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Follow Me Now {Eddie Munson/Reader}

DESCRIPTION: You’re the resident good girl of Hawkins High. Eddie Munson is everything you’re not supposed to want. When you start making questionable decisions where he’s concerned, you have to wonder if maybe some bad decisions are worth it.

Or: Eddie Munson slowly brings you to the dark side.

TAGS: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers (Adjacent), First Time, Good Girl/Bad Guy, Hints of Corruption Kink, Unprotected Sex,

WORD COUNT: Approx. 16k

A/N: Eddie Munson has had me in a damn chokehold for the last week. This started as an idea for a quick corruption kink smut. But I apparently can’t do anything without a slow burn. Whoopies. Also it's my first Eddie fic and the first thing I've written in years. But I am damn proud of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallway is quickly emptying by the time you approach the AV closet, everyone already funneling into the gym for the rally. You need to hurry if you’re going to get back there in time. You move quickly, sliding between the bodies, set on completing your task and not causing a delay for the entire school.

You rip open the door so fast that when you step into the closet, it hits the wall of the hallway and bounces back, shutting you into darkness almost instantly. You fumble for the light switch in a huff and flip it up.

A short shriek rises up from your throat when you see a dark figure sitting on top of the table barely more than five feet in front of you. Your hands reach up to your chest as if they’re going to stop the spike of adrenaline from rushing through you.

“What the hell, Munson?” you shout out, recognizing the figure almost immediately and taking personal offense to him being perched so casually on the storage table like he belongs there. Alone. In the dark.

“Whoa,” he chuckles, eyes moving up to you, shifting from a bored stare where he’d been twisting his rings around his fingers to something more... amused. “Easy there, sweetheart.” His smirk irritates you.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him sharply before narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you even doing in here?” Lurking in the AV closet is weird, even for Eddie. He shrugs at you, hands stopping their fidgeting and resting down on the table, supporting his weight as he leans forward a little.

“I don’t really do the school spirit bullshit,” he says. You roll your eyes and begin to look around the cramped shelves, finally remembering why you came in here to begin with. “This is my spot.”

“So, what? You just come in here during every pep rally?”

“No.” He pauses for a beat and the momentary silence has you shifting your weight uncomfortably. “Only for the ones I can’t get off school grounds for.” His smirk widens, noticing your anxiousness. His eyes glide down your body and then back up. “Didn’t expect you to skip it though.” He almost sounds impressed and it makes you roll your shoulders back, his implied praise making you antsy.

“I’m not skipping,” you clarify quickly. “I was asked to get a new microphone. The one they have isn’t working.” With that, you start sifting through the shelves. You have no idea where it would be, having never been in here before and the organization seemingly having no logic behind it at all. There are so many wires and machines.

“Ahh, yes,” he draws out, that air of praise dissipating. “Can’t let the rally fall silent. Had to send little miss perfect to save it. Silly me for thinking you’d be doing something so nefarious.” You give another eye roll.

“Shove it, Munson.” You hate that it makes him chuckle. The noise outside the closet is trickling down, the majority of the student body already where you need to be. The sound is like your own clock ticking down. Flustered, you give the audio equipment on the shelf a shove. “Where are the damn microphones?” you snap, not aiming the question at Eddie, but looking at him nonetheless and finding him holding a microphone in his hands, casually twirling the cord in his fingers and raising an eyebrow at you. You resist yet another eye roll, marching up to him and reaching to take it from him.

“Nu-uh,” he scolds, moving the mic behind him out of your reach. “I thought the good girls were supposed to have manners,” he teases. Your shoulders sink down and you huff out an annoyed breath. You’ve never been on this side of an interaction with him, one where you didn’t have the high ground or an army of friends surrounding you. But now he’s got something you need and he’s enjoying it entirely too much.

“Can I have the microphone, please?” Better to just play along and get out of here as fast as you can. You’re practically bumping into his knees and are fighting the urge to flee from him. He grins, the tip of his tongue peeking out to touch his lower lip. You tilt your chin higher, deliberately averting your eyes from his mouth.

Without saying a word, he hands you the mic. The moment he drops it into your hands, you’re turning on your heels before you can register the little shiver that washes over you. Your sneakers squeak against the linoleum, rushing to the door.

You turn the handle and push forward, but the door doesn’t open, your shoulder bumping into the door, your momentum not expecting resistance. You look down at the handle and try again, but nothing happens. It barely moves and the door stays closed.

“What the hell?” you mutter to yourself before spinning around and facing Eddie. “What the hell is this?” His brow furrows at you just a little.

“Well, that’s a door.” He points to it and your jaw clenches at his sarcasm. “Usually, you would open it.” His grin returns. “Unless you’re looking to hang out with the school freak.”

“Not a chance,” you quip and point back to the door. “It won’t open.” There’s an exasperation in your voice that you try to calm down. You’re going to be late. There’s no question now. There are no more bustling sounds from the hall. No voices talking over each other, no shuffling feet, not even a stray locker closing.

Eddie looks at you skeptically, as if maybe your golden girl status and straight A streak is misplaced and you just don’t know how a door works. You move to the side, barely able to shift before running into one of the shelving units, and motion to the door to encourage him to find out for himself.

He moves, just not fast enough for your liking. He pushes himself up and off the table, lazily stretching for a moment and adjusting his denim jacket before finally approaching the door. He keeps his eyes on you the short distance he travels and even as he crowds your space, putting his hand on the handle. You expect the cocky look in his eye to disappear when the handle won’t turn for him, but instead he just glances down at it, tries again, and then shrugs.

“Looks like you’re skipping the rally after all.”

“Ugh!” you groan in exasperation. You plant your forearm into his chest and push him back, going for the door again. His eyes widen just slightly, surprised you’d touch him, but not offended. Putting more force into your attempt, you shove your shoulder into the door, but it still doesn’t budge.

Noticing your intense frustration and rising anxiety about the entire situation, Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder on the door, not to help you, no. Just to rest there.

“Relax, princess. One missed pep rally won’t kill you.”

“There’s not going to be a pep rally if they don’t have a working mic,” you remind him, holding up the microphone in your hand. “I was asked to do one thing and they’re going to think I just ditched.”

“You’ve really never skipped anything before, have you?” You don’t humor him by answering, instead glaring at the door and trying to take deep breaths, which is slowly getting harder when he leans forward just slightly, making you feel suddenly crowded in this small space. “Have you ever broken a rule?”

“No!” Your face scrunches up. “I like rules.” Everyone knows that. You’re not the kind to get into trouble. You’ve never seen the point of it.

“That’s just tragic,” he chuckles. He leans in just a bit more and lowers his voice. “Rules are way more fun when you ignore them.” The sound of his voice, low and intimate, does something to your body, sends a flush through it. You suddenly bang the palm of your free hand into the door in one last attempt to free yourself. Or maybe to shake the heat from your body. Thankfully, Eddie leans back giving you a tiny bit of breathing room. He could step back farther. There’s at least a foot of space behind him, but either he doesn’t notice or just doesn’t care. “It’s not going to budge. Just have to wait until someone rescues us.” A sharp dose of fear shoots into your gut.

“Oh, god,” you groan, realization dawning on you. “Someone’s going to see me in here with you.” That would surely get around. What would people think? What would they say? You face him, really looking at him for the first time.

“Relax, Princess,” he drawls. “What’s the worst that happens? They think you’ve been fraternizing with the local menace?” He gives a casual shrug, but there’s a smirk on his lips that makes you think he likes the idea of that rumor. You may not be prim and proper, but you’re polished, practically his opposite. The school would have a field day with this.

He’s in ripped jeans and a denim jacket over a Hellfire t-shirt. His curls are frizzy, untamed. He’s got an air of carelessness about him that somehow translates into a little bit of intimidation. The thing you notice that surprises you, standing this close to him, is the way he smells. You’d always imagined he’d smell like sweat and smoke. Grungy. Instead, he smells subtly of… soap. As if his clothes are freshly washed or he’d recently washed his hands. And when you take a deep breath to steady yourself, you can catch a harsher scent. Leather. Earth. Something wild and strangely comforting.

You realize you’re staring and shift your weight, looking away. His lips tilt up, noticing your sudden discomfort.

“You always this jittery, or am I just special?” he teases. You scoff and go to take a step back from him, but your heel bumps into the shelves, preventing you from moving.

“You’re not special.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, brow lifting and lips turning down in an exaggeration of a contemplating expression. “Your friends like to pay a lot of attention to me. Kinda makes me feel special.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Never!” He uncrosses his arms, leans off the door, and puts his hands in his jean pockets. “I’m just the school freak.” He says it with a wild smile as if it’s a moniker filled with honor.

You decide not to interact with him anymore, but the silence grows bigger and bigger and you feel tension in your body. How long would it be until someone came and saved you? The closet is not big enough for you two to just… be here forever. You consider sliding to the side, going to the supply table Eddie was originally perched on. When you look at him again, strictly to size up how much room you have to get by, you notice he’s watching you intently, head tilted curiously to the side.

“What?” you snap, uneasy under his gaze.

“Just wondering what it would be like,” he says softly.

