reflection of exhaustion you recognized. You both worked hard. Maybe it was time to sit back while the ride whirled on, for now.

"Plus, I'd rather play it cool with you for five more months than get sued for breaking contract." Eddie winked at you and popped open the limos complementary bottle of Champaigne.

///

New York 1988 -

"I wrote my first album at eighteen years old. Sold out Madison Square Garden by 19. Made three platinum records by 20. But Eddie gifted me the song that made my third album the nation's best seller for three months in a row. He played guitar on that track because I asked him too. He squirmed his way onto four more tracks because he was that charming. He was that good. He was one of the best guitarists I knew."

You bragged to Rolling Stone, watching her take notes and nod along, grinning past her cigarette. As she scribbled away you thought back to that time with reverence.

That invitation to play on Steel & Stone was never meant to be more than just that. An invitation for Eddie to play in your studio for a couple hours. But that invitation morphed into a lasting connection no one could have seen coming. You didn't regret that it happened. But perhaps if you hadn't let your management teams concoct such a devious plan to pair the two of you up contractually, you and Eddie would have been spared a world of hurt.

Eddie was one year younger than you but perhaps somehow even more famous. Maybe because he was a man, but probably because he was more talented. You could write, you could sing. But so could Eddie. He wrote and sang and played guitar and bass and drums and was a wizard behind any sound booth. A musician's musician through and through. It's something you admired about him.

But Eddie, like yourself, was a rockstar. He was reckless and late and messy and incorrigible. When the pair of you really got going, you'd bicker like bitches. When you were forced to make appearances together, the bantering made the tabloids. And apparently, sold records too. You'd seen the numbers yourself. Associating with Eddie was good for your career, back then. And vice versa.

"Next question."

///

Hawaii 1986 -

Brooke handled booking your fake honeymoon, thank God. She actually asked where you'd like to stay, how you'd like to spend your false vacation. You fantasized about a tiny little bungalow with shops nearby enough to walk to and days free of any plans.

After your plane landed and your cab ride stopped, you were left standing before the cottage of your dreams. Behind a wooden picket fence was a green home with wide windows, cozy and inviting. You hurried up the porch steps, dragging your suitcase as fast as the heavy thing would follow.

Inside was warm and homey as you could have imagined, big comfy furniture cluttered around a fireplace. A square kitchen with walls full of cabinets, plants on the large stretched out windowsills, a staircase that led to just three bedrooms. The lack of extravagance made you realize you didn't feel at home at all in your ridiculous Hollywood estate. There was more space in that home than you could fill with money or good intention. But this quiet and calm seaside bungalow would break your heart to leave, you already knew.

"Look, they already stocked the fridge," Eddie laughed behind where you admired the homes decor. "Benefits of super stardom I suppose." You turned to meet him where he stood when something else caught your eye.

"Brooke left a note." You realized, finding her scrawl on the kitchen island.

'The next three days are mostly yours to do what you please. But you must be seen out together at least once a day, given the rules of your contract. There are a row of shops a few minutes west of here and there are dinner reservations at the cities most renowned restaurant on your last night. The details and address is at the bottom of this note.'

"Right." You laughed. "It's 'our time to do as we please,' so long as we follow their rules."

"And that's the drawback of super stardom." Eddie pointed, bending to pick up both of your bags, heading toward the stairs. He announced that he'd leave your stuff in the bigger room, assuming there would be one. You announced a thanks for his chivalry and roamed toward the patio doors that opened to a private pool. Past the little garden area was the most spectacular view of the ocean, the roar of the waves providing glorious white noise.

"So... what do we do now?" You called out to your weekend roommate who you lost amongst the floor plan. You thought he was still upstairs. But as you shut the patio doors, Eddie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with a guitar case in hand.

"Wanna write?"

So with the sun setting and nothing better to do, you sat across from Eddie on opposite ends of the cozy living space and hummed along as he made up chords for what felt like forever. Neither of you spoke much, only letting your craft occupy the time.

How funny this was, in a weird sort of way. When you met Eddie, it wasn't like you were meeting at all. It was as if you'd always known each other. Banter wasn't just easy with him, it was natural. But now, once the pair of you had been left completely alone, the silence between the pair of you was full of tension. He'd look past his curly fringe every once in a while, to shoot you a grin when he liked a melody you came up with. And you'd ask him to show you a tab or two. What happened to the effortless chatter? Why was there a buzzing in your chest in his presence, all of a sudden? It was time to get up, it had to be dinner time now.

You expected the counter space to be full of liquor, as food and drink of all kinds had been stocked. But not a single adult beverage was in your line of sight. You opened a couple of cabinets until you finally found a single bottle of cabernet. Your favorite brand too, thank God.

"I'm making pasta and opening some wine. Do you want a glass?" You called out, knowing Eddie was still one room away.

"No, no." He sighed. "I really shouldn't."

"Shouldn't you? We're supposed to be relaxing and indulging!" You teased, still only getting one glass down from the open-faced cupboard.

"I kind of just got out of rehab." He called back. The news was a shock to you, since you'd met him blindingly drunk, and he hadn't left town since you'd made his acquaintance.

"Oh?"

You listened to the clatter of Eddie's instrument into its case as you found ingredients for your planned meal. His presence in the room was made soon after.

"Went to rehab. Two months. Told everyone I was recording, managed to put out Chains of Sorrow in a reasonable amount of time to make the fans believe I'd been in the studio all that time. I've been doing better." Eddie explained. The solo track he referenced came out four months before you'd met him. You asked if it bothered him that you were drinking now and he gave you a stern no.

"You've been doing better. But not always sober?" You daringly quizzed, Watching the man you fake married move from the far end of the kitchen, closer toward you.

"Recovering, not completely recovered." He grinned, leaning against the marble island. "Call it what you'd like. I've gotten good at only getting smashed at parties and saying no everything other time."

"And how many parties have you been to?" You smiled, casting the guy a suspicious glance.

"Can I help you with dinner?" He chuckled, shaking his head to your previous question. You considered the guy before you, his loosely buttoned cutoff flannel, the flutter of his eyes.

"Come, I'll show you how to make my special spaghetti sauce." You laughed. Eddie smiled in response but did not move per your request. He stood and took a hissing breath in before meeting your gaze to say,

"Before we stray too far from the topic... I have a terrible confession."

You stared at the guy, eyes flickering from his withheld grin to the tattoos on his arms.

"I don't remember meeting you at all. When my manager told me I planned to crash your studio I was so embarrassed. Did I make a complete fool of myself that night?"

"You would have if I didn't help you outrun an angry bartender. And you did ask for my autograph. Like three times. But I got us stuck in an elevator." You chuckled, handing Eddie a knife and placing a trio of tomatoes before him.

"Oh... my God."

"I promised to sign my first record, but you never brought it to the studio... I guess because you didn't remember." You pieced together, setting out other ingredients to add to your sauce as the pasta boiled on the stove. The realization that Eddie had blacked out during your first adventure together selfishly stung. You were left to carry the fond memory all alone. Left to wonder what else he may forget in the future, left to wonder why that might matter much at all to you.

"Alright, I'm going to be perfectly suave on this trip. No more being completely stupid." Eddie grinned and proceeded to follow your instructions on making dinner. The pair of you went on to laugh and cook and talk about Hollywood gossip until midnight.

When it was time for bed, Eddie followed you up the stairs. He went down one hall and you went down another, but not before casting a glance over your shoulder to find Eddie was looking back too.

///

The sun was especially warm the next morning, the rays soothing your skin from the window before the light opened your eyes.

You rose with an anxious glee, excited to find where the day would take you, but nervous all the same. Ever since ending up in this predicament with Eddie, his company made your heartbeat a little heavier. Your connection was an amusement ride, an adventure, an experience.

When you padded out into the main room, you found the patio doors wide open. Your eyes followed a set of footprints in the sand that belonged to Eddie, who was milling about the shore, looking for shells. You smiled to yourself and went about making some coffee, watching the man from the comfort of shelter.

After your morning cuppa and a little nourishment, Eddie popped his head in the doorway.

"Hey!" He called. His curls were dripping sea water onto the hardwood, his chest rising and falling quickly. Did he run up here?

"You're getting the doorway all wet!"

"Come out here with me! The waves are beautiful."

"The ocean freaks me out, Eddie!" You revealed. Would have sooner if his declaration about going to Hawaii wasn't so sudden and so public.

"Awe man!" He rang like a disgruntled grade schooler. "Well at least come walk the shore with me. We have to be seen together, remember?"

There were resorts and shops easily seen to the west of your private beach front. There were surly paps and press waiting nearby to score shots of you and Eddie after his announcement about coming to stay here.

"Ugh, okay." You huffed, declaring something about finding your bikini. You and Eddie had signed a contract. And there was one clear rule. Be seen together as much as possible.

You found Eddie on the shoreline again and trekked to meet him. He smiled at you and asked once more if you'd join him in the sea. The waves were roaring, and the vastness of the water sent a chill down your spine. Your hesitation was answer enough for Eddie, who shrugged and nodded and started walking along the sea's edge, holding out his hand for you to join him.

He let you keep hold of him as the pair of you meandered along the shore, a little closer toward the resorts in the distance. Your ever dancing nerves fell away as the pair of you talked about space and time and the existence of mythical creatures. And at the end of your fantastical conversation Eddie went quiet, letting his deep eyes search your face.

"Should I kiss you? Ya know, in case someone is watching?" He asked matter of factly, stalling in the sunlight that sparkled through his glittering sand sprinkled curls.

"What if no one is watching?" You countered, daring to reach out and loop one of your fingers around Eddies, holding on. The guy simply shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Considering the rules, you were meant to follow, you let a small nod tilt your chin. Eddie watched you come to a positive conclusion and took his sweet time leaning in. Eddie stalled for a moment, letting his breath fam across your lips, and you thought that was curious. For a kiss just meant for show, he was sure being timid.

"Eddie, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want too." You chuckled only to lighten the tension. He grinned in response, letting his dark eyes dart across your features.

"That's the problem, babe." He rose a brow. "I really want to. More than I ought to."

That made you pause and consider this whole crazy thing. You thought of how you got into this predicament and how Eddie was looking at you now, and the billions of things you wanted to say. In the time you stayed quiet and full of consideration for how to move on, Eddie became too antsy to let you say more at all.

"Should we go back in?"

"No," You shook your head. "No let's enjoy the weather." You assured, reaching a handout to brush Eddie' bicep as if to reassure him. So that's just what you did. You kicked about, dodged waves that came to close to the shore, and baked in the sun until it started to lower from its highest point in the sky.

After running in, washing up, and realizing there was still so much time left to waste, you talked Eddie into going out. You asked him to put on something nice and call a cab to drop the pair of you off at a local place by the sea.

Per the suggestion of the local driver, you and Eddie ended up at a quaint little outdoor eatery. The staff was so delighted by your surprise appearance that they invited you and Eddie to skip the line, sat you at their alleged best table, and poured you each a complimentary glass of champagne.

You tried to wave the waiter off, to dismiss them from giving Eddie the glass of sparkling wine.

"S'okay. Don't wanna be rude." Eddie insisted, taking a small sip out of obligation. You rose a brow and sat back and decided it was a night out. Eddie had said he was doing better. You chose to believe him and placed your order for the night.

"So," You spoke. "Should we come up with an elaborate backstory? Some swoon worthy anecdote about how you asked me to be your wife? A sickly sweet first date memory?"

"I think the story we have is suitable enough. You stopped me from making a fool of myself at a party, let me play on your badass new album, and I fell head over heels." Eddie laughed, but despite himself, it seemed. He breathed out a small sigh as he settled his elbows on the table. It seemed he was trying to say more.

"Everything okay, dear?" You emphasized the pet name to poke fun at your situation. You watched as the well-dressed man chewed his lip in contemplation.

"This whole thing... are you sure you're okay with it?" You knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not hurting us, is it? It's helping you out of the hole you're in with the label and it's selling our album. I never thought I'd be married for real but, this isn't so bad."

"What are you talking about? Everyone loves you. " He pointed, sitting up a little straighter.

"Everyone loves my persona." You pointed, lifting a finger as Eddie rose a brow. "Everyone loves my music. Loving me, is another story. Loving me is personal. I can't imagine letting anyone in that vulnerably, anymore."

"Oh, anymore?" Eddie quipped, sitting back as the waiter brought complimentary appetizers. You were going to refrain from drinking to make Eddie feel more comfortable, but at the turn of topics, you reached for the glass to calm the jitters.

"You know how I needed a someone to play guitar on my album?" You recalled. Eddie nodded, obviously. "Well, that's because I let my last guitarist get to know me a little too well."

You downed your champagne and was delighted when a staff member dropped another off right on cue.

"Go on, please..." Eddie motioned with a fork, taking a bite of food and staring at you with curious intensity.

"Well I'm sure you've heard the rumors." You shrugged.

"I have." Eddie carefully admitted. "But I always figured they were nothing more than just rumors. I do want to hear your side of the story..."

"My last guitarist and I had a fling. And right when I started to think I loved him... well it just didn't work out. So after the breakup, this motherfuker went around telling every studio musician that the only way they could play on my album was in exchange for sex. He said that was the price he had to pay. As if we hadn't been dating." You began with a scoff. "He took it further by telling the press I slept my way to the top. Probably because I wasn't giving him the time of day near then end and he was bitter that I'd been with so many others who are far more relevant than he'll ever be."

You reveled to Eddie some of the more horrific details of your last disastrous relationship and how it ended, because he asked. Eddie seemed to genuinely listen to the details you gave. Eddie took a few more sips of champagne.

"Fuck that dude to the moon and back. You didn't tell me I had the shoes of an asshole to fill!" Eddie grumbled past his mouth full of food.

"That's because I didn't want you filling his shoes. I like your shoes. I like you. And I'm grateful you played on my album and that crazy as it is, that we're in this fucked up situation together."

"This just... isn't how I wanted things to be with you."

"Oh?" You wondered, taking a hesitant bite of the dinner that had just been delivered.

"I mean... the whole thing with the contract and the lie. I thought I could ask you out for a nice dinner, like a normal date. I feel shitty about having trapped you in some kind of publicity stunt."

"You wanted to take me out for real?" You grinned, settling into your posture.

"I did. But now it's this whole circus and it's so disingenuous. I don't want you to think I'm getting to know you because I'm contractually obligated."

"You're a sweetheart, you know that?" You smiled. Eddie smiled back, and seemed to wait for you to speak further, but you had nothing more to say, you couldn't have any more to say. You planned to keep your heart on lock down. You planned to remain closed off. Being open and willing with others had only resulted in heartache in the past, in this industry. And you couldn't imagine that with Eddie. You wanted to enjoy your time with Eddie.

"I'm not willing to let my guard down for you, Eddie. But we can make the most of our circumstance, if you really want."

"What do you mean?" He puzzled, brow furrowed.

"Ask me again back at the house." You shrugged and smiled and sipped more champagne.

Dinner went on between bits of conversation that grew deeper each sentence. Eddie revealed childhood traumas. You voiced secrete fears about your career. The pair of you laughed hard over old jokes you'd heard on TV specials and picked four albums each you'd bring on deserted islands. You each finished one more glass of champagne.

Hawaii was stunning, even at night. You wondered if Eddie made the comment knowing how lovely it was here, if he needed such a rejuvenating get away. He seemed less at ease as the evening went on, however, chewing at his lip and wringing his hands the whole ride home. You hoped you plans for tonight would change that... but he had to ask you that question again.

///

Back at the house you stood, squinting to see the midnight waves from the patio doorway. Relishing their sounds, the crash of the ocean, the breeze through the windchimes near the pool. This was proving to be a very relaxing getaway indeed. You could get used to Eddies ideas. He was off up the stairs, getting ready to call it an evening you presumed. But then he appeared in his swim trunks, headed straight for the hot tub on the patio. He announced his intentions and halfheartedly invited you to join.

How curious, you thought, Eddie was so magnetic, but every time the pair of you became secluded in this home, he seemed to hide a bit of himself away all the same. You understood it, of course. Youd just admitted to doing the very same. But the pair of you had been more than open with each other by now. What had him so aloof here?

You shrugged, and spun to put on a record while concocting a plan. Of course you were banking on Eddie bringing up the question you once reminded him too, but a little nudge wouldn't hurt. After picking a Chet Baker album to spin, you decidedly flounced over toward the hot tub, watching Eddie rest there with his gaze locked on you.

"You're supposed to join me, remember?" He called, sinking a little lower beneath the bubbling waters. You watching his dark eyes fix on yours, and made your decision.

"If you insist." You smiled. The silky dress you'd worn to dinner would surely be ruined by the chemically enhanced waters. So, you slipped it off right there on the patio and hurried to the hot tub in undergarments that were just as good as any bikini.

"Happy now?" You rang, sinking so far below the water that only your eyes floated above the surface, locking on to Eddies still intensely held gaze.

"Delighted in the throes of post false marital bliss." Eddie laughed, a breathy sound he seemed to have to force a little. His eyes tore away from yours, looking for a distraction. "Shame they gave us the rings you don't like, though." He held a hand up from the bubbles to consider his diamond studded band. Yours matched because it had too.

"The rings are ugly. But we've made it work well so far I think. Haven't been this sure of a relationship since Steve Vai, you know?" It was a joke, but it was not. You'd loved your time with Steve. It was your most renowned relationship in the eyes of the press and all your friends to date. And though this time with Eddie was a sham, the connection you had to him felt frighteningly natural.

"Fuckin' Vai. Why'd you guys break up anyway? Seemed good together."

"Steve got back with his college girlfriend around the same time I opened for Metallica. Kirk swept me off my feet."

"You and Kirk? So that really happened." Eddie gapped at you with a grin. You'd kept that relationship on the down low, though a few good paparazzi photos tried to test the limits of the connection you'd had with the metal guitarist. He broke your fucking heart, ending things when that tour was said and done.

"I have a type, it seems. Dark haired dreamy eyed guitarists." The one before you now was the most intriguing of them all. And he knew it too. He had too. The way his eyes locked on yours changed. The way silence fell between the pair of you rang loud with anticipation, no matter who might speak next.

"What did you mean earlier?" Eddie finally wondered.

"When I said we could make the most of this, if you wanted?" You grinned, staying put for a beat longer in the spot you'd been floating. What you were about to suggest would either make or break the next five months you were meant to endure together. You sincerely hoped it would land well. You watched Eddie nod for you to continue.

"Well, I simply won't allow myself to fall in love with you." You prefaced, inching closer. It was easy to move through the water, stalling centimeters away from the man who shared the space with you. You could feel the heat radiating from Eddies form- even though the warmth of the bubbling water. "But I wouldn't mind enjoying the benefits of having a partner, even if we're just playing pretend." You dared to glide flush against the rockstar, resting each of your knees on either side of his lap with calculated caution. A set of his fingers brushed against your thigh in an instant, but that could have been a reflex. You needed a yes or no.

"Wanna have fun while this is meant to last?" You asked in a hush, your fingers resting gently on Eddies broad shoulders. His other hand came to rest on your hip. His faltered smirk gave you confidence to lean in for a kiss no one could see.

He kissed you back, lips timidly locked against yours, muscles tense under your fingers. But after a couple more careful pecks, his passion grew. Eddies lips parted against yours, and a sigh escaped his lips. You had him right where you wanted him. He grabbed you, nails dug into your hips, teeth piercing against your neck.

You had no fear raking your fingers through his curls to claw at the roots of his hair, maneuvering him to kiss your lips again. Eddie did so intensely, tongue jammed down your throat. His grip pulling you closer, his hips jutting up against yours. You couldn't wait much longer to go all the way, body language suggesting that's how far the pair of you would take this, it seemed.

Eddie whined a curse as your hand slipped below his waist band, kissing hard as ever. He let his fingers drift across your form until he reached the hem on your underwear, yanking them to the side. Before you knew it you were sliding into his lap as he pushed completely into you. Eddies fingers bruised against your hips and your nails dug into the back of his neck. You both rocked together, slack jawed and doe eyed, gazes fastened.

When your efforts were exhausted and passions simmered, Eddie moved your underwear back, and fixed his shorts all the same. He let his lips press against your forehead, leaving a couple gentle pecks there. He let his fingers brush against your face, cradling  your cheek as his eyes fluttered to land on yours.

"That was amazing." Eddie stressed all the right syllables. "But please... never fucking do that again."

You were too stunned to respond. Frozen now in complete confusion. Luckily, he had more to say.

"If you won't let me really love you, I can't do what we just did again. Because I'm already dangerously close to really loving you. And it would suck to have my feelings fucked around with. I understand if you aren't willing to open up. But please understand that's where we're very different." Eddie chose his words carefully and watched your eyes as he explained himself.

"O- okay." You managed to nod. "Yeah, I hear you." It was a reasonable explanation, an understandable stance. But you felt that familiar pit opened up inside you while he spoke. And it felt more empty and hollow than ever.

Despite that, you tried to cling to the fact that you'd just had the pleasure of shagging the guy, and how divine it was to feel him pull you closer the whole time. You reveled in Eddie's kindness as he helped you out of the hot tub. He guided you inside and upstairs and insisted you be the first to use the one shared bathroom. You knew this was going to be a weird year. But it kept getting weirder.

///

The next morning, you woke just before the sun. With quiet steps, you readied yourself in the loo and headed downstairs, out the door. Desperate for the freedom of normalcy, you started walking in the direction of the shops Brooke had left directions too. After a couple blocks, a variety of bodegas came into view. There were hardly any cars or bikes on the street, and only a few pedestrians popping from one shop to the next.

This was perfect. If there was any commotion over your presence here, it would likely be very minimal. A stall selling fresh fruit and veg was being opened by an older gentleman as you admired a cart full of flowers a foot away. Some store fronts were still closed as the early morning was still new. But the handful you slinked in and out of were open and occupied by people who were more or less unphased by you. A few whispers and pointed fingers among friends, and stares and smiles from clerks was perfectly tolerable. You offered them smiles and waves as you admired locally made clothes and lotions and oils.

But men with cameras waited outside, word spreading fast that you'd made your way into town. There weren't many photographers, thank God, maybe five. And they were respectful as could be, calling your name and welcoming you to the island. You gave them rushed acknowledgement and waved them off when they demanded to know where Eddie was. They didn't need to know he was sleeping soundly in the spare room of your shared bungalow. But they could watch as you decided to buy fresh produce from the little local man at the edge of the hamlet. A nice big breakfast sounded nice.

As you thanked the vendor and made your way to head home, the men with cameras began to follow your footsteps. You dreaded having to beg them away. But this time, you didn't have to. The vendor who'd sold you a canvas bag full of produce shouted ardently enough to get the paparazzi to stay back and let you be on your way. You knew you'd love it here. You knew it would be hard to go back to L.A. but you didn't have to yet. The only thing on your agenda was to make breakfast.

Eddie was already in the kitchen when you'd walked back. You could tell from the sound of a mug rattling against the counterspace and the drip of the coffee machine. He rolled his shoulders to adjust to the morning as you carried your fresh food into the little room.

"I popped to the shops! It was sort of nice. There were only a few paps out."

"Did they bother you?" Eddie seemed to worry, locking a puzzled gaze on you before peeking in on what groceries you brought home.

