072

The second Eddie and you step inside The Black Cat, he stops dead. His fingers tighten around yours, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. Just stands there, his chest rising and falling a little too fast, his dark eyes sweeping the venue.

It’s huge. Bigger than either of you expected. The ceilings stretch high above you, draped in thick black beams, with industrial lights casting a dim glow over the space. The walls are covered in old gig posters, some yellowed with age, some fresh and new, advertising bands that have played here before, some of them names Eddie recognizes. The bar, long and stocked to the brim, runs along the left side of the venue, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

But the stage? That’s what gets him.

It’s massive. Bathed in low blue lighting, already half set up with a drum kit and a mess of cables sprawled across the floor.

The moment Eddie sees it, his breath hitches. His hand flexes in yours, and he swallows hard. "Shit".

You glance up at him. "What?"

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. He just stands there, tongue darting out to wet his lips, his free hand rubbing over his mouth. And then, forcing out a laugh that’s way too thin, way too off, he mutters, "You think anyone actually bought a ticket for this? There'll be like, 8 people in here, max".

You frown, "Of course they did, babe".

"Did they, though?" He huffs, trying for a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers tap against his thigh, restless. "We played for what, fifteen minutes at the battle? That’s not a lot to go off. Maybe people just, liked the story, y’know? The whole ‘look at this dumbass frontman getting all romantic with his girl’ thing". He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s why we won. Not ‘cause of us, not ‘cause of the music. People loved you. Loved that I pulled you on stage, let you play your song. That’s what got them. That’s the only reason we’re here".

It’s the way he says it that stings. That makes your chest ache. Like he truly believes it. Like he’s letting it eat at him.

"Eds", you mumble softly.

He doesn’t look at you. His gaze is still locked on the stage, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

You step closer, touching his face, turning him gently towards you. "Hey".

His eyes flicker to yours. There’s something vulnerable there, something uncertain.

"You’re insane if you think people didn’t love you guys", you tell him, "I was there. I saw it. I felt it. Before you ever pulled me up, before you ever gave me the mic, they loved you. They loved Corroded Coffin. And that’s why they’ll come tonight. Not because of some romantic bullshit. Because of you. Because of your music. Because you love what you do so damn much that people see it. Hear it".

His throat works, "Yeah?"

You nod, caress his cheek, "Yeah".

For a second, he just stares at you. Then he exhales, slow and shaky, before his hands find you,.palms skimming up your arms, fingers sliding around your waist, holding on like he needs to. Like he’s grounding himself with you. "You’re my favorite person in the whole fucking world", he murmurs, leaning in, forehead touching yours.

You smile, hands cupping his face. "Duh".

He chuckles, breath warm against your lips as he kisses you. It’s not rushed. Not desperate. Just slow, deep, his hands splaying over your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You let him, let him take what he needs, let him melt into you as the last bit of tension drains from his body.

When he pulls back, his fingers stay on you, tracing idle patterns against your sides. He takes a breath, rolling his shoulders. "Alright", he sighs, "Okay. Let’s go meet these radio guys. And then…" He smirks, finally looking like himself again, "Let’s go fucking rock this place".

"That's my man", you grin, locking your fingers with his.

He keeps you close as you make your way towards the bar, where the reps from Rock FM are already waiting.

There are two of them.

Paul, a guy in his late forties with slicked-back graying hair and a leather jacket, and Lisa, a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a band tee and an easy smile.

They’re talking with some of the sound crew when you and Eddie approach.

"Ah, there’s our guy", Paul shouts as he sees you two, grinning as he extends a hand.

Eddie shakes it, doing his best to play it cool, "Hope I’m not late to my own gig".

"Not at all", Lisa says. She shakes your hand, too, her grip firm. "We’re excited to have you guys here. You ready for tonight?"

Eddie glances at you, then back at them, "Absolutely".

Liar.

But you don’t call him out on it. You just squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Lisa gestures towards the stage. "We’ve got sound check coming up in a bit. Your band on their way?"

Eddie grimaces, "Should be. Probably stuck in traffic".

Paul chuckles, "Classic. Well, they’ll get here. In the meantime, we’ll introduce you to the sound team, get you familiar with everything".

Eddie nods, and the two of you follow them, meeting the tech crew. Sound engineers, lighting guys, stage managers. They run Eddie through the setup, the equipment, what to expect during the performance. He asks a few questions, nods along, does his best to seem unfazed. But you can feel it in him, the nerves still thrumming just beneath the surface. So you stay close. Rest a hand on his back when he gets quiet. Press a subtle touch to his arm when he zones out for a second. Let him lean into you when he needs it.

And he does.

Every few minutes, his fingers find your waist, your hip, your hand. Like he needs the reassurance that you’re here.

Finally, one of the sound techs glances towards the entrance. "That your guys?"

You both turn, and sure enough, there they are.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant, lugging their gear inside, looking a little winded, a little flustered.

Eddie lets out a breath, shaking out his hands. "Showtime, baby".

Gareth is the first to spot you two, his face lighting up as he hauls his drum bag through the entrance. 'Well, well, well", he calls out, grinning, "look who fucking made it to the big leagues".

Jeff and Grant follow close behind, both of them looking a little winded from carrying their gear, but just as hyped. "Jesus Christ, this place is huge", Grant mutters, looking around.

"I know, man", Eddie groans, "I walked in and basically shat myself".

Gareth claps him on the shoulder, smirking, "Glad to see you kept it together".

"Barely".

Jeff laughs, ruffling Eddie’s curls as he passes, "You’re gonna be fine, dude. We’re all gonna be fine".

"Touch my hair again and one of us is definitely not going to be fine".

The tension in his shoulders loosens as the four of them start talking, falling into their usual banter, joking around. That's your cue to step back to leave the band alone, giving them some space.

You make your way to the bar, propping an elbow on the counter, pulling out a cigarette, watching as the guys already dive into sound check prep, talking with the crew, setting up their instruments, Eddie disappearing outside for a moment to grab his guitar from the van. You light up, taking a slow drag, letting the smoke curl through your lips.

The warm scent of beer and old wood fills the air, mixing with the distant buzz of amplifiers being tested on stage.

You let your gaze wander, taking in the big venue, imagining how it'll be tonight, crowded, everybody cheering for Eddie's band. For him.

It's like a fever dream.

All of this.

Them being here, playing tonight.

And you, right with them.

With your metalhead boyfriend. Cheering for him.

The band is fully immersed in prep, Eddie now adjusting his guitar strap, Jeff plugging in his bass, Gareth already tapping out a quiet rhythm on his snare, Grant fiddling with his cables.

You just watch, slowly smoking your cigarette, sliding your butt on a barstool. Watch how Eddie talks with the sound guy, his fingers restless on the strings as he nods along to whatever’s being said. Watch the way his mouth curls when Gareth cracks a joke, his tension easing little by little. You’re so proud of him. So fucking proud.

"Hey", a voice besides you rips you out.

You blink, turning your head. A bartender, early twenties, dark eyes, long black hair pulled into a high ponytail, leans against the counter near you, finishing up stocking the fridges behind the bar.

"You with the band?" she asks, tipping her chin toward the stage.

You nod, flicking your ash into a nearby tray, "Guitarist’s girlfriend".

Her brows raise slightly, then recognition flickers in her eyes. "Oh, wait. You’re the one who sang with them, right?"