“What what would be like?”

“If you took a walk on the wild side.” Your breath hitches in your chest as he takes just a half step closer. “Listened to metal.” He leans a breath closer. “Joined Hellfire.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Ditched a pep rally with the school freak.” He widens his eyes and grins at you before giving another casual shrug. This one is smaller than his others, less theatrical. “If you feel like trying out the dark side, I’d be willing to help you out,” he offers, seemingly unaware that you’ve stopped breathing. “Purely out of the goodness of my heart,” he adds, lightening the tension just enough so you can take in a breath. You catch yourself before a smile tilts onto your lips. “Who knows, you might like it.”

“No.” You scoff to cover a small laugh, before clearing your throat and straightening your back. “I’m good with not obliterating my social standing, thank you very much.” You say it a little sharply, meaning to aim it as an insult, but it doesn’t faze him.

“That’s a shame.” He pauses for just a beat and his hands come out of his pockets. You have the sudden, unexpected wonder of what would happen if he reached out to touch you. “I think you’d be good at being bad.”

Before you can process the heated tone of his voice or the way it makes you squirm, there’s a jostle of the door handle next to you, snapping you back to your current reality. You turn to the door and bang on it.

“I’m in here!” you shout. “The door is stuck!”

“Hang on!” You hear Jason’s voice on the other side of the door and moments later, he yanks the door open, light pouring into the closet nearly blinding you. “What the fuck?” he asks, angry and accusatory. That fear of being caught with Eddie curdles back up. “This whole thing is turning into a disaster. Did you at least find the mic before you locked yourself in the fucking closet?” It’s then you realize he’s more upset about the pep rally than the sight of you and Eddie. You turn to look at Eddie and realize that he’s finally taken that step backwards, pressing his back to the shelving units and steeping himself in shadows of the closet. Jason doesn’t even realize he’s in here. “Jesus Christ,” Jason huffs and snatches the microphone from your hand before sprinting back toward the gym.

You’re left dumbfounded, staring at an empty hallway. Eddie hid. No one saw you. Your reputation remains intact even if you looked a little foolish for getting trapped. Eddie slinks back into the light of the doorway.

“I should go,” you say slowly, regaining a working part of your brain. Eddie nods and motions you out.

“Go on, Princess. Your friends await.” You feel like you should thank him, but decide against it. You don’t want to bump up his ego or encourage whatever just happened here. As you walk out, he grabs the door, pulling it closed again clearly still intending to hide out. Before he shuts it completely, he calls out, “Hey! Uhhh…” You look back at him, hanging awkwardly on the doorframe, door almost fully shut. “Try not to mention the hiding spot,” he says. “This is a very exclusive establishment and I don’t usually allow visitors. I’ve worked very hard on the ambiance.” He gives you a playful wink, creeping the door closer to his face. You press your lips together and turn away before he can see your lips tilt up in a smile.

~~~

Ever since the AV closet incident, you’ve been noticing Eddie. You’d noticed him before (he was hard to miss), but now you find your eyes lingering and even worse, he seems to be noticing you right back.

You lose interest in the conversation at the lunch table, fork idly pushing food around your tray as your gaze wanders. You’re sure you don’t mean to look at him, but you do it anyways. He’s carrying on a conversation with his own friends, not a care in the world. He looks so free and for a moment you feel jealousy at how at ease he seems.

It happens more often than you should admit. You never stare too long, but he always manages to look back at you as if he knows exactly what you’re doing. The second his eyes catch yours, your head is turned back to your food tray and a blush crawls up your neck. You don’t want to look at him, but it gives you a rush that’s becoming addictive.

It’s like you can’t escape him. You’ve always existed in the same space, but your interactions have been fairly nonexistent until now. Now he’s doing things like sliding into the seat next to you in class and you’re painfully aware of every move he makes.

One day, the teacher calls on him and asks him to answer a question he didn’t raise his hand for. He rests his head on his chin and happily says, “Yeah, no. I’ll just fail quietly if you don’t mind.” There are eye rolls and soft groans from the class and the teacher sighs heavily, but you? There’s a soft laugh, barely a huff of air released under your breath, but a laugh nonetheless. It’s unplanned and unexpected and when you take a glance over at him, it’s clear he noticed. He looks pleased at your reaction, a soft dangerous smile teasing his lips. You don’t look away or act like it didn’t happen. That feels like it would be worse somehow. He holds your stare a moment longer than he should before looking back down at his desk, leaving you with a pounding heart and flushed skin.

You tell yourself that you’re done with it. You’re not going to keep playing this game. But as if he can read your mind, the moment you make that decision, he leans into it harder.

You’re in the library, studying for an upcoming exam when you see him wander out from one of the aisles with a large book tucked under his arm. The library is quiet and nearly empty, but he sets up just one table away from you. He leans back in the chair, props his feet up on the table, and shoves the giant book in front of his face.

The whole scene is odd. Eddie is in the library for starters. You’ve never seen him here before and he’s just so cavalier about it, like he belongs here. With his face literally inside the book, you think it’s safe to look at him. The book, a tome really, has a dragon on the front so you assume it must be one of his Dungeons and Dragons books. Which you know this library doesn’t carry. So, it still begs the question, why is he here?

While you’re pondering, the book slowly lowers a few inches and his eyes meet yours, sharp and amused. You don’t look away, caught up in the way he smirks at you. He raises one eyebrow at you, challenging you to back down, but you don’t.

You keep looking at him as he puts the book down and stands up, approaching your table. He taps his fingers on the wood.

“We’re playing tonight,” he tells you. “If you wanted to hear music that doesn’t suck,” he adds. You don’t respond, too taken aback by the invitation. Your silence doesn’t dissuade him. “The Hideout. 7 o’clock.” Then he’s gone, leaving just as fast as he had appeared.

You brush it off, forgetting the invite as quickly as he mentioned it. You couldn’t go even if you wanted to. You have plans tonight with Jason. You two aren’t officially dating, but you’ve gone out a few times, orbited around each other at a few parties, and tonight you were going to the movies, just the two of you.

Or at least… you think you are. You’d talked about it. Tuesday night. Meet up after school, go grab some food before catching a movie. But school let out 40 minutes ago and you’re still waiting out front for him.

You check your watch again. You had the day right, you know you did. So where was he? A strange mix of emotions have slowly been filling you; fear, anxiety, and oddly, boredom. The books in your arms are starting to feel heavy and you’re about to cut your losses and leave when you finally hear his laughter.

He comes around the corner, surrounded with a group of basketball players. You feel a brief, fleeting rush of relief and straighten up. As you begin walking toward him, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t notice you. He’s fully engrossed with his friends.

“You going to Brad’s place tonight?” one of them asks.

“I gotta pick up some shit for my mom, but yeah. I’ll be over after.”

Oh.

You stop walking toward them and just watch as they glide by, a ball of incoherent conversations and arrogant laughter. There’s a hollow emptiness in your chest, similar to how it feels when you find yourself suddenly in a corner alone at a big party. It’s not unfamiliar, but it’s still not pleasant.

You stand there for a moment, not quite at the sidewalk and unsure of where to go now. Home, you guess. It would give you some time to finish reading your book at least. You wish that filled you with a little more joy than it did. You take a deep breath and head toward the parking lot.

As you get closer, there’s the sound of an engine starting and then the sharp screech of a guitar. It disrupts the quiet and your thoughts and you look at it a little angrily. One of the metalheads from school has his speakers turned up practically all the way and he doesn’t even look before he speeds out of the parking lot. As he tears away, the beat comes in as the music grows quieter. Honestly, it’s not the worst music you’ve heard. It’s just… different.

Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind.

The Hideout. 7 o’clock

Maybe different is exactly what you need.

~~~

It’s 7:30 and you’re standing outside of The Hideout, holding your jacket tight to your body. The music bleeds through the walls, permeating into the street in a muffled vibration. It’s rough and intense and you feel keenly aware that Eddie is in there somewhere creating it.

Someone exits the building and when the door opens, the music becomes sharper. A sour smell of sweat and beer wafts out at you. A voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you can still leave. Just turn around and go home. But all you feel when you think about going home is emptiness. You had planned to do something tonight. You don’t want tonight to be another disappointment.

You’re walking inside before you can talk yourself out of it. It’s dark and dingy. It’s not crowded. Actually, it looks fairly empty with most of the patrons being older drunks and a couple of metalheads sprinkled throughout. Even though there aren’t many people, it’s loud. Chatter and music bounce off all four walls. A waitress in very short shorts and permed hair passes by carrying mugs of beer in her hands. She yells out “Seat yourself!” over the music as she goes.

You walk quickly over to a corner high top table, feeling extremely out of place. Everyone and everything just looks grungy and you never thought that having a clean presence would make you feel like you stand out. Even the tabletop feels different. Though you can tell it’s been wiped down, it has a decade’s worth of stains and peanut dust on it. Oddly enough, it makes you cringe less than the sticky diner tables do.