"Almost. But a nice older shop owner shooed them off from following me home. I really like it here." You lamented, not taking a single moment for granted. Soaking up the sights and sounds of the kitchen as you opened the white chipped cupboards, catching glances of the ocean out the window. You announced your intentions to make breakfast and Eddie hummed past his coffee. He stayed quiet afterward, lingering as you mucked about with pots and cutting boards.

The room was full of quiet tension again. Not like something ominous was near happening. Just the weight of the obvious being unspoken. You knew Eddie liked you more than he should. And you both knew you couldn't let yourself feel the same. Knowing all this, you went on slicing tomatoes. And turning on the radio. And switching stations when one of your songs came on.

The rest of the trip was spent in quiet; shared meals and movie marathons on one particular rainy afternoon. Small conversations and one last wordless jam session.

You were really going to miss it here.

///

L.A. 1986 -

It was Eddie's debuted at the Roxy, the first of a string of already sold-out shows. He asked you to perform with him to kick things off.

Backstage, you hesitantly watched his bandmates pour him several shots. You helped him decide what to wear and let him give you a sloppy kiss in front of a reporter. His tongue jammed toward your throat, his hands splayed against your hips, and he continued even after the snaps from the camera ended. Then, when the room got a little quieter, and when you were starting to lose feeling in your lips, Eddie pulled away and murmured something in your ear.

"Felt like a real kiss. Wish it was. Wish you'd really wanna be my girl." His words slurred. He was clearly already inebriated. But it wasn't like he was wasted. The words shot a thousand feelings from your heart into your nervous system, anger being the most immediately powerful. You shoved the man's shoulders to loosen his grasp on you, his face fell. The reporter's camera started clicking again.

"You're pushing your luck." You warned. He was trying to get a rise out of you, right? He was trying to get you to cause a scene for the photographer to capture, right? He was whiskey talking, right? He said your name and tried to reach for you as you blocked his advances.

"Go toward the stage." You demanded, turning the musician by the shoulders in the right direction. He protested for you to listen, but you couldn't do this right now. You couldn't imagine doing this ever. He knew you couldn't let yourself go there.

"Shut the hell up Eddie. You've got a show to put on. I'll meet you out there. Son of a bitch." You whined, shoving the musician toward the side stage as he tried to get you to wait up. But he was being introduced and the cheers from the crowd called the man to saunter toward the mic center stage.

Why the fuck did he say all that? You couldn't stop playing it over and over in your head. Why did it make your heart stop a little? You stole the bottle of whiskey from a stagehand and went to shake out your jitters in his dressing room. You had three songs until you would share the mic with Eddie. That gave you time for a drink and a half, a few vocal warmups, and a sudden costume change into suede platforms that made your toes a little less constricted.

Just as you stomped into your last boot, a stage hand came rushing over, stealing back the bottle of whiskey and pulling you toward the stage. You stormed into the spotlight where you met Eddie, playing a riff that a steady drumbeat accompanied. He started singing, staring right at you while you added harmonies you could barely hear over the cheers from the crowd. It was the single from Steel & Stone. It was a packed house, audience from stage to sidewalk outside the entry. An Eddie sized crowd. He deserved bigger yet, you thought.

The pair of you stared each other down throughout the next couple songs, and you danced next to the bass player when Eddie broke into a few guitar solos. When the last song you were meant to share ended, you bowed, thanking the people in the front row. But Eddie spoke into the mic.

"Baby, baby, wait don't leave." He sing-songed, stopping your exit with a breathy plea. "No, not yet. She's about to leave for three months ya'll." Eddie addressed the audience who awed in commiseration. The fuck was this about? A public display of sorrow so the nearest magazine reporter could write in that Eddie seemed to really adore his wife in the middle of the review for this show?

"Why don't you sing one more song. Just you. Just for me. Before you go." Eddie looked at you, his voice echoing from the stage to the back of the venue. The crowd applauded the idea and you paused in consideration. You rarely passed up the opportunity to preform, but this was Eddies' show. You decided since he was giving you puppy dog eyes, and a room full of a few hundred were chanting for you to do it, you would.

"Okay but it's gonna be one of your songs, got it? You gotta come see me on tour if you want one of mine." You took the mic, and as he stepped away Eddie smiled and said "Deal."

You picked your favorite Corroded Coffin number and the band behind you knew exactly where to jump in almost right away. Eddies music was heavy and hard to sing, but you'd gotten pretty good at it, putting on fake concerts on the patio of that little Hawaiian bungalow.

You sang your heart out, you sang for Eddie like he'd asked. He played toward the left of the stage, mesmerized by your every move. The number ended with the thrash of a few cymbals and the crowd going wild. As you backed away from the mic, Eddie came toward you. You met him halfway, planted a kiss on his lips for show, but also partly for revenge's sake. You hoped the gesture would leave him as frustratedly guessing as his left you.

///

LAX 1986 -

"We land in Ireland, I'll play two shows. Then it's Glasgow, Manchester, London, and then France. You're coming to Paris, right?" You listed off the first half of your European leg as Eddie matched the pace you set; a steady march down the tarmac of the airport. He had an arm tossed over your shoulder for show, and his head bent in to hear you better as you spoke up past the roar of the jet you approached. Beyond the aircraft were a roped off coral of press and fans who'd gathered to see you off. Their shouts didn't make conversation any easier. But their smiles when you offered a gentle wave settled the usual despair in the pit of your stomach.

"Yes, three weeks from today, I'll be seeing you again in the most romantic city of all." Eddie grinned as you stalled to face him. 

"I hope your Roxy gigs stay sold out. You can call me to brag about em if you'd like." You smiled up to the guy, admiring his hair that moved with the gentle morning breeze. You'd miss his companionship. You'd grown quite fond of having a friend nearby, despite being almost strictly business partners. That's all this was, you reminded yourself.

"I'll take you up on that offer. You better call me at least when you make it safely overseas. And anytime at all, if you want." Eddie grinned at the same time he let a hand smooth the back of your hair. His fingers settled loosely at the base of your neck to pull you close for a kiss to the forehead, for show, you reckoned. Eddie insisted on walking you onboard the flight and you took the time to introduce him to the band you'd be traveling with. 

Izzy, the bassist, had only ever played on Neil Young's tours. The guy was excited for a change of pace, touring with you. Ambrose the guitarist was new to the scene but a damn fine player. He'd seemed to keep almost totally to himself. Your drummer was called Zed. He asked Eddie for a spare cigarette and informed you he'd brought snacks for the plane ride. Everyone was nice enough, but your nerves stood on end when you realized you were about to be far from home with a bunch of practical strangers and your vile ass manager to boot.

"I'll call you right when we land." You nodded to Eddie, who lingered near the exit of the jet. But it was less because he'd asked you to call, and more now because you knew you'd be a little desperate to hear a familiar voice as soon as you'd be able too. But Eddie didn't need to know that. 

///

Ireland was beautiful. You hadn't quiet found a friend in any of your new band mates by then. But since Kelsey was busy managing a whole new team of people, his pressures never quiet landed on you, those first few days. You knew the steps to take around that maniac of a man. What to say and withhold to keep from setting the manager off. So, things seemed to be going well.

You told Eddie as much when you rang him the next three nights in a row, and laughed as he told you a story of his recent invitation to lunch with the Osbornes. Eddie had a newer, wilder story every night. And you swore you slept better when he wished you well at the end of every chat.

You were hopeful for this tour. The first few shows flew by with ease. You'd hardly had many kinks to work out with the new band. You were able to keep to yourself. You were treated like royalty by every villa foreman, wait staff member and venue manager.

But on the ride from Manchester to London, something shifted. You wanted to blame the dreary weather. You wanted to blame end of the fortnight fatigue. But a gnawing deep in the pit of your core warned you that something was simply not right. You mulled over telling Eddie. Calling him to ask if he thought you might be going crazy. If he believed in the power of premonitions. You didn't feel like you could ask that same question to Ambrose or Izzy. They'd hardly given you the time of day, off stage. Maybe you'd try with Zed, who'd offered you countless snacks and played a couple heated rounds of eye spy with you from city to city. But what if your desire for a deeper connection scared off the one potential friend you had in your drummer? What if asking Eddie if he thought you were going crazy made him realize you probably were, and he couldn't even pretend to be your friend anymore, let alone your lover? Why were you letting yourself care?

"Practicing telekinesis?" Zed interrupted your internal downward spiral by plopping down at your side on the aisle seat of the plane. "You've been staring a hole through this page of Rolling Stone for at least a half hour."

"Oh, hi." You huffed a laugh, shutting the magazine you'd forgotten was open in your lap. "Just thinking." You sighed, settling deeper into your chair. 

"Don't let Kelsey know." Zed scoffed. "It's his ideas or nothing around here isn't it? Why does he have to kill the vibe so bad?" 

"I hope he isn't starting his bullshit already. This tour has been fine! He just has this sick desire for things to go his way, whether they're going well or not."

"We're in for a looong tour, then, huh?" Zed rolled his eyes and stole the magazine you'd shut. Whether or not anyone around you believed in the power of intuition, you knew something bad was coming.

///

The phone line buzzed and buzzed. Almost to the same beat as a drip of rainwater from your balcony doorway. The streets of London sounded frenzied even from far off. You were about to let out your held breath and hang up when someone finally answered.

"Hellooooo?" A high pitched greeting came across the other line. Certainly not the tone you'd been expecting to hear. Another wave of trepidation dawned in your gut. But instead of admitting to yourself that much, you decided to match the girl's inflection. 

"Hiiii." You wickedly grinned, hoping what you said next would wash the girl over with the same unease. "This is Eddie's wife. I'm sure he has a minute to spare."

"Oh." The girls pitch shifted immediately as the receiver became muffled. Only seconds passed before the person you were calling finally picked up. 

"You just scared the shit out of her." Eddie chuckled. "It's not funny but it's... it's a little funny."

"I'm cracking up." You rolled your eyes. "Listen is there any way you can book a flight a day early for Paris?"

"Nice to hear from you too. Geeze, what's got you sounding so serious and scary?" 

"This tour!" You snapped, but followed with a groan. "I'm sorry I just- I need a night off or something." 

"I hear you." Eddie seemed to understand. "I'm sure I can catch a flight for tomorrow. What's the occasion?" 

"Kelsey is booking a couple press things and demanding I get you to be a part of some of them." You twisted the phone cord around your index finger and rolled your eyes again, imagining the girl that answered the phone throwing herself back into Eddie's bed. 

"Yeah, Brooke can make anything happen. I'll have her get me out there by tomorrow night. Plus the press keeps doing us wonders. You've seen last weeks write ups, calling you and me rock and roll royalty, right?" Eddie smiled; you could hear it in his voice.

"Yeah," You began. "And we've all seen this morning's Star headline. How is making out with three different girls in front of the entire Rainbow Room supposed to keep you and me a happy couple in the headlines? You gotta be more careful Eddie." You ranted, more pissed than you ought to have been about other women taking up Eddie's time and space. 

"Wait, last night- that's a headline?" Eddie's tone sounded grave. "Shit. I- I'm sorry. I was drinking and..."

"Forgot." You realized, finishing his sentence. "So should I call your babysitter Brooke instead? Should I expect you not to remember this conversation?"

"Listen I don't know what's got you so agitated over there. But can you not take it out on me? I will see you tomorrow. And I will figure out a way to convince the press there are no issues. I can clean up my own messes, remember?" 

"Got it. Sorry. Bye." You finalized, slamming the phone down with a heavy exhale. Right on cue, Kelsey was in your doorway, yelling about how you were going to be late to sound check if you weren't standing up and running toward the limo right then and there. You were thirty minutes ahead of schedule. But still somehow, your manager threatened to grab ahold of you if you weren't speed walking ahead of him in the next ten seconds.

Zed and Izzy appeared, rushing ahead of the rest of the band, cursing at Kelsey, demanding he lay off. But you're already hurrying to shut up his rage.

///

France 1986 -

After a break of dawn radio interview, Kelsey rushed you along to a high-end cafe where supposedly a reporter from Europe's most renowned pop culture magazine was waiting for a one on one with you. Your manager certainly knew his was around keeping you relevant but didn't seem to care if his efforts exhausted you or not. You blinked away thoughts of a nap, straightened the ripped-up suit jacket you wore over tights, and struggled not to stop in your tracks when you glanced up to a booth to find Eddie there.

He looked sleepy as you, hair all mused, ripped up Led Zeppelin tee straining against his fit figure. Eddie said he'd make it, you weren't shocked he had. But you were alarmed, more or less, by how he lit up when he saw you. And how at ease that made your entire being feel. Wishes of nap time and bubble bath breaks didn't seem as pressing any longer. You were relaxed in Eddies presence, and he hadn't even said hello. And that really freaked you out. You needed to get a fucking grip.

Brooke popped into frame too, walking up to great you with a smile and a hug. She complimented your makeup and turned to inform Kelsey the reporter was on her way inside. You gravitated toward the man waiting in the raised up booth, grinning as he smiled broadly your way. 

"I told you I'd make it in time." Eddie sing songed, holding out an arm as you slid in the booth at his side. The guy pressed his ring clad hand to one side of your head and his lips to the other.

"Thank you." You rose a brow and nodded his way. "We're being interviewed together it seems. I'm sure our managers arranged this for a reason. I'm sure they'll ask about those photos with the girls you were out with. Should we get our story straight?"

"I think I have the right words ready. Anyway, since this whole thing is based on a lie, I think it's best we stay as honest as possible about everything else... avoid digging ourselves into too deep a hole." Eddie reasoned. 

"Well, it's not totally based on a lie, it's not like-" You began to argue back, a little too desperate to mention that you liked Eddie enough to agree to this whole crazy thing with him. You couldn't have imagined being falsely married to anyone else. But Kelsey interrupted you, waving a warning that the reporter was walking in, alerting you to be on your best behavior. God he was becoming more unbearable as the days dragged on. 

The reporter was an older woman, dressed drabber than you would've expected. She chain smoked as you and Eddie shared a diet soda and answered her questions with easy smiles.

"How is the tour going for you?" She pointed, locking her tired eyes with yours while you droned on about the professionalism of your bandmates and the electricity of your fan base and how much more connected to them you felt on the road.

"It's so much easier to get to know people when I'm playing for them, watching them sing along, meeting them after each show." You said. 

"It seems that's a factor you reap the rewards of as well, Mr. Munson. You're aware that photos of you romancing a couple of fans have been spread across every major tabloid, no?"

Between the reporter's question, and Eddies deep breath in, you felt Kelsey's gaze like a dagger. And your mouth started moving before your brain stopped you otherwise. 

"Of course he's aware.  This is the lifestyle we each chose." You hurried to end this part of the conversation you'd been dreading.

"So, is that to say you've had these same sort of affairs?"

"That's to say that Eddie and I are happily married to each other. What happens with anyone else is irrelevant to us and should be irrelevant to the rest of the world as well."

You hoped your answer would put an end to this segment of questions as you firmly glanced to  Eddie, who sat clenching his jaw. He feigned a smile right on queue, when the next question targeted his way was about how his shows were going. The interview didn't last much longer before a photographer was introduced. The man led you and Eddie toward the back garden of the cafe where you posed for a shockingly small amount of photos for the magazines cover. Eddie kept his bejeweled fingers curled at your side as you settled in his lap. You gazed down at him and searched his dark eyes, hoping he was less mad at you than he obviously was just moments ago. If he was, he played it off well, planting a kiss on your cheek as you looked back toward the flashing camera. 

When the people from the magazine shook your hands and headed to leave, Kelsey bought lunch for you, Eddie and Brooke. When the managers when inside to order, Eddie pulled out a cigarette and slouched in the chair you rose from, suddenly desperate to get off his lap.

"Why did you speak for me? I was ready to own up to that shit. I was ready to say all the right things." Eddie waved a hand and let his head hang back as he breathed out smoke.

"And I'm sure you would have. But the world doesn't care about why a man cheats on his woman. They care about how the woman feels about it. And so long as they know I don't give a shit then we stay happily married. Isn't that the point of all of this? To stay happy and get this all over with as soon as possible?" You paced as you answered, stalling with a sigh at Eddies side. But you weren't done rambling...

"Can we just forget about it? That photoshoot is gonna be killer and the fact that we're being seen together after your little tryst is gonna change everyone's minds. We're doing the right things. Can we please just not worry about it anymore? I've got enough to worry about out here."

Eddie sat up and looked at you with what you hoped was concern but worried was something closer to appalment. But then he took another drag and started to nod.

"I guess I see where you're coming from." Eddie seemed to choose his words carefully. After a few more puffs he spoked once more, changing the subject. "Can I take you out after the show? Have a little fun? You're too wound up."

You looked to him and nodded, trying not to give away how much of a thrill it really was to you that he was asking this sort of thing. This tour had your emotions all frazzled and confused, damn it. You really did need a night out.

///

You put on a badass show that night. When you weren't signing to the front row, or screaming toward the sky, you were glancing to the side of the stage where Eddie stood watching. He was all smiles, clapping and mouthing encouragement you couldn't quite read but felt the well-meaning of from centre stage. Kelsey was even bearable, clapping your back when it was all said and done, finding someone else's throat to jump down for the evening. This made it easy for Eddie to sweep you away, out for a night of good old fashioned fun.

You wound up in some burlesque pub, accepting free shots and signing your autograph on dinner napkins for a dozen scantily clad dancers. 

"I'll have a rum and coke." Eddie shrugged to a waiter, as a crowd of strangers clamored closer to the booth you'd occupied with your alleged man. 

"Is that a good idea?" You asked, careful of your intonation. Worried only a little about Eddie finding annoyance in your question. Worried more by the idea of him with alcohol. 

"I promise to handle my liquor tonight. Only drinking to celebrate the kick ass show you just put on. Hard to come down from that high and I wasn't even on stage, babe!" Eddie excused his drinking, and made you feel valuable in one suave sentence. 

"Well thanks," You nodded decidedly, flagging down someone to mix you a mojito. "One drink." You hopped Eddie would echo your number, agree to the limit. But he changed the subject as if he hadn't even heard the past few words you spoke at all. 

"You sounded so fucking good tonight. What warm up's are you doing to keep your screams so effortless? I'm always exhausted halfway through a set. Would never be able to tell if you were or not." 

"You're full of compliments tonight." You rose a brow, speaking loud, you realized. Even though Eddie leaned in close the club was still pounding with bass and drum and crowd buzz. 

"Well, I mean them." Eddie smiled. He let his eyes fall across the features of your face. He ordered another drink. Another rum and coke. He said he was following your one drink rule by not ordering something different. You couldn't help but scoff a laugh and go with the flow, not wanting the night spent by his side to sour or end. Eddie drank and laughed his way through a story about his bandmates high school prom date. He asked you where you grew up. He listened while you yammered on all the same. 

And sometime between your fifth mojito, a foreigner was handing you a microphone. You didn't know quite how you wound up being dragged toward the little club stage to sing Don't Go Breaking My Heart with a man in a pristinely applied wig and bright make up. You never saw Eddie find his way toward the front of the venue either. But when you glanced out to find him laughing and cheering along in a little wicker chair, you'd felt something in your soul settle. You felt your smile grow. You felt a reason to keep singing.

When your surprise performance ended and your once in a lifetime duet partner sent you off the stage with a kiss on the cheek, Eddie stayed sat in his chair near the stage. But he'd held his arms out wide, and you didn't think twice about falling into his lap like you'd never belonged any place else.  Eddies lap was warm. His arms enclosed your waist securely. His lips pressed a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you leaned back into him. You needed this. You'd been longing for comfort. For a care. A very drunken part of you was even beginning to consider calling it love. But the other well trained half of your nervous system shut out that blossoming idea. 

Still, you let yourself enjoy whatever spell you were under in that little burlesque club. You sat in Eddie's lap and let him hold you while a few other performers came and went. And just before last call, Eddie nudged you from your perch and decided your night was over easily as he'd decided on making it happen for you all those hours ago.

"Thanks for that. It was fun to get out, break free from a schedule." You mentioned, walking alongside the guy. Your hotel was only two blocks away, and no one was out, with cameras or otherwise.

"Of course. I needed it too. Nothings is as fun with anyone but you these days." Eddie said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he matched your pace along the pavement. 

"Easy now. Don't have to keep wooing me. No one is watching anymore." You teased, ignoring the sinking in your stomach. Ignoring those dangerous thoughts that had started to bubble in your mind back at the club. 

"I know." Eddie replied, softly yet surely. 

His arm stayed firm across your shoulder as he went on to joke about something that the waiter had said earlier. You laughed and rambled on down the block until your hotel came into view around a certain corner. In the glow that illuminated from inside out, stood a small gathering of your fans. Four or five friends who all danced a little at the sight of you approaching, waving your records and posters in their clutch. 

"Well hello everyone." You chuckled, moving with more intention, closer to the group and out of Eddies grasp. Without a second thought you started signing albums and listening to pairs of friends tell you how much your music meant to them. You relished being able to hear their stories, to be able to connect with people who gave a fuck about you for longer than a second outside busy airport gates and vip green room meet ups.

One of the meeker girls, to your surprise, caught the attention of the man who'd been hanging back, watching with a grin as you shone.

"Eddie, can I have your autograph too?"

"Ah, you don't want mine, do you? We'd all much rather have hers." Eddie sauntered closer to the group, eyes steady on your form, you realized, when you turned to smile at him. "In fact, I'm still waiting on one myself."

The pit that usually felt like a void in your gut seemed to fill with butterflies and ocean waves then. It was getting hard to ignore the fact that you liked this man more than a little. After saying pleasant goodnights and farewells to the small group of your admirers, Eddie walked you up to your room. He did not reach out an arm across your shoulder. He did not even brush his arm against yours the whole journey seventeen stories up. The absence of touch felt heavy and hurtful.

And when you stood lingering in the doorway of your room after asking if he would come inside, he shook his head. Funny how quickly agony replaced excitement. Funny how you'd only moments ago marveled over how close enough he was to touch. How you now despised the space between you entirely.

Eddie only shoved his closed fists into his leather pockets and let his unsteady focus bounce between either of your eye's.

"You know I want to. And you know why I won't." Eddie said.

"Well..." You tried like mad to get out what you wanted to say. But you weren't even sure how you were really feeling let alone able to express that much. Your pause was too long. Eddie pressed a divine kiss to your hairline, finally closing the space in between you, but tragically ending the time you'd got to spend with him. Eddie slinked off and around the corner, out of sight, hardly out of mind. 

The hall got quiet. Your heart felt loud. Must've meant bedtime.

///

A couple weeks passed by without hearing from Eddie at all. A couple weeks had passed since you'd heard from anyone but Kelsey, constantly screaming in your ear, waking you up, rushing you to sound checks, telling you to throw away breakfast because there was no time to eat it.

When the phone in your latest hotel room rang after a much-needed hour long bath, you ran to answer after its first clatter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Brooke. Do you have a minute?"

Oh, how curious. The pit in your stomach buzzed with worry as your brain collected a million reasons for Eddie's managers phone call.

"I should, yeah. How are you, Brooke?"

"I'm okay. Eddie isn't. Last night he caused a bit of a scene on stage at the Roxy, he was so drunk he could barely remember the words let alone sing them. This morning, I found him hanging out of the back of his limo, almost passed out on the side street of the Troubadour. He asked me to drive him back to rehab. He wanted you to know before you found out through the news."