You tilt your head, intrigued, and also very confused she actually recognizes you, "Yeah".

She smirks. "That song? Hit me right in the bones". She pauses, then adds dryly, "Made me think about my dickhead of a father".

You snort, "Wrote it about my dickhead of a father".

That earns you a grin. "Figures", she grins, "I was working the bar at the battle, too. Didn’t get much of a break, though, so I was half-watching from the counter".

You nod, turning to her while taking another puff, "Guess that also means you saw Eddie lose his mind and pull me on stage, mh?"

She snorts, grabbing some stacks of plastic cups to put away, "Oh, absolutely. Remember how everyone lost their minds about it. The people at the bar were shocked when he pulled you up there and said the other band stole your song. Like, speechless. I personally loved every second of it". She grins at you before bending behind the counter.

You laugh under your breath, shaking your head. "Didn’t know he was gonna do that", you admit, "Was just as shocked as everyone else".

The bartender grins when straightening again, "And he just went for it, huh?"

"Oh, full send", you reply, rolling your eyes, "Didn’t ask. Didn’t even hint at it beforehand. Nothing. Just did it, to help me get justice about my song. Even accepted the risk of getting his band disqualified, this idiot."

She hums, crossing her arms over her chest, "Honestly?" she says, "That’s the way I wanna be loved one day. He showed that whole crowd how much he cared for you".

You freeze. Blink, and feel heat rushing to your face, creeping up your neck.

She notices immediately. Smirks.

You huff a small laugh, rubbing your hand over your face as you stump out your cigarette, "Christ. Don't even know your name and you make me blush already".

She laughs, "What? You don’t think it’s romantic? And I know your name, Sam, I mean everyone was chanting it that night. So, guess it's kinda okay to make you blush. I'm Elena, by the way".

You smirk, "Hi".

"Hi", she laughs, grabbing two cans of Coke from one of the fridges and slides one over the counter, winking. "New friends get a drink on the house".

"Oh, so we're friends already?", you grin, opening it and taking a sip of the cold, fizzling drink.

She nods and shamelessly steals a cigarette from your pack, using your lighter to light it up before turning back to her work. "So", she continues, exhaling some smoke as she speaks, "You don't think what he did was a romantic gesture?"

"No, I do". You pause, glancing toward the stage again. Eddie is still mid-conversation, but you catch the way his fingers slide over his fretboard, the absentminded way he glances over at you now and then, "It’s just… him, y’know?"

Elena watches you for a second, then shakes her head, amused, "You’re so gone for him".

You exhale, grinning despite yourself. "Yeah", you admit, "I am".

She chuckles, smoking and looking over to the stage as well, "Well, it was a damn good performance that, either way. Even the bar team stopped working to watch. I totally get it, why he risked it all for your song to be played like that".

You blink, glancing back at her, "Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah". She leans against the counter, "You felt that whole room shift when you got up there? It wasn’t just for show. People felt that shit. There are a lot of broken inner children out there, and we all felt those words".

Something warm spreads through your chest. "Thanks", you murmur.

Elena nods, satisfied, "You singing tonight, too?"

You shake your head, lighting another cigarette, "Nah. This night’s for Corroded Coffin. They deserve it". You pause. "I’m not a band member. Just here to support them".

She watches you for a moment, then smirks, "I think you’re more than just support".

You glance at her.

She tilts her head toward the stage, toward Eddie. "He’s been looking over here since we started talking", she mutters, amused, "Man’s got radar for you".

You peek toward the stage again. Sure enough, Eddie’s looking right at you, his brown eyes flickering between you and Elena, his lips twitching up in a smirk when your gazes lock.

You raise a brow.

He mouths, Behave.

You roll your eyes, before winking just to mess with him.

Eddie huffs a laugh, shaking his head before turning back to his guitar.

Elena watches the whole exchange, then gives you a knowing look.

You grin.

She takes a sip from a Coke, tapping her fingers against the metal. "So", she smirks, leaning on her elbows, "if you’re not singing tonight, what’s the plan? Just standing around looking hot?"

You smirk back, exhaling smoke, "Pretty much. Some friends are coming by to see them play, guess I'm just having a good time with them, cheering for my man, making sure everyone knows he's already taken".

She laughs, "Solid gig".

"Right?", you chuckle, "And I mean, someone’s gotta keep an eye on him anyways. He gets all… feral when he’s hyped up like that".

Elena raises a brow, yanking another box of cups on the counter and starting to stack them, "Feral?"

"Like a raccoon in a dumpster".

She snorts, "Jesus Christ".

"No, seriously. He gets in the zone, he's nervous, especially tonight, forgets to eat, barely drinks water, all of that".

Elena cackles, "No fucking way".

"Oh, yeah". You nod, flicking ash into the tray, "That’s also why I’m here. To keep him alive long enough to actually perform".

She shakes her head, still grinning, "So, like… band mom?"

You snort, "I prefer hot, mysterious muse, but sure. Band mom works, too".

Elena chuckles, taking a sip of soda, "And you’re really not nervous for them?"

You glance toward the stage again.Eddie is talking with the sound guy, nodding along, his fingers strumming absently over his strings. He looks relaxed enough, but you know him. You can see the way his knee bounces, the way his jaw clenches just slightly when the guy adjusts a dial on the soundboard. You take another drag. "Nah", you mumble, exhaling smoke, "I know they’re good".

Elena watches you for a second, then nods, "Yeah, I remember. They won because they really deserved it".

You hum, watching Eddie for a moment.

A pause.

Then, she tilts her head. "So… what do you do?"

You blink, "Like… for work?"

"Yeah". She grabs a rag, wiping down the counter, "You a musician? Artist? Full-time raccoon handler?"

You laugh, making Eddie turn his head to you for a second behind your back, "Part-time at a record store. Senior year. Still figuring out the rest".

Elena whistles, "Record shop, mh? Living the dream".

You shrug, "Pays like shit, but it’s fun. The owner's great, customer are mostly nice. Great music all the time".

She nods, "Better than bartending".

You glance at her, "You don’t like it?"

Elena makes a face, "It’s fine. Getting lots of tips the later the nights get. Just not, like… the plan, y’know?"

You nod, "So what is the plan?"

'That would imply I have my life together", she groans, giving you a telling glance, making you chuckle. "But nah", she continues, stretching her arms, "I’m in school. Studying psych".

Your brows raise, "Oh, shit".

"Yep. Bartending’s just for the cash". She pauses, rolling her eyes, "My ex got me into it".

You blink, "Your ex?"

She nods, tossing the rag into a bin. "Real piece of work. He was bartending at these music events and dragged me into it. Mainly rock scene. I didn’t even like the music at first, but… y’know. It kinda grew on me."

You tilt your head, "And the ex?"

"Long gone". She grins, "Like, very gone".

"Good riddance?", you ask, taking a sip of soda, hearing Eddie strumming his guitar behind you.

She nods, "The best", before slightly narrowing her eyes at you, "You, uh… like rock guys?"

You laugh, "Clearly".

She snorts. "Right. Yeah", them shakes her head, "Not for me. They’re all trouble".

"Not all of them".

She arches a brow, "Your man give you any trouble?"