A sharp, distinct guitar riff sounds out and you finally look at the stage. Eddie’s in the middle of a solo, strumming his guitar quickly, efficiently. He makes it look effortless, so much so that you almost wonder why it’s considered such a talent. But then you focus on his fingers. Still adorned with rings, they move quickly, but smoothly. Guitar neck cradled in one hand, pick in the other. The movements are sharp, precise. The man knows how to use his hands.

When it ends, he gives the guitar one last strum before he looks up at the crowd. You always thought he looked careless and free at school, but this version of Eddie is different. He’s in his element. He’s not under the attack of the scrutinizing eyes of your classmates. He owns this room. And he knows it. This version of Eddie is raw and real and… kind of captivating.

As he scans the crowd, wide, wild grin on his face, his eyes fall on you. He does the smallest double take, eyes almost glazing right over you before coming back and realizing you were there. His grin softens in the smallest way, completely caught off guard that you showed up. You would wonder if that meant you weren’t really supposed to have taken his invite seriously, but his grin widens again and his eyes light up, washing away that fear.

The song ends to scattered clapping and one or two cheers. Eddie takes a theatrical bow, his hair curtaining his face before he flips himself upright. When he comes back up, he’s looking right at you again. He keeps watching you, soft smile and heated eyes, as he lifts the guitar strap off his body. He only breaks the eye contact when he turns to tell his bandmate something. His bandmate nods and Eddie moves to the back of the stage. The band announces that they’ll be taking a short break and be back soon.

They exit the stage as the bar’s regular music starts coming through some speakers on the walls. You let out a nervous breath, suddenly feeling alone. You were alone before obviously, but now you didn’t even have the show to watch.

The same waitress from before comes up to your table. She’s a flurry of movement and startles you when she asks, “What can I get you, hon?”

“Oh! Umm…” you stumble through your words. “Can I just get a pop?” Normally, people order beers in bars. Was it okay not to?

“Hey, Princess!” You hear it called out from across the room. Never in your life did you think you’d be perking up and answering to that name, but it’s unmistakably meant for you and unmistakably coming from Eddie. You and the waitress both look his way and watch as he gives you a nod with his head, urging you to follow him.

“Didn’t know you were with the band,” she comments.

“Oh, no!” you try to correct. “I’m not… Not with them. I just…He’s just…” You can’t find any words to explain what you’re doing here. “Uh, excuse me.” You settle for just trying to be polite as you slide off the stool and head toward Eddie.

“You know,” he starts as you get closer. “Most people don’t actually take me up on my invites.”

“Well, it turns out I had nothing better to do tonight,” you tell him flippantly. He turns and opens the door to the back room.

“Welcome to my lair.” He smirks and hinges at the waist, waving you inside. You oblige and step forward and when you do, his hand barely settles on your lower back, softly urging you on. It’s barely a brush of a touch, completely gentlemanly and yet your breath hitches in a way it’s never done before.

It’s a small backroom, but enough space for all four of them to keep their things along with a few chairs and a small table in the middle of the room filled with beer bottles and ashtrays. The faint smell of smoke lingers in the air.

“These are the guys,” he tells you, waving his hand toward them briefly. The door closes behind you and you feel like you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. You don’t move, shift your weight, unsure of where you belong in this room. “I’m not scaring you off just yet, am I?” Eddie asks lowly, dipping his head barely to you. His hand presses a little more firmly in the small of your back. You give a little shake of your head, his little reassurance making you plant your feet more firmly on the ground. “Good.” He swipes your back with his thumb just once before stepping away and going for his guitar that’s been propped up in the nearest chair.

“What’s ‘little miss perfect’ doing here?” one of the band members asks dramatically, twirling a drumstick in his hand. Little miss perfect. Eddie had called you that before. Your shoulders tense up. Is that what they referred to you as? These boys do not like you, do they? Before you can question it further, Eddie cuts in.

“You missed your cue twice out there, Gareth,” he says, not looking up from his guitar which he’s now adjusting the strap on. “Maybe she can give you some notes on perfection.” The other two laugh at his comment and rag on Gareth a bit. As they give him a hard time, Eddie looks up at you, barely peeking at you through the curtain of his hair. You press your lips together to bite back a blushing smile. The look in his eye says he still sees it.

You look away, down at your shoes for just a moment then nervously brush your hair behind your ear. He lets the moment go, swinging his guitar onto his back before turning to his band.

He points to each of them and introduces them by name. You make a mental note to connect each of them to their instrument. Gareth – drums. Jeff – guitar. Brian – bass. You vaguely recognize them from school, but couldn’t list a single thing you know about any of them. They’re much warmer to you this time around and you give the group a polite wave.

“I’ll meet you guys back on stage,” Eddie tells them, coming back to you. “Let’s get you a better seat.”

He walks with you out of the room and out to the bar. He leads you to a table just in front of the stage, but away from the speakers. There’s a small, folded piece of paper on the table with the word “reserved” on it. Eddie slaps it away with the back of his hand and motions for you to sit, leaving you unsure if he had it reserved or if he just decided to ignore the fact that the table is taken. Either option fills you with something warm and exciting.

“Hey Karen!” he calls out after you sit down. You turn to look and see he’s yelling at the waitress. “Get her whatever she wants!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just getting a pop,” you tell him hurriedly. He looks down at you on the stool, his tongue poking the side of his cheek.

“Still such a good girl.” He doesn’t sound annoyed or as if it’s derogatory. If anything, you think he takes it as a challenge, one he can’t wait to beat. “We can still get you something more exciting.” Karen hustles over to the table and looks at you expectantly. Eddie speaks up before you can. “Get her a Shirley Temple.” You raise an eyebrow at him, unfamiliar with the drink. Karen’s gone faster than you can ask about it. “It’s ginger ale and grenadine,” Eddie clarifies for you. “No alcohol for you.” His hand raises as if he’s going to touch you in some way, but he settles it on the back of your chair instead. “If you don’t like it, order a soda. It’s all on me.”

“Thank you,” is all you can think to say. You’re more out of your element than you ever remember being. You, with the straight A’s and the ironed skirts hung up in your closet, are in the town dive bar with Eddie Munson being nice to you. Your heart flutters a little in your chest.

“See you after the set?” You hesitate for just a moment. You hadn’t made a plan for how long you were going to stay, but there’s a glimmer of want, of hope in his eyes that makes you want to sit right where you are until he’s sung every last song. You smile lightly at him and nod. His grin returns and he pats the back of your chair again. “Great. See you in a bit.”

Much to your surprise, you learn two things tonight. The first is that you really like Shirley Temples. You have to stop yourself from downing the first one in seconds. The second thing is that you maybe could sort of like metal music. Or maybe you just like Eddie singing it.

The music is nothing like Fleetwood Mac or Blondie, but now that you’re really listening to it, it’s not just heavy noise like you always thought. Their songs have an addictive beat and the guitar carries the songs through the air. And Eddie? Eddie is a performer. His voice is rugged and intimidating, but it’s still warm and you feel it through your entire body.

He plays to the audience, even if it’s a small crowd. He keeps his eyes out on the bar and after that short break, he’s come back with so much more vigor. He moves around the stage more, repeatedly coming to the edge where you are, watching you, playing his solos with you in perfect view. You find yourself keeping his eyes for once. He’s intoxicating like this.

He’s at the mic singing when you’re sipping through the straw of your second drink. His eyes catch yours, but then his eyes slip down to your lips for just a moment. He smirks through the lyrics and looks away. You release the straw and wonder for a moment if you saw what you thought you did.

There’s a thrill coursing through you, a dangerous flirtation you’re drawn to. So you keep the drink in your hands and wait for him to take another look your way. You wrap your lips around the straw slower this time and suck gently, watching his reaction intently. His smirk slips ever so slightly and you think you hear the smallest waver in his vocals as he watches you. You can’t hold back your smile this time. You shouldn’t like teasing him this much, but holy shit you kind of love it.

The song ends and he turns to his band for a quick discussion. The smile doesn’t leave your face as you put the drink down and lean back in your seat. You’re sitting alone at a table in a bar and yet you’re having more fun than you would have at a party surrounded by your friends. You don’t want to analyze why that is right now. Right now, you want to keep enjoying the night.

“Alright all,” Eddie announces into the mic. “This cover isn’t normally in our set, but I think it’s fitting for the night.” There’s no pause in between his announcement and Brian strumming on his bass. Eddie steps back to let Brian have his moment, but when it’s over, Eddie steps back front and center strumming his guitar and coming back to the mic.

You don’t listen to the lyrics themselves at first, paying more attention to the way Eddie hasn’t stopped looking at you since he started singing. You’re about to pick up your drink again, ready to give him something to look at when he puts some extra emphasis into the lyrics, making sure you hear them.

Follow me now and you will not regret / Leaving the life you led before we met

He holds your eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting. Then he winks.

Your stomach flips inside of you as he continues singing, finally releasing the hold on your eyes and turning his attention back to the rest of the bar. Your face flushes and you take a quick gulp from your cup, bypassing the straw entirely, just wanting something to cool you down quickly.

He continues the song, but only with the occasional glance your way now. It gives you enough time to breathe and recompose yourself. You roll your shoulders and check the bar as if someone might have seen whatever just happened between you two. Of course, no one is paying you any attention at all.