You let out a long sigh. Frustrated. Worried. Confused. Brooke went on to leave you an address to write to, saying he'd asked you too.

So, after hanging up you didn't waste any time pulling out the hotel's free stationary, scribing one really long letter. You wrote about how the tour felt like hell and how you couldn't wait to be home. You wrote about how proud of Eddie you were for seeking help and taking time for himself. And you dreamed of doing the same, asking him to tell you any and everything he would be comfortable sharing.

That afternoon you left the letter in Kelsey's grasp, asking the manager to mail it. The next few days, a cycle was born. Wake up. Write Eddie, leave the letter with Kelsey, sing a bunch of songs.

Then your drummer came knocking on your door.

"Do you plan on writing Eddie anymore letters?" Zed wondered, curiously. You didn't think much of it, he'd probably seen you leaving the envelopes with your manager.

"Yeah." You shrugged.

"Well, I found a stack of them in Kelsey's room. He hasn't mailed any. So, I gave them to the front desk of the hotel to send out this morning. I hope that's okay?" Zed went on to explain that he'd figured you'd want them sent as soon as possible, hoping he hadn't crossed an odd boundary. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you hole. The thought of Eddie sitting in rehab, wondering if you were going to send letters like he asked, receiving nothing. You worried at the thought of letting him down, even though you'd never intended to.

"Fuck man. Thank you, Zed." You grumbled some curses against your manager and thanked your drummer a few dozen times for sending the post and letting you know what you should've known better about, you guessed. Like he'd sensed you talking shit, Kelsey slinked in the room soon after, asking you to get a move on. But you'd been ready to go. Moving faster to get the sorry excuse of a man away from your sight.

"See how much nicer things go when you don't piss me off?" Kelsey called across the hall. You begged to differ.

///

On the way to the next gig, you heard a familiar tune on the radio. Lyrics you'd written. A riff of your bass players on creation. Prince's vocals mysteriously added to the mix.

"Why is Prince singing my song?" You turned to your band who were all equally as befuddled as you, stammering different 'I don't know's.'

The from the edge of the limo came the voice you dreaded hearing most.

"Sold it. He heard it in the booth and offered you a few million for the rights. I said yes." Kelsey huffed past a cigar.

"You sold my song to-" You began to see red when the ride stopped and your manager interrupted you, pushing you to get out and onto the stage. Your band couldn't help. They were being corralled all the same. Was this life even yours anymore? It seemed every move you made was orchestrated and modified by the manager you'd mistakenly given too much power too.

By then, the refuge you found on stage began to feel like the same old trap. Kelsey started deciding your set lists. And the first night of three at Maddison square garden, your first stop of the USA leg of the tour; you changed up what had been written down on a whim. Because the crowd was chanting for a number from your very first album. And who were you to deny them that?

Apparently, according to your manager, the devil incarnate. 

Kelsey lost his shit on you in the limo on the way to CBGBS, all for changing the fucking setlist. Your fucking setlist. Zed, bless him, tried to speak up in defense of the situation. But his arguments were shut down soon as Kelsey could form a word.

Thank God the club was in sight.

///

CBGB's 1986 -

Lou Reed gave your drummer a little blue pill. Zed said he felt free for the first time maybe ever. You found this out after the guy stole another little blue pill for you. It went down well with whiskey. Then Kelsey started to kill your buzz, being all charming and nice in front of strangers. And that was the most upsetting part of all. Because he was such a dick. And you hated to see anyone believing otherwise.

And because he couldn't help but pick apart your every move, he tried to stop you from ordering a sixth vodka.

"You've made my life hell. This is the only way to cope." You pointed.

"I've made you rich and famous, dear, you may be drunk but you're not that stupid." Kelsey droned in that stupid fucking accent.

"You sold my song to fucking Prince! You didn't even tell me. God knows you'd never ask first but you didn't even mention it! Where is the money for that transaction, huh? Already snuffed up your nose?"

"Maybe." Kelsey boasted, snatching your vodka from your grasp.

"You change my set lists. You deny me meals. You force me to fall in love with a man to make the press happy, to keep your name fucking shinny!" You were seething as you yanked back the glass and chucked it to the ground, glass shattering at your feet. Kelsey only chuckled, a dark low rumble that opened the pit in your stomach where fear and rage lived.

"I only told you to stay married to him darlin', you didn't have to suck him off and pout as he left, that's your own idiocy." Your manager loomed over you, his smoke scented breath blowing in your face. You were jabbing a finger into his chest and calling him a bloodsucking cunt as his smile twisted into a snarl.

By that point Ambrose and Izzy were pulling you and Kelsey back from each other. You yelled for your bassist to let you go, to let you keep calling out your manager for all the shit he kept pulling.

"You know that's a really bad idea. Go find Zed. He's been looking for you." Izzy's hold on you was barely a grasp but you still yanked your arms away, pissed. You grumbled away from the tension filled situation and pushed passed the crowd cheering on Blondie to find your drummer leaned against the back wall, all buddy buddy with Lou Reed, by then.

"Perfect timing, Mrs. Munson. I was just going to invite you and your drummer here to the Chealsea." Your ears rang as Lou Reed waved you and Zed along. On your walk behind the bleach blonde songwriter, your drummer revealed he'd been gifted a whole giant bottle of those little blue pills for the pair of you to survive off of the rest of the tour. Anything to dull the ache.

///

Chealsea Hotel 1986 -

The clock on the dimly lit hallway wall read four in the morning. There was a faint yet ever-present ringing in your ear. There were people packed into every room on this floor, bodies were scattered through the halls, waiting their turn for entry to a room. Or impatiently having a go at each other between potted plants and elevator doors. Someone grabbed you, they were crying and saying they loved you. They were begging you to sing a song as you shrugged them off and told them maybe next time.

"Too many people." You suddenly realized, gripping onto your drummer's forearm. He stalled and turned back to understand what you were saying. Lou Reed was long gone, had been since you'd arrived here however long ago.

You announced that you were headed down to the lobby and began stepping through the maze of strangers, breathing in their smoke and wondering how time was moving so fast. Had thirty minutes really already passed on your journey through this weird gathering?

Down at the front desk, workers smiles were wide as you glided up to the counter. If anyone was ahead of you, you'd cut them. Maybe they had let you. They usually did.

"Do you have any available rooms?" You smiled hopefully. For you, surely they would. For you, they had too. You couldn't be sure you could get back to the place Kelsey had you staying at. And you were in desperate need of some space that didn't feel completely suffocated by responsibility. The women at the front desk told you there were opening but none of the more accommodating rooms for guests as elite as yourself were available. You assured her you didn't care if it was a closet with pillows for a bed so long as you had a place to crash. With in minutes you were being handed a room key.

On your way to the tenth floor, Zed appeared again, this time with company. Ambrose and Kelsey were having a spat, and your drummer was being cornered with his hands up. You saw your guitarist notice you and that was enough to send you sprinting past them to get to the room you booked. Your manager started to call after you, demanding you stop. But you were too quick. You locked yourself into a perfectly adequate room, with a bed, a balcony and a small additional bathroom. This was more than enough. But it wasn't long before your crew was pounding at the door.

"You can't stay here. I've got two entire floors of the Marriot booked just for you, your royal fucking highness." Kelsey spat on the other side of the wooden door.

"Stop fucking talking to me like that!" You hollered back, unzipping your boots and tossing them against the door. God you could really go for another one of those little blue pills.

"Come on, please let's just go." You heard Ambrose whine like an impatient kid brother.

"Fuck you too!" You called back, angry that everyone surrounding you went along with Kelsey's bullshit. You knew they had to, to survive. But you were ready to start fighting against it. You heard the men bickering beyond your seclusion, Kelsey yelling at Zed to have a go at demanding you leave the room. He argued back that he wasn't going to beat on the door like a maniac, but he would try and talk to you like a human being, if they so insisted. His knock was polite. He had more of those little blue pills. You let him in.

Your drummer eased into the room as you slammed the door in the other's faces. That didn't stop your manager from shouting still, demanding you and Zed leave right that moment. Demanding Zed better not be a fucking idiot and just drag you out of there. Your drummer only shook his head and rose a hand to nudge you away from the door you stood seething in front of. He guided you to the far corner of the bed closest to the balcony. He opened the doors, letting in fresh autumn air.

"Don't listen to them." He said in a hush, hunkering down at your side, hands clasped between his knees.

"Well, aren't you gonna try and talk me out of here?"

"No. I think if we stay quiet, they'll leave. And maybe we can have one night of fucking peace." Zed laughed hopelessly as one of them conditioned to pound on the locked door. You sat, biting back tears.

"You're the only one who has checked up on me this whole time. I know the others don't want to cross Kelsey. But none of the rest of the band has even like, said good morning to me. Or sat next to me at lunch. Izzy will share lyrics on plane rides. Ambrose will thank me for rolling up his joints. But then they fuck off to the green room or the dinning hall with all the groupies. I've never expected us all to be best fucking buddies. But I've never felt so alone Zed."

You vented, choking back the ever-growing lump in your throat. Your drummer unclasped his hand and placed his palm on your knee as he shook his low hung head.

"And," You went on, unable to stop now that your expression had started. "Eddie can't call. He's in rehab. Even if he wasn't it's not like we're really married."

"What?" Zed turned, confused.

"Eddie's getting sober somewhere in the middle of nowhere California. And our marriage is a lie. Kelsey made us sign a contract. We're not married. It's all for show. My whole fucking career is all for show at this point. I'm Kelsey's little puppet and every time I try to cut the strings, I just end up tangled up in them."

"He's such a fucking devil." Zed frowned. "Once this tour is over..." You watched your drummer search for his next words. "I don't even know. But none of us should let him keep this shit up."

The banging at the door started again. Zed held a finger to his lips, stopping you from speaking. After a moment in the faintest whisper, you could muster you asked your drummer for another one of those pills from Lou Reed.

He pulled the bottle from his brown leather coat, and portioned you out two. You started to reach for both when he quirked a brow.

"Sorry." You grinned, guilty. Zed took the other pill and his jacket off, tossing the garment and the bottle to the corner.

"So, is that why Eddie has been so sloppy with being seen with so many girls, last month? You two really aren't a thing at all?"

"I guess." You sighed. "I thought we were something. I think he's, bare minimum, a friend. But everything else is just for show." You realized, recalling the tabloids recent write up about Eddies much too public fling with a girl from the crowd of his latest concert. You couldn't pretend that didn't hurt.

"I feel like no one is on my side." You struggled to hide the tears that pooled in your eyes, desperate for what you took to kick in already.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" He seemed concerned about however you may answer. And you realized that he was here. And that he did care. And that despite being caught up in the same bullshit as you, he was giving you all the space and time to talk about it.

You leaned in, sniffling back your crocodile tears as that faint ringing in your ears began to grow a little miraculously louder. You hugged your drummer and thanked him for listening and sitting in here and for not talking you out of going anywhere else. He let a calloused hand pet back your hair and reminded you that he was hiding away all the same. Trauma bonding.

"Can I say something?" Zed asked as you pulled away. You nodded.

"I kind of want to kiss you. But not like out of love. I think it's the pills. And the pent-up stress. And the fact that you get it. And I trust you." He shrugged and you took in every word. "Do you want me to leave now? I know that's probably the last thing you-"

"No, it's okay." You insisted, reaching out to rest a hand on the guy's thigh. He let his brow push together. His silvery eyes studied yours. He wasn't your type at all. Shaggy blonde, too toned drummer. But he was a good friend. And that was more than you could ask for at this point. "Wanna blow off some steam?"

"Seeing as how you're not actually married, I'm okay with it." Zed laughed a little, letting you be the one to make the first move. You kissed him and blocked out every thought that popped up of Eddie, and every wish that you were desperate to be kissing him instead.

Zed was warm and patient and really good with his hands. He asked over and over if what you were doing was okay. He fucked you three times by the time the clock read six in the morning. Then he helped you get dressed and turned over to give you space to sleep beside him in the full-sized mattress.

Your early morning freedom was interrupted by lunch time when Kelsey boomed at the door. He gave the pair of you a scolding through his teeth as you passed through the Chealsea, and really reamed into the pair of you on the limo ride to the tour bus. You'd be traveling to New Jersey, down to North Carolina, then down to Georgia and Florida, back up and across most the states from there. It was a daunting schedule to look ahead to after traveling so much of Europe already. And to know you weren't able to enjoy any of it at all, being under such restrictive control.

///

The next four shows were a blur. You were taking a trio of those little blue pills before every sound check. Whatever your manager shouted in your ear went out the other until the next day. You let time pass you by as you left your heart and soul on stage, using each show as some kind of therapy, best you could. And somehow, without discussing it at all, you and Zed had made a habit out of sneaking into each other's rooms each night. You used each other's sex to pacify the horrors of the tour. And that much you discussed. It was mutually agreed that no feelings could be born from the habit, and if they were it would have to stop. Your hook ups were strictly medicinal. Zed was your supplier, after all.

Ambrose caught on, and so had the others, you were certain. But your guitarist had spotted you in Zeds room one late night when he'd come knocking in search of some cocaine.

"Really, you two? How does Mr. Munson feel about that?"

"I'm sure you'd like to know. Get the fuck out of here." Your drummer slammed the door in his face. But his question haunted you for days after he asked. How would Eddie feel? Would he care at all? Would he be glad you found someone to bone after trying to shag him a time or two to no avail? Would he be pissed you were being sloppy? Would he be pissed if you accused him of being sloppy too? Would he be pissed if he knew how much you missed him?

And God how you really missed Eddie. How you hated catching glimpses of your fake ass wedding ring. How you wished you'd never left Hawaii.

///

Chicago 1986 -

The crowd stretched for miles; the open green field packed with fans far as the eye could see. The wind was welcome as its chill cooled you from the heat of the stage lights. The show was going as well as it could. Your band was in sync. You didn't even mind how Kelsey had organized the set list. Something was bound to piss you off soon, since nothing had yet. You considered this as you ran off stage during Ambrose' guitar solo, reaching for a bottle of water and a shot of something stronger.

Then the unthinkable. It was like the first time you met. You looked up and Eddie Munson was standing before you, eyes a little clearer than ever, hair longer too.

"You're looking good out there!" He smiled and shouted past the music.

"Eddie?" You grinned, baffled by his very sudden and unexpected appearance. Before he could explain himself, Kelsey nudged his way between the pair of you.

"Good! You're here! How's about a song or two?" Your manager smiled to Eddie, whose face grew concerned.

"Oh, no. I'm just here to see my w-"

"When Ambrose runs back, he'll trade off with you. Just two songs. No better way to promote the new album!"

"This is their show, not mine. I really don't want-"

"Ambrose!" Kelsey waved as your guitarist skipped side stage after his solo. Izzy was sauntering on to take his turn in the spotlight now. "Eddie is gonna take your spot for the rest of the show."

"You said only two songs!" You rang with worry. Why was this evil Brit so dead set on causing such chaos? Kelsey looked to you with a glare, ripped the bottle of water from your hand and pushed you toward the stage before going on to force Ambrose custom flying V onto Eddie.

The ringing in your ear that those little blue pills brought on was beginning to fade away. The audiences' roars dulled your senses now. You waved at them as you hurried to tell Izzy there was a change of plans and you'd only be playing songs from the new album now. The first five tracks, then the hit single, you decided in a hurry, telling him to pass the info onto Zed.

"Okay Chicago!" You breathed into your mic. "You're about to be just as surprised as I am!"

Eddie's entrance toward center stage caused the crowd to react so loudly it felt as though an earthquake could have been coaxed from the ruckus. You caught a glimpse of Ambrose at the side of the stage, throwing a fit, before turning to cue Zed to start the next song. He'd been giving the right info, playing the beat to the song you decided. You clued Eddie in, too, before taking centre stage once more and doing the best you could to carry on this concert without having a mental break down.

It was good to see Eddie. But the pair of you had a lot left unsaid. It was a sick joke, being forced to sing the songs you wrote with him, into the same microphone now. To be looking right in his big brown eyes, to feel his exhales, to be stupidly intoxicated by his presence after months, after no contact, after feeling so abandoned and hurt, even if that wasn't entirely his fault.

The four of you played a decent show, and the sold-out festival crowd was in a frenzy by the encore. You sang with Eddie and looked right at him. He kissed your cheek as Zed dragged out the beats that ended the set. But your phantom husband had never felt further away.

There was no time to talk still as your band was corralled into separate interviews and congratulations from festival promoters. Eddie was the most sought-after entity, of course. Not only was his appearance on your set a surprise but it was the first time he'd been seen out in months since disappearing to rehab. You weren't sure what excuse he gave the press this time. You couldn't quiet hear the answers he was giving journalists now, as you rushed toward the green room showers.

You found Zed leaving there and asked him for more pills, as big a handful as he'd give you. He was hesitant, but you promised it was just so you wouldn't have to track him down for more later. The blonde was worn down, dumping a few into your palm as you hurried to get cleaned up.

You knew your time was limited in the green room's shower, and you knew the night ahead was a long one. There were three more official interviews with festival promoters to complete, and a VIP tent to make an appearance in, all while Iron Maiden played the final set of the evening. You realized, as you washed the sweat from your back, that you didn't know if Eddie would still be there when you came out of the room. Or if he'd be lingering close by the rest of the evening. Or if you two were going to have time for a real discussion. So, under stress from every angle, you broke your promise to Zed and downed the handful of pills at once.

And then you were off, dressed in a new silk slip and pre torn tights, sprinting down the hall to make it to the press tent in time. Outside, Kelsey was off in the distance, shmoozing some promoters. Izzy was flirting with Lita Ford by the craft table. And you were scurrying between tour busses as dusk started to set in. Iron Maiden hadn't yet started their set. And on the steps near your tour bus, you found the rest of your band, and Eddie, sharing beers. Oh how fucking lovely.

"You've got to be fucking joking." You stood before Eddie, seething, rage coursing through your nervous system. He knew exactly what you were on about, shifting his weight as his lithe expression turned pale. Eddie shifted his weight and kept the bottle in his grasp close to his chest. You almost couldn't believe he was choosing to be so dumb right now. Led by anger, you reached out to grab the beer from Eddie's grasp. He let you rip it from his fingers and avoided the way your eyes bore into his very being. 

The boys at his side were quiet until Ambrose let out a low whistle, mentioning that he would run and get Eddie a third drink. A third. Meaning he'd had another before now. Meaning that he was acting way dumber than you ever fathomed he was capable of.

Suddenly it was all too much. As each boy noticed watch you turn red from outrage, it was like every emotion you'd suppressed in the past handful of months broke past the seal and your world began to spin. Yeah... maybe you should have heeded Zed's worry.

"Shit." You groaned, feeling your chest tighten. You dropped the bottle, rushed past the group and grabbed at the door of your traveling home. Thank God, no one was inside. Your sprint to the loo was just in time as you began to vomit. You cried, and cursed, and got sick again and wondered why nothing felt good anymore. Even the shit that used to keep the bad feelings at bay was back firing now.

You heard the group of guys just outside the door you left swung open, wondering what just happened to you. Ambrose far off muffled voice was unmistakable, "Come on, Eddie. I'll get you more beer. Let Zed deal with her sorry ass. He's been pretty good at filling your shoes, ya know?"  

Nausea rushed over you, shutting off the rest of your senses. You stayed slumped on the little loo floor, the room was small enough that your feet stuck out into the hall. Then you heard the door shut. And the sound of heavy boots clucking toward you.

"Are you wasted?" Eddie wondered. You looked up to him, standing with his fists balled up, his fingers working nervously at each palm. His dark brows were furrowed, and his speech was ever so slightly slurred.

"Are you wasted?" You shot back, still so beyond pissed off at him.

"I told you I was a recovering fuck up. Not a fully rehabilitated one." The guy reminded with a small humorless laugh.

"Why are you here?" You whimpered, resting your head against the lid of the toilet, the latter half of your sentence, a mumble.

"I'm here to see you, why the fuck else would I be? I didn't want to play the last thirty minutes of your damn set. I wanted to see you! It's been months you know?" Eddie shot back. It had been a long set of days since you'd had the pleasure of hearing the guys voice. Why did his return have to leave you feeling so fucking awful? Why didn't you stop all this shit from playing out when you had the chance? Crumble up that dumb ass contract in front of Kelsey and everyone. If only you could've saved yourself this world of hurt.

"And whose fault is that?" You asked through a whine, feeling sick all over again.

"Don't you dare put all the blame on me. I know I fucked up. I'll own that. But you're the one who pushed me away from the beginning. You told me you didn't want a real connection with me. I was willing to actually fall in love with you. And newsflash. I am actually in love with you!" Eddie's voice was growing firmer with each word he spoke. "I'm in deep fucking disgusting love with you. And you told me you didn't want that. So, I kept my fucking distance."

"I find that hard to believe." You rang through your teeth, sitting up a little. "You told me you couldn't sleep with me again because you'd fall too much in love or whatever the fuck. That hasn't stopped you from sleeping with what, three, four groupies since I left for tour? In deep disgusting love with every single one of them, are ya?"

"Of course not." Eddie waved as if it were obvious. "Those were drunken flings. Based on lust. I was already head over heels with you when you shagged me in the hot tub. I knew I'd only fall more. And since you said you weren't looking for love I set a fucking boundary. To please you!"

"Well I do love you! I don't fucking want to, but I do! I don't want any of this shit. I don't want our bullshit marriage. I don't want to be on this fucked up tour. I want to quit this shitty fucking job, oh God-"

You caught a glimpse of Eddie's face before you started to lose your lunch all over again. His eyes were wide, his jaw was slacked, his head shook in disbelief. And then what felt like a life time passed as your body writhed in agony.

"What did you take?" Eddie demanded to know.

"I don't know." You lied.

"Bullshit! What did you fucking take?" Eddie raised his voice as you started to sob.

"Zed's pills. Please don't yell at me!" You responded past tears and waves of nausea.

"I'm sorry." Eddie heaved, and you could tell he meant it and that made you cry harder. You heard his boots stomp away as you lost your fucking mind between tears and sick. You heard the door swing open. You heard Eddie say, "Get a medic in here, you son of a bitch." And you just knew he was talking to Zed, and you imagined the poor drummer lingering worriedly near enough the bus door to be there when Eddie opened it. The dreamy eyed guitarist was back in the room and kneeling at your side to comfort you while you both waited for someone to come and help.

You started to apologize for what exactly you weren't sure yet. Eddie dismissed you and said you could talk more later tonight. And you realized that meant he was staying. And that made you feel the smallest bit better.

When the medic came, he assumed you'd already vomited up most of the pills, but insisted you to come to the emergency tent for a while. You worried instantly, knowing Kelsey would blow a gasket. The rest of the band could carry on perfectly suitable interviews without you, but you knew there'd be hell to pay. Eddie sat with you, listened to the medics with you, gave you his jacket as the night grew cold. Then he walked you toward the car that the doctors called for you, insisting you get to a bed and rest as long as you could. He slid in the other side of the cab and let you slump against his shoulder the whole ride to whatever hotel you were staying in that night.

///

As Eddie walked you toward the sanctuary that was this evening's quiet hotel suite, the elevator doors chimed down the hall.