You glance toward the stage again. Eddie’s watching you again. You don’t know how long he’s been doing it, but it’s obvious, he’s not even trying to be subtle. Just leaning against an amp, guitar in hand, brown eyes fixed right on you. The second you look at him, he grins. Slow. Lazy. Heat flutters in your chest. You shake your head, biting back a smile. "Nah", you murmur, "He’s a different kind of trouble".

Elena hums, leaning on the counter, glancing over to the stage, "That a good thing?"

You glance back at her."The best", while wiggling your brows and flicking the cigarette butt into the tray.

"Alright, alright, I’ll give you that. You guys are kinda sickening, though. Like, in a good way, but still", she chuckles.

You laugh, about to reply, when -

"Alright, alright, break it up, ladies!"

Gareth's voice cuts through the noise of the venue, his drumsticks clicking together as he approaches the bar, the rest of the band trailing behind him. Jeff is right on his heels, slinging an arm over Gareth’s shoulder, while Grant shoves his hands into his pockets, looking around with quiet approval. Eddie’s just a step behind them, rolling his shoulders as if he’s finally shaking off the last of his nerves. His eyes flick straight to you, and that little grin from earlier is still there.

Gareth drops onto a barstool next to you, drumming absently on the counter, "You made a friend, Sammie?"

"Apparently", you grin at her, and she grins right back, before leaning an elbow on the counter, looking Gareth up and down.

"You the drummer?"

"Sure am." He twirls a drumstick between his fingers. "You the bartender?"

"Sure am."

They eye each other for a moment.

You can see how Gareth's ears turn pink. He's already fallen for her.

Elena cracks a grin at him, "You need a drink or something?"

He lights up, grinning at her, "Yeah. Whatever you wanna give me".

She rolls her eyes but grabs another Coke from the fridge, sliding it over to him.

Jeff claps a hand on your shoulder. "Damn, Sammie, didn't even get the chance to greet you properly, but I see, you blended right in."

You smirk, "That’s what the fishnets are for."

Grant snorts, "I knew it."

Eddie finally steps up, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you in. His hand is warm on your bare skin, fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt. "She was over here making friends," he drawls, pressing his nose into your hair, "Flirting with the bartender, apparently."

You roll your eyes, elbowing him lightly, "Jealous?"

He hums, lips ghosting your ear, "Always."

Elena watches the exchange with an amused smirk, "He always this needy?"

"Yes," you say.

"No," Eddie says at the same time.

The band collectively snorts.

Gareth pops open his soda, "You guys are disgusting."

Eddie ignores him entirely, focusing instead on you, his thumb rubbing lazy circles over your hipbone. "You like her?" he murmurs, nodding toward Elena.

You nod, "Yeah. She's cool."

Your boyfriend flicks his gaze toward her, giving her a quick once-over. Then he nods, apparently satisfied with your judgment. "Good."

Elena raises a brow, "Damn. Do I get a stamp of approval?"

"Depends. You a fan of the band?", he asks back, smirking.

She shrugs, turns back to her work, her voice careless as she answers, "I was working the battle last weekend. You guys were good."

"Good?" Eddie gasps, clutching his chest dramatically, "Just good?"

She smirks over her shoulder, "You want me to lie?"

Jeff snickers next to you, leaning against the counter, "You walked right into that one, man."

Eddie groans, burying his face in your neck, "I hate this place already."

You laugh, fingers slipping into his curls. "Bullshit. You love it."

He grumbles something under his breath, but the band’s already laughing, shaking their heads. Grant plops onto the other barstool next to you, stretching his arms with a loud sigh before sneaking a cigarette from your pack on the counter, grinning at you.

Elena chuckles as she slides more Cokes across the counter, one for each of the guys, "I assume it's no beer for the rockstars just yet?"

You shake your head, grinning, "Maybe one right before the gig, but that’s it. They need to actually play first."

She smirks, wiping her hands on a rag, "Damn, band mom and hot as hell? Eddie, you lucked out."

Eddie, standing behind you with his hands resting on your shoulders, gives a smug little hum, squeezing gently, "I know."

Gareth, who’s been very unsubtly watching Elena since she handed him his Coke, clears his throat, "So… you got a boyfriend or something?"

Elena blinks at him, unimpressed, "Nope."

Gareth perks up slightly, drumming his fingers on the counter. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." She leans forward, voice dropping just a bit, "But I also don’t want one."

Grant snickers.

Jeff straight-up laughs.

Gareth’s ears turn pink.

Eddie grins, "Ouch, man. You good?"

Gareth clears his throat, clearly trying to play it cool. "Yeah, yeah. All good. Just... y'know, checking."

Elena smirks, shrugging lightly as she eyes them all one after the other, "Honestly, if I were into someone here, it’d probably be Sam."

You snort. "Well, shit."

Eddie’s arms tighten around you immediately, pulling you back into his chest, "Excuse me?"

She just winks. "Sorry, dude. She’s hot."

"Yeah, I know," your boyfriend grumbles, fingers curling around your waist, like he’s making sure you don’t get any ideas.

Elena tilts her head, laughing, "What? You feel threatened?"

You glance up at Eddie, who’s scowling just enough to make it obvious that, yeah, he kind of does. You laugh lightly, snuggling back into him, "Relax, babe. She into guys. And I, only like you".

Eddie huffs. "Good."

He glares at Elena, playfully daring, "But you keep your theoretical hands to yourself, bartender."

She raises her hands in surrender. "Scout’s honor."

Gareth shakes his head, "Man, this is brutal."

"Right?" Jeff grins, "She didn’t even try to let him down easy."

Eddie groans, pressing his forehead against the top of your head, "I hate this bar."

You giggle, reaching up to run your fingers through his curls, "No, you don’t."

Eddie sighs dramatically, then shifts his focus back to you, his hands trailing down your arms, "You done making friends now?"

"For now," you tease.

"Good." He nudges you lightly, then turns your barstool so you’re facing him. He leans in, one hand pressing against the counter beside you, the other skimming up your thigh, fingers dragging over the holes in your fishnets.

Your breath hitches, just a little. "What are you doing?"

"Marking my territory," he murmurs, smirking, before dipping his head to kiss you. It’s soft, teasing, the kind of kiss that makes your heart race. His lips graze yours again, barely there, making you chase him a little before he kisses you properly.

You melt into him, hands gripping his vest, smiling against his mouth. Someone clears their throat loudly. "Jesus Christ," Grant groans, "Can you not?"

Eddie grins against your lips, "Nope."

"You guys are actually insufferable," Gareth complains.

Jeff nods. "The worst couple I’ve ever met."

Elena watches the whole thing with barely restrained amusement, "This is fascinating."

"You think this is bad?" Grant snorts, "Try living with them for a weekend."

Elena raises an eyebrow, "That bad?"

Jeff laughs, "You have no idea."

"Oh my God, here we go," you mumble against Eddie’s lips.

But the guys are already on a roll.

"They’re like rabbits," Gareth groans, "No, worse. Horny rabbits."

"Did you know," Grant starts, looking at Elena, "that they literally cannot keep their hands off each other? Like, at all?"

Elena shrugs, "Yeah, I kinda got that already."

"No, no, you don’t understand," Grant cuts in, grinning, "Last weekend, after the battle, we all kinda shared a hotel room, right? Well, without Jeff. He passed out somewhere else. But anyways..."

You freeze. "Grant-"

Eddie just grins, like he knows where this is going.