The song tapers out and there’s a light amount of applause from the crowd. You join in, slowly clapping your hands as you watch Eddie take a bow.

“We’ve got time for one more before we wrap up for the night,” he tells the crowd.

Karen comes by, but you tell her you don’t need another drink. The band is finishing up so you expect you’ll be on your way soon enough. She shrugs and moves on quickly, not particularly caring one way or another.

When the metal fades out and the usual country twang comes back through the speakers, Eddie’s eyes find you again. He comes to the edge of the stage and crouches down to talk to you without yelling.

“Stay there,” he tells you. “Let me put this baby away,” he pats his guitar. “And I’ll be right back.” You nod to him, silently committing to waiting for him. He disappears behind the stage with a quick quirk of his lips. You check the clock on the wall. 9pm. Okay. Not the latest you’ve stayed out, but you’re going to be pushing it if you stay much longer, especially on a school night.

You don’t have to wait long before Eddie’s back in front of you, a water in one hand and a Shirley Temple in his other. He sets the sweet, red drink in front of you and sweeps himself into the chair next to you.

“So?” He lets the question linger between you. “What’d you think? Your first metal show,” he prompts after you stay quiet.

“It… wasn’t what I expected,” you answer. It’s the truth, but you realize it sounds too ambiguous, too polite. “I actually really enjoyed it.” He claps loudly, smiles wide, and pumps a fist in the air, making you laugh.

“I knew it!” he says. “I knew you were having a good time.” You nod and take the drink from where he set it.

“Yeah I did,” you admit. “Some of the songs were really good. Others I’m not sure I understand, but the energy was fun.” He props his chin on his fist, elbow on the table, head tilting just slightly at you.

“Black Sabbath,” he says.

“What?” You squint at him, not sure you heard him right.

“The song you liked,” he explains. “Towards the end. The cover we did.” Oh. That one. “It’s by Black Sabbath.” You feel your blush returning, remembering the way he looked at you, winked at you, like that song was sung just for you. “You should try listening to some of their stuff.”

“I bet they’re no Stevie Nicks, but I could maybe give them a shot.”

“Stevie Nicks?” He lets out an exasperated puff of air and stretches back in his seat like you’ve offended him. “I’ve got a lot to teach you, Princess.”

Conversation flows easily between you two, easier than you ever thought it could. You don’t have a lot of common interests, but if anything, it makes the conversation more interesting. You finish your drink and without asking, another is put in front of you, one for him as well this time. The chatter of the bar grows quieter and the lights come down just a bit, making it seem just a little softer than before.

Eddie’s drumming his fingers on the table during a comfortable lull in your conversation. He alternates between using his fingertips for a hollower sound and tapping the band of his rings down for a sharper one. You watch them, amazed at how swiftly they move, how he keeps beat so easily. Your mind drifts, imagining what that beat would feel like if he was drumming on your palm instead of the table. What would his fingers feel like on your skin? What would it feel like if he touched you?

“Careful, Princess,” he interrupts your thoughts with a low voice. He shifts his legs underneath the table and his knee brushes yours. “Keep looking at me like that and you’ll start giving me ideas.” Earlier in the night you would have instantly blushed. After having had some back and forth with him, you’re able to resist it.

“You’re the kind of guy who always has ideas.” You scoff, but don’t move your knee away from his.

“Yeah,” he admits. He leans in, his leg pressing firmly against yours and whispers, “But now my ideas are going to have your face.”

You struggle to swallow, the blush returning fiercely as your mind floods with images of him. What he might look like later tonight. Alone in his bed with his ideas. Thinking of you. That’s what he’s implying, isn’t he? You clear your throat, knowing you should move away from him. You manage to look down at the table, but you don’t shift away from him, don’t remove the pressure of his leg against yours. He chuckles softly.

“When’s your curfew, Princess?” You glance at the clock on the wall.

“Shit,” you hiss, a burst of fear hitting you. It’s 11 o’clock. “My parents are going to kill me.”

“Sounds like you should get going then.”

“Yeah.” You don’t sound convinced. It comes out in a heavy breath, drawn out just a little as if you can make yourself stay longer. You don’t want to leave. The Hideout feels like its own little bubble, one you’ve had more fun in than you have in the real world in a long time. When the sun rises tomorrow and you have to face school, this all goes away.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, his chair scraping against the floor as he stands. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

The air outside of the bar hits you harshly. Fresh, clean, cold. And yet it feels more suffocating than the stale beer smell from inside. You walk slowly and Eddie keeps your pace, not rushing you out. He lingers just like you, walking close enough that your shoulders brush as you walk.

“So, what’s your final verdict?” he asks.

“On what?”

“Your first foray into the underdark of Hawkins youth.” You laugh softly. “I’m pretty impressed with myself, honestly. I got the teacher’s pet to stay out after dark at a metal show with the school freak. All questionably bad decisions. And I dare say you liked it.” He’s looking at you intently, waiting for an answer, but you decide not to give him one. You’ve made it to your car and you fiddle with your keys as you approach the driver’s door. “That’s alright. I kinda like it.” He shrugs and moves to the side, leaning against your car near the back door.

“Like what, exactly?” You get the correct key in hand, but when you turn your head to look at him, your hands freeze. He’s so casual, like your car is right where he belongs and he looks… good. His eyes move to your mouth.

“Being the first bad decision you don’t regret.” He says it softly like a secret, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes and his lips tilt up in a smirk that makes your knees want to give out from beneath you.

“Who says I won’t regret it?” You try to hold some semblance of integrity instead of melting to the ground in a puddle like your body seems to want to do. Something about him is setting your body on fire.

“If you do,” he shrugs again, scrunching his nose and putting back on his performance persona, finally releasing you from his intensity. “I’ll be around tomorrow. In case you need to complain about it.” You allow yourself to smile and get yourself together enough to open your door.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you tell him, getting into your car. He bows dramatically for you and you hate how endearing you suddenly find it.