"You fucked up tonight beyond your wildest imagination!" Your managers shouts were more irate than you'd ever heard them. But you were almost too exhausted to care. Only three steps away from your room. Stubborn still, you couldn't help but turn to fight back.

Kelsey was red faced and rambling so viciously that the assistant that had followed him up was taking a step back with apparent concern. Around this time, the elevator dinged again, revealing Izzy and a group of strangers hanging off his arm.

"This is coming out of your paycheck! Do you realize that? You can't just do whatever pleases you!" Your manager raved.

"Your threats are getting boring." You stated simply, lazy eyed, hoping your lackluster engagement to this man's tirade would sting his ego.

"It's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. Have you forgotten I control every aspect of your sorry little life?"

"Don't fucking talk to her like that man." Eddie snapped, unable to cope with this nonsense any longer.

"This conversation doesn't fucking concern you," Kelsey, red faced and practically foaming at the mouth, shoved a hand to your fake husband's chest. Eddies back hit the door of the room you'd been trying to enter with a thud. He stayed a bit stunned, letting a shocked grin grow under his furrowed brow. But your composure was lost by then. You couldn't help but to begin to lose your mind.

"You absolute twat!" You shouted; lunging toward your manager who was significantly taller and was holding a stance like a boxer who was prepared to demolish his opponent. All hell broke loose. You were barely able to land a swing to Kelsey's iron build when his assistant moved to block you from becoming more physical. Izzy had rushed to involve himself by then too, much to the shock of the friends he'd brought along- who stood at the end of the hall in awe.

"You're all bark and no bite, just like your pathetic excuse of a husband." Kelsey tried to squirm away from the way your coworkers were backing him up. Eddie was simultaneously placing the hotel room key you'd given him back in your hand and motioning you to unlock the door, distracting you from escalating the situation further.

"I know better than to swing back. We're done here." Eddie let out a huff of a humorless laugh and shrugged his shoulders back in place. You got the door open just in time and let Eddie nudge you into the room first. Kelsey's grumbled curses were drowned out when your pretend husband shut and locked the pair of you in; and a deafening silence surprised you when you were only minutes ago seeking out the refuge of quiet you knew would be here.

You stood in the middle of the room, trying to catch your breath from getting so worked up. But the adrenaline that coursed through your system raged on and the overwhelm that had dawned over you in the tour bus was still shading your every thought.

"I want to go home." You whimpered. But that's not what you really meant. You'd never felt at home in the house you'd lived in the past four years. The only place you'd ever really felt at ease was Hawaii. Was that one house. Was with Eddie. But you couldn't say all that now.

You realized you were crying again when the man on your mind was suddenly standing before you and pulling you too his chest for an embrace.

"I'm so sorry. You wrote in your letters that this tour was awful but now I see they're worse than that. We've gotta get you away from this crazy dude." Eddie soothed, letting his hand brush over the back of your hair while holding you closer with the other all the while. You sank into his embrace for a moment longer before pulling away to sniffle and speak more clearly.

"He- he has me wrapped up in so many contracts. Half of which I don't even know the full extent of because he's so tricky. I don't even know where to begin." You let out a shaky breath as Eddie listened. "He's slowly killing me. He sold my music to Prince. Did you know that? He writes my set lists. He times my meals. I'm supposed to be living the dream, but it feels much more like a nightmare." You groaned, hanging your head in your hands.

"He what?" Eddie asked, alarmed. You knew Kelsey was pulling fucked up shit, but in the midst of it all, it seemed all too impossible to retaliate against. The man you'd been missing was standing before you now, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers against your wrist. Eddie's hand stroked toward your shoulder as you wiped your eyes and took a deep breath in.

"He also threatened me into pretending to marry this really cool guy. Who I'm really in love with now. But I'm so scared this guy'll never want to really be with me. And when our contract is up, he'll be free to fall for someone without being obliged."

Eddie watched as you spoke, biting into a frown that drooped lower still.

"You're gonna make me cry." Eddie breathed a laugh through his nose as a sheen covered his big brown eyes, and his hands found either side of your face.

"Cryin' because you know I'm right? Or cryin' because you know I'm wrong?" You dared to ask, fearful all the while your heart really couldn't take it if he turned you down now.

"Are you crazy? What part of 'I've loved you since the Hawaiian hot tub' don't you understand?"

Bitting back a smile, you took a beat to look into Eddie's dark dreamy eyes. Your brain was almost to fogged by the chaos of the day to fully comprehend the conversation you were having right now. But your heart seemed to understand, as it settled and warmed within you.

"You sobered up fast, huh?" You joked, but not really, as your eyes focused back and forth between his.

"I don't know why it's so hard. Maybe I need longer than three months in rehab. God it's so embarrassing."

But you got it. This lifestyle wasn't for the tender soul. But a tender soul always made the best art. And self-medication was the quickest method to suppressing the madness.

"Hey," You shook your head, catching Eddies eye. "No more talking about all this shit tonight. We'll figure it out soon enough, won't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I hope so." Eddie nodded, sucking in a breath and drawing out its release. "Come on then... let me take care of you for once."

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom, filled up the tub and dimmed the lights. He joined you in the water and washed your hair and kissed your shoulders. He held you close enough to feel his heart beating. He dried you off and helped you slip into your pj's and joined you in bed for what you realized was the very first time. It was early by rockstar standards. Only ten. Still early enough to catch a special on the telly, the perfect white noise that sent you drifting off in Eddie's arms. And just before sleep, you felt the peace of belonging you'd wished for when you dreamed of home.

///

The next morning you were awoken by a cart of food being pulled in by the wild haired guitarist.

"Didn't mean to wake you, sorry love. Food can wait if you're still tired."

"Don't you have a show to play or an interview to film or anything? How are you still here?" You wondered, staying cocooned under the duvet.

"I've got nothing. I was actually going to ask if you minded me staying a few nights on tour with you. We are still contractually wed. But more importantly I really fucking missed you, ya know?"

"Do you really want to stay? It's no fun."

Just as Eddie started to answer, the door to your room that had been unlocked from Eddie's breakfast delivery, swung open. Kelsey barged in, rolled up papers in hand. You assumed they were the doctor's notes left from last night. They'd ordered you to a day of rest.

"You're one lucky fucker, you know that? You might get to be babied today but you're making up the interviews I had to cancel before we leave at six tomorrow morning."

"What are you gonna do Kelsey, drag me out of fucking bed?" You sat up and spat right at the guy. "I'm not some fucking pet you can leash up and show off. I'm a person! With a soul! I guess I can see why that's hard for you to comprehend, being the leach you are."

"You need to leave. Don't come back today. I will call security if you do." Eddie walked towards Kelsey, beginning to back him out of the room. The manager laughed lowly.

"Well aren't you two cute? Treacherous nobodies." Kelsey tossed the rolled-up papers at you before turned to leave.

"What a fucking prick." Eddie growled, picking up the papers that had floated each and every direction. He tossed them on the desk and moved to sit on the bed at your side.

"So what'll it be? Pancakes? Or back to resting?" The guy reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. Just as you grinned and opened your mouth to answer there was another persistent knock at the door.

"It never ends!" Eddie chimed.

"I told you it's no fun here." You shrugged pointedly. "Will you answer again?" You were gonna choose going back to sleep, if the fates would allow. Your body ached from its efforts of violent sick the night before. Your mind ached from exploding under the pressure of it all, last night.

"Oh, hi." Eddie opened the door to Zed. His hair was mused. He was clad in only a robe and boxers. And he held a paper in his hand.

"Was Kelsey just here?" The drummer looked anxiously from Eddie to you, back to Eddie.

"Yeah, why?" Eddie assured, seemingly worried.

"Did he leave you papers? Because it's our bank statements. And they're way fucking wrong, at least on my end." Zed held up his bluish tinted sheet that looked just like the one sitting on the table of your room. You didn't feel very tired anymore. You rushed to stand, grabbing the document and scanning the words and numbers on the page.

"There are hundreds missing. Maybe more. And it's all charged under 'miscellaneous funds.' What the fuck is this?" You waved the page before both boys, alarm bells whirring in your head. When Kelsey threatened to pull from your paycheck he wasn't kidding.

"We've had almost mirrored spending habits as the month before yet more is being taken out this time?" Zed shuffled documents until he reveled last month's invoice, pointing out the differences.

"My lawyers are Kelsey's lawyers. What should I do?"

"I'm gonna go to the lobby and call Brooke. I've just had an idea that should hopefully help you all." Eddie noted in a hurry. He nodded to you and brushed past Zed on a sudden mission.

"Fuck dude. It's like, never ending." You wanted to cry but were probably too dehydrated to produce tears at this point.

"I'm going to make sure the others know but..." Zed spoke, shifting his weight in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, I think. I don't know. Probably no more little blue pills, yeah?"

"Oh, I already flushed em." Zed assured. "And I assume I won't be getting any more late-night visits either?" The drummer scratched the back of his head and looked to you like a sad little puppy. He wasn't in love with you. And you had nary a feeling for him. But the pair of you had found comfort in your routine hookups.

"I don't know. It's not like Eddie and I have anything officially going on. But I can promise you, you'll be the first to know when I've got my shit figured out, yeah?"

Zed nodded and told you to get back to bed, and thanked you for having a meltdown grand enough to allow everyone else a day off too. You shot him a middle finger and chuckled your way back under the hotel sheets.

///

Kansas 1986 -

Eddie hadn't left your side since Chicago. The last night you spent there he'd called Brooke and asked her to sneak into Kelsey's office in L.A. to go through his files. The brave soul did just that, and found a fax Kelsey had sent to himself of a new contract where he forged the bands signatures and decided to charge you each more monthly. Brooke called you in Detroit and set you up with some well renowned lawyers. You had big plans to fuck Kelsey's shit up after the tour. There were only seven shows left. And you weren't in the business of disappointing your fans.

Kansas was pretty beautiful, the sun shone, your plans were coming together, Eddie spent a lot of time sober and reading a paper back with his head in your lap. Your tour bus pulled into the finest hotel available. You were an entire day ahead of schedule. And there was nothing to do with it.

"Let's go to dinner some place nice, no late-night pub. Wanna?"  Eddie coaxed, crash landing to sit on the edge of this weekends bed. You watched him in his own amusement, grinning as the mattress continued to spring. 

"Sure, that sounds like a nice change of pace." It wasn't to say that you'd been starved of fine dining experiences on this tour. But the past few days had been nonstop with no time to relish or relax outside of the tour bus.

Before you knew it you were dressed to the nines, hanging off of Eddies arm as he escorted you out of the back of the resort where your limo waited. Unsure where exactly you headed, Eddie had taken care of asking the front desk for the nicest eatery nearby. 

A castle like building with French style cuisine it was. Skipping ahead of reservations and smiling politely to wait staff, you wound up settled comfortably in a leather booth, sipping a lemonade and staring at Eddie. He leaned both elbows on his side of the table and stared right back at you.  

"Thanks. For dinner. And for staying on the road with me. And for... well everything I guess."

"It's been truly the least I could do. You shouldn't be saying thanks at all. I should be saying sorry for how much of an embarrassment I've been to you, like, since the dawn of our meeting." Eddie spoke up, twirling the straw in his soda.

"Don't start that-" You tried to stop his groveling, shaking your head.

"I am sorry. We agreed to this marriage to help each other's image, more or less. And I've been parading around like a fool."

"Maybe. But you also got us a trip to Hawaii that changed my life a little. And you're here with me now. You've been better to me than you give yourself credit for." You grinned, searching Eddies deep wide eyes. He squinted as if to consider the weight of your words. He let the chatter of the atmosphere grow louder as silence settled in the space between you. One sip of your drink. Two. Three.

"So, what... how..." Eddie started, struggling to choose his words until he just came right out with it. "Do you really love me?"

"I really do." You nodded, letting your head bob more assuredly as you thought on your statement. "I'm not sure when it happened but I can promise you, you'll break my heart when you leave."

"Well, I don't want to leave." Eddie shook his head, seemingly worried, like he was about to be swept off into a void. "I don't want to leave you. I know I have to go back to L.A. soon but, that's not what we're talking about here."

"It's not." 

Just then, your kind waitress breezed by, offering refills and desserts. You declined both and decided to call it a night, hoping to get some proper beauty sleep in since you had a night free enough to do so. The pair of you breezed out of the restaurant, flashing smiles to the fans who'd gathered outside of the business after learning you were dining inside. You shouldered your way into the limo without too much fuss, and then turned to find Eddie settling at your side. 

And when he looked back at you, it was like the whole world made sense. It baffled you. Here in the middle of America, without a single prompt, it felt like your world just shifted on its axis all because of the smile that reached Eddie's eyes when they locked on yours. Maybe it was the effects of a proper meal settling in after probably too long without one. Or maybe the tour had finally driven you mad beyond comprehension.

But by the time you got back to the hotel, you weren't so naive. You realized that the wall you'd built up that guarded your heart from this man had finally crumbled, the last brick blown over after your conversation at dinner. 

"Eddie-"

Like a mind reader or a braver soul, the man in question spun around from locking the hotel door to grab your face and kiss you. And you got it then. You got why he couldn't have done this with you, if he'd been half as in love with you as you were with him right in this moment. You understood why it would have wrecked him. But you got to kiss him now, letting your soul settle as he kissed you back.

It was as if you'd never done this before. With Eddie or anyone. A carnal desperation washed over you, now that the waiting was over. Your hands traced the inside of Eddie's leather jacket, falling until they reached his belt. As your fingers started to undo the thing, Eddie pushed them away. Oh no, he was about to stop you again, wasn't he? 

"We have all night." Eddie explained, saving your heart from sinking to your stomach. "Slow?"

"Yeah, I like that idea." You smiled, letting Eddie gaze at you through hooded eyes, pressing his smile to your cheek for a kiss. He let his lips wander from your jaw to your neck as his hands trailed from your sides to your back. 

This was all you'd ever wanted from him. This was more than you'd ever let yourself have with him. His body firm against yours. His heart on the table. God, you'd nearly forgotten you were in the midst of a tour that made you nearly consider quitting this business entirely. You'd nearly forgotten you'd ever been hurt at all. 

You simply soaked up the way Eddie peeled off your layers one at a time, taking forever to do so. He laid you down and let you rip away his shirt. He smoothed his hands over your skin and let you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

Dusk cast through the curtains, coloring the room a dull purple. Eddie marveled at the beauty of the evening and moved his kisses down your stomach. Eventually his lips met the middle of you and his kisses were unrelenting. As tortuously slow as he'd taken his time to wind up between your legs, he made up for by working you up into a frenzy in the matter of seconds. And then he claimed he had only just begun; Eddie announced his plan to make you come undone as many times as he could muster before you were each too tired to go on.

He kept his word, sending stars into your vision over and over as the night turned black. You returned every favor, dragging out your efforts to drive Eddie wild until he absolutely couldn't stand it any longer. When it came time for the guy to press himself all the way into you, overwhelming peace filled your heart so full it frightened you. You were almost moved to tears by how in utter fucking love with Eddie Munson you were. Unsure how else to express those profound emotions in a time like now; you let your jaw slack and your breath catch as the weight of these intense feelings and realizations wracked your body and soul. 

Eddie's eyes were focusing on yours then, and with a smile he sighed, "I know." And somehow, you believed that he somehow truly did have an understanding of the exact feeling you struggled to articulate. Still, you barely got to relish the way his hips rocked into yours before he was losing composure. But still, it was beautiful to watch Eddie reach his peak, straining against you. Because of you.

Eddie was crashing at your side, spent and sleepy and so fucking beautiful. 

///

The next morning came too soon. You knew last night was a one off, for now. You knew there were days that waited just ahead that demanded attention you worried you didn't have patience for. You knew you needed to hold onto last night for all it was worth, when morning came.

Eddie woke up, slinging an arm surer around your middle, groaning about not wanting to ever get up. You chuckled and shifted your weight to sit up ever so slightly. You had time left to laze, but not much. So you knew your question needed to be asked right away. 

"Eddie." You whispered, grabbing the hand he left splayed across your stomach, bringing his knuckles to your lips. The guy lifted his mussed head of hair and let his dark eyes flutter to meet yours. He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his own lips to your shoulder.

"Eddie... What are we doing? What happens now?"

"I want something real with you." Eddie lifted his face to find yours. He was smiling at first but it faltered before he spoke up again. "But I think we need to figure out our shit first. Let our dumbass contract end. Get you through this tour and away from Kelsey. Get myself off the fuckin' bottle. Then maybe we can live life together instead of just trying to survive it."

"I see." You mulled over his statement, still holding his knuckles in your grasp.

"All that to say I want to see you all the time. I want this with you all the time. But I don't want to make you promises I'm afraid I'll break. I meant what I said about staying in rehab longer than three months, this time."

"Is that why you're going back to L.A.?"

"I already asked Brooke to find me a residency." The announcement was a happy one. But it meant his leaving was soon and it meant his absence would be significant. It meant mornings in sheets and sunlight were further away than you'd recently hopped.

"Can I come visit you?"

"I don't think I could fully heal if you didn't."

///

Topeka wasn't the most glamourous city. But deep in the heart of the Midwest, the wildest shit seemed to be going down. Your green room was full of groupies, clowns, bikers, freaks of all kinds. There was probably nothing left to do in the middle of tornado alley than to go a little crazy.

Maybe that's why you weren't surprised when you found Eddie backstage. Maybe that's why you weren't disappointed. Maybe that's why you didn't stop Eddie when he let some pink haired punk rocker pour a shot down his throat. 

But then he saw you and he smiled. He fucking smiled. And you couldn't help but let outrage burst from your being at that point. Marching through the crowd, you plunged a hand out to grab Eddie's sleeve, yanking him away from the madness. All around you people were laughing and yammering and singing, lost in their own plots. Eddie wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't smiling. He was protesting as you dragged him behind you, around the corner toward a row of backstage showers. Secluded in the tiled room, you let go and turned to face him, Eddie didn't even look like himself. His eyes were glassed over, his demeanor barely held together.

"What the fuck?" You yelled. "Just because you have a room booked at rehab doesn't mean you get a free bender. Stop trying to kill yourself!"

"I- thinking..." Eddie rose a finger, pointing your way before he huffed a small curse, losing his balance, staggering toward the wall.

"You're a fucking mess. I don't even know what to do." You wanted to cry, you wanted to yell at him until he sobered the fuck up and promised to stop this bullshit forever. For good. He stayed leaning against the wall, furrowing his brow, closing his eyes as a you shouted his way.

"You're not the only one this shit is hard for!" Eddie slurred back, opening his eyes and gesturing your way.

"What are you talking about Eddie?"

"This is too hard. I'm too-" He huffed a frustrated sigh, too drunk to possibly convey a proper expression. Still, to the best of his shitfaced ability, he tried. "I'm too fucked up for this job. I'm too fucked up for you. I think I'm always gonna be. So... so jut go back to Zed. Or something. I'm gonna fuck this up. I don't want to but-" His words slurred so close together it may have been impossible to understand him if you didn't know him so well. There were tears welling in his eye's as he rambled, and every word went straight to the pit in your stomach.

"Eddie, baby, listen-"

"No, you gotta go on stage!" He waved a hand for you to hurry away. It was true, but your concerns for him were increasing by the second. Stagehands poked their head in the locker area, calling your name, insisting you hurry. You called back to them to find Kelsey, God how you wished anyone else would be in charge enough to help. When your sleezy ass manager finally rushed in, you told him you refused to go on stage until you saw Eddie put into a cab and escorted back to your hotel. Because there were people watching, Kelsey did as you said.

You played that show with your heart in your throat. You sang with your brain turned off. You tried to remember how great last night was. But tonight scared you too bad.

///

You didn't get on the tour bus. You didn't let Kelsey threaten you to stay for the after party. You rushed to hail a cab and paid the driver far more than anyone ever should have to book it to the hotel.

The driver was brilliant. But the ride seemed to last forever- every second, a threat, in your mind. You worried almost to the point of getting sick. What if they hadn't dropped him off in the room like you demanded? What if he got out and went to a bar or got lost? What if something far worse happened?

You ran inside the fivestar lodge and sprinted to the elevator. You pressed the button to your floor a dozen time, willing it to move faster, muttering your will outloud. The elevator doors creaked shut as you pressed the button again and again, beyond desprate to get upstairs. The indicator passed the second floor. Then it passed the third. And then your ride screeched in an unfamiliar tone, stalling before the arrow could make it to the fourth floor. No.

"This is a sick fucking joke!" You cried out to no one, kicking the doors of the elevator that stalled between floors. You cried and cried and pressed the button again a dozen times before back up, accepting your fate, letting your shoulders hit the wall as you stood alone in tears. Maybe Eddie was right somehow. This was never going to work. Maybe you were destined to break each others hearts. You almost let the grim thought take over your mind. You almost let that conclusion be the finale one to make.

But then you remembered the look in Eddie's eyes last night, when he pinned you against the mattress. And the look in his eyes at dinner. And from the side stages and passenger seats and press junkets. Maybe it was destined to fall apart with Eddie. But you weren't gonna go down without a fight damn it. 

Pushing yourself from the wall, you cursed and pounded the button until the elevator screeched into motion again, rising passed the handful of floors it took until your destination. You practically pried the doors open when you got to where you needed to be, racing down the hall, fumbling your key from your pocket. 

Eddie was there, slumped halfway on the foot of the bed, like he couldn't make it the rest of the way. Empty cans a littered near the bin by the door. Kicking past them, you moved to shake Eddie's shoulders. He grumbled at your jostling him, but nothing you could understand. You cried and tried your best to move him to a more sensible position in the middle of the mattress. You cried and rolled over to kneel by the bedside telephone. It rang twice before she answered.

"Brooke, you need to come get him." You cried. 

"I'm on my way." She assured; without an ounce of hesitation or question or anything but allegiance.

You stayed up, checking Eddie's pulse that never faltered, sniffling back tears for this whole fucked up situation. You stayed up writing a letter to Eddie, promising him things with Zed weren't going to work out. Promising nothing would work out with anyone but him. Promising you'd come visit Eddie in rehab and that you actually loved him more than you knew you were capable of. That even though you were scared too, you were willing. Promising you were proud to call yourself his wife even if you were never actually married. Then you signed your name at the bottom, finally giving him that autograph he'd once asked for.

Brooke was there six hours later. Dressed to the nines, slipping in the room unsurprised by the scene, reaching out to hug you without asking. You let the woman hold you for a moment as you focused on taking deep breaths and convincing your nervous system help was here and happening.

"Thank you for giving a fuck about him. And helping him. For coming all this way." You shuddered a breath and looked to the woman with kind eyes and a killer fashion sense.

"I care about Eddie. I care about you too, you know?"

Brook went on to say that if you ever wanted to call her to talk, her line would always be open. And if you ever wanted to call her to replace Kelsey, she'd gladly represent you. She went on to curse the man in charge of your career, insisting you deserved better than the treatment he gave you. You struggled not to keep on crying as you thanked her a billion times more, and moved to deal with Eddie.

As you and his manager sat up the man, he seemed to wake up from his stupor. Still out of it enough to stay silent, but alert enough to help as you and Brooke dragged Eddie out of the room- and to another stupid fucking elevator and out of the back of the hotel. You had packed his things and stuck your letter in his bag. No doubting he'd receive it in a timely manner.