Grant ignores you, looking at Elena. "They woke up before us, right? Thought they were alone in the room. Started making out"

"We were alone," you protest, "You guys were asleep".

"And? We were still there! Sleeping all innocent right next to you", Garten chimes in.

"And then..." Grant smirks, "They realized we were there. Did they stop? No. Did they care? No. They just kept going. They fucked right next to us".

Eddie snorts, "We were quiet. You idiots didn't even wake up".

"Oh my God," Gareth groans, "That was so messed up."

"It gets worse," Grant says. "Because we all wake up hours later, right? And guess what we see?"

You bury your face in Eddie’s chest, "Please shut up."

Grant grins. "Sam. Naked. Eddie. Naked. Tangled together under a single shitty hotel blanket."

"Her tits out," Gareth adds, exasperated.

You groan. "I hate you all."

"You should," Grant laughs, "Because I woke up, looked over, and bam. Tits."

Eddie is laughing. Hard.

"And I'm in the bathroom", Gareth continues, "puke my guts out, come back, and boom - tits. Thankfully covered by his hands, because apparently, our guitarist likes to hold on to them in his sleep".

Elena is losing it. "Oh my God." 

Eddie is full-on wheezing now, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he shakes with laughter.

You groan, smacking his chest lightly. "You’re not helping!"

He barely manages to get words out between laughs, "I mean… they’re perfect, baby. Can you blame me?"

You shove him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Eddie!"

Grant just shakes his head, grinning at Elena, "See? This is exactly what we’re talking about. Disgusting."

"Absolutely vile," Gareth adds, cracking open another Coke.

Elena wipes at her eyes, still laughing. "I don’t know if I should be traumatized for you guys or impressed that they pulled it off."

"Oh, they pulled it off just fine," Grant says, then pauses, expression turning horrified as he realizes the double meaning of what he just said, "Oh my God."

Jeff chokes on his drink, wheezing out a laugh. "Jesus Christ, man."

Gareth just groans. "I hate this conversation."

"You started it," you point out, still bright red. "Yeah, and I regret it," Gareth mutters, rubbing his temples.

Eddie, still grinning, presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Guess we’re just too much for them, my love."

Elena smirks. "Yeah, no offense, but I’d never share a hotel room with you two."

"Smart choice," Grant says, "Because it was hell."

"It wasn’t that bad," Eddie argues.

Grant levels him with a look. "Dude, I woke up to your naked girlfriend’s tits in my face. It was bad".

"Technically, they were in my face," Eddie corrects, grinning smugly.

You smack his chest again, "You are not making this better."

Eddie just shrugs, completely unapologetic. "You chose to love me, baby, you gotta live with it".

You roll your eyes at him, but a small smirk grows on your lips at the way he winks at you.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you right back into him, into his lips.

Gareth groans. "God, get a room."

"Gladly," Eddie quips, "Got one waiting for us already to come back and take off right where we stopped earlier".

Grant throws a bar napkin at Eddie’s head. "Jesus Christ, man. Can you not?"

Eddie just laughs, catching it before it falls, and casually tosses it onto the counter. "What? I’m just saying-"

"Don’t," Jeff warns, already rubbing his temples, "For the love of God, don’t."

Elena snorts, leaning against the bar with an amused grin, "I gotta say, I admire the commitment. Most couples at least pretend they’re not sex-crazed lunatics in public."

You roll your eyes, shifting in front of Eddie, but making no move to actually turn back around in your seat.

His hands settle on your hips, fingers playing with the hem of your shorts, completely at ease. "We do pretend."

"No, you don’t," Gareth deadpans.

"Not even a little," Grant adds.

You sigh, dragging your fingers through Eddie’s curls. "Well, if we tried to tone it down, would you guys believe us?"

The entire band responds in unison. "No."

Eddie grins, smug as hell. "See, baby? No point in pretending."

Grant groans, "You guys make me so fucking sick."

"You love us," Eddie sing-songs, nuzzling into your shoulder. "I tolerate you."

"You two are a menace," Elena laughs, shaking her head as she wipes down the bar.

"You should see them at home," Grant continues, taking a sip of soda, "I swear to God, the second we leave practice, they’re probably on each other like-"

"You don’t have to finish that sentence," you interrupt quickly.

Gareth sighs dramatically, "Too late. The mental image is already there."

"You’re welcome," Eddie murmurs, smirking against your shoulder.

Jeff just groans, "God help us all."

Elena laughs, tossing a bar rag over her shoulder. "You guys are fun."

"That’s one word for it," Grant mutters.

Eddie just grins, fingers idly tracing patterns on your thigh, "Stick around, bartender. You ain’t seen nothing yet."

Two hours later, Eddie and his band finally wrap up their sound check, the last notes of Burning Chains echoing through the empty venue as the sound team gives them a thumbs-up.

The guys exchange looks, pleased, excited, but mostly hungry.

And then, right on cue, the dramatics begin.

Gareth drops his drumsticks onto his snare with a loud clatter and dramatically clutches his stomach, "I’m dying."

Jeff groans, collapsing onto one of the stage monitors like he’s lost the will to live. "I haven’t eaten in hours. I’m wasting away."

"Starving," Grant adds, flopping onto his back like a corpse, "Absolutely starving."

Eddie, ever the performer, stumbles forward, grasping the microphone stand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. "Someone… please… feed us," he rasps, eyes closed, shaking his head, "We can’t go on like this."

From behind the bar, you and Elena just stare.

Elena leans in close to you, deadpan, "You sure your boyfriend’s not in theater?"

You sigh, watching as Eddie literally drops to his knees on the stage. "I ask myself that every day."

She snorts,  "That’s insane. That’s a grown man."

"Debatable," you mutter.

Gareth groans dramatically again. "Girls, help us!"

You roll your eyes, "You guys are so full of shit. Eds, I know you had a shit load of breakfast, and I know you guys never go on a ride without way too many road snacks. You can't be starving like that".

Jeff turns his head where he’s still sprawled on the monitor, "It’s been four hours since I had my last snack".

"Yeah," Grant groans, eyes closed, "I don’t think we’re gonna make it, Sammie."

Eddie tilts his head back like he’s in some Shakespearean tragedy. "Tell Wayne I love him".

Elena rolls her eyes as the all climb down the stage, throwing a rag at Eddie the second he moves closer,  "Get the fuck out of here and get some food, freaks."

Eddie catches it midair, grinning. "That an order?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, standing up, "Before you idiots actually pass out."

Eddie strides over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder "C’mon, baby, come with us."

You hesitate, looking back at Elena. You've been having a great time hanging out with her.

Elena catches your look and smirks, waving you off, "Go. I’ll be here when you get back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I got, like, hours before my shift actually starts. I’ll just get a head start on stocking shit."

Eddie leans down and fake whispers in your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear, "You like her more than me, don’t you?"

You shove him, "Oh my god, shut up."

Grant groans from the stage, "Are we getting food, or not?"

"Alright, alright," Eddie says, tugging you toward the door, "let’s feed the starving artists before they actually die on me."

As you leave, you glance back at Elena, who just shakes her head, grinning. "Freaks," she mutters.

The guys practically drag you out of the venue, moving with the urgency of men on the verge of death, despite the fact that they ate just a few hours ago. Eddie’s arm stays slung around your shoulders as the five of you make your way down the street, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the sidewalk.