“Don’t worry,” he says, putting his hand on the open car door and stepping next to you. Leaning down, he says, “If you fall asleep in class tomorrow, I won’t tell anyone I’m the reason you were up all night.” He gives you one more devastating smirk before closing your door gently for you.

~~~

The next few days are filled with an anxious paranoia. You’re just waiting for someone to call you out, for the social consequences that should befall your actions.

Hey. I heard you were at The Hideout? Gross.

What? Are you and Eddie friends now? Are your standards that low?

There’s a party this weekend. We’d invite you, but it’s not for losers.

But no one has said a word. Which means no one saw you and neither Eddie nor his band said anything to anyone. It’s remained your quiet little secret.

Eddie has also kept his distance. Part of you expected he’d strut right up to you in the middle of the cafeteria and ask you something about the show, but he didn’t. He didn’t approach you at all. You may have been offended or thought he lost all interest in you if he didn’t keep sneaking looks at you with heated eyes.

Friday morning during homeroom, he slides into the desk next to yours. He’s done that sometimes now and just him being nearby makes your skin start to tingle. You’re actively trying not to look at him when a shadow falls over your desk. You look up and find Jason standing over you.

“Hey, we were supposed to go to the movies this week, weren’t we?” He adjusts his backpack strap on his shoulder as you stumble open-mouthed through a response. Your attention is suddenly split because you see Eddie’s shoulders tense in the corner of your vision. You don’t manage much more than make an umm noise before Jason continues. “Was supposed to be Tuesday, wasn’t it?” You freeze, desperately looking anywhere but at either boy. “What happened to that?” As if he wasn’t the one who forgot? You can tell Eddie’s head is now turned to you, paying attention even if he acts like he’s not.

“I ended up being busy that night,” you tell him, voice tense. “And I think you had a thing at Brad’s.”

“That’s right!” He nods as he remembers. If he realizes he ditched you, he doesn’t show it. “Rain check?” he offers.

“Uhh, yeah maybe,” you say just to get him to leave. Any more talk about this and even Jason might notice something’s wrong. He takes your response happily, a smile on his face and he’s leaving your desk to find his regular seat.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself before you can’t resist chancing a look at Eddie. He’s got a smug look on his face, his eyes practically smirking at you. He’s leaned forward on his desk, hand cradling the side of his face as he looks at you. His lips move, mouthing a single word slowly so that you can make out what he’s saying.

Princess.

“Oh, shut up,” you mutter as you roll your eyes and look back down to the books on your own desk. He chuckles to himself and goes back about his own business. The tension in your body has dissipated and you’re able to get through the rest of homeroom without incident at least.

You don’t see Eddie again until much later in the day. You’re walking down the hall during your last passing period when he runs out from a side hall, slightly sweaty and breathing hard. Your footsteps stop to watch him. His denim jacket is hanging half off his arm and he’s got another giant Dungeons and Dragons book tucked into his side. He makes a beeline for the AV closet when his eyes catch you.

Before he opens the door, he lifts a finger up to your lips, silently telling you to be quiet. You cock your head at him, confused. All he does is duck into the AV closet and shut the door behind him. You follow, curious and unsure of what’s happening.

A teacher calls out your name when you reach the closet door. Startled, you turn around to see Mr. Harris approaching you. You straighten up and try to act like nothing odd has happened.

“You haven’t happened to see Eddie Munson, have you?” he asks. He’s not being accusatory, simply asking you because you’re a trustworthy source of information. Or you should be. You can’t manage to get the words out though. “He skipped his last class and stole something out of my office. I heard he went this way.” His eyes are scanning the hallway in both directions.

“No,” you squeak out. Your heart is beginning to hammer against your chest and you shake your head faster than could be considered normal. “Haven’t seen him.” Mr. Harris looks at you and furrows his brow.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. You press your lips tight together.

“Mmhmm,” you mumble. “Fine.” You nervously scratch at the back of your head. “Maybe he left school grounds?” you suggest weakly. He tilts his chin up, still furrowing at you.

“Maybe,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“All good. Big test next period.” That’s a lie. How many lies was that in this one conversation now? Oh god, you’re lying to a teacher.

“Okay, well thank you anyways.” With that, he’s off down the hall keeping his head on a swivel for the boy in the closet behind you. You let out a heavy sigh of relief, but it’s short lived when the door behind you opens and you’re being tugged into the closet by your sleeve.

Before you know it, you’re inside the AV closet with Eddie Munson again. But this time, your back is against the door and he’s in front of you, hands flat on the wood on either side of your face, caging you in. And fuck if he doesn’t look hot like this. Adrenaline in his veins making him breathe heavier, eyes wider as he takes in your face in the dim light.

“You just lied to a teacher, Princess,” he says breathlessly. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“No. I didn’t.”

The air between you gets thick as he leans in, not pressing into your body but so close. His lips part and you find yourself tipping your chin up to him. The small motion has him biting his bottom lip, holding back a groan. His fingers shift and you can hear the gentle scrape of his rings against the wood next to you.

One of your hands is rising before you realize what you’re doing, fingers hovering near the hem of his jacket. You manage to stop yourself just short of touching him, curling your fingers back into your palm and bringing your hand back down.

His eyes catch the movement though and he shifts his weight, straightening and coming just a hair closer. He looks back to your lips and growls, “Careful, Princess,” sending an ache between your legs. The air gets caught in your throat and you wish desperately that you could know what his hands feel like on you.

The bell echoes out in the hallway, signaling the end of the passing period. It startles you, your body tensing and your chest jumping. His eyes travel back up to yours and he softens. He leans into you, but instead of pressing against your body or pressing his lips to yours, he turns and rests his head on one of his fists next to you. His body is still caging you in, still not touching you. You manage to hold in a whimper as he takes a deep, defeated breath, calming himself down.

He pushes away from the door, from you, leaving the cold empty air to fill his space.

“Fuck,” he hisses quietly. “I didn’t mean to drag you into that.” He waves toward the hall, talking about your lie for him. You clear your throat, trying to sound calm and collected.

“You didn’t,” you assure him. You chose to lie, chose to cover for him. He didn’t make you do anything.

“I wasn’t stealing,” he says. “Well… okay I was, but I was stealing back.” He’s talking in a rush now. He spins on his heels and grabs the book he’d put on the storage table behind him. “Harris confiscated this from one of my kids. I was liberating it.”

“Your kids?” His animated nature is helping to bring you back down from the high you’d been riding with his body so close to you.

“From Hellfire. One of the newbies.” Why did that sound kind of sweet?

“In that case, I suppose I don’t regret covering for you.” He cracks a smile at you and you find yourself admiring it for a moment.

“You need to get to class,” he reminds you. Your eyes widen slightly as you remember the bell. You’re late.

“You’re a terrible influence, Munson,” you tell him, turning around quickly to open the closet door. Before you shuffle out, you barely hear the words he mutters to himself.

“Oh, you have no idea, Princess.”

~~~

The days pass in a blur. Eddie continues to keep his distance, but his silent presence nearby has become entirely too familiar. When you’re home alone at night, your mind drifts away from your homework and toward thoughts of him. On stage. Walking you to your car. Pinning you to the door of the AV closet. You try to keep your daydreams in check and not let them turn into fantasies, but more often than not, you’re starting to fail.

By Wednesday, you’re tired, distracted, and ready to go home. It’s been an awful day that started with waking up late and just spiraled out of control from there. You even had to stay late to finish a history paper that’s due tomorrow. You’re the kind of student who has papers done early, not the last minute. The stress of procrastination is wearing on you.

The parking lot is almost empty and the sun is starting to set by the time you make your way to your car. You throw your bag onto the passenger seat floor a little more violently than is necessary. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, turn the key, and… Click.

Your car won’t start.

You scream in frustration, hitting the heel of your palm against the steering wheel. This is not what you need right now.

“Stupid piece of shit!” You shout again. You try the key one more time, but it only clicks. “Fuck!” You climb back out of your car and slam the door shut, the loud bang giving you no satisfaction. You turn and lean your back on it, covering your face with your hands and resisting another scream. What the hell were you going to do now?

“I don’t want to alarm you,” a voice says from across the parking lot, slowly coming closer. Eddie. “But you look one inconvenience away from a felony.” You hear him get closer, but choose to keep your face covered. You feel your car rock just slightly as he copies your stance and leans on your car next to you. “And uh… it’s kinda working for me.” A surprised laugh bubbles up and escapes through your hands. You spread your fingers and peek through them, attempting a glare pointed in his direction. His smile is already softening. “Seriously though, you alright?” It’s much more gentle than you expected. “You’ve had that look since homeroom.”

“It’s been a bad day,” you groan, finally letting your hands fall to your sides. “And now my car won’t start.”

“Let me take a look,” he offers, already pushing up his sleeves.

“Do you even know how to fix a car?” you ask skeptically.

“Nope, not a clue.” Damn. Honestly, you were hoping for a different answer. He flashes you a wolfish grin and pushes off your car. “Pop the hood, Princess.”

You’re momentarily stunned, but shake yourself out and do as he asks. He has you do a couple of things; turn the key, try the engine. The same thing keeps happening. You get out of the car and join him in front of the hood.

He’s got one foot on the bumper, leaning inside of your car. He’s focused on what he’s doing and doesn’t notice how you’re staring at him. Your eyes start at his leg, perfectly propped up, roaming up to the curve of his ass that’s practically on display in his jeans. You linger only for a moment before your eyes drift up to his arms. He’s ditched his jacket, the sleeves of his shirt pushed haphazardly up to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare.

You knew he had tattoos, had seen them in passing, but you’d never really looked at them until now. There’s a cluster of bats at the top of his forearm, hand drawn and shifting with each movement of his arm. On the underside, peeking out near his wrist when he twists his arm is a demon-esque puppet, sharp-toothed and grinning. Unsettling and yet so very Eddie that it makes you like it.

Your gaze finishes on his hands. Veins bulging as he works, rings tapping against car parts. His fingertips are already stained with oil and grease. Something about the sight turns you on. Nimble, capable hands covered in grime and dark rings. Daydreams start filling your mind again. Fingertips leaving dirty trails on your skin. His inked demon looking down his arm at you as he reaches for your face.

He flexes his fingers, slowly. Deliberately. Then you hear a soft chuckle.

“You know, most people at least try to pretend they’re looking at the engine.” You look off to the side, away from him entirely, and tuck your hair back while giving a small clearing of your throat. “You need a jump,” he tells you, coming back out of the car and letting the embarrassing moment pass. “Battery’s dead.”

“Oh, okay.” You don’t know what that means, but you’re not about to tell him that.

“I’ve got jumper cables in my van.” He starts walking backwards into the parking lot. “Be right back.”

While he’s gone, you take a few deep breaths. Stop staring. You tell yourself. Stop fucking fawning. You get yourself in check as he pulls up in an old, rusted, piece of junk van that has loud music bleeding out of the cracks. He pulls it right up in front of your car and turns the volume down before cutting the engine.

He jumps out and calls to you, “Wanna come over here and help? Be something other than just devastatingly pretty?” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You follow him to the back of the van and when he opens it, it’s a tangle of… things. Cords, amps, bottles, a flannel, among so many other items. He dives right in, pushing everything around until he comes up triumphantly with what you assume are the jumper cables. He shifts to the back of the van and holds them out to you.

“Hold these,” he tells you. You reach out and fumble them into your own arms. His fingers brush over yours and you force yourself not to think about it. He puts both hands on the sides of the van to crawl back out of it. You both go to the front of the vehicles and he carefully untangles the cables and hooks some ends to your car and some to his. He runs back into the van and turns it on. “And now, we wait.”

You look down at your hands and arms, now covered with a faint film of dust from the cables. He notices the look on your face and ducks into the van to pull out a rag. He hands it to you without saying anything. The dust comes off easily and you pass the rag back to him. He doesn’t just take the rag. His hand cradles yours for a moment longer than necessary, letting his fingers gently trace along the back of your hand before he takes the rag from you. It’s quick, subtle, but the gentle feel of him lingers and sends a small shiver down your spine.