Outside, Brooke left you to bear all of Eddie's weight as she opened the limo door. In that time, Eddie tried his best to support himself more fully, grabbing at your shirt and yanking himself up to look at you. His eyes were brimmed with tears, still dark and beautiful. Still your favorite pair. 

"You promised." Eddie winced. "No lugging me around." You had a firm hold around his waist, and under his arm. You remembered the deal you made before signing the contracts. You remember what he referenced.

"Not lugging. Helping. That's what I promised." You sniffled, letting more tears fall as you brushed back Eddies hair. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as you guided him toward the limo. Brook shut his door and promised to phone you. Then they were off. The car sputtered to start and turned down the alley and you stood there all alone again.

///

The next few nights went by in a blur. Texas was hot, Colorado was pretty, Oregon could have been fun, but it wasn't. You allowed yourself no time to think or feel or wonder. You focused solely on the music and getting off this God forsaken tour.

Kelsey went flying down the halls of a casino in Vegas when Ambrose tried to call him out for stealing money from you lot. It resulted in a physical altercation where the manager had your guitarist by the collar against a wall, but the staff security team broke it up and Ambrose slumped off to the lobby bar instead of responding when you asked if he was okay.

That night you stayed up late on the bus to Phoenix, staring at the screen of the telly mounted near the cabinets.

"You're doing that thing again." Zed appeared, looking down at you with tired eyes. "Where you stare a hole through whatever is in front of you."

"Yeah." You sighed. The drummer seemed to decide something, and moved to sit at your side- handing you the joint he'd been smoking. After a beat, he asked if you'd found any good lawyers. You mentioned that you in fact had. Sometime around Detroit, Brooke had phoned you with more information than you knew what to do with and a list of people rallied to help.

 Silence fell between the pair of you once more as a late-night show began to air. You halfheartedly listened to the host relay news updates while passing Zed's joint back and forth. And then a certain topic demanded your full-blown attention.

"Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus tonight, disappointing fans who'd recently been promised an upcoming tour." The late-night host made a joke about the metal groups fans being a bunch of softies. "Yeah, apparently, lead singer Eddie Munson checked himself into rehab for a whole year..." Whatever joke that crackled through the screen next was lost on you, as your eyes brimmed, full of pride and fear. Proud for how Eddie was being public now about his absence from the scene. And fearful for what was next to come. 

A lot could happen in a year. A lot needed to happen in a year. But what if it didn't go how, you all hoped? What if your attempt to hold Kelsey accountable backfired? What if you were never able to get free? What if Eddie found a nice girl down the hall from whatever room he booked and forgot all about how badly he said he wanted a real shot with you? 

"We'll still be friends, right?" Zed pipped up, taking the joint from your grasp and passing you a stray tissue instead. "Way less codependent? More morally supportive?" 

"I'd like that, yeah." You sniffled and smiled to the drummer whose presence had been a surprising safe place for you through this whole mess. You thanked him for being there and for understanding the time and place for your vice driven alliance had come to a close. But after a newly born secret hand shake it was decided that you'd still be glad to call each other a friend.

///

L.A. 1986 -

The holidays fast approached by the end of that tour. Your Christmas was shrouded by legal documents. Kelsey hadn't spoken to you since you'd served him those papers. He didn't even look your way in the court room. 

When the new year kicked in, you spent most weekends visiting Eddie in rehab. You'd play a round of cards and tell him how good he looked and listen as he spoke about how much better he felt too. You each dreamed of life after he got out. Movie dates and song writing sessions. You each parted ways with a well-meaning embrace and sometimes a small kiss or two. 

While awaiting the verdict to your case against Kelsey, you declined your labels deal for a new album. You phoned Brooke instead and asked her to book you a trip to Hawaii. You started packing that night, unsure when you'd leave or for how long. But your trust in Brooke's ability to work miracles remained steadfast. So when your phone clattered and you answered to the sound of her voice, you weren't surprised by the glee in her tone. 

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" She asked. Her question faltered your grin and opened the pit in your stomach. Hadn't she just said hello cheerfully as ever? 

"Uh-" 

"The bad news is that old house you wanted me to rent again is no longer available. I can't book it for you." Brooke interrupted, voice flat and tone descending.

"Oh, I see." You shrugged, not half as hopeless as you'd expected to be by her bad news. You expected much worse. But you were pretty bummed. That home was the only one you had in mind, the only space you imagined finding true peace in for your planned getaway. The only home on your mind since you'd left it. You and Eddie had so much fun there. Sure, there were moments filled with awkward silence and questionable decisions made there too. But that little Hawaiian home had your heart damn it.

"But the good news is, it's for sale. And I asked them to hold off on accepting offers until I called you." Brooke rushed to inform. Oh. Now this was very good news indeed. You asked a couple times if she was joking. You knew she wouldn't do that. But you just couldn't believe you had an opportunity much grander and more promising ahead of you. Potentially more than a suitcase to pack.

Without any hesitation you formed a plan. Two days later Brooke sat next to you on a plane, a bundle of hundreds in hand and every pair of fingers crossed. You rented a chic little motel room for one night, and abandon your things there soon as they hit the shelves. You had a house to go buy. 

It all happened so fast. You made an offer any relator would be a fool to refuse, cash in hand. In the matter of an hour and a half meeting, you were signing your name on a dotted line and being handed the keys to a door you'd opened a few times before. It was yours. It was all yours now.

Brooke took you to dinner to celebrate. You bought her desert and asked her what more you could do as thanks. She had done so much for you, more than she ought to have done. The stunning woman shook her head and smiled and reminded you friends didn't owe friends anything. All she cared to ask of you was to make this year better than the last. To see you happier would be enough thanks for Brooke.

The flight back to L.A. was surreal. You spent it planning paint colors and writing a list of movers to call and dates to settle. 

And as soon as your plans were solid and your bags were packed, another weekend rolled around. It was time to see Eddie again. You drove to the rehab in the middle of nowhere and felt something like melancholy weighing in your gut. Something bittersweet in the back of your throat. Things were never going to be the same. 

 The halls were bright white, sunlight making the tile floor shimmer. Residents you'd come to recognize pursed polite smiles your way as you turned corners to find Eddie. You knew where he would be. At the picnic tables in the garden. Maybe with a book in hand. Maybe with a pencil. 

Today, he was sitting amongst the sprawling green grounds alone, a magazine on the table before him. It was closed. As you approached you recognized the Rolling Stone font across the glossy page, looking up to find Eddie staring a hole through the cover. 

"You gotta turn the pages with your hands babe, won't open otherwise." You remarked, stepping through the grass to see Eddie grinning up at you. He was more despondent today than he had been your past few visits. He waited till you sat at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as an affectionate hello. 

"Apparently there is a pretty scathing write up about me in here. One of the first since I paused the band to come here." Eddie voiced, letting one of his big hands rest on your thigh. His rings were missing, and his other usual regalia too. The grey hoodie he wore suited him well, you thought, with his pulled back hair. He looked very clean, in every sense.

"You don't have to read it if you're not ready." You reminded, lifting your head to face the man at your side. He left his hand resting on your leg as he bit his lip and looked to you too. "Or I could read it to you?" 

Eddie shook his head.

"It's time I start facing some facts, ya know? Start doing the hard work of facing what I have to change now that I'm sober enough too." Eddie sighed. He'd spent the past few months getting well, letting his body and mind recover. The next step was to grow. To start molding himself into the version he came here seeking help to rebuild. It was time for the hard part. The part he never got to in rehab before.

"I messed a lot of shit up." Eddie nodded, letting his eyes fall away from yours. "I should have done a lot of things differently. Especially with you." 

"Babe, it's okay. You don't have to do this." You assured, reaching out to smooth your hand over his shoulder. You had never held anything that happened against him. 

"I know we both kind of got roped into a weird and shitty situation. But I could have handled it so much better. You deserved so much more respect than I gave you. And that last night. You never should have had to take care of me like that. I shouldn't have gone that far off the deep end," Eddie sighed, letting his eyes well with tears, sniffing them away as he apologized for it all. You brushed away a loose strand of his hair and shook your head. 

"S'okay, Eddie. We were both just taking those days as they came. We did what we thought we needed to, to get by. It's okay."

As you pulled the guy in for a hug, Eddie fell into your frame without hesitation, burying his head in your neck. You held him there for a moment muttering something about how proud you were that he was doing his best to be better.

"Can I tell you something, now?" You wondered, smoothing Eddies hair as he pulled away to lock his dark eyes with yours. He smiled, when he noticed you were already grinning. When he nodded, you drew in a breath and said,

"I asked Brooke to book me a trip to Hawaii. You know how stressful the past few months have been. Hell, the past year." You began. Eddie nodded along. "She found that same little place we stayed in for our honeymoon." You rose your fingers to curl into air quotes around the last word of  your sentence. Eddie huffed a laugh before speaking up. 

"You loved it there. So did I. So you're staying there again?" Eddie beamed. So did you. 

"It was no longer available to rent." You revealed, watching Eddie's brow furrow. "Because it was for sale. So I bought it. And I'm moving there. Like now. Like after I leave here." Your smile was so wide it nearly ached your cheeks. Eddie was shocked, brows shooting up, mouth hanging open, palms held out before you. You took his hands and nodded to assure you weren't fibbing. 

"Oh my God." Eddie gasped. "This is perfect. I'm so happy for you." He wrapped you in another embrace, planting his lips to your cheek as you started yammering about plans to paint and furniture to buy and an open door policy Eddie was allowed to mind at all times. Eddie watched as you rambled, his grin flattening a little, until his lips were bitten together and his brows pushed togeteher. 

"What is it..." You stopped listing plans and straightened your posture to watch as Eddie sucked in a deep breath. Seeming to choose his words, you tried to remain patient, ignoring the pit in your stomach threatening to grow.

"I can't have you read me this Rolling Stone article because I need to do it on my own." Eddie spoke decidedly. "I can't come visit you in Hawaii. I can't-" Eddie shuddered a breath. "I know we aren't really together. But I need to be really alone, for a while. I need to deal with my own shit, ya know?" Eddie's voice shook as he explained himself, bouncing his knee and moving his eyes from yours to his lap. The void in your stomach widened exponentially. 

You wanted to argue back, remind him what he said the night you slept together last. How he said he wanted to be with you. But you couldn't be so selfish. You unfortunately understood where he was coming from. You swallowed your despair and nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, I understand Ed."

"I'm sorry. I lo-" Eddie blinked up to the sky and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

A moment of heavy silence swirled between you, as you made the hard choice to be okay with this, at least in the moment. Then you looked up with a grimace of a smile. 

"Can I still write to you? I'd like to still write to you." You declared, watching Eddie work to find composure. 

"I'd like that too." He breathed, forcing a smile. "I'm still happy for you." He assured, his voice thick with emotion. 

"And I'm still proud of you." You smiled, and you meant it.

///

Hawaii 1987 -

Another holiday season was fast approaching. And this year you had every opportunity to celebrate. You bought a little faux tree and put it by the fireplace. You decorated the big kitchen windows with garland and let Christmas vinyl's spin from the record player in the guest room. 

The little Hawaiian home was clean and cozy and decorated just the way you liked. Since moving in, fresh paint brightened the walls. Old familiar photos hung there too. A few miscellaneous tour posters and three platinum records the only memorabilia you held on to from the past four years.

On the kitchen counter was an offer from your record label you were still mulling over. The year off and away from Hollywood was a refreshing and much needed break for your sanity. Creativity seemed to flow more freely all the while. You definitely had music in mind to record. You just weren't sure if you were ready.

You liked the life you had here. The mornings you spent milling about the markets down the block. The friends you made of your neighbors. The quiet. 

You missed your old life too, though. More than you thought you would have. You missed making music and singing for crowds. You missed dressing up and going out. The closest to a wild night out you had since moving here was when Brooke surprised you one summer weekend. She stayed at your insistence and took you to the finest restaurant on the Island and gossiped for two days and three nights straight. And when you asked about Eddie, she said he missed you. She said he kept your rarely exchanged letters on his coffee table. She said you should call him. But you couldn't. You wanted to respect his space. To allow him all the room he needed to grow into sobriety and into the new version of himself he was anxious to learn about.

But Brooke wouldn't answer when you asked if you should get back in the studio soon. She said only you could know the right answer to that question. So you mulled it over from then until now. Teetering closer to calling back your label every day, eager to agree to record something. 

And then it was Christmas time.

It would've felt lonely if you let it. But you'd worked too hard on finding hope in the dullness, this year. You worked too hard finding peace in the quiet, this year. You reminded yourself to relish the home you got to call your own. How you truly felt you belonged here. You marveled over how fate handed you these house keys. You smiled when you remembered how you'd come to fall in love here, in more ways than one. 

Then there was a knock at the door.

Mulling toward the front of your home, you expected a delivery or two. You'd ordered gifts for your neighbors this year, and some for yourself too of course. You were determined to have a happy fucking holiday.

But the man at your door was more of a gift than you'd asked for, this year. 

Eddie was there, grinning wide, wringing his hands. His hair was a little longer, the longest you'd ever seen it. His frame was toned, his face was full of warm color and his eyes were bright and clear. He was a vision. He was so damn beautiful.

"What's all this?" You smiled, letting a laugh of surprise escape your lips. 

"Surprise? I hope I'm not intruding." Eddie rose a hopeful brow, his dark deep eyes peering into yours for the first time in too damn long.

"Shut the fuck up and come inside you fool." You smiled and widened the doorway, stepping aside so Eddie could enter. Your heart hammered at the sight of him, your soul buzzed to life at the realization that he was here, he was really fucking here.

"Just like old times, aye?" Eddie grinned, letting his gaze float across the home he'd discovered with you, a year ago. 

"Hopefully not." You noted, crossing your fingers this visit led to a more positive and promising outcome than your last time together in this home. Eddie laughed and asked how you were liking it, complimenting the changes you'd made since last he saw.

You rambled for a bit about a particularly hard renovation and another story about how perfectly another came together. Then you asked if he was hungry. It was almost dinner time. 

Before you knew it, you were mixing up your famous pasta sauce to the tune of Eddie's story telling. He made you laugh so hard you cried, and nearly burnt yourself stumbling to catch your breath near the oven. He ate your dinner with gratitude and answered your questions about how his life had been going. Eddie spoke about a tiny apartment and a sparse kitchen and an empty schedule. Eddie admitted it had been hard, but that he was finally in a place he felt he had control over. Eddie helped you clean up and let you make some hot cocoa's because it was the damn season.

You led Eddie to the living room, warm mugs in hand, rambling back and forth about the year you'd spent apart. You spoke about making new friends and considering calling your label back. You mentioned how much you missed him, like a lot.

"You're not mad I'm here?" Eddie cautioned, setting his mug on the coffee table and turning to face you. He rested an elbow on the back of the sofa and his head in his hand.

"Why would I be mad, Eddie?" Your mind boggled, unable to consider feeling anything besides unbridled glee at the mere thought of the man's presence.

"Because last time I saw you, I said I couldn't come here. And now I've just invited myself over all of a sudden. I'll understand if-"

"No, I'm not mad. I didn't think you'd never show up. Maybe that's the hopeless romantic in me." You shrugged, smiled and dipped your chin toward your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassed blush.

"Romanic, eh?" 

"I never stopped loving you, Eddie." Your voice was a whisper. Eddies eyes burned into yours. His gaze was full of desire you recalled rising up in him before. His gaze was full of adoration you remembered him expressing. His dark chestnut gaze was familiar and warm and so nice to stare back into after too damn long.

"Okay I'm gonna say something, then. You can kick me out after this. But I'm gonna say it, okay?" Eddie seemed to decide. 

"O-okay."

"In rehab I did a lot of thinking about the past. What I fucked up. What I lost. But when I got out, I started to realize I had forever in front of me. And there was so much I still had the opportunity to fix and change. And I realized there was no version of forever I want to spend without you. I know this is like... the third time we've come to this crossroad but..." 

Suddenly Eddie was sliding off the sofa and kneeling before you on one knee. Suddenly, he was reaching in his pocket. Suddenly you were staring at a ring. The stone was tigers eye and the band was gold. It was what you tried to pick out all that time ago.

"I'm a mess." Eddie proclaimed "I cannot promise to make your life better. but I can promise I want to be a part of your life. I want to marry you. Actually this time."

"For real?" You gasped a chuckle, sniffing away the spring of tears that clouded your vision from focusing on every little detail of this perfect fucking moment.

"Very much for real. No contracts. No reason besides the fact that I love you." 

You were nodding, holding out your left hand and struggling to suck in a breath before you could say yes a dozen times in a row. The space in your stomach where despair often bloomed was now only full of hope and assurance and calm. The space on your finger that had been left bare since your tossed that ugly diamond ring into the ocean was now perfectly fitted with the jewel of your dreams. The space in front of you was now taken up by Eddie. And he was finally all yours.

///

New York 1988-

"So after Kelsey went to prison and Eddie got out of rehab and moved to Hawaii with me, we got lawfully married, got a dog, helped each other rediscover music."

"The release of your new album suggests you and Eddie are a duo now. Do either of you plan on making solo records again?"

"I don't." Eddie chimed in, finally settling at your side in the booth with a fresh soda in hand. "I'm too unhinged without her around. Plus, she clearly makes music better. It's because of her touch we won album of the year. We probably lost to Paul Simon in 86' because there was too much of my misguided influence on Steel and Stone." Eddie laughed and you shook your head. 

"Don't discredit yourself."

"Will there be a coin toss to decide who gets to keep the Grammy?" Rolling Stone chuckled.

"We'll probably keep it on the mantel where we both can see."

After that interview ended, Brooke picked you both up from the lounge and let you stay in her loft until your flight back to the Island was due the next morning. You didn't wake her when the both of you got up and snuck off. But you left a letter on her counter, explaining that she deserved an award for putting up with the pair of you after all this time. So, you left the Grammy on her counter too. ///

Hawaii 1990- You opened the front door with one hand and balanced a bag of produce with the other. The man at that bodega at the edge of town was still selling veggies from his garden. Even though he walked with a cane now he'd manage his way to sell you produce for half price every weekend. 

You breezed through your home, toward the kitchen where you rested your bags on the counter next to a radio that had been left on. Right on cue, Eddie made his way in from out back, dripping ocean water on the rug you put down to protect the hardwood floors. 

"Wanna come out there with me while the waves are still calm?" He wondered, finding a towel and kissing your cheek as a morning greeting. You'd been brave enough recently to wade in the water a little deeper than ever before, with Eddie at your side, and only when the tide was calm. 

"I'm making breakfast now," You waved off your husbands offer, catching a glimpse of your tiger eye ring in the sun rays through the window curtains.

"Then I'll help." Eddie smiled, stealing the tomatoes you were in the process of washing clean. He took the food to begin prepping and turned up the radio on his way, a song you'd both written played. You watched as Eddie helped make your meal and listened as he sang to you and thanked God for the music that made it possible for your paths to cross and connect together. 

What you might write next together was just as an exciting thought as what the pair of you might watch on the telly later. Life was easy to find love within when Eddie really clearly loved the hell out of you. This house felt like a home with him in it. Eddie was finally home... and so were you.

///

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #fem!reader

[harrywavycurly]

Fake Husband Eddie Part 2: Meeting Someone?

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Tag List: @alana4610 @fluentmoviequoter @alicentswife @vivalasv3gan @goth-cowgirl-03 @yujyujj @slowgabinaburninroom @zaddyskye69

TW: Cursing and drinking

A/N: Before you all come for me don’t worry there is a part 3 and it’s the final part of this little trilogy lol also idk why I added in Frank and the Hideout backstory it was just something that was sitting in the back of my mind and it fit. Anywayyyy enjoy!!✨

You smooth out the front of your shirt as you sit down on one of the worn out barstools at the back of the Hideout. It’s been exactly a week since you met Eddie and it only felt right that the two of you have your first official date at the bar you met at. Over the span of a week you two have gotten to know each other quite well, you learned that Eddie would much rather FaceTime you than text you because he likes to hear your voice, especially your laugh he loves how it sounds even through the phone. You also learned that he loves his job, he works at the garage in town and he’s always got his head under someone’s hood fixing a transmission or tinkering with a stubborn fuel line.

Eddie has learned things about you as well, he knows that you like to read before bed and he doesn’t know why but it shocked him a bit to learn the two of you have a few books in common on your bookshelves. He notices things like how you try to hide your face when you’re smiling and he just assumes that’s something you’ve always done but he’s made a mental note to try to remind you how pretty you are when you smile because it’s really one of his favorite things to see. You go on little rants about things that have bothered you during the day and he loves how passionate you get because your arms go everywhere and you also always end it with “you know what I mean?” and even if he has no clue he can’t help but smile and just nod and reassure you that yes he knows what you mean.

The two of you have grown close over the past several days and you’ve started to develop a rather large crush on the long haired metal head. Luckily for you though Eddie made his feelings known the night he drove you home from the hideout.

“You know what?” You turn your head and look at Eddie who’s smiling at you as he watches you reach for the handle of the passenger side door of his van.

“What?” Eddie leans over his middle console so he can tuck a few stay hairs behind your ear making you blush as you feel his hand brush against your cheek.

“I think I like you.” You raise an eyebrow at him as you playfully glare at him making him laugh.

“You think?” You tease as Eddie reaches for your hand that has his skull ring on it, you smile as you watch him twirl it around your finger since it’s a little too big for you but you like how it feels so you haven’t taken it off.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He looks up at you as you find yourself leaning into him. “I know I like you.” He adds right before he places a kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away.

The sound of a glass being set down in front of you jolts you out of your daydream as you blink a few times before looking around to see if Eddie has shown up yet. You look at your phone and see it’s only ten minutes past six, the time you both agreed to meet so you just brush it off to him being a little late and look up to see the bartender cleaning a few glasses in front of you.

“What can I get ya?” Frank the bartender and half owner of the Hideout asks as he gives you a smile. “I make a mean martini.” He jokes as he shoots you a playful wink making you laugh.

“Uh I’ll just have a vodka tonic please.” He nods and starts making your drink. “Have you worked here a while?” You ask trying to make small talk to help the time pass before Eddie shows up and this is only the second time you’ve ever been here so might as well get to know the bartenders.

“You could say that.” Frank answers as he slides your drink in front of you. “I’m Frank and I may not look it but I’m one of the Hideout's original customers.” You just nod your head encouraging him to continue as you take a sip of your drink, Frank is an older gentleman with long gray hair he has tucked into a low pony on the back of his neck and a few tattoos scattered around his forearms that are only visible because he has his flannel rolled up to his elbows. “I helped them name this place because we used to meet here back in the day when it wasn’t actually a bar, to hideout from people we didn’t want to see or nagging wives we were avoiding so when they wanted to turn it into a bar I said why not just call it the Hideout?” Frank explained and you couldn’t help but giggle at the mention of avoiding nagging wives.

“It’s a great name.” You watch him smile as he looks around the bar to see if anyone needs anything.

“Meeting someone?” Frank asks as he glances down at the giant skull ring on your ring finger.

“Uh yeah.” You’re not sure how to answer his question so you just go with your gut. “My husband actually.” Frank just smiles and nods as he goes back to cleaning glasses as you slowly sip on your drink as you anxiously look at your phone again and let out a sigh when you see it’s now six thirty.