Jeff groans as he spots the neon sign of the diner ahead, "Oh, thank God."

"It’s right around the corner. You act like we just hiked through the desert", you comment, rolling your eyes.

"You don’t understand, Sam", Gareth sighs dramatically, pushing open the door, "I’ve been running on drummer energy all day. I need fuel".

"Oh, my God", you sigh, watching them all pile inside and following.

Inside, the diner is all red booths and checkered floors, the scent of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee lingering in the air. It’s got that classic vibe, jukebox in the corner, chrome-edged tables, a waitress in a baby blue uniform smacking her gum behind the counter.

Eddie leads you all to a booth near the back, immediately pulling you down next to him before you can even think about sitting anywhere else. He sprawls out, legs knocking against yours, arm stretching along the back of the seat like he owns the place.

Grant grabs a menu, eyes scanning it like it holds the answers to life’s greatest questions, "I need a burger. The biggest fucking burger they got".

"Milkshake", Gareth whimpers, already flipping his menu to the dessert section.

Jeff flags down the waitress, a woman in her late forties with a name tag that reads Dolores. "Ma’am, please", he pleads, resting his forearms on the table, "We are on the verge of starvation".

Dolores pops her gum, unimpressed, "You look fine to me, hon".

Eddie snorts, "He’s not fine, ma’am. None of us are".

She raises an eyebrow, "Yeah? What’s the occasion?"

Eddie grins, jerking his thumb toward the rest of the guys. "We’re playing at The Black Cat tonight".

That actually gets a reaction, her eyes flick between all of you, her expression shifting from mild disinterest to mildly impressed. "Huh. That’s a pretty big deal. You boys in a band?"

"Corroded Coffin", Eddie announces proudly, like the name should mean something to her.

Dolores just nods, unfazed. "Well, congrats, sugar. Now, you actually gonna order somethin’, or should I just bring you a bowl of sympathy?"

Gareth practically launches into his order, rattling off a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake like his life depends on it. The others follow suit, ordering burgers, sandwiches, and enough fries to feed a small army.

Eddie turns to you, "What about you, sweetheart?"

"I’m good", you mutter, smirking as you watch the guys act like they haven’t eaten in weeks.

Dolores scoffs, "She’s the only sane one at this table".

Your boyfriend grins, leaning in close, "Oh, you think she’s sane".

You elbow him, but he just laughs, grabbing your hand under the table and lacing your fingers together. His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, and despite his usual dramatics, he’s relaxed now. Loose. Comfortable.

The guys continue talking, about the setlist, the venue, the people they saw walking around outside, but Eddie just leans in, lips brushing your ear, "You think people will actually show?"

You turn your head to look at him. His voice is quieter now, no longer playing things up for a laugh. There’s a flicker of that doubt again, hidden under the surface.

You squeeze his hand, "I know they will".

He searches your face for a second, then exhales, some of that tension easing from his shoulders.

And then, just like that, the moment passes. "Alright, lovebirds", Grant says, reaching over to steal a fry off Gareth’s plate as the food arrives, "can you two not for five minutes?"

Eddie smirks, eyes still locked on you, "Not a chance".

The second the server sets the plates down, the dramatics truly begin.

"Oh my God", Gareth moans, practically drooling over his burger before he even picks it up, "This is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life".

"You need to get out more", you snort, watching him inhaling his food.

Jeff has already taken a massive bite of his sandwich, nodding in blissful approval. "Oh yeah", he mumbles around a mouthful of food, "This is it. This is life".

Eddie, meanwhile, leans back smugly, arms stretched along the booth, watching you. He knew, knew the moment you told Dolores you weren’t hungry, that you’d be aiming for his fries. He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement as he catches you eying them. "You don’t get any", he announces, voice low and smug.

Your eyes flick up to his, feigning innocence, "What?"

"You heard me, sweetheart", he smirks, "You said you were good. No take-backs".

You scoff, "Oh, come on. You have, like, a mountain of fries".

"And they’re mine". He reaches for his plate and physically pulls it closer, making sure it’s out of your reach.

You pout, but he just raises an eyebrow, entirely unmoved.

Fine.

If he wants to play dirty, you’ll just steal someone else’s.

Your gaze shifts to Grant’s plate.

He catches on immediately. "Nope", Grant shields his fries like you’re a seagull about to swoop in and snatch them.

"Dude, come on", you laugh, making a quick grab, but he’s ready and yanks the plate toward his chest like it’s precious cargo, his entire body hunched protectively over it.

Jeff watches the struggle, amused, "Jesus, you guys".

Gareth, still mid-bite, mumbles, "Sharing is caring, boys".

Grant glares at him, "Then why don’t you share with her?"

Gareth immediately shakes his head, holding up a hand, "Nope. These are mine. She's not my girl".

You huff, crossing your arms, "You guys suck".

Eddie just grins, eating a fry in front of you slowly, just to rub it in, "Told you, babe".

Time to bring out the big guns.

You sigh, dramatically resting your chin in your hand, lower lip jutting out just a little. Your eyes go big, wide, pleading. It’s the ultimate weapon. Puppy eyes. A whispered, soft, "Please?"

And they all melt. Immediately.

Grant groans, shoulders slumping, "Oh, fuck you".

Gareth sighs, shoving his plate an inch toward you, "Fine".

Jeff is already holding out a handful of fries like it’s a peace offering.

Even Eddie, who had been so adamant about not sharing, is suddenly grumbling under his breath, nudging his plate toward you with an eyeroll, "You’re the worst".

You beam, thrilled by your victory, "Love you guys".

Eddie snorts, "Yeah, yeah. Just eat your damn fries".

You grin, all smug and victorious, before immediately stealing one of Gareth’s onion rings.

He groans but doesn’t fight you.

Jeff doesn’t even try to stop you when you swipe a fry from his plate, just shaking his head in defeat.

Grant, though? Grant fights. You reach for one of his fries, but he’s fast, his hand slams down over the plate, eyes narrowing, "Oh hell no".

You blink up at him, batting your lashes, "But-"

"No."

"Just one"

"No."

You pout again, but Grant’s learned, he turns away from you, physically angling his body to protect his food.

Eddie watches the entire thing, snickering, happily munching on his own fries, "See, I told you. You’re a menace".

You roll your eyes, "Oh, please. I’m a delight".

Eddie just grins at you.

And then, oh, perfect opportunity, you catch sight of his milkshake.

He sees exactly where you’re looking. "Don’t".

You ignore him, reaching for it anyway.

"Sam", he warns, voice low.

Too late.

You already have the glass in your hands, straw between your lips, taking a long, dramatic sip.

Eddie groans, running a hand down his face, "Oh my God".

Gareth laughs, "She got you, dude".

Jeff leans back, watching the whole thing with amusement, "What happened to not sharing?"

Your boyfriend just stares at you, like he’s weighing whether he should fight for it or let you get away with it.

You sip again.

And that’s when Eddie lunges.

You squeak, trying to dodge as he grabs for the shake.

But it’s too late, he cages you in, both hands gripping the glass with yours still wrapped around it. "Oh, you think you’re cute, huh?"

You smirk, straw still between your lips, "I know I’m cute".

He leans in, voice dropping, "You’re a fucking thief, is what you are".

"Yeah, yeah, arrest me, Munson". You take another slow sip, just to prove your point.