You cross your arms over your chest and look around. The orange in the sky has faded and a cool colored dusk has set in. You really had stayed later than you meant to. You wonder why Eddie was here this late, but choose not to question it. Right time, right place.

You both settle into leaning back against the van’s sliding door, waiting until Eddie tells you it’s been long enough for the jump to have worked. His shoulder brushes against yours and neither of you move away. He twirls his rings around his fingers and you’re desperately looking anywhere else.

“If you didn’t know,” he breaks the comfortable silence, but doesn’t look at you. “We play every Tuesday.”

“Oh,” you mutter. You thought they might, but weren’t sure. “I wasn’t sure if the invite was a one-time deal.” He tilts his head as if considering.

“For some people it is.” Had he looked for you last night? Was he disappointed when you didn’t show? The idea that you could have been hanging out with him instead of sitting home alone just thinking about it leaves you feeling like you missed out.

“I will keep that in mind,” you tell him, feeling like jumping at another invite would be too much.

“Good.” He smiles and knocks his shoulder into yours playfully. “Let’s get your baby started.”

He has you get in and sure enough, it starts right up. You laugh in relief and hit the steering wheel in a much nicer manner than you had before.

“Oh thank god!” Eddie comes to your open door, smiling at your enthusiasm. “Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Just don’t go telling people I’m some knight in shining armor,” he jokes, resting his forearm on the top of your car and ducking down a little to look at you. You go to respond, make a joke back to him when you see his eyes are locked onto your passenger seat. You look over and your stomach drops when you see it.

The Black Sabbath cassette tape.

You almost hadn’t bought it. It felt wrong bringing it to the cashier and making a quick comment about it being a gift for a distant cousin. I don’t know why they like that kind of music. It definitely isn’t for me. Your body itches to throw itself over to the seat and swat the tape onto the floor like you could undo him seeing it. You grip the steering wheel with both hands to keep still.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but lets out a low, thoughtful hum. His attention drifts back to you and there’s a heat in his expression that sends flutters through your core. He doesn’t say it, but he looks pleased with you, his stare giving you praise you didn’t know you wanted until this moment. You’ll buy all of the metal music tapes if it earns you that look.

“See you tomorrow, Princess.” His voice is low, rough. He taps the hood of your car before leaning away and reaching for the door. “Don’t let me find you in a ditch.”

He lingers before he shuts the door gently, just like he had the other night. He rounds your car and gets back into the van. You take another deep breath before you manage to drive yourself away, but you get the feeling he’s still watching your car until you’re out of sight.

~~~

The next day goes much better. Your car’s working, your history paper gets turned in, and you slept great. By the time lunch rolls along, you’re feeling back to your normal self and filled with energy.

You’re pushing the vegetables on your tray around with your plastic spoon when your ears tune into the conversation happening at the table across from you. Eddie and his friends are there today. Normally, they wouldn’t be sitting so closely to Jason and the basketball team, but they all shuffled in late and it was the last table open. They’re discussing their setlist for next week when Jeff throws out, “What about the Sabbath cover we did two weeks ago? We killed that.”

And just like that, you and Eddie are looking at each other like you can’t help it. He’s resting his chin on his palm, fist covering most of his mouth, but you still see the gentle tick of his smile for you. You feel heat rise up your neck and onto your ears as you press your lips together harshly, biting back your own impulsive smile.

But then you catch movement to your right. Jason, sitting at the head of the table, is looking at you, eyes narrowed. The smile instantly dies from your lips, but the blush on your skin lingers. Jason follows where your eyes had been, to Eddie, then back to you. Silently, with only a furrow of his brow, he asks what the fuck was that?

You give Jason a quick shrug and the smallest shake of your head. What? Nothing. Your chin drops down and you’re suddenly fascinated by those vegetables in front of you. For the rest of lunch, you can feel your heart in your chest thumping just a little bit harder.

Nearing the end of lunch, you stand to discard your food and put away your tray at a nearby station. While there, you hear Eddie and his band still talking about their music. Their enthusiasm, their passion that keeps them talking about it makes you happy for them. They genuinely look like they’re having a good time.

When you put your tray down, Jason’s voice rings out louder than Eddie’s friends.

“Hey Munson!” he calls out. You stop in your tracks and Jason turns in his chair to face Eddie head on. “You freaks still pretending to play music in Brian’s mom’s garage?”

“Wow,” Eddie says dryly, not bothering to look at Jason. “That one again? Feels like you’re singing us your greatest hits of insults at this point.” He keeps picking apart a piece of bread and eating it without care. You see Jason’s jaw tighten.

“Just wondering when you’re going to grow up and get a real hobby.” The rest of your friends are tuned into the verbal spat, smiling and nodding along with their leader. You feel something brewing in your chest. And it’s not amusement.

“Funny,” Eddie comments. Finally, he turns to mimic Jason’s posture, turning in his own chair to face him. “You know, you spend all day bouncing a ball, and somehow that’s a personality?”

“At least I’ll make something of myself,” Jason retorts, his voice raising. “You just sit in your shitty trailer strumming that dumb guitar, pretending you’re ever going to be something.”

“Have you ever even seen him play?” Your voice, clear and sharp, surprises everyone. Yourself included. The noise in the cafeteria gets lighter, more people paying attention. You can’t stop yourself as you step quickly, coming to stand in front of them, eyes glued to Jason. “Because it’s fucking incredible.” You hear the words as you say them, knowing the moment they leave your lips that you’re in trouble.

“No, I haven’t,” Jason looks up at you with a hardened disbelief. “Have you?” he asks pointedly.

The moment sits heavy on your chest. You don’t look to Eddie. You can’t. You consider lying. You’ve been doing that more lately anyway, haven’t you? But you don’t want to. You want to see what Jason’s face does when you tell the truth.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I have.” There are scoffs from your table of friends. Snickers from somewhere else in the room. And Jason’s mouth drops open just a fraction, eyes cold as stone. He has no retort for you. Your shoulders rise and fall with a breath. “You don’t have to understand it,” you tell him, voice quieter but not softer.

You don’t spare anyone else a look as you go to gather your things, Eddie included. You’re terrified of the look he may give you. You simply take your shoulder bag full of books and exit the cafeteria, trying not to let your sudden adrenaline make you run.

When you get out of the cafeteria, you make a sharp left, gravitating toward a smaller hallway, away from the main foot traffic. You take deep breaths as you go, focusing on the way your feet connect solidly with the linoleum floor.

Eddie’s voice calling your name spikes your adrenaline again. You spin around to find that he’s followed you. Only him. His eyes are wild, heated, and trained on you. His tongue is poking out of the corner of his slightly open mouth and his breathing is heavy.

“I’m fucking incredible?” he asks breathlessly as he comes closer. Eddie doesn’t stop this time. He doesn’t stop until your back is pressed against the cold lockers and his hands are sliding up your ribs. “You’re fucking incredible.”

He kisses you like he can’t live without it. His fingers grip your waist and pull you to him even though you’re already pressed against him. The moan you let out when his lips collide with yours is involuntarily. He doesn’t hesitate when he slips his tongue inside your mouth to taste you. One of his hands leaves your ribs and cups the side of your face, hooking his thumb under your chin and tilting your neck to the perfect angle for him to devour you.

You happily let him. You grip the edges of his denim jacket, fisting it in your fingers and pulling. Your body is on fire, aching for more. More of Eddie. More of this. Your back arches and you press your bottom half to his. He pulls his mouth from yours to whisper against your lips.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans. “You have no idea what you do to me.” You lean up to kiss him again, but his hand on your jaw holds you back, twists your face to one side. “Sticking up for little ol’ me?” He dips his head to press his face into your neck. His tongue drags up the length of it and you feel your knees actually give out. His slots his thigh between yours, pushes into you even more just to keep you upright. You gasp when you feel him, grinding into your thigh. “Little miss perfect slumming it with the freak?” You let go of his jacket, a hand drifting into his hair and tangling in his curls. He kisses your neck roughly and he doesn’t even need to tilt your head this time, you’re doing it for him.

“Eddie.” His name slips past your lips in a whisper and he moans like it hurts.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises you. You close your lips to hold back a whimper. “My good girl.”

When the words escape him, he pauses. You feel his entire body still as if his mind is finally catching up with what his body has been doing. His lips stop moving against your neck and his hands stop gripping you so tightly.

“Fuck,” he mutters. The word is filled with regret and you hate it. You give a tug to his curls to try to bring him back, but instead of a groan, he sighs. “I shouldn’t be pulling you into my shit.” He leans away and you have to stand on your own two feet again, desperately wishing he’d come back to you. “You deserve more than that.”

Through heavy breaths, he looks at you and you decide you hate this look. There’s longing and regret, but the fire is gone. Your hands are melting away from him and despite trying, you can’t seem to make any sound.

His stare dips to your lips and he leans in once more, gentle this time. He doesn’t open his lips above you or grind into you. He simply kisses you softly. When he pulls back this time, he presses his forehead to yours and both of you just breathe for a moment.

He releases you quickly, physically pushes against the lockers to propel himself back. The lights and sounds of the school come back to you. Anyone could have walked by and seen that. And you didn’t care.

“You should get to your next class,” he tells you, continuing to back away. You can hear the Princess he doesn’t say and you miss the sound of it already. You want to say something, anything to bring him back.

But instead you just watch him turn and disappear into the halls as the bell rings.