Eddie is elbows deep in a minivan’s engine that is just refusing to let him get his fingers in the correct place to install a new part. He lets out a frustrated groan as he takes a step back from the van and places his grease covered hands on his hips and closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling of the garage. He wonders for a moment what you’re going to wear on your date with him tonight, he’s had tonight circled on his calendar all week and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he even added little hearts to it and everything.

“Why do all minivans have to be so damn stubborn?” He mumbles as he opens his eyes and takes a step closer to the van. “I’m just trying to help you.” He explains as he uses his wrist to wipe some sweat off his brow, as he drops it back down to his side he feels his whole world begin to move in slow motion when he catches the time on his watch. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He drops the wrench in his left hand and heads for the break room of the garage.

“Eddie?” Greg the parts guy asks as Eddie rushes past him so he can grab his stuff from his locker.

“I’m late!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder as he heads for the door. He quickly jumps into his van and starts the engine as he digs around in his bag for his phone. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” He groans when he sees his phone is on 10% battery because he forgot to put it on the charger after falling asleep on FaceTime with you last night. He looks at the clock and silently prays to whoever it is that might be listening to let you still be waiting for him even though it’s well after eight at night and he was supposed to meet you at six.

“Shit shit.” He presses your name in his phone and it rings once before his whole screen goes black meaning his phone is dead. “Fuck!” Eddie feels like his heart is in his stomach as he pulls out of the parking lot of his work and heads straight for the Hideout.

He doesn’t look for your car in the bar’s parking lot because he knows you planned to get dropped off so he could just take you home. He not so gently snatches his keys from the ignition after putting it in park and slams his door closed as he exits the van. He ignores the looks he’s getting form the men outside smoking as he rushes into the bar, he’s sure he looks like he’s lost with his work overalls on tied around his waist and his hair in a messy bun and grease stains everywhere. Frank turns when he hears the door open and he raises an eyebrow at Eddie when he lets out a sigh at all the empty seats in the back of the bar, exactly where you told him you’d be so he could meet you.

“Looking for your wife?” Eddie looks at the bartender and nods his head because you’d been jokingly calling yourself his wife all week so of course you’d tell the bartender you were waiting for your husband. Frank tosses something at Eddie and when he catches it and sees what it is he feels his heart break a bit. “Left about an hour ago.” He adds as Eddie stares at the skull ring that’s sitting in the palm of his hand.

“Oh no.” And with that Eddie turns on his heels and runs straight back out to the parking lot towards his van because no way is he letting him being an idiot be the reason you two end things.

#Eddie Munson fake marriage au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson concept #fake marriage au

[piratefishmama]

i feel like Modern Steddie would make an amazing 'The Proposal' AU.

like... Steve being originally from somewhere like Italy, and he's technically an immigrant although he's lived there forever, he's always been super on it with his visa renewals, but he's also a boss bitch high up Editor-in-Chief at a book publishers in New York an he ropes Eddie into a fake marriage to get a green card when he maybe forgot about his visa application needing him to stay in the country for a hot sec.

sue him, his memory has always been a bit shit! His mother used to say it had to be because he backed himself right down the stairs as a baby and bumped his lil noggin on every step on the way down.

probably correct. surprisingly he didnt die.

and Eddie is his deeply overworked assistant with dreams of being an editor, some might call him Steve's shadow, because he's always just kinda. there. like an off putting prop in the corner that looms there until he's summoned. He gets Steves coffee, answers his emails, reads submissions, gets him snacks and migraine meds at 2am when Steve cant sleep etc.

kinda wants to see Steve get hit by a bus, or at train. Whichever makes the most mess with the lowest chance of survival.

He hasnt seen his family in forever. (family being Wayne and the Hawkins lot), he's not rich, his family dont own some fancy business empire, they're just... really good down to earth people and Steve...

Steve who grew up with ice cold parents, who didn't really get the whole family experience, who never understood why Eddie could possibly want to spend christmas with his family instead of running around for him on christmas eve because ew family, is thrown for all the loops ever when they not only welcome him with open arms, but treat him as though he is actually family.

it's wild, and it's warming his cold heart, and oh no why is Eddie Munson actually charming, what the shit?

Is he in love with his fake Fiance?

Maybe. can he still go through with the fake marriage?

maybe not.

#prompt ideas #it's such a good au #so much potential

[nonbinary-eddie-munson]

Steve is Robins beard/no upside down AU where Robin and Steve run away and get married after Robin graduates because she gets outed in the last few weeks of highschool and its the only way to stop her parents from sending her to a christan all girls college.

Originally the cover up plan is for Robin and Steve to tell her parents that they just recently started dating and a girl in band started the rumor about Robin being a lesbian because she was jealous and hoped it would make Steve and Robin break up. They can fake date and then "break up" after Robin goes off to college in Chicago, claiming the distance was too much.

Robins mom is fully ready to accept this as fact, after all it will do so much for their status in town if her daughter marries into the Harrington family

Robins dad, on the other hand, hates the idea of his only daughter being with the son of Richard Harrington. He watched the bastard play with his sisters heart in highschool before running off to marry some rich girl and will be damned if he sees the same happen to his daughter. No it will be better if he put an end to all of this and ships her off to Mount Saint Marys so she never has to see the Harrington boy again.

Cue Robin and Steve aided by Joyce and Hopper making a plan for them to run away because Steve will be damned if all of Robins dreams are crushed because her father wants to be an over protective asshole. They decide the easiest way to stop her dad from tracking them down and forcing Robin to come home is if they get married.

So the night after graduation, Robin sneaks out of her house and steals away into the night with Steve. They drive all night until they make it to chicago as the sun is rising. Joyce has a cousin who lives in the city and is willing to let Robin and Steve stay in her spare room until they get settled.

Carina has the same motherly warmth as Joyce, though she never married or had kids instead choosing to live with her " Capital R Roomate" Marjorie. Of course, the two women know the truth of Robin and Steves situation and as soon as the court house opens, they bear witness as Steve and Robin sign the marriage papers and offically become Steve and Robin Buckley-Harrington

They actually fought quite a bit on last names Steve insisting that he should take the last name Buckley because fuck his parents, while Robin still angry at her father wanted to become a Harrington just to spite him. Carina is the one who convinces them to hyphenate after, to her horror and amusement they suggest combining their lastnames and becoming the Buckington's (Steves idea) or the Harringley's (Robins idea)

Steve and Robin find jobs together at a local coffee shop and after Robins first semester at school working towards a degree in linguistics, Steve decides to apply for community college eventually deciding he wants to become a school councilor, he loves working with kids and hey if he can help atleast one kid all the schooling will be worth it.

Steve and Robin love the city and once they both graduate -Robin ending up adding a teaching degree in with her linguitics- they get jobs teaching at a local middle school Steve as the guidance counciler and Robin teaching French and Latin. They talk briefly about getting divorced after a few years but after almost dying in a fire together when starcourt burned down they're trauma bonded for life, honestly steve doesnt know who he was kidding thinking he'd be fine staying in Hawkins until the kids graduated while Robin went off to Chicago.

Carina and Marjorie introduce Robin and Steve to the queer scene in Chicago and Steve has his bisexual awakening. Robin becomes Steves beard just as much as he is hers. They both date around a bit, but nothing serious ever comes of it theres not many people who can handle the combined force that is "Steve And Robin Platonic With A Capital P Soulmates"

Enter professional substitute teacher/drama club advisor Eddie Munson and brand new lead journalist of the Chicago Tribune Nancy Wheeler, who are both confused, gay and unwilling to be homewreckers but cant help but to be sucked into Robin and Steves orbit all the same

#teachers au #except nancy shes a journalist who meets robin when shes asked to come in a set up a booth for career day #no upside down #platonic stobin #steddie #ronance #im actually in the process of writing this but im a slow writer and have final school papers coming up #which ive been procrastinating by writing this instead #Run Away With Me AU

[forays-into-fiction]

I Hate You... But Not Really

Eddie and you have been best friends for as long as you can remember and you’ve been crushing on him for about as long. He starts dating Chrissy however and jealousy rears its ugly head for both you and Jason. Jason has the bright idea to “date” each other to make them jealous instead. Nothing goes as planned... or does it?

Request fill for Anon, hope you like it... this one ended up being very long lol.

Minors DNI

Contains: Fake Dating/Fake Relationship (Jason/Reader), Eddie/Reader, Eddie/Chrissy, Jason/Chrissy, Bestfriend!Eddie, Virgin!Reader, A Little Bit of Angst, Loss of Virginity, Protected Sex 

You had decided to take lunch in the library today, curling up with a book instead. It wasn’t that unusual for you to skip lunch and hang out in the library, you had to get away from the rowdy Hellfire boys and their antics every now and then.

However, since Eddie had started dating Chrissy, you’d spent more and more time in the library rather than be subjected to their lovey-dovey nonsense. If you had to see them, make goo-goo eyes at each other one more time you might actually explode. 

God forbid she ever showed up at a Hellfire session you’d up and leave the club if that ever happened. You were trying to be happy for him, happy that he was happy, but it was hard when they just had to go and rub it in your face.

That’s where he finds you, tucked away in a corner reading quietly when he breaks the silence.

“y/l/n!” He whisper-yells as he approaches you.

“What is it, Carver? I’m not in the mood for your shit today.” His presence only serves to worsen your sour mood.

“Ok, since when did you get so sassy?”

“Fuck off, I told you I’m not in the mood. What?”

“Well, I’m… I’ve come with a proposal of sorts…” he drawls.

“Jesus Christ, get to the point.” You huff.

“Look, I know we’ve had our differences…” You scoff, he continues, “…but I think we’re both in the same little predicament.”

“Oh, yeah and what’s that?”

“You know Chrissy left me for the Freak-.”

“Hey, don’t call him that!” You can’t help but defend him, even now when you’re mad at him.

“Ok, for… Munson, and it’s kinda obvious the way you pine over him.”

“I DO NOT ‘pine’. You’ve had that same stupid joke since we were ten get over it, Eddie and I are just friends.”

“But that’s not what you want is it? You want it to be more than that and I want Chrissy to take me back, so…”

“So, what…? I’m not following.”

“Geez and I thought you were the smart one. We make them angry, jealous… we date each other to rile them up.”

“God that has to be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. I’m not dating you, Carver.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be… not really anyway. We’d just pretend long enough to each get what we want.”

“And why exactly would either of them even care?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with Chrissy that she’d leave me and especially for that…” You give him a warning glare, he continues, “…for him, but I know she doesn’t really love him. She loves me, I love her we… we had plans to get married-”

“Oh, wow that is pathetic, marriage? You’re fucking eighteen get over yourself. Maybe that’s why she left you.”

“No, it’s not, it was her idea actually… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ve seen the way Munson looks at you, he’s got feelings for you even if he won’t admit it.”

“So, what? How would that even work?”

“We go on ‘dates’, get seen together doing couple-y shit, see how they react and go from there I guess.”

“Ok, but what ‘couple-y shit’ are we talking about here, cause I’m not fucking sleeping with you.”

“Jesus, I never said you would! It’s not like I’d want to either. I dunno like the normal stuff, holding hands, maybe some kissing that kind of thing.”

“I’m gonna need a whole lot more outta this than ‘Eddie might have feelings’ for me to do anything with you.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“Yes actually, you are.”

“Fine, I’ll pay you.”

“Eww you creep. I don’t want your money.”

“Then what will it take?”

You ponder for a moment before answering, what would it take? You reach a decision, “You have to be nicer to all the Hellfire guys from now on. Or at least civil with us, even after you get Chrissy back.”  

“Ok, but what about if Munson tries to start shit?”

“Then you ignore him, be the bigger man or whatever.”

“Alright fine.” He concedes.

“Fine.” You huff back in response.

“So, like do you want to set up a schedule or something?”

You glance at the clock on the wall, “Look, lunch is almost over why don’t we just meet up on the weekend and sort out the details then…”

You reach into your backpack, pulling out a notebook and pen you scrawl across a page before tearing it out, “… here is my address, just come past around noon.”

He takes the slip of paper folding it and placing it in his back pocket, “Sure, I’ll see you then.”

He turns and saunters off while you pack away your belongings and begin heading to your next class.

He stands on your front porch and jabs at the doorbell, you’re not too far off and answer quite quickly.

“Y/l/n.” He nods his head in greeting.

“We’re going to at least have to call each other by our first names, you know?” You usher him inside, lingering in the front hall.

“Right, yeah that’s true. Ummm, do we… do we use pet names too or…?”

You shrug, continuing as you lead him through to the living room, “I mean maybe… that is something couples do.”

He looks around taking in his surroundings, “Your parents home?”

“No. No, they’ve gone out for lunch with some friends. So, take a seat I guess and let’s get to… whatever the hell this is.” You gesture to the couch.

He does so more awkwardly than you would’ve expected from him, was he nervous? No that couldn’t be it, not Mr. Cocksure Big-shot Basketball Captain.

“So, uh… y/n…” he begins, tentatively testing out your name, “how about we start with some ground rules, lay out all the do’s and don’t’s and what each of us expects from this.”

“Well, let’s start with the obvious, no sex, in fact nothing past first base. You may call me common pet names, like babe, baby, honey, when appropriate, but never sweetheart. No one can know the truth, everyone has to actually believe we’re dating and happy together for it to work. Also on that note, how did this supposedly start? Why did I suddenly get over all your years of torment and fall into your arms?”

“Ok, well that was a lot all at once. Um I guess yes to all of the aforementioned, I will add that I will pay for any ‘dates’ that we do go on. I’d feel weird if I didn’t, even if this isn’t real. Also you have to show up to my games, all the big ones at least. But as to the last part I don’t really know… I uh apologised…” he replies uncertainly, with a slight wince.

“Oh, that’s all it took you said sorry and suddenly I was swooning over you?”

“I don’t know, it was a really good apology?”

“Ok let’s hear it then. Like you mean it too.”

“What?”

“This grand apology that was supposedly enough for me to forget what a fucking jackass you are to me and all my friends.”

“O-ok… ummm y/n…” he trails off.

“Wow solid start there bud you wanna maybe continue, you didn’t even say the words ‘I’m sorry’.”

“I’m thinking ok! When did you become such a bitch anyway, thought you were all quiet and shy and shit?”

“Oooh yeah, that’ll really sell it call me a bitch-”

He cuts you off quickly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, this is hard, ok?”

“Can’t be harder than the shit you put Eddie and me through.” You grumble.

“Ok I’m sorry, really, I am. I don’t even know why I gave you shit, you actually seem kinda normal enough. I guess it was just ‘cause you were always around him, always defending him. Why even hang around that creep anyway?” He answers surprisingly earnestly.

“‘Creep’ isn’t any better than ‘freak’ you know.”

“See, like that always defending him.”

“He’s my friend, surely you know what that’s like or at least have some concept of it? And don’t give me some “oh being popular is a curse you never know who your friends really are’ type shit.”

“Of course, I have friends… it’s just no one has ever defended me like that.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’ve never needed it, anyway that is entirely beside the point. We’ve gotten derailed, let’s try to get this back on track.”

“You believe that I am sorry, right?”

“I believe that you think that, but it’s good enough. Just maybe leave out the bits about insulting my best friend in your apology and it’s fine.”

“I am sorry.”

“Ok, so you apologised and then what? How did it get from mutual understanding to ‘I’m madly in love with you.’?”

“As part of my apology I offered to buy you dinner, extend an olive branch so to speak. At dinner we actually hit it off and find that we don’t actually hate each other. Maybe we have some things in common and we decided to do it again.”

You hum in consideration, “Ok, sure we’ll go with that, but what do we actually have in common?”

“Not much I’d imagine, we… uhhh go to the same school, we’re in the same grade, ummm what… what kind of movies do you like, what sort of music do you listen to?”

“Well, my favourite movie genres are horror/thriller and fantasy. Music, it varies, but mainly rock I guess, like punk and alternative type stuff, I know my music taste surprises most people. I think they think that I’d have to be into like classical music or something for being so shy and bookish, even though I hang around a bunch of metalhead rockers.”

“I dunno none of that really works, I mean I don’t mind horror but it’s not my favourite. Ummm there… there is one thing that no one really knows about me…”

“Yeah, what’s that oh man of mystery?”

“Don’t… don’t make fun of me, please.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” You begin but catch sight of his pleading gaze and you fold, “Oh, alright fine, guess I’ll take my own advice and ‘be the bigger man’.”

“Thank you. Uhh… I actually like to read… like a lot, but I don’t let people see me when I do ‘cause I gotta wear these dorky glasses. I’ve had a few concussions and it’s messed with my vision.”

“Oh, ok I actually didn’t expect that at all. What sort of stuff do you read?”

“I like a lot of different things, stuff on history and war, sports… and um poetry…”

“Poetry? You, Jason Carver, read poetry?”

“Yeah, come on I said not to make fun of me.”

“No, I’m not… I’m not, it’s just not what I expected, the rest is yeah typical, I get that, but poetry? Does Chrissy know about this?”

“Yeah, she does. She also said she thinks my glasses are cute, but I don’t know, I think she was just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Ok, well I’m not all that into poetry myself, but history is alright, I guess. So, reading, we both like to read um anything else?”

“What about aspirations for after high school?”

“Well, you said you and Chrissy were thinking marriage, right?”

“Yeah, but not for a while yet, we’d have to get settled first, build careers so we can support ourselves.”

“Yeah, didn’t actually think you would’ve thought that far ahead, no offence. Personally, I’d like to get out of Hawkins for a start. Go to college, study maybe either something in writing or science, what about you?”

“Well, I’m aiming to get a basketball scholarship if I can, do something with that, but sports is kind of a high risk kinda deal. There’s no real guarantee. Not sure what my fallback could be, but I’m working on it.”

“That’s good. So, let’s recap. You apologised and took me out for dinner. I accepted and we got to know each other, found out we’re both readers and bonded over that. We shared our aspirations for after high school and agreed to do it again some time.”

“Yep, that all sounds about right, but don’t tell anyone about the glasses thing, ok?”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

“Ok, so the actual ‘dates’ is that going to be like a spontaneous thing or should we have a scheduled ‘date night’?”

“Scheduled date night sounds better to me, I can do Saturdays after practice?”

“Yeah, that works I guess, how are we going to balance your games and Hellfire though? They clash more often than not.”

“Well, can’t you guys reschedule your little cult meetings?”

“Jason,” you sigh exasperatedly, “you were doing so well too. It’s not a cult, it’s a Dungeon’s and Dragons club. And they will not reschedule for this. I can maybe get someone to sub for me every now and then, I guess.”

“It’s ok you only have to come to the big games, I’ll let you know which ones they are when they come up.”

“Sure ok, that’s settled. First ‘date’ next week, what are we going to do?”

He shrugs, “We could go to the cinema? I overheard Chrissy telling her friends that… Munson was going to take her to see ‘Pretty in Pink’.”

“Really, you want them to see us together that soon?”

“I dunno, why not?”

“Oh, no. No, we are nowhere near ready for that. It has to be really fucking believable before that happens.”

“Ok, so what do you think we should do?”

“I think the first few ‘dates’ should just be practice being around each other. Don’t try and focus on somewhere we can be seen, think somewhere we can both be comfortable.”

“I mean I’d say the library, it’d fit into our narrative, but then there’s the whole glasses thing.”

“Yeah, ok… um how about we actually go for dinner. Maybe somewhere less common for all the Hawkins High kids to be at.”

“Oh, there’s this restaurant my parents go to! It’s called Enzo’s. How about that?”

“Wouldn’t that be a little, um… expensive?”

“Yeah, but so what? I’m paying.”

“I dunno just makes me feel skeevy…”

“Don’t. I’m the one who suggested it. Think of it as reparations for years of bullying.”

“Ok, fine. Enzo’s then. When does your practice finish?”

“Four. So, we’ll make the dinner around seven, I’ll uh pick you up if you want or we could just meet there.”

“Um yeah you can pick me up, it’ll give us more time to go over our stories, get everything straight.”

“Ok cool.”

“Cool.”

“Uhh… now what?”

“Um I mean you can go…what else is there.”

“Yeah, sure I’ll go.” He stands awkwardly, you stand with him to escort him out.

He pauses at the door, “Should we… try to interact at school?”

“Yeah… nothing too extreme just yet, but yeah, I guess. Maybe just like greeting in the halls, small talk, that sort of stuff.” You shrug.

“Ok, so I guess we’re doing this… babe.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess so… babe.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, using it to address Jason Carver of all people.

You open the door waving as he leaves and he waves back. You retreat back into the comfort of your home a little dumbfounded by how that had turned out. It was interesting, being forced to see him in a new light, as a multifaceted human being rather than just some dumb jock stereotype.

It’s like the world is working against you, any time you and Jason are together, Eddie and Chrissy are nowhere to be seen. It’s beginning to frustrate you, you know there is gossip going around the school about you two, but neither of them have given any indication that they’re aware of it. 

Not even the rest of the Hellfire Club have said anything. They all know you’re seeing someone you’ve told them as much, you had to give some explanation as to why you were missing Hellfire sesions so much. They all believe you’re in a happy relationship, they just haven’t seen it yet.

You’re on yet another date with Jason, you’d missed out on this session of Hellfire Club to go to one of his games and he suggested dinner at the diner afterwards. A few of his teammates and their girlfriend’s had come too, but you insisted on your own booth, it could be so stifling being around Jason’s friends.

“So, what actually happened with you and Chrissy, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He sets down his cutlery and sighs, beginning in a hushed tone, “She started pulling away from me, don’t know what I did, it wasn’t so much like she was mad… just distant. I don’t get it.”

“Hmm, you know it may not have been anything you did, maybe she was going through some personal stuff.”

“Yeah, but why wouldn’t she tell me, I could help her. Why did she turn to… him?”

“Look I can’t answer for her personally, but sometimes when I’m dealing with my own shit I retreat into myself. Don’t wanna feel like I’m burdening others with my problems… especially those I’m closest to. Usually when I get like that Eddie is the one to pull me up, dust me off so to speak and just get me through it. He’s good like that, very observant when he wants to be, he just knows when someone’s got it rough and he wants to help.”

Jason scoffs, “Yeah alright, all the girls going to Munson… what’s he got that I don’t.”

“Did you even listen to a word I said? It’s not about you or what you can offer. She’s probably just going through something, maybe something she’s ashamed of or is embarrassed about and doesn’t want you to know. Maybe she’s just worried about how you’ll see her if you find out.”

“I would never judge her for anything, she should know that. Instead, she turned around and left me for another guy.”

“Jason have you fucking seen yourself, you can be such a judgmental, righteous prick-”

“Hey, keep it down, you don’t want someone to hear you saying stuff like that if we’re going to pull off the ‘loving couple’ shit.” He hisses cutting you off.

You lower your voice slightly leaning in, hopefully from the outside it just looks like you’re two little lovebirds wrapped up in your own little world, “… you are a bully and you’ve shown that girls aren’t off limits, why would she think she can go to you with everything.”

He has the decency to look ashamed at that, “I am sorry you know… for how I treated you.”

“Fine, ok I got that, I’m moving past it, but can you see where I’m coming from?”

“I-I think so, but what can I do… what could I have done then? What if we get back together and something like this happens again?”

“I don’t know, it’s a complex thing, you gotta be patient with her. Push but not too hard, get her to see that you won’t judge her for anything. When she really believes that maybe she will accept your help when she needs it.”