Eddie growls, but instead of yanking the shake away, he grabs your chin and kisses you. Right there, in the middle of the diner, half his food forgotten.

Gareth groans. "Jesus, again?"

Grant gags. "I hate you both."

Jeff just chuckles, sipping his own drink.

You pull back just enough to smirk up at Eddie, "That was dramatic".

He licks his lips, eyes dark, "You like me dramatic" as he leans in, slurping his shake you both still hold on to, his nose nudging yours.

Back at the venue

T

he last hour before a gig is always the worst.

The waiting.

The nervous energy.

The way time slows down, stretching thin like a bad dream.

The venue’s quiet now, only a handful of staff moving around, getting ready for the flood of people outside.

And the guys... oh, they hate this part.

Eddie’s perched on an amp case, his knee bouncing, fingers tapping against the side of his thigh.

Jeff leans against the wall, arms crossed, smoking like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

Gareth keeps rolling a drumstick between his fingers, flipping it, catching it, over and over.

They’ve all got beers in their hands, taking slow sips to pass the time.

"This is bullshit," Eddie groans, tipping his head back dramatically, "An hour? What the fuck am I supposed to do for an hour?"

You snort, watching him on stage, how he paces around, grabbing his hair.

"Maybe shut up for five minutes," Jeff suggests dryly, exhaling smoke.

Eddie levels him with a look, "Wow, thanks, Jeff. Really helpful. Love the support. Brotherhood, or whatever."

Gareth smirks. "You've been through this a hundred times. You always survive."

"Yeah, barely. I age at least five years every time," Eddie grumbles, rubbing his temples.

It’s the same every gig, too much time beforehand, not enough once it starts.

You watch them from your seat at the bar, beer in hand, laughing quietly with Elena at how wrecked they look already.

Eddie's the worst. He’s now on the edge of the stage, one foot bouncing, fingers tapping against his knee, shifting like he physically cannot sit still. He gets up again, grabs his guitar, plays a few licks, puts it down again. He’s jittery. Impatient. Dying to play.

You shake your head, laughing as you take another sip of beer. "I swear, he acts like this is his first show every single time."

Elena grins, nudging your arm, "It’s cute, though. Like a dog waiting to go outside."

You snort, "More like a dog losing its mind waiting to be fed."

Before she can respond, music suddenly fills the venue, someone testing the speakers in the back, the first few chords crackling through before it evens out.

And the second you hear it, your breath catches.

"Girl, you really got me now… you got me so I don’t know what I’m doin’…"

Your stomach flips.

Because you know this song.

The Kinks. You Really Got Me.

The song Eddie picked on your first date.

It had been late, both of you a little tipsy in some bar outside of Hawkins, where no one knew you, where you didn’t have to hide like you did back home.

You two had been at the jukebox, playfully choosing songs for each other, laughing over your terrible selections.

Eddie had picked this one. He’d been ridiculous about it, grinning as he pointed at you, dramatically singing along, moving his shoulders, wiggling his brows in that exaggerated way that made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. He’d danced right there in the middle of the bar, pulling you in, spinning you around, making a scene, and you’d let him, because for once, you could.

You remember how that night had felt. The pull between you, already too strong to ignore. The way you couldn’t stop touching each other, hands lingering, fingers grazing, lips pressing together in stolen kisses beneath the hum of the jukebox.

The way he’d murmured against your skin, "You really got me, sweetheart."

The memory is so vivid, so visceral, it makes your chest tighten.

And when your eyes find Eddie’s across the room, you know he remembers it too.

Because he grins widely, wiggling his brows, and he points at you. "They're playing our song, baby! Girl, you really got me now… you got me so I can’t sleep at night…"

You barely have time to react before he jumps off the stage, moving toward you with purpose, dancing over in the exact same way he had that night, hips swaying, fingers snapping, brows wiggling, lips curling into that stupidly smug grin.

"Oh, my God," you groan, already laughing as you cover your face.

Elena is cackling, clapping her hands. "Holy shit, he’s so into this."

And he is.

Eddie doesn’t hold back, belting the lyrics, spinning dramatically, fully committing as he reaches you.

"Yeah, you really got me now… you got me so I can’t sleep at night…"

He grabs your hand, yanks you in, spins you beneath his arm, making you gasp before bursting into giggles.

You barely catch yourself, palms landing against his chest, feeling the way his laughter vibrates through him as he keeps singing, voice loud, unapologetic, like he’s performing just for you.

"Oh yeah, you really got me now… you got me so I don’t know what I’m doin’…"

The others are watching, some amused, some unimpressed.

Gareth raises an eyebrow, "Jesus Christ, who is this man?" Is he... dancing?"

Grant makes a disgusted noise. "They’re doing it again. The love stuff. The making-me-feel-so-single-stuff".

Jeff just grins, exhaling smoke, "It’s kinda impressive, honestly."

But you don’t care.

Because Eddie is holding you close, eyes alight, so cocky, so sweet, voice dropping lower as he leans in, singing right against your lips.

"Oh yeah, you really got me… you really got me… you really got me…"

And you sing it back, just for him, your voices blending low, quiet, like a secret between you.

He grins.

And then you’re kissing him, soft, swaying together in the empty venue, bodies pressed close, lost in your own little world.

"I love you", you whisper, kissing him again, letting him move you around, lips still smirking as they connect again, and again, and again.

"Love you more", he breathes, nudging your nose with his, only to eventually dip you back dramatically, making you squeal as the song comes to an end.

And when he pulls you upright, breathless, grinning like a madman, he murmurs, "Told you, sweetheart. You really got me."

Another song starts to play, but you barely hear it. Barely feel the few amused pairs of eyes on you as you look up into his dark eyes, drown in those pools of warm chocolate.

Your hand slides up his chest, grabs his shirt, and pulls him back down into another kiss. Long. Slow. Deep.

What started as sweet turns needy, lingering, lips parting, teasing, tasting.

Eddie’s hands slip lower, fingers curling into your waist, pulling you flush against him, tilting his head to kiss you harder.

You make a small, pleased noise, your own hands sliding further up his chest, fingers tangling in his hair. You don’t even care that you have an audience anymore.

"Alright, seriously," Gareth groans somewhere behind you, "Stop it, you maniacs".

Grant makes a gagging noise, "It’s like watching a live porno."

Elena howls, clapping her hands, "Oh, let them be, this is adorable."

But you don’t care.

And Eddie sure as hell doesn’t care either.

All he does is grin against your lips, laugh softly, and pull you closer. His big hands are shameless, fingers digging into your waist, dragging you even closer against him as he deepens the kiss, lingering, teasing, tongue flicking out to taste, to take.

You sigh against his lips, nails scratching up the nape of his neck, curling into his hair, pulling him down, chasing his mouth, making him hum in approval.

"Jesus," Jeff mutters, somewhere behind you. "This is getting ridiculous."

Eddie snickers, breaking away just enough to look at you, eyes bright, mischievous, and oh, so fucking smug. "You know, we still got time, baby," he murmurs, voice low, thick, hands smoothing over your back, slipping lower, "Wanna find somewhere quiet?"

You bite your lip, grinning, and oh, you know that look in his eyes.

The challenge. The heat.

"You planning on keeping your hands to yourself?" you tease.

Eddie snorts, gives your ass the lightest squeeze, just to prove a point, "Absolutely fucking not."

You laugh, grabbing his collar, yanking him back down for another kiss, and he goes willingly, smiling against your lips, mumbling something filthy, something about bending you over backstage, something that makes you gasp, makes him chuckle, makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

"Oh my God," Gareth groans, throwing his drumsticks down, "Just go already!"

Eddie flips him off, still kissing you, walking you backward, barely even paying attention to where he’s going, like he’s on autopilot, like all he cares about is keeping you close, tasting you, teasing you, keeping you breathless and giggling as he leads you toward the back. "Let's go somewhere with fewer judgy assholes," he says, loud enough for the guys to hear. 

"Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!" Gareth calls after you.

"Well, that’s a short fuckin’ list," Eddie shoots back, dragging you through the curtain leading to the backstage area.

You laugh, arms still wrapped around him as you both move slowly, lips finding each other in another long kiss.

The moment the curtain falls behind you, your man's on you.

Hands sliding up your sides, pulling you in until there’s not a breath of space left between you. His lips crash into yours, deep and slow, all-consuming. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you are. He groans softly, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt - his shirt, a Corroded Coffin one, worn loose over your fishnet tights and shorts.

His favorite look on you. Fuck, he loves you in this. Loves that you wear his band’s name like it means something.

"God, you’re so fucking pretty," he mumbles against your lips, like he can’t hold the words in, "I love you so much, baby. You have no idea."

You smile against his mouth, fingers tangling in his curls, "I think I do."

He kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand sliding down to squeeze your thigh over the fishnets. His breath shudders when he pulls back, eyes dark and needy. "You’re gonna be front row, right?" he asks, brushing his nose against yours, "Need to see you there, screaming my name, looking hot as fuck in my shirt."

"Where else would I be?"

His smug grin is back, but his eyes are still dark, still desperate. "Mm, yeah. That’s my girl." He presses another kiss to your throat, nipping lightly. His voice drops, rough and wanting. "Fuck, I need you." His hands slide lower, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shorts, teasing.

You swallow hard, heart picking up, "Yeah?"

Eddie smirks, leaning in, breath hot against your lips. "Yeah." He kisses you again, slow and deep, grinding against you just enough to make you shiver, "Need you so bad, baby. You drive me fucking insane".

You barely have a second to process before he grabs your thighs and hoists you up against the wall, pressing his body flush against yours. His hands grip tight, rough fingertips digging into the bare skin beneath your fishnets, holding you in place like he needs you there, like he couldn’t stand a single inch of distance. "Fuck, baby," he breathes, voice thick, dripping with want, "You know how hard it is to focus when you’re dressed like this? Walkin’ around in my shirt, those tight little shorts, these fucking fishnets". His fingers trace the patterned fabric stretched over your thighs, then slip just underneath, teasing at the delicate skin beneath, "You do it on purpose, don’t you?"

You smirk, eyes lidded as you drag your fingers through his curls, "Maybe".

Eddie groans, a sound deep and needy, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat before his lips find your throat, hot and wet and hungry. "You’re a menace," he mutters against your skin, voice muffled as he bites down, just enough to make you gasp, "You love making me suffer." His hips roll forward, slow and deliberate, making sure you feel his erection, making sure you know exactly what you’re doing to him. He grins against your neck when you suck in a sharp breath, hands tightening in his hair. "You like that, baby?" His voice is low, smug, the rasp in it going straight to your core. He presses in again, grinding against you just right, slow and teasing. "Fuck, I love you," he groans, kissing up your jaw, finding your lips again, desperate and consuming. "Love how you feel, love how you taste". His tongue flicks against yours, deepening the kiss, hands gripping your thighs tighter as he grinds against you harder, rough denim rubbing against the heat between your legs.

You whimper against his lips, and he shudders, gripping your ass, holding you against him like he never wants to let go.

"You’re gonna be the death of me, baby, I-" he breathes, rolling his hips again. His words cut off into a groan when you rock against him, making his breath stutter and his hips press forward, slow and teasing, the rough friction making you whimper, and that sound makes him feral. "Jesus fucking Christ," he growls, voice rough, rasping, "You have to know what you’re doing to me. Dressed like this, looking at me like that". His thumb drags over your bottom lip, and he watches, mesmerized, as you part your lips, as you suck the tip of his thumb into the heat of your mouth. His breathing stutters. "Oh, fuck me". He pulls his thumb free, only to crush his lips against yours, deep and filthy, tongue sliding against yours, claiming every inch of your mouth like he’s trying to drown in you. His teeth nip at your lips, making you gasp, and he devours the sound, swallowing it like it belongs to him. His hands are everywhere, he presses you harder against the wall, the weight of him overwhelming, intoxicating, the heat between your legs pulsing as he rolls his hips into you again, slow and deliberate. "Tell me, baby," he breathes against your mouth, voice thick with need. "Tell me how bad you want me right now. How bad you need me."

You tighten your legs around his waist, tilting your head back, gasping when he takes the opportunity to mouth at your throat, tongue flicking over your pulse. "Eddie"

"Say it." His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

"So bad," you whisper, gripping his hair, tugging his face back to yours, "I want you so fucking bad".

His growl is damn near primal when he crashes his lips against yours again, his hands sliding lower, gripping your ass, pressing you closer. "God, I fucking knew it," he murmurs between kisses, grinning against your lips, "Knew you were as desperate as I am." His fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, barely there, just a tease, just enough to make you arch against him, to make you beg without words. "Fuck" he groans, dragging his lips down your jaw, your throat, biting at the spot that makes you gasp.

"Eds", you gasp, making him look at you as you wrap your arms tighter around him, "Find a place to fuck already or I'll let you take me right against this fucking wall".

He groans again, hands grabbing your ass harder as he hoists you further up his hips, carrying you with him down a hall.

Seconds later, he stumbles backward into the dressing room, carrying you with him, hands all over you. Needy, frantic. His foot kicks the door shut, you sink back down on your feet and he fumbles behind him, locking the door with a sharp click before grabbing you and pressing you hard against it. "Fuck, baby," he groans, his hands already tugging at your shorts, desperate, teeth scraping over your jaw as he grinds against you.

You don’t hesitate. You’re just as wrecked as he is, as desperate, hands shaking as you shove at his belt, yanking the leather free, popping the button of his jeans.

Eddie curses under his breath, helping you, dragging his zipper down with a harsh pull.

You barely have time to breathe before he spins you, pressing your front against the door now. His hands are rough, eager, already working to shove your shorts down. "Gotta have you, baby," he murmurs, voice wrecked, lips ghosting over your jaw, "Right fucking now." His free hand finally yanks your shorts down just enough, dragging your fishnets with them over the curve of your ass.

And then he’s shoving his jeans down just far enough, just enough to pull himself free. His dick hot and hard, thick in his fist.

"Eddie" Your voice is already wrecked, breathless as you roll your hips back, your ass pressing against his lower belly.

He grins, cocky and wild. "That’s right, baby, say my name." His fingers dip between your thighs, teasing over your soaked panties, and he lets out a deep groan. "Fuck. You’re soaked for me already. You love this, huh? Love knowing I can’t fucking think straight around you?"

You whimper, pushing back against him, grinding against his hand, and he chuckles, dark and smug.

"Needy little thing," he teases, nudging your legs further apart with his knee, "Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you." With that, he yanks your panties aside, rubbing the head of his cock against your dripping folds. "Shit," he breathes, dragging it through your slick, coating himself in you, "Gonna feel so fucking good..."

Then, without warning, he buries himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust.

"Fuck!" You cry out, body arching, hands scrambling against the door.

Eddie groans, head dropping to your shoulder. "Fucking hell, baby, you’re so fucking tight--"His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in as he pulls back, then slams into you again.

His pace is brutal, relentless, hips snapping against your ass, each thrust pushing you harder into the door.

You can't keep in your gasped moans, nails digging into the wooden door. The force of you two rattles the hinges.

"Ohmygod, y-yes--", you moan, eyes fluttering, your hips rolling back into him as he fucks you just right in his perfect rhythm.

His breath hits your neck, your ass slaps against his pelvis, the room fills with your sounds, the heat of your bodies. And the sound of your wet pussy greedily taking every hard thrust he gives you.

"You hear that?" he taunts, voice rough, "Hear how fucking wet you are for me? Making a goddamn mess on my cock, baby."

You’re gasping, moaning, barely able to form words, "P-please".

He grins, biting at your shoulder. "Please what, baby? C’mon, use your words".

"Make me fucking cum," you pant, arching into him.

He growls, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit. "Yeah? you wanna come on my cock? Want me to ruin you before I go on stage?" His ringed fingers circle your clit perfectly in sync with the deep, punishing thrusts of his hips, and it’s too much, your body tightening, pleasure curling low in your belly.

You moan desperately, body arching, toes barely touching the floor as he drives into you from behind. "Right there", you sob, feeling his dick hammering right against your sweet spot. "Fuck, Eddie, don't stop--"

"Yeah," he breathes, his other hand reaching up to grab your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder, forcing your lips to part. "Say it. Tell me how fucking good I feel."

"So good," you gasp, voice wrecked, desperate, "Keep going-- oh god yes!"

His breath is ragged, his thrusts turning erratic, hips snapping against your ass as he slams you into the door over and over, chasing the climax already building inside you. "That’s it, baby," he pants, feeling how your walls already start to clench around him, how your gasps and moans turn more breathless, how your body tenses against his, "Cum for me. Wanna feel you fucking squeeze me, baby, yes, that's my girl-- fuck yes--"

You’re gone, pleasure crashing over you in a blinding, toe-curling wave. You cry out, body shuddering, walls pulsing around him .

His hands fall back on your hips as he keeps you where he needs you, your breath shaking as you try to catch it, your whole body jolting with his hard thrusts as he chases his own release. "Fuck, that's it", he pants, pulling your hips back in his rhythm, your moans reaching his ears again as you glance over your shoulder, smirking so dirty he's absolutely losing it. "Gonna cum so deep, baby-- gonna make you feel me all night while I'm on stage".

"Yeah? Then fill me up, rockstar", you grin breathlessly, pressing back into him, grinding your hips with him, gasping at how deep he is buried inside you, feeling him unraveling with a low groan, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, heat flooding you. His arms lock around your waist, pulling you back against him as he grinds deep, making sure you take every fucking drop.

You’re both panting, bodies shaking, forehead pressed to the door as you struggle to come back down.

"Holy shit," Eddie breathes after a moment, chest having against your back. Then he grins, pressing a teasing kiss to your neck before slowly pulling out. "Think I can go on stage like this?"

You grin, hearing his zip up while turning in his arms, pulling your clothes back in place before pressing your lips to his throat, "Mmm, not done yet."

"Oh?" His tone is teasing, but there’s a thrill in his voice as your lips part, sucking a deep, filthy hickey into the side of his neck while he casually closes his belt.

"That’s right," you murmur, licking over the mark, smug as hell, "Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine while you’re up on that stage."

His hands tighten on your waist as you pull back, and he tilts his head, watching you with that look, all heat and mischief and something softer beneath it. "Damn, sweetheart", he murmurs, voice warm with amusement, "Didn’t know you had it in you".

You smirk, straightening his collar, smoothing down his shirt, eyes lingering on the mark. "Just wanna make sure everybody knows there's no fucking the guitarist tonight".

Eddie chuckles, catching your chin between his fingers, kissing you deep and slow, savoring the taste of you like he’s got all the time in the world. His tongue slides against yours, teasing, until you’re breathless again, until he’s grinning against your lips like he just won some kind of prize. "C’mon", he mumbles, his voice still rough from the way you just wrecked him, "Let’s make sure we don’t look like we just..." He gestures vaguely, smirking as he watches your face flush, "... fucked".

You both check yourselves in the mirror, making sure your clothes are in place, your hair isn’t too much of a mess, that there’s nothing that screams just fucked in the changing room backstage.

But the hickey on Eddie’s neck? There’s no hiding that. And he doesn’t even try.

With one last shared look, you open the door, stepping back into the venue.

Immediately, Elena catches sight of you and grins, wiggling her brows in that knowing way.

The guys, however, are less amused. "Oh, for fuck’s sake", Gareth groans, flicking his cigarette into the nearest ashtray, "Did you really have to mark him up right before the show?"

Grant laughs, shaking his head, "Dude, you look like you got attacked".

Jeff just smirks, nodding toward Eddie’s very visible hickey, "That’s gonna be real fun for the stage lights"

Eddie, completely unbothered, just plops down at the counter with his usual cocky grin, lighting up a cigarette, stretching his arms over the back of the seat like he owns the place. "Jealous much, my boys?"

"Disgusted," Gareth mutters.

You laugh, slipping onto the seat next to Eddie, sipping your drink as the guys have a last smoke before heading backstage.

The air is thick with anticipation, nerves running high, but Eddie? He’s still watching you, his gaze lazy and warm, exchanging flirty looks with you every time you glance his way.

As the conversation shifts, as the guys start talking about the setlist, about the soundcheck, you lean in, brushing your lips against his ear, your voice low, just for him. "I can feel you dripping out of me", you murmur, your fingers tracing lightly over his thigh, "God, I love when you fuck me like that".

Eddie shivers. His fingers twitch around his cigarette, and he exhales a slow, shaky breath, jaw tightening as he processes what you just said.

You smirk, watching the way he grips his drink a little tighter, the way his shoulders tense as he tries to stay casual. "You okay, Munson?".you tease, voice low, sultry.

He takes a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke through his nose, eyes dark as they flick toward you, "You’re fucking evil, you know that?"

You just grin, sipping your drink, letting your fingers drag up his tattooed arm. "Can’t wait to see you up there", you murmur, "You're always so hot on stage. Always turns me on so much. Makes me so wet. You should prepare for what I’m gonna do to you later, baby".

Eddie groans under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face, shaking his head as he exhales a rough laugh.

Soon enough, it’s time.

The guys stub out their cigarettes, finishing their drinks before heading backstage.

Eddie is the last to go, lingering beside you, grinning, tipping your chin up with two fingers. "See you later, my love", he murmurs, pressing one last filthy kiss to your lips, deep and slow, leaving you breathless.

When he pulls back, he winks, then finally follows his bandmates backstage.

You take a deep breath, settling back onto your seat, your body still humming with anticipation.

Elena snickers beside you, "You two are fucking ridiculous".

You just laugh, grabbing your drink, already feeling the excitement buzzing under your skin.

Now, all that’s left is to wait.