~~~

Eddie keeps his distance and you feel like it’s killing you. He doesn’t sit next to you in class and when you look for him in the cafeteria the next day, you can’t find him. The scene from the day before is now the running joke in your friend group. Did you see Munson’s face? And you! Incredible? Why would you ever say that? You got a thing for the freak?

You take it as best you can, but it doesn’t feel good. They’ve turned on you and you spend the weekend hiding out at home, wondering how you’re going to fix this. One minute you’re staring at the ceiling, convinced the whole escapade with Eddie was a mistake. Your one and only rebellious streak. You fell to the temptation and you won’t do it again. The next minute you’re rewriting the same line of a paper over and over, cursing your friends and vowing to cut them off, ready to change your entire identity.

Come Monday morning, you’re tired and irritated. No one has made a comment this morning, but you’ve only been here for a few minutes. You stop at your locker to drop off some books. When you open it, you notice a cassette case at the bottom of it, placed nicely in front. You scrunch your face before carefully picking it up, expecting it to be some kind of prank.

Scrawled on the case in black sharpie are the words “The EM Mix”. You’ve never taken note of Eddie’s handwriting before, but you have no doubt that it’s his. You look both ways to see if he’s lurking nearby, but you don’t catch any sight of him. You wish you had a portable player, because all you want to do now is hear what songs he put on this tape. You run your thumb over the case and then tuck it into your bag.

You thought maybe this meant he’d sit by you again, but when homeroom starts, he’s halfway across the room, not looking your way in the slightest. You try not to be too disappointed.

Later, during a passing period where you’re back at your locker trading out books, Jason comes over next to you and leans against the lockers with a clumsy bang. You startle at the sight of him and tense up, expecting more ridicule.

“Let me take you to the movies tomorrow night,” he offers.

“What?” Your brows knit together, not even sure you heard him right. He sighs heavily as if you’re being intentionally stupid.

“You know people are talking about you.” No shit. “I figured I’d save you from this becoming a whole thing.”

“A whole thing?” you repeat flatly, returning your attention to your locker, rearranging your books just to do something with your hands.

“Yeah,” he says confidently. “We go out together, get seen making out a little, and this whole Munson thing just… goes away.”

You can’t stop the way your face scrunches or the way your stomach twists viscerally at the image of Jason’s hands on you. It wasn’t that long ago that you were waiting for him, wanting this exact offer. But now? Now you hated the idea.

“No thanks,” you tell him sharply. The phrase was meant to be polite, but attitude slips out of your tone and he looks taken aback by it.

“I’m offering to help save your reputation.” He says it as if you didn’t understand his meaning the first time around. You round on him, spinning to face him fully.

“I don’t want saved.” You’re not raising your voice in any capacity, but you stand unwavering in your words. He scoffs in disbelief.

“You’re going to throw out your whole social standing for him?”

You think about Eddie. His hands playing his guitar. The ink on his skin. The way he put his hand on the small of your back and hadn’t let you feel alone in a new place. His laugh. His smirk. His kiss setting you on fire. You choose not to answer Jason. You close your locker and turn to walk away.

“He’s not worth it,” he warns, trying once last time to change your mind. You don’t care. You’ve made up your mind and you have no intention of going back now.