“I guess… thank you. You know I haven’t really talked about this with anyone, it’s good to get stuff off my chest.”

“Yeah, that is the general idea, when you’re going through something you need someone that will listen. And look at you turning to ‘another girl’ for support.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I get it now, ok. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Ok… you know deep down and I mean deep, deep down you’re not so bad. You know when you actually act like a human being.”

“Oh, careful that almost sounded like an actual compliment.”

“Shove off… I mean I get why you act the way you do, I guess. I know your popularity is important to you, but is it really more important than being yourself, was it worth losing someone you love?”

“Ummm… no, no it’s not...” He concedes, “…but it is what I gotta do to get where I wanna go.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it-”

He’s getting frustrated, you can tell, the way he clenches his fists, “No it’s not. If I’m not popular, I’m not basketball captain. If I’m not captain, I don’t get the recognition. If I don’t get the recognition, I don’t get a scholarship-”

You place a hand over his, “Stop, relax its ok I’ll drop it, just keep in mind Chrissy likes you for you… I’m assuming… and if she doesn’t, she’s not worth it, but that is going to be how you win her back… by being yourself.”

“Fine.” He grumbles.

“You gonna finish those?” You point to the last few fries on his plate that he’d been ignoring.

“Nah, have ‘em if you want and then we can get out of here. I’ll drop you off at yours.”

“Thank you.”

As you stand to leave, passing the other guys from the team, Jason nods his head towards them and you give them an awkward little wave, calling out, “Bye guys, see you around.”

Andy calls back, “What you guys leaving already? Don’t wanna come back to mine? My parents are gone for the weekend, I was thinking we could… party.”

Jason answers for the pair of you, to your surprise in the negative, “Nah, sorry man gotta take my girl home she’s feeling a bit tired. You know how it is?”

Andy gives him an exaggerated wink that makes your skin crawl, “Sure do man, you kids have fun.”

You tug on Jason’s arm and he escorts you out to his car, “Ugh why’d he have to be so gross?” You groan with a full-body shiver.

He responds as he starts up the car, “Oh, come on it wasn’t that bad… and isn’t that what we want? For people to think we’re a good, real couple… real couples have sex you know?”

“So… you and Chrissy then…?”

“Of course, me and Chrissy. What… did you expect us to be celibate or something?”

“No uh… I don’t know, it’s not like I think about you with her… like that.”

“What about you… have you ever…?”

“Uhh… no, umm… it’s not that I don’t want to, I just never… I mean…”

He holds up one hand in surrender, the other still on the wheel, “Hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You let out a sigh, “Ok, yeah… I am tired you know? This shit is fucking exhausting.”

“Gee, thanks. Good to know being with me is exhausting.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just doing this is like constantly being on stage, putting on a performance… having to be so acutely aware of every action and everyone in the room.”

He’s silent for a moment, “Do you think… do you think maybe that’s how Chrissy feels with me?”

“I can’t answer for her, maybe that’s just something the two of you will have to figure out for yourselves.”

“Oh… ok.” He seems a little crestfallen.

“Sorry, I can’t give you a better answer.”

“Nah, that’s fine we’re almost at your place now.”

“We’ve gotten to know each other now, like really know each other, but there’s one thing I still don’t get.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Why are you part of Munson’s little cult, I get maybe you didn’t have any other friends when we were kids but come on you could do so much better than that now.”

“Watch yourself there, Carver. You’re on thin ice…” you warn, “…and it’s not a cult. Ok, how bout I put it to you like this. That game we all play dungeons and dragons, what do you actually know about that?”

“Just that it’s some devil-worshipper thing…”

“See you’re wrong though, it’s not… at all. If anything, it’s the complete opposite cause you’re fighting against evil.”

He looks at you sceptically, you continue, “It’s just a little fantasy game, we’re not hurting anyone by playing a game. Look, you play basketball, you love basketball, there’s this whole culture around that. The way you feel about the game, your teammates, it’s not so different from Hellfire Club.”

“Yes, it is.” He protests.

“Just hear me out ok, D&D brings us together it gives us a sense of camaraderie we band together to fight the big bad evil guy, there’s strategy and an element of chance and everything can be decided by the roll of a die. I imagine scoring the final game wining point would feel the same as defeating the villain or pulling off an insane move that gets the party through untold dangers.”

“But-”

“Look, how about you just come to one of the Hellfire sessions see what it’s really like. You’ve got a bye this week, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but will they even let me through the door?”

“Yes, I’ll make sure they’re nice to you ok… but you gotta do the same.”

“I will.”  You shoot him a look, “I will, I promise.”

“Good.”

“Still doesn’t explain Munson though that guy is clearly…”

You stop him in his tracks with a pointed glare, “Yes… care to finish that statement?”

“Well, what I mean to say is he’s just so… so… oh the only words I can come up with are still devil-worshipper, with all his metal music and chains and leather, what do you see in him?”

“He’s a good guy,” he looks at you sceptically, “No really, he is, all of that hard-ass attitude stuff is just like a barrier to protect himself. He hasn’t had it easy and stuff like his music helps him cope. Is it really so bad that he is unapologetically himself?”

“Y/n the guy is crazy, jumping on tables, shouting off his little rants that make digs at the rest of the school, not to mention everything else.”

“He’s not crazy, he can be a bit dramatic but he’s got a point with that stuff. Like really why? Why do we get singled out and picked on for our interests when the basketball team can be celebrated for theirs?”

You rush to add,” I mean no offence by that, but really, we’re all here just trying get by, make it through one day at a time, find happiness where we can. He gives the outcasts of the school somewhere we can belong and he’s been my friend since about as far back as I can remember, always been there for me regardless of what he’s going through. He is a good guy.”

“I mean I guess… when you put it like that. I still don’t like him though.” He grumbles.

“I never asked you to like him just be civil with him and I’ll try to make sure he does the same.”

“Fine I can live with that.”

At lunch the next day you decide to broach the topic with the rest of Hellfire. When you get there she’s there, you shouldn’t be so surprised you guess, but it had been a few days since you sat with them for lunch.

The way she was dressed today was almost enough to turn your stomach… she was wearing his Hellfire shirt. You steeled yourself, no you weren’t going to let this get to you, all the more reason to invite Jason to Hellfire.

“Hey guys!” You greet everyone as you plop down into a seat.

They reply in kind and you continue while you have their attention, “So, everyone knows I’ve been seeing someone…” they nod, “… well I kinda wanted to ask if you guys would be alright if I brought him by one of the Hellfire sessions? Just to watch of course, he said he wants to know what it’s about, so I thought the best way would be to show him.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you, “Right why would we let some random guy-”

“My boyfriend.” You correct him.

“Whatever, your boyfriend… why would we let him sit in? We don’t even know the dude.”

“Well, there you go you can see just who he is when we both show up.”

“Yeah, and on that note, you’ve been missing a lot of sessions lately… what’s up with that? Would you even know how to play anymore?” He bites back snarkily.

Oooh, is he bitter, could this actually be working already?

“Of course, I remember how to play, it’ll be fine… please?”

“Fine, we’ll put it to a vote…” he looks around the table and the others squirm under his gaze, “right, everyone in favour of y/n’s boyfriend joining the next Hellfire session, raise your hand.”

Everyone at the table raises their hands, except you, Chrissy and Eddie, he continues with a sigh “…ok looks like he can join, but just this once.”

Dustin tries to lighten the mood, “Come on Eddie, don’t you wanna meet y/n’s new boyfriend?”

Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to say, Eddie scoffs in response, “What difference would that make to me? He’d still be some intruder to our game.”

Gareth speaks up on your behalf, “Come on don’t be like that man, just be glad we’re getting y/n back and we’ll get to see who’s been making her so happy lately.”

“Yeah, sure whatever…” he turns to Chrissy suddenly, “Hey, sweetheart… would you like to come to the next session too?”

She offers an apologetic smile, “Uhh… no sorry babe, you know I’m not really into that stuff… but you guys have fun.”

She turns to you, “Hope your boyfriend enjoys it too.”

You try to match her cheerful demeanour without sounding sarcastic, “Yeah hopefully once he sees it, he’ll get just why I love it so much.”

There’s a heavy tension that hangs in the air for the rest of the lunch break, you keep your involvement in conversation to a minimum and finally breathe a sigh of relief once the bell rings.

You sit in Jason’s car twisting your hands nervously in your lap, “So you ready for this?”

He places a hand over yours, “Relax, it will be fine.”

“And you can promise you’ll be nice to everyone, and I mean everyone?”

“Yes, I won’t like it, but yes.”

“Thank you. And remember to keep an open mind, don’t just judge the game immediately because of what you’ve been told to think of it… please?”

“Ok, I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, you ready to go in?”

“Now or fucking never, I guess. Hopefully we’ve done enough that it’ll convince everyone we’re a ‘happy couple’.”

“Yeah, come on.”

You hesitate again when you get to the drama room door, but he gives you a little nudge and you open it.

Everyone’s already seated at the table chatting animatedly, you call out to get their attention, “Um hey, everyone… sorry if we’re a little late-”

You’re met by flabbergasted stares and slack jaws when they turn to see you, arm in arm with Jason Carver.

Eddie is the first to speak, face set into a deep scowl, “Uh what the fuck is this, what is he doing here?”

“You guys said it was ok to bring my boyfriend. I said I was sorry for being late, but come on it’s only by a couple minutes.”

“Can I have a word with you outside?” Eddie storms over to you grabbing your arm harshly and leading you out the door, not waiting for a response.

“What the fuck was that in there? You’re dating Carver? The guy you’ve been dating… is fucking Jason Carver?!”

“Yeah… and? What’s it matter to you?”

“It matters because you’re my best friend and it’s fucking Jason Carver… you’re dating him after everything he did to me… to us?”

“Yeah well, you’re dating Chrissy what the fuck is up with that?”

“That’s different, don’t bring her into this.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I huh? Some best friend you are, as soon as some pretty little blond shows you a smidge of attention it’s like I don’t even exist.”

“Just ugh… why did it have to be him?”

“Why did it have to be her?!”

“You can’t just throw my question back at me, at least Chrissy wasn’t the one going around calling us freaks and making our lives miserable.”

“Yeah, not like she stopped it either. And really Mr Nonconformity, you’re gonna go for the basic ass cheerleader? Way to break the mould. Really, I applaud you on that one, you’re definitely not just like every other teen boy here. All hard up over a girl in a short skirt doing her little rah-rah school spirit bullshit.”

“Chrissy is NOT like that!”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“And I could say the same about you, dating Mr Meathead Jock… that’s not any better now, is it?”

“Whatever, screw you.” You turn to go back inside.

“Screw me, no hey don’t walk away from me.” He grabs your arm again.

“Eddie, just stop.” You shoot him an angry look.

“Have you fucked him?” He hisses through clenched teeth.

“What?!” You can’t believe he just said that, where the hell did that come from.

“I said have you fucked him? He would be your first if you had, wouldn’t he?” He repeats, his tone bitter.

“That is none of your fucking business and don’t act like you haven’t slept with Chrissy.”

“Actually, I haven’t. She said she wants to take things slow and I respect that. Says she wants to wait til marriage and all that.”

“Yeah, that’s not how Jason tells it and he would know he’s actually slept with her. You sure she even really loves you? You sure you’re not just some rebound destined to fail?” You retaliate.

“What the fuck? When did you get so fucking bitchy, or is that just what taking Carver’s dick does?”

Before you know what you’re even doing you’ve reared your hand slapping him across the face sharply.

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend what taking Jason’s dick does? She would know after all.” It’s a low blow, you regret it as soon as the words leave your lips. Regret almost everything you’ve said to him, especially when you see the look in his eyes, but it’s too late now.

It’s then that Jason pokes his head out of the doorway, “Hey…. ahhh, you guys, ok? You’ve been gone a while… the others sent me out to check on you…”

You turn to him, “We’re leaving, come on let’s go babe.”

“But I thought-”

“Yeah, never-mind…” you turn back to Eddie, who’s standing there shellshocked cradling his cheek, “I quit Hellfire by the way, see you fucking never Munson.”

You grab Jason’s arm dragging him along with you, willing yourself not to cry, just hold it in at least until you get outside, just make it outside.

When you do reach the front doors of the school you break, tears streaming down your face, sobbing.

Jason turns you to face him, “What happened? What did he do?”

“Fuck off Jason as if you actually care, there’s no one here to see it, just leave it alone, ok.”

He grabs both your shoulders, looking into your teary eyes, you turn you head away, “I do care though, what happened?”

“We had a fight obviously… this stupid fucking plan isn’t working. I told you it wouldn’t and now I’ve just lost my best fucking friend. I really fucking hate you, did I ever mention that?”

He cuts you off with a fierce kiss, you push him off of you, “What the fuck was that for?!”

“I dunno I kinda like you I guess…” He shrugs.

“Oh, no fuck off with that, I know you’re still in love with Chrissy. No one was here to see that, so what was it about really?”

“I do kind of like you though, not like Chrissy, different from that and I do still love her, but… what if we tried to make this work for real? What if those two never realise how we feel about them and it never works out?”

“No. I’m not going to be someone’s consolation prize or whatever. I don’t care if you don’t get Chrissy back, you can find someone else… maybe just be less of a ‘meathead jock’ and it’ll work out for you. Let someone see the real you for a change, the guy that reads and takes a girl out for silly little dates and cares about something other than himself.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… you’re not a ‘consolation prize’ and you do deserve better too. Just forget about Munson… honestly, you’re better off without him.”

“Don’t know that I am… what do you want to do about this now then? Do we still ‘fake date’? Try to get Chrissy back for you, even if Eddie won’t have anything to do with me now?”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I want at least one of us to get something from this, otherwise it’s all been for nothing.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be for nothing really, I mean we never would have spent time together… reconciled our differences, if it weren’t for this. You could say we’re friends now at least.”

“Yeah, I guess… and I’m gonna need a friend, just kinda lost all of mine back there in one fell swoop.” You give him a bitter, teary-eyed grin.

“Ok, so let’s do that, we continue this ‘fake dating’ thing for a bit longer, see if Chrissy will come around. If not, I’ll be here for you as a friend either way, agreed?”

“Yes… as long as you never try to kiss me like that in private again, seriously what the fuck was that?”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Fate really had a way of shoving it your face. Before when you were with Carver, you’d never seen Eddie and Chrissy around, but now it seemed like everywhere you looked Eddie was there glaring at you. You couldn’t take it, jealousy would have been fine… but this hatred that came pouring off him in waves was like torture.

Jason could see your discomfort, your pain, he asked you multiple times if you were still ok with this plan. You powered through, one of you should end up happy from all this, right? You still couldn’t believe that in all of this Jason Carver was the one to console you, if someone would have told you that just a few weeks ago, you would’ve laughed in their face.

The rest of Hellfire give you a wide berth, but still offer little smiles in your direction when you pass them… only when Eddie isn’t around though. You wonder what he would have told them, you’re sure he can’t have painted you in a very good light, but it was too late for you to try to explain yourself to them.

That’s how you found yourself on a Saturday night, curled up on Jason’s bed watching Friday the 13th: A New Beginning. It had just come out on VHS and Jason suggested the two of you watch it to get your mind off things for a bit. He had begun to warm up to horror movies in general, still not a major fan but he enjoyed it more now… your influence maybe?

Meanwhile, Chrissy had made her way to Eddie’s trailer, with a heavy conscious. She raises her hand to knock against the door, when it opens and she jumps back slightly.

“Oh, Chrissy hey… didn’t mean to scare you. I was just on my way to see you.”

“Uh… yeah, could we go inside and talk for a bit?”

“Sure, sure come in.” He steps aside, ushering her in with a sweeping gesture.

They both stand there awkwardly, before Eddie says, “What did you want to talk about?”

She hesitates and he moves towards the couch, urging her to join him, “Come on take a seat and tell me what you need.”

She makes her way over, tentatively perching on the edge of the couch.

“So…?” Eddie prompts her.

“Ummm… there’s no real easy way to say this, but umm… I think… I think we should end things Eddie.”

“Wh-Why do you say that?” He asks nervously, he had actually been planning to go see her to break things off, maybe this’d give him an out.

“Come on isn’t it obvious? Everyone knows you have feelings for y/n. It’s even clearer now that she’s dating Jason… and I… I don’t know… I think I still have feelings for Jason too.” She hangs her head in shame.

“What? I don’t have feelings for y/n… I’m with you, why would you say that?” He splutters, unconvincingly.

“So, you’re just not going to acknowledge that I have feelings for Jason?” She huffs looking back at him.

“Well, uh… fuck… I don’t know… did you ever have feelings for me?”

“Yes… just… just not like I do for Jason. Look you helped me through a really rough time and I am grateful for that… but I don’t love you.”

He sighs, “Yeah uhhh… I-I don’t love you either… I know how bad it sounds, and I do care about you… but I think it was ‘cause you were the first girl to ever show me any interest.”

“What about y/n?”

“What about her?”

“You have feelings for her, don’t try to deny it.”

“Ok fine, I have feelings for y/n… what difference does that make? We’re just friends… fuck not even that anymore. And she’s with Jason fucking Carver, of all the fucking people she had to choose from, she picked him.” He turns away angrily, hot tears prick at his eyes.

“Jason’s not that bad of a guy really, but what if we did something to… break them up?”

“Wh-what? Why? What would that even achieve… they’re happy with each other, I can’t take that away from her… and for what? She’s not even speaking to me, won’t even look at me, it’s not like she’d come running into my arms if things ended between them.” Tears have begun to run down his cheeks, he swipes at them angrily.

“Eddie… look at me.” She implores.

He does so and she continues, “You must be fucking blind not to see that she is in love with you.”

“What are you talking about?” He hiccups out.

“Y/n, she is sooo head over heels for you, Jason even picked up on it when we were ten for Christ’s sake.”

“No, that was just some dumb joke Carver used to taunt me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? She loves you, you love her…” She reinforces before adding quietly “…I love Jason.”

“Then what are we even fucking doing together in the first place?”

“I don’t know, you were there for me and things just kinda happened…”

“Ok, so what do we do now?”

“Well… I mean we are over, right? I mean we can still be friends if you want, you are a great guy Eddie, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… uh friends, I don’t know, we’ll see about that, but thank you. Do we have to break them up though… not that I’m happy seeing her with him, but can’t we just each talk to them tell them how we really feel?”

“I mean, I guess. It would be the nicer thing to do. Do you think you could handle it though, you’ve had all this time to tell her before, why haven’t you?”

“I just couldn’t… if things went wrong, I couldn’t lose her, but now… now she already hates me. She’s already lost to me, so what’s the harm in telling her now… not like she could hate me any more than she already does. I said some horrible things to her Chrissy…” He hangs his head, pressing his palms into his eyes.

She rubs a hand over his shoulder, “Hey, if things don’t work out, I’m here for you, ok?”

“Th-thank you. Should… should we go to them now?”

“You wanna go right now?”

“Yeah, I… I don’t wanna wait ‘til whenever we see them next.”

“Ok… alright, I guess right now it is.” She stands brushing down her skirt.

Eddie stands as well moving to the door, “Did you drive here?”

“Uhh… no, I walked.”

“You what?! In the middle of the night, you walked to the trailer park? Why?” He asks incredulously.

“Umm… my brother had the car tonight.” She shrugs.

“Then why did you come?”

“I just… it couldn’t wait, it was eating me up inside. I had to get it out. Besides the exercise will do me good.”

“Don’t. Don’t start with that. You could have called you know, if you didn’t want to say it over the phone I coulda picked you up at least.”

“Well, too late now… you wanna give me a lift to Jason’s? Then you can head off to y/n’s.”

“Yeah, of course. Come on.” He grabs his keys and escorts her to the van.

You had begun dozing off against Jason’s shoulder, when the ring of the doorbell rouses you suddenly. Jason looks down at you confused, before extracting himself by your side, he leaves the movie running while he goes to answer the door.

He sees Chrissy standing there bouncing on the balls of her feet, warming her hands with her breath, he then notices Eddie sitting in the van parked in his driveway glaring daggers at him. He turns back to Chrissy, “Uh, hey what are you doing here? You wanna come in for a bit, you must be cold?”

“Uh no that’s ok, this won’t take long… I just… I had to say… I still love you, Jason.”

“What about Eddie?” He glances over at him.

It was the first time he’d ever actually said the guy’s given name, first time he didn’t have to pause before he said it, first time he’d ever referred to him without any malice in his voice.

“We just broke up, it… it was never going to work between us. He’s in love with y/n… you know that.”

“Ok… so what’s he going to do then?” He looks over her shoulder again back at Eddie.

“Well, he’s going to tell her too. Right after whatever happens here… waiting to give me a lift if I need it.”

“Well, she’s here right now so…”

“Oh, um… I guess both of us should go then? Right, we’ve like interrupted date night or something?” She turns to leave, he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“No.”

She turns back, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I… I want you back. Have since the moment you left.”

“What… what about y/n?”

“She’ll understand… trust me. And you said Eddie wanted to see her… tell him to come in.”

“Are you sure about that… I don’t really see that going too well.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just uh… tell him to be on his best behaviour, ok?”

Chrissy makes her way back to the van, when she reaches the driver-side door, Eddie rolls down the window.

“Well?” He asks expectantly.

“It uh… went well, I guess. Um y/n is here now. Jason said you should come in and talk to her.”

“She’s here now, fuck I should have guessed as much… I mean, why wouldn’t she be with her boyfriend on a Saturday night? Jesus, I’m a fucking idiot. What am I doing?” He palms at his forehead in frustration.

“Did you not hear me, I said it’s going well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jason is going to take me back. Y/n is going to be single and he’s invited you in to talk to her. That’s something right?”

“Inside his house… ha what so he can see me crash and burn, so they can both laugh at me, while she crushes my heart?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, just give it a chance.”

“You really think it’ll go well?”

“Yes. Now get out of the damn van and get inside.”

When he gets to the door, Jason greets him stiffly, “Munson.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him suspiciously, “Carver.”

“I should… I should probably tell you guys something first. Umm… y/n and I dating was never real… I uhh, I wanted to make Chrissy jealous. Jealous enough that she’d take me back so I got y/n to help me.”

“What? Why would she even agree to that?” Eddie face sets into a frown.

“Well, the agreement was that from the moment, our little thing started from there on out I’d have to be nicer to you…” he nods in his direction, “and to all the other Hellfire members.”

“That seems kinda dumb.”

“Well, it was she thought so too, but I guess she thought it was worth it to protect her friends?” He shrugs.

“So, you gonna go up and talk to her? Sort your own shit out, while the two of us,” He gestures between himself and Chrissy, “can work our shit out too.”

“Uh, yeah sure. Which way am I goin’?” He eyes him suspiciously.

“Just up the stairs, first door on the left. We were just watching a movie.”

Eddie nods and makes his way upstairs.

He opens the door with a shaky, sweaty hand.

“Jason, who was at the door? What took so long?” You ask without looking away from the screen, snuggled down into the covers.

“Uhhh… not Jason…” He stands there awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, the sound of his voice surprises you, head snapping towards him.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here? Why the fuck did Jason let you in?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, save it. I don’t need any more judgemental bullshit from you… can’t stand to see the way you look at me now… so full of hate.” Tears spring to life in your eyes, you turn away from him.

