#eddie munson historical au

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Paris, 1889

steddie, omegaverse, starving artist eddie, moulin rouge dancer steve

Eddie Munson knows he’s lucky. Some days he feels like the luckiest man alive. He lives in Paris, he’s doing what he loves, and most days he has enough money to eat three meals.

And yes, most of that money is charity from his beloved uncle, and NOT from selling his artwork. 

In the year he’s been in his tiny garret, committing to La Vie Boheme, Eddie has sold one painting. He picks up odd jobs, sells sketches on the street, but paints are expensive.

So is coal. 

Winter is fast approaching, and to save on fuel costs, Eddie stays out of his flat as mich as possible, soliciting gallery owners and doing his best to get something in front of the eyes of the Paris elite. Then, in the evening, he goes to the Moulin Rouge.

It starts out with him trying to stay warm as long as possible, as late into the night. And to get cheap drinks.

The Can-Can dancers are just a fun bonus, fun to watch from the back, but little more.

At least until a new omega starts, wide-eyed and covered in beauty marks.

Now he’s *very interested* in the dancers, and even more annoyed with the fact that they’re dancing. He just wants to stare at the lovely omega, to capture his beauty in charcoal and chalk and oils. Eddie pulls out a little sketchbook, doing his best to get his features down.

He’s so absorbed that Eddie nearly forgets that the purpose of the dance is to titillate, the movements quick, the kicks showing off the splits in the dancers’ drawers, the shadow of pubic hair, and a hint of dusky pink.

Eddie wants to draw that too…

He goes back every night, trying to get a bit closer to *his* omega. Night after night he moves closer to the stage, finally close enough to smell. Most of it is heady perfume, he’s fairly certain the majority of the dancers are betas, but there’s a fresh note, sweet and green.

Staring dumbly up at his pretty dancer, Eddie prays for him to look his way. Three nights pass before their eyes meet, the omega flashing him a soft smile.

That night he builds up enough courage to wait at the dressing room door, to show his sketch to the security guard.

To get a name: Stéfan.

The guard agrees to ask Stéfan to come to the door after Eddie slips him a handful of francs. He’ll gladly give up breakfast tomorrow if he can speak to his new muse.

“Bonsoir,” a low, sweet voice says, startling Eddie from his reverie.

He’s wearing a long coat, buttoned up to his neck, hat on his head, but just as enthrallingly beautiful to Eddie. So enthralling that Eddie says as much, murmuring, “Good evening, Angel.”

“No need for that, Stef is fine.” The omega smiles. “You’re an artist, yes?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

Stef reaches for Eddie’s hands, turning them to show off the black smudges of charcoal on his fingers. “And I’ve seen you drawing in the audience.” He drags a finger up the center of Eddie’s palm. “What are you always drawing?”

“You,” Eddie blurts.

“Me? Why?” Stef asks with a laugh.

“I’m surprised every alpha you meet isn’t driven to catalogue your beauty.”

“Flatterer.”

“It is the truth! I’ve never seen a lovelier omega on this earth.”

“I doubt you’ve seen much outside of Paris.”

“It is still true,” Eddie pouts.

Stéfan is still holding Eddie’s hand, both of them blushing. “Are you hungry? There’s a café I like down the way, we could eat a late supper and maybe… You could show me some of your drawings?” He leans closer, sniffing not so discreetly at Eddie’s neck. “And tell me your name?”

“Édouard! My name is Édouard, um…Eddie, call me Eddie. And I would love to get supper with you.”

🎨🍾💗

Stef goes home with Eddie that night, showing him just how covered in beauty marks his body is, moaning as Eddie worships him with talented fingers.

At the end of the month, Eddie sells a painting: a sensual portrait of Stéfan in their bed. 

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie bridgerton au but make it ABO:

You could have Steve as an alpha being swarmed by mothers trying to set him up with their eligible omega’s. But Steve had sworn off relationships after what happened between him and Nancy.

And Omega Eddie who doesn’t believe he will ever be married off so he pretends not to care. But deep down he wants to be loved. He also feels indebted to his uncle Wayne who took him in and knows that if he isn’t married Wayne will be stuck with him forever.

OR you could switch it around.

Omega Steve who’s rich parents give him no say and are using him as a bargaining chip. They want to Marry him off to whoever will make their family the most powerful. This means gross old men courting Steve who wants nothing more than real true love.

Alpha Eddie who is a recluse, he fled when he was of age for the marriage season, never debuted his way into society. But he comes back after his parents passing to live with his uncle Wayne. He has come into a large fortune which is the only reason he has any prospects. But Eddie hears the whispers about him and knows what the ton truly thinks of him.

[wheneverfeasible]

Historical omegaverse au idea(s) I may never write but by the gods do I want to

I’m gonna be honest. I’ve been reading a couple historical omegaverse fics (specifically here and here) and I also watched The Nun II recently and idk. Ignoring the demon/horror aspect, I just kind of got caught with the idea of rural boarding school teacher and the lowly grounds worker there. With o!Steve as the teacher and a!Eddie as the groundskeeper of course.

~

Picture it. Steve has “adopted” Max (I know, I know, it’s usually Dustin, but since Claudia isn’t going to be in the final season, I just can’t stand to get rid of her and Max makes the most sense for needing a new guardian) but according to paperwork to keep Max safe, they have lied and said that Max is biologically his. Perhaps him taking her in was one of the reasons why his high society family has disowned him and now he’s a vaguely destitute teacher that he only got the job of because his friend Robin (who teaches foreign language obvi) vouched for him. His being a teacher there allows Max to attend classes, though some of the snootier kids are assholes about it.

Anyways, Eddie works the grounds