“He’s worth more than you,” you throw over your shoulder before leaving Jason behind.

~~~

You find his trailer pretty easily. There’s only one trailer park in town and you recognize his van parked out front of one of the larger trailers. Some of his neighbors stare at you as you drive in, your nice car making you stick out in the most awkward way. You ignore them and keep going.

Your knock sounds too soft on the hard plastic door and you’re not sure he’ll be able to hear it. So, you knock again more firmly, louder. There’s movement inside. The trailer rocks a little and you hear his voice coming through as the door swings open.

“If this is about my parking again, I swear to god…” His voice dies out when he sees you standing there at the bottom of the rickety steps. The trailer door slams into its side. “…Hi.” He sounds unsure of himself. His eyes look around; at your car, the road, down both sides of the trailer. “You okay?”

“I wanted to see you.” Your explanation seems to confuse him more if anything, but he still steps aside, motioning to let you inside.

You expected the trailer to be dirtier than it is, which then makes you feel bad for expecting the worst. It’s fairly clean, just lived-in. There’s a smell of smoke on the walls and it’s dark, the blinds pulled down. It gives you the same vibes as The Hideout and you don’t hate it.

“Showing up here alone?” Eddie says, his voice tense despite trying to keep the words light and playful. He closes the door, but you catch him give one final look around outside first. “Pretty sure that’s how people end up in the local paper.”

“Eddie.” The sound of your voice being so firm and using his first name snaps him to attention. “Jason asked me out.” His face falls for a microsecond.

“Ah,” he muses with a sudden lack of humor. “And you’ve come here to… what?” He waves his hand around and purses his lips. He’s angry. “Let me down easy? You really don’t need to do that.” He finally moves away from the door, walking (more like stomping) over to the kitchen table to shuffle bottles and cans around as if he suddenly needs to clean.

“I said no.” He pauses his motions, carefully putting the things back down and looking at you over his shoulder.

“You… said no?” He repeats slowly. Then in disbelief, “Why?” For a moment, the only thing you can do is shrug and let out a sigh.

“Because he’s not you,” you finally whisper. He turns to face you again and laughs, defeated and untrusting.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he tells you. You don’t hesitate, simply walk up to him, slowly and deliberately. He doesn’t stop you and doesn’t move away, the backs of his thighs pressing against the table.

“Yes, I do,” you insist softly. You don’t touch him, just crowd into his space and watch his breathing turn uneven being this close to you again. “I want you.” He swallows hard and his back straightens.

“You want this?” he challenges. “Do you know what you’re asking for?” His eyes darken and he reaches to brush your hair back from your forehead. You lean into his touch. “What I’ll do to you?” His voice is taking on that low, gravelly tone.

“I want it,” you whisper, your hands tracing up his ribs to his chest. He smiles shakily and rests his forehead on yours.

“What happened to not wanting to obliterate your social standing, thank you very much?”

“I changed my mind.” His hand traces to the back of your head, cradling it before tugging your hair gently and tilting your face up to his. “Ruin my reputation, Eddie,” you plead. “Ruin me.”

“Fuck, Princess.”

He kisses you slowly, letting you feel every restrained movement. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. You lift your hands up around his neck to make room for his body to press against yours.

You melt into him and he groans softly. He barely lifts his mouth from yours. Your foreheads rest against each other, both of your eyes closed. His hand that had been on the back of your head, comes down to your jaw, tracing it with a featherlight touch. His fingers gently continue a trail down your neck and you remember what it was like having his lips there. You shiver and tangle your hands in his hair, accidentally tugging slightly at the base of his curls. He moans, completely involuntarily and needy.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” he whispers against your lips, restraint constricting his voice. “Tell me to stop. Or I’m not going to.” You swallow. Lick your lips. Electricity shoots through you.

“Don’t stop,” you tell him. “I want it to be you.” He pulls back and for a split moment you worry you’ve scared him away. But the look he gives you is anything but scared.

“You mean you’ve never…?” he clarifies. You shake your head no. Of course you’d never had sex before. That’s not what straight A students did. “And you want me to…?” Growing impatient, you bite your lip and nod. His eyes drag down your face, to as much of your body as he can see with him pressed to you, then back up to your face. “Fuck.”

He kisses you again and doesn’t stop until he’s backed you into his bedroom with the backs of your knees bumping into the edge of his bed. You always thought you’d feel nervous your first time, but you’re not. Not when Eddie’s hands are on you, gently guiding you down onto his sheets. Not when you help him remove your clothes or even when you reach for his belt yourself.

Eddie is draped over you, face buried near your chest, deliberately keeping his hips away from yours, but sometimes with the right shift, you can feel his hard cock bump into you. It’s killing you, heat coursing through your skin.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to, Princess,” he whispers, peppering kisses along your bare collarbone. All you can let out is a needy whimper. If he stops, you may actually die. He keeps his attention on your neck and shoulders as one of his hands starts to trace down between your legs. His fingers are warm, but the rings he’s kept on are cold and make you twitch under his touch.

“Please touch me,” you breathe.

“So polite,” he teases back before dragging his tongue up your neck again , utterly enjoying how wrecked you sound. “You’re so fucking wet,” he mutters almost to himself. “That all for me?” His fingers stroke through your folds slowly. Your thighs tense around him and your body begs for more. He pulls away, kneeling between your legs to look at you. He notches a finger at your entrance and then waits. He tilts his head, asking a silent question. You nod frantically, giving him permission without needing to think about it.

You moan at the feeling as he sinks a finger into you. Your head tilts back, eyes screwing shut and arching up to him. It feels… amazing. It quells the fire burning inside of you if just for a moment. He chuckles lightly, keeping his finger buried inside of you, letting his rings cool your heated skin.

“You doing okay there?” There’s a smile in his words, like he knows the answer already. You bite your lip and involuntarily buck into his hand.

“Feels so good,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” He slowly pulls his finger back, greedily watching how your body responds. Your walls tighten around him, trying to keep him there and your hands twist in his dark sheets. He pumps his finger back inside you, building a steady pace as he grips your thigh with his other hand, keeping you open for him. “Just wait until you feel my cock filling you up.” His voice is low and restrained. The tips of his fingers dig into your thigh as he slowly begins to finger you.

Pleasure runs through you, spreading from your center into the rest of you. He feels so fucking good. You look at Eddie, his eyes glued to your pussy, jaw slack. You reach out and put a hand on his chest, drawing his attention up to you.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, pushing your hips into his hand, chasing the pleasure, wanting more. He grins wickedly.

“I love when you say my name,” he admits. “If only people could hear little miss perfect begging for me.” He groans and lifts his hand from your thigh. You watch as he wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it once. Twice. Then squeezes it at the base. “Can you take another?” he asks. “Want to stretch you out for me. You’re so fucking tight.” The praise in his voice makes you glow. Something deep in the pit of your core hums and you’re pretty sure he’d do anything he asked.

“Give me another.” You nod at him again. You want to keep your eyes on him, but when he slips a second finger into you, your eyes roll back and another moan leaks out. “Fuck, Eddie.” Your hand leaves his chest and grips his sheets again.

He does as he promised, spreading his fingers just enough to stretch you. You can hear him breathing heavily, controlled. When you manage to open your eyes, you see his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, physically holding himself back. He pumps his fingers slowly, dragging out your pleasure. You’re practically writhing beneath him, wanting more, craving the full feeling you know he’s going to give you.

“I’m ready.” You hear yourself say it, whiny and small. He stills his fingers and you let out a sigh that sounds more like a whimper.

“Are you sure?” He slowly pulls his fingers out. “You could still leave. No one would know.” You watch as his eyes darken and his voice gets raspy. “Know how you let me feel your soft pussy.” He swipes his fingers up and down, reveling in your slick. Another desperate moan falls from your lips. “How you turned into an absolute fucking mess for me. Fuck, you look so good. So wrecked. I’ve fucking wrecked you.” He leans forward, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock.

Your breath quickens before it ceases all together. Your body stills and stiffens. Eddie immediately withdraws and lifts his eyes to your face, the darkness that was in his expression replaced with something softer.

“Easy, Princess,” he coos, keeping himself in one hand and gently stroking the junction of your thigh with the other. “I can go slow for you.” You melt under his touch, muscles relaxing. “Do you want your hands on the headboard or on me?”

“You.” It comes out breathless and your hips tip up to meet him again. You don’t wait for instruction. Your hands reach for him and he hinges forward so you can curl your fingers into his shoulders. “I want to feel you.”

“I’m going to fill you up so good.” He pauses for a moment, waiting for you to change your mind. The small space between you feels charged, alive. You take a single breath, not out of nervousness, but in anticipation. Your body has already made your decision for you.

“Do it. Please.”

If you didn’t know him, the wolfish grin he gives you might be scary, but it’s not. It’s just so purely Eddie. He guides himself to your pussy and pushes in slowly. Even after he’d stretched you with his fingers, he feels big. The pressure of him filling you makes you tense for a moment.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs. The pet name feels soft, intimate, and you feel yourself happily succumbing to him. “There you go.” He looks down between you, watches his cock ease into your pussy. “Taking me so well.” You hold onto him, nails scraping against his skin and leaving red marks, but he doesn’t care. “Almost there… Fuck, yes.” He groans when he finally bottoms out in you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He releases himself and put his hand next to your head to hold himself up, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Your steady breathing turns into panting and your hands slip up behind his neck to pull his mouth to yours. The kiss is messy and raw. His tongue slips into your mouth, but he can’t keep a rhythm and it melts into both of you panting into each other while your lips brush. You feel him throb inside of you and your legs squeeze his hips in return.

“I need to move,” he breathes. “Please, baby. Can I move?” He’s the one begging now and hearing him like this does something to you. You shift your hips just to hear the destroyed moan he lets out. You lift your head just enough to bring your lips to his ear.

“Fuck me, Eddie.”

He thrusts shallowly at first, desperately trying to keep his hips slow for you. You don’t want slow though. Slow is setting you on fire and not building the release you so desperately need. So you give his hair a little tug on the back of his neck.

“Princess…” He gives a warning growl, the exact reaction you were hoping for. You find a grin on your face that rivals his earlier one as you give another pull on his hair. His hips stutter against yours and you grind back against him. “I’m already so close,” he confesses, pulling back.

“Good,” is the only thing you whisper, carting your hand through his curls.

The next time he thrusts forward, he does it harder. Faster. He starts pumping into you with a new fervor. Filth tumbles from his lips like he can’t stop it. “Fuck, baby. Squeezing me so tight. So fucking wet, Princess. Shit. Fucking made for me.” His words fill you with a twisted pride, tightening something in your center as his cock fills you over and over and over.

“Eddie,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm just over the edge. He doesn’t hesitate, slipping his hand back between your bodies and pressing his thumb to your clit and making small, tight circles. Your vision goes white as your body explodes around him. Your legs lock around his hips, hands clinging to his back as you cry out.

He follows you almost immediately. His thrusts are hindered by your legs locked around him, but they’re erratic anyways. Your walls squeezing him so tightly sets him off and he buries himself deep inside of you with a strangled groan. You can feel his cock twitch as he spills into you and it sends small aftershocks through your body.

He stays there for a minute, letting you both catch your breath as you come down from the high. Your bodies are slick with sweat and you notice his curls clinging to his face. You gently push the hair off his face and watch as reality comes back into his eyes. He looks at you like he can’t believe any of that just happened. You lift up and give him a short kiss.

When he finally has the strength to untangle himself from you, he steps off his bed and pulls a black t-shirt from his closet. Bringing it back to the bed, he moves between your legs again.

“It’s not exactly a warm towel,” he says after clearing his throat. “But it’s clean.” You don’t protest as he cleans you up, wiping his cum from your legs where it’s leaked out of your pussy. You lean back and let him touch you gently as you try to regain control or your body. You’re almost positive you hear me him murmur, “So god damn pretty.” When he’s satisfied, he tosses the shirt off to the side and climbs into his bed beside you.

“That was…” You struggle for the right word.

“Fucking incredible,” he fills in. You let out a sharp laugh.

“Yeah,” you agree through a smile. “Fucking incredible.”

You turn your heads to look at each other. He reaches out to your face and kisses you again. Slower this time, more gently. You let your eyes close and just enjoy the warmth of him. He gives your shoulder a gentle push and turns you to your side, curling up behind you and putting an arm around your middle, burying his face in your hair.

“Spend the night,” he mumbles after a few minutes of comfortable, recovering silence.

“What?” you chuckle.

“Wayne’s gone for the week.” His voice sounds soft, sleepy. “I could take you to school in the morning. Shit, you can climb out of my van in today’s clothes in front of everyone.” He grinds against you even though his cock is soft. “Make sure they all know where you were. That you’re mine.” You smile and hold his arm tighter to you. The idea is tempting you have to admit. You picture yourself at school, all the incredulous looks you’ll get with Eddie’s arm thrown over your shoulder as you walk down the hall. The looks of horror when you eagerly kiss him in the parking lot.

“My parents will kill me if I don’t come home tonight,” you say regretfully. He groans in a much more childish way than before and it makes you giggle.

“Such a fucking Princess.”

~~~

It’s dark out by the time you leave. You’d spent another hour lying naked in his bed, cuddling, talking and laughing about life, before climbing out and eating leftover pizza from his fridge. You can’t explain it, but you feel happier and more free than you ever had surrounded by your friends or even your family.

Who knew Eddie Munson would be the one to make you feel this way?

He walks you to your car, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and walking a little staggered, a little performative. His cadence is slow, drawing out the very short walk and you’re reminded of him doing the same thing at The Hideout.

“So, despite my earlier slightly over-enthusiastic need to claim you like a caveman,” he starts with a smile. “It might be easier for you if we lay low at school for now.”

“It might be,” you agree, nodding along with him. “But I don’t care.” His smile widens for you. “The whole world can know.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” He opens your car door for you and waves you in. “If you decide you don’t want to be stared at just yet, I get it.” Before you get in your car, you put your hand on his shoulder and stand on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Let them stare.” The blush that rises onto his neck is utterly adorable. Of all things, a simple kiss on his cheek is what flusters him. You press your lips together to bite back your laugh. He nods quickly and again frantically waves you into your car.

“See you tomorrow,” he tells you as you get in.

“Hey,” you call before he closes the door for you. He raises an eyebrow at you. “I hear there’s this metal band that plays at The Hideout on Tuesdays.” He cocks his head to the side, amused. “Meet you there?”

“I have an in with that band,” he plays along. He gives you a wink. “I’ll save you a seat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not going to lie... I'm already think about doing a "Side B" to this fic. AKA write it from Eddie's POV....

Please let me know what you think. I thrive off of validation.

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