“No, it’s not like that. Do you really think Jason would let me in if I was here to do that… on that note, I am soooo sorry for what I said to you that day. Words cannot express how sorry I am.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you remember the harsh words the two of you had exchanged, guilt sweeping over you, “I-I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean the shit I said to you… it’s just you really hurt me, and I know that’s no excuse but…”

“No, I get it, I get it… I was just lashing out because I was hurt too.”

“I know… I should have known that dating Jason would hurt you I just…”

“You wanted to make Chrissy jealous? For him? So, they could get back together”

“What… how…?”

“Jason. Jason told me. Told me how it was all his idea, that the only reason you even went along with his dumbass plan was so he’d be nicer to me and the other Hellfire guys. It worked by the way, they’re both downstairs talking it out.”

“Shit… I’m sorry that was a really fucking shitty thing for me to do. I’m sorry you lost your girlfriend.”

“Don’t be, it worked out for me too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I didn’t really love her… I love you.”

“Don’t.”

“Wh-what?”

“Don’t. You don’t mean that. Did Jason say something? Did he tell you how I feel about you?”

“H-how you feel about me? Y/n, how do you feel about me?” His heart palpitates, his palms sweat even more.

“Don’t play dumb Munson, I… I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can fucking remember…”

He interrupts you with a fervent, teary kiss. You hesitate a moment before reciprocating, melting into his touch.

You break away from him suddenly, “What are you doing Eddie? Why now? I don’t want to just be your rebound while you get over Chrissy.”

“Jesus, I forget how stubborn you can be. I. Don’t. Care. About. Chrissy. I love you. I’ve always loved you… don’t you get that?”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course, I’m fucking serious! Now kiss me again.” He demands.

You pull him back in for another kiss, then all at once you realise where you are. Kissing Eddie in Jason Carver’s bed and you pull away again.

“Um… sorry Eds, but I don’t think we should be doing this here.”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” He giggles, “You want me to take you home? Or we could go to my place if you’d prefer? I’ve got the van downstairs and I think Chrissy will be ok to stay here.”

“Yeah… your… your place sounds good.”

You make your way downstairs to find Jason and Chrissy making out in the hall, you grin and clear your throat.

They snap apart, Chrissy looks away bashfully as Jason looks over to you, “So, how’d it go?” he asks, more towards you.

“It uh… it went well. I’m guessing it went well for you two as well?”

He nods, “Did you two…” he gestures between Eddie and yourself, “… did you tell each other how you feel?”

“Yes, we did.” Eddie answers firmly, “And we’ll be going now.”

He looks to over to her, “You gonna be ok to stay here, Chrissy?”

She nods, looking up at the pair of you, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you guys around I guess.”

“Yeah sure. Let’s… let’s head out y/n. Leave these two to their… reunion.” He smirks.

You nod and follow him to his van.

Seated beside him, his brash music playing softly in the background “So, I guess all of that worked out in the end, huh?”

He grins at you, “It did… in like a weird, roundabout kind of way.” His face twists into a grimace, “Does this mean I should be thanking Carver?”

“Maybe not that far, but I think he’ll be more civil towards you from now on at least.” You shrug. “Anyway, lets get back to your place, so we can have some more fun.”

“Oh, geez… hang on we’ll be there in no time.”

You laugh at his response, “Well someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, yeah we got a lot of lost time to make up for you know.” He waves a hand in your direction.

Before you know it, you’re back in his trailer, Wayne still isn’t home, not due back for another couple hours.

Eddie ushers you inside overly excited, his motions remind you of a puppy, bounding along, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“You wanna… go to my bedroom?” He asks voice laden with purpose.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d been in his room, nowhere near it, but the air was heavy with expectation tonight.

He continues a little rushed, “We don’t have to do anything, especially if you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with it-”

You cut him off, “Eddie, relax I’ve been in your bedroom a thousand times it’s no big deal… and I do want to kiss some more… if that’s ok with you?”

“Oh, sweetheart that is more than ok with me.”

“Yeah? Let’s go then.”

He grabs your arm, pulling you along all the way. He practically launches himself at the bed and you tumble along after him giggling.

“I’m not going anywhere you know, you don’t have to fall over yourself to get here.”

“Promise you’re not going anywhere?” He pouts up at you, looking at you with those big brown eyes.

“I promise. Now kiss me Munson, like you mean it.”

He dives in kissing you clumsily, messily, but you don’t mind because it’s Eddie… after all this time pinning after him, you were here.

Your hands wander into his long curls as things begin to heat up. His hands begin to wander too, but he pulls away, “I-is this ok?” He gasps breathily.

“Perfect Eddie.” You grab one of his hands guiding it to your breast, “You can touch me wherever you want, ok?”

“You mean that? Like… really anywhere?”

“Absolutely.”

“This… this is your first time, right? I mean…” He trails off.

You know what he’s getting at, “Yes, it’s my first… nothing ever happened between Carver and me… it was never real.”

“And how far do you want to go tonight? ‘Cause I am more than fine keeping it just like this, we don’t have to do more…”

“Eds, relax honestly, look at me.” He looks deep into your eyes, and you proceed, “I am ready to give you anything you want tonight. If that means we go all the way, great. If that means we just lay here making out and groping that’s great too. Just know that I want you too.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” He gasps.

“So, what do you want Eddie?”

“I want you, all of you… but I’m not… I’m not very experienced… I’ll try to make it good for you. Your first time should be…special-”

You press a finger to his lips halting his babble, “I know, and it will be special because it’s with you.”

“Fuck… ok, yeah…” He groans before capturing your lips with his own once more both yours and his eyes fluttering closed. His hands move to slip beneath your shirt and his calloused fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra for a moment before it releases.

He moves to the front of your chest, sliding his hands between the loose cups of your bra to cup your tits, squeezing them gently. When he rolls over one of your nipples you moan into his mouth. He matches the sound with one of his own, grinding his hips against your clothed core and you can feel the hard line of his cock.

You pull away from him, his lips follow yours for a moment, his eyes snap open searching for yours. You reach down gripping the hem of your shirt you pull it over your head, your bra follows along shortly after. He gapes at your bare chest and you giggle at his expression and tease, “Like what you see Munson?”

“Fuck you have the most perfect tits… can I… can I suck on them?”

“Remember, anything you want.” You answer.

He swoops in, ducking his head, tongue laving at your breasts occasionally pressing sloppy kisses to them. You move to straddle one of his legs, grinding down on it. He gasps against your skin. You tug on his shirt, “Can I see you too, please?”

“With pleasure.” He pulls away from your chest, hooking a hand into the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it away blindly. You run your hands down his now exposed chest coming to rest at his belt-buckle, you look deep into his eyes, “Is this ok?”

“Yes, yes, god yes.” He whimpers.

You unbuckle his belt, undo the zip and slide his jeans down his thighs, eyes locking onto the bulge in his boxers.

You look back up at him, “You got condoms, right?”

“Absolutely, bedside table… by the ashtray.”

You clamber off of him pulling down your pants as you go, you can hear Eddie ridding himself of his own jeans completely. You spot the dusty blue box and pluck it out of the clutter moving back to the bed.

You look at him, both of you left in nothing but your underwear. You hand him the box and he sets it down beside him, “Sweetheart, you’re going to need a little more prep before we get into it.”

“What like… fingering and stuff?”

“Uh, yeah sure… um could I try… eating you out… I really, really like that…”

“Yeah… ok we can do that.” You agree shyly.

He beckons you over, “Lay down for me.”

You take a seat on the bed leaning back lengthways, resting against his pillow.

He crawls up to you, resumes kissing you slowly beginning to trail down your neck. Your eyes close and you whimper in response, he continues further down over your torso until he reaches the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down gently, easing them off of your legs and tossing them aside too.

“So pretty.” He mumbles to himself before diving in and pressing a kiss to your folds.

“So wet too.” He groans.

His tongue moves to lap up your juices and you gasp. He probes your entrance a few times with the tip of his tongue before running it all the way up to your clit. He grins against you when you jolt at the sensation, running a hand up your leg squeezing at your thigh before bringing it to join his tongue.

He spreads your slick over your folds, before slowly slipping two digits into your entrance. He crooks them against your spongy walls and you tangle your hands into his hair again gasping out his name. He groans against you and the vibrations are something else. Your hips rock against his face of their own accord.

You can feel yourself gushing over his fingers, a tension mounting somewhere deep in your belly as he stretches your slick walls with his hand. His other hand comes to press down on your stomach limiting the motion of your hips, but doubling the sensation.

Soon your legs are trembling either side of his head, you tug on his curls firmly. A tingly sensation spreads from your cunt to the extremities of your limbs. You call out his name again as you pulse on his fingers and flood his tongue with your release.

His fingers slip out while you’re coming down from your high and you release his locks. He looks up at you face slick with your juices and his drool, he makes no move to wipe it off. Just grins at you and asks, “Did you like that?”

You pant out, “Jesus fucking Christ Eddie, that was amazing… not experienced my ass.”

“What… I’m not.” He insists.

“Ok, if you say so… but goddamn that tongue of yours is good.”

He chuckles, “Thank you for the review, I appreciate the feedback.”

You slap his arm, “Ok, come on… you think I’m ready now?”

“Yeah… yeah let’s go.” He fumbles for the box of condoms. Pulling one out, he looks down at you, “Now, you are sure about this?”

“Oh my god, Eddie if you ask me one more time if I’m ‘sure about this’ I’m going to slap you in the fucking face… just fuck me already.”

“Ok message received loud and clear.” He surrenders.

He rolls his boxers down wriggling out of them, his flushed, weepy cock bounces out, bobbing between his legs. He tears open the condom and grips the length of his shaft. He lines up the condom with the head of his cock, moving to pinch the tip of it rolling it down over his length smoothly.

You watch every motion eagerly and he gives his length a few pumps with his hand before turning to you, you see him open his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, “I swear to god Munson if you ask one more time if I’m sure, that’s it…”

“I wasn’t, I swear… I was just going to say, I love you and I really hope I can make this feel good for you.”

“Aww, Eddie come here…” You pull him in by the back of his neck, kissing him in earnest and he reciprocates.

He pulls back, “Ok now let me just…” his little tongue pokes out between his teeth as he grips the base of his dick and runs the tip through your slippery folds a few times, fully focused on his motions.

He rests at your entrance, just pushing in ever so slightly before looking back to you, “You ready? It might… it might hurt a little, but I’ll go slow. Let me know if you need me to stop, ok?”

You hum in response, “Mhmmm… I’m ready... and I love you too Eddie.”

Slowly he eases himself into you, inch by inch, you grit your teeth against the slight burn. He drops a hand to circle your clit and the pleasure overtakes any pain. You whimper and moan, as he coos down at you thrusting shallowly, “Look at you taking me so well, such a good girl for me. That feel good?”

You nod biting your lip in an attempt to hold back your moans.

“Let me hear you sweetheart, please… wanna hear all the noises you make.”

You break at his words, whining, “God… fuck… Eddie, please more… faster or something, need more.”

He increases his pace one hand still circling your clit the other moving to grope your tits.

“Yes, fuck… just like that Eddie.” Your walls begin fluttering around him as he groans above you, sweat collecting on his brow, hair hanging in his face, panting loudly.

You writhe beneath him as you spasm on his cock, clamping down on him. His hips begin losing their rhythm and he growls, “Fuck… gonna cum… hngh… gonna cum for you.”

He stills, buried deep inside you and you feel him twitch and throb as he unloads into the condom.

He pulls out and rolls over, collapsing beside you gasping for breath. He removes the soiled condom tying it off and tossing it over the edge of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, breathing out, “Fuck that was good, did I mention I love you? How was it for you?”

You giggle, “Yes you’ve mentioned it multiple times now and it was good for me too, thank you Eddie.” You reach over and stroke his hair, he leans in to your touch.

“So, uh… what now?” He mumbles.

“Umm… I dunno we go out on a date I guess, the usual boyfriend/girlfriend stuff.” You shrug.

“We kinda did this a little backwards, you’re supposed to date before you have sex, right?”

“Well, I think in our case we can make an exception, don’t you?”

“Uh yeah, I’m not exactly complaining I just think it’s kinda funny.”

You giggle, “Yeah and all it took was us dating the completely wrong people for the wrong reasons.”

“It’s where we ended up that counts though. How about we clean up and you spend the night? I can give you some clothes to sleep in.”

“Sounds wonderful.” You grin back at him.

When Wayne gets home, he peeks his head into Eddie’s room to check on him, force of habit by now. He’s a little surprised to see you there, wrapped up with him under the covers all snuggled up. 

He decides to leave it til morning, talk to the pair of you properly then. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see this coming, but he wasn’t sure when Eddie had broken things off with his other girl… or if he even had. He shakes his head, all questions for tomorrow, he needed sleep now too.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #bestfriend!eddie x reader #eddie x virgin!reader #bestfriend!eddie x virgin!reader #fake dating #fake jason x reader #mentions of eddie x chrissy #anon request #request fill

[queenimmadolla]

Hey, me again! Sorry to bother you but I wondering if I can send a request about my favourite family (but of course remember to take the time you need to write this or completely ignore this request if you don't like it)? I was thinking about the reader coming back home from an afternoon with the other girls and once she comes back, she sees the most adorable scenario she has ever seen. Eddie and the other boys sitting on the tiniest chairs ever, wearing tiaras, make up, fake earrings, playing having tea with Penny and her stuffed animals. Idk, I thought it was cute😅

But Again, feel free to ignore this request if you don't want to write it. Thank you and I hope you have a nice day❤️

this was such a cute request for them and i enjoyed every single second of writing it. i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy!

𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

(girl dad!eddie munson x mom!reader/pregnant!reader)

warnings: imagery of men in terrible makeup and mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant) more penny, eddie and reader (and baby wayne) adventures here :)

If someone were to have told younger you, you’d be a mom before you were the age of 21, you probably would have punched them in the face, strictly because of the implication and the jinxing. While having a baby was something you entertained after seeing a particularly cute one out in the world or something, you weren’t overly fond of the idea of raising a tiny human with someone or even on your own. You considered yourself much too selfish for that. 

  …However, if someone were to have told you you’d have Eddie Munson’s–one of three local freaks and town urban legend in the making—babies, you probably would have given them the keys to your car and maybe the deed to your parents’ home.

  Your crush on the metal head had a lasting effect on you. When you’d actually begun dating him, falling head over ass in love, being with him was all that mattered to you and it didn’t feel pathetic because it was all he wanted, too. 

  Immediately after graduation came marriage and then Penny, your cute little Oopsie as Eddie referred to her when she was in your tummy. You preferred it over his original nickname for her, which was Creampie, seeing as how he was sure that was how she’d been conceived. You forced him to change it.

  Of course, since you had said baby with another on the way, you had to provide for them. Eddie had already been employed at an autoshop—his skill with the mechanics of a car was probably what led to Penny’s conception, you just couldn’t help yourself when faced with Grease Monkey Eddie—and Eden got you a job with her at her father’s firm as his partner’s receptionist.

  It worked out pretty well, Eden didn’t have a car so you’d pick her up before work since she’d rather jump off her roof than drive with her dad, who was also her boss, then afterwards you’d drive back to the trailer where Eddie and Argyle would be waiting for the two of you (if Argyle wasn’t off, she’d chill with your little family until he came to get her because she didn’t want to go home and you couldn’t blame her).

  Normally, your job wasn’t super stressful, you’d just been exhausted lately, though you didn’t exert yourself (Eddie would never allow it). 

  Today you had felt every agonizing second of the work day, it had been so slow. You’d done all the filing, made all the copies, called all the people, there just hadn’t been as much going on as usual and after you’d managed to make it to lunch time, the last half of your shift was spent staring across the room at Eden, both of you blinking owlishly at each other, staring contests, trying to get paper airplanes to reach the other, anything to stave off the boredom. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait til you could take maternity leave. 

  After work, you’d both practically sprinted to your car, the ride was spent bitching about the work day. The closer you got to your home, the more life you felt began to fill you; energy the work day had sucked away returning to you at the notion of seeing Eddie and Penny.

  If you had known exactly what you’d be walking into, you may have transcended into a higher level of joy.

  You and Eden were still chatting as you shut your car doors, still shedding the weight of the work day. She’d been talking about moving in with Argyle, something she was desperate to do but her parents were still hesitant about when you unlocked the front door, pushing it open for her.

  Eden had walked through the doorway and stopped, causing you to run into her back. 

  “What’s the hold up?” You asked, peering around her shorter frame. The sight made you gasp.

  “Hi, honey!” Eddie greeted you, grin so wide it almost looked like it hurt.

  Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan—always dragged around with Argyle—were crouched in tiny pink plastic chairs (much too small for them to actually allow their weight to rest in, lest they break them) around the small table in the living room, which was cluttered with various kitchen utensils and Penny’s pink tea set. 

  Not an unusual sight, since they always indulge your three year old. What was new was the bright colors adorning their faces.

  Eddie had on bright purple eyeshadow (complete with poorly replicated wings of eyeliner), cheeks powdered with an even brighter pink and lips coated in a deep shade of red lipstick, meticulously applied judging by the precision. Pink clip-on earrings dangled from his lobes and around his waist was one of Penny's pink tutus—stretched to its limit.

  Argyle’s long dark locks were in two high, messy ponytails. His eyes were decorated with a blue eyeshadow (ruined with various marks and stains of mascara), cheeks powdered bright red and lips a coral orange. His tutu was purple and his earrings were red.

  But Jonathan…oh, Jonathan. His eyeshadow was pink, cheeks pink, and lipstick a bright red. Penny was always more gentle with Jonathan, for some reason. His makeup didn’t look as messily applied as the majority of Argyle’s and Eddie’s. Unlike with them, Penny had attempted to draw on eyelashes for him, and he had smatterings of glitter sporadically around his face. Not only did he have one of her pink tutus and green earrings, he also got the privilege of wearing her favorite pair of fairy wings.

  He refused to make eye contact with you, staring into the tiny, plastic tea cup clenched in his hand.

  “Hi, babe. What happened here?” You asked, hand moving to hide your smile, though you were pretty sure it was obvious. Penny—dressed in her pink princess dress and a purple feather boa, pretty little face also covered in makeup with a plastic crown carefully placed on her head to make sure her curls didn’t get tangled in the combs of it (Eddie had to have put it on her)—returned from the hallway closet where her toy box was located, arms full of her stuffed animals, all of which she dropped the moment she saw you.

  “Mommy!” She squealed and you squatted down to allow her to run into your arms as Eden stepped out of the way and disappeared into your room. “LOOK, MOMMY! I made daddy and unca Ahgle and unca Johnny puddy!”

  “Uh huh,” was all you could say without laughing. 

  “We awe having a tea pa’ty.” Penny informed you after she’d unwound her arms from around you, giving your baby bump a gentle pat before she ran back over to scoop up her stuffies. They were placed in the other empty plastic chairs surrounding the table and actually looked like they fit in the tiny seats, unlike the grown men.

  “Do you think I’m pretty, mama?” Eddie asked, batting his eyelashes at you with his red lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. Eddie was no stranger to makeup, you’d done his eyeliner for gigs plenty of times and he could now do it on his own, but that only involved lining his waterline and tightlining, not wings. 

  He and Jonathan had silently stared at themselves in the bedroom mirror, self reflecting on how they got themselves in this position, for longer than either of them would care to admit. But Eddie would do anything for Penny and he knew you would get a crack out of seeing him like this.

  Argyle was too high (it was a perpetual thing at this point, he’d been stuck in a high since back in high school) to care, although he’d wanted his ponytails braided and Penny wouldn’t allow it.

  “I think you’re something,” You offered through your giggles and Eddie chuckled along with you, stopping only when a flash of bright light momentarily lit up the room and blinded him. 

  Eden lowered the Polaroid camera she’d retrieved from your room, plucking the picture that whirled out. 

  She shook it briefly and examined the developing photo with a careful eye before she smirked. 

  “Oh, this is a good one. I gotta make a copy of this for Nance.” 

  Jonathan stood up then, kind of. His butt was still stuck in the tiny chair so it went with him. “Eden, give me the photo.”

  Eden took that as her cue to take another one, cackling as she grabbed the film. 

  Jonathan began to advance. 

  “Eden—I mean it, give me the pictures—EDEN!” He shouted as she bolted out of the front door. He ran (as best as he could with a tiny chair attached to his ass) after her with Argyle following him to play instigator. 

  “Run, baby, run!” Then when he realized he’d be in both pictures as well, “GET HER, JONATHAN!”

  Eddie was howling with laughter, causing Penny to join in even though she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Once he calmed down, he stood up from his chair, pulling the thing off of his hips, he moved it to the side and sat on the carpet, patting the spot between his legs to beckon you over. 

  You set your bag on the counter and went over to join them, settling between his legs as you leaned back into his chest with his encouragement for cuddles. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, no doubt leaving a kiss stain as Penny set a little tea cup on a plastic plate down in front of you.

  “He’we you go, mama.” 

  “Oh, thank you, Penny!” You lifted the teacup by its tiny handle and pretended to take a sip. “That’s very good!”

  “Yes,” she stated, pleased and already distracted with arranging her stuffed animals in their seats.

  “Long day?” Eddie asked, mumbling against the side of your head as he continued to press kisses wherever his lips could reach. He’d clocked the lingering bits of tension and stress on you the moment you’d walked into the trailer, he also swore he had a sixth sense tied to you somehow, because he could always tell when something was wrong. He’d get bouts of anxiety at work and come home to find out you’d had a terrible day, so he’d taken to just calling you when the feeling popped up. 

  He hadn’t been wrong yet.

  “Yeah,” You sighed, turning onto your side as you burrowed further into Eddie and the soft shirt he wore. “It’s better now, though.”

  He hummed as you lifted your head, lips puckered.  With a grin, he closed the small distance, giving you your ‘welcome home’ kiss.

  “Awww!”

  You broke away, the two of you smiling as your attention was drawn to your daughter, who looked shy and had a small smile of her own as she wrung her little hands together.

  “You kissed.” 

  Eddie chuckled, chest shaking against you. 

  “We’ve kissed before, baby.” He pointed out. She’d witnessed you exchange thousands of (appropriate) kisses in front of her but lately she’d been cooing every time Eddie showed you affection. You thought she may like seeing you two love each other like the couples in the cartoons she watched.

  “Yes.” She giggled into her little palms, shoulders rising as she became even more bashful.

  You shook your head in amusement, raising a hand to rest your chin in, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your lower lip. You were surprised to see a shade of red over the skin of your thumb, considering you’d worn a nude shade of lipstick.

  Oh. Eddie’s lipstick. Right.

  Then you got to thinking about it, the gears in your head turning as your eyebrows furrowed. 

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes?” 

  “Where’d you get this makeup?”

  Eddie and Penny exchanged nervous glances and there was a long pause in between your question and his answer, deciding to try to get out of this like his daughter often tried to.

  “Yes.”

  “Eddie, is this my makeup?!”

  “Baby, I have to go pee, can you move real quick?”

  “You’re not getting away, answer the question!”

  Yes. It was your makeup.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #dilf!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #girl dad!eddie munson x reader #girl dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #pennyverse #pennyverse asks #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #eden bingham #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things fanction #stranger things fanfic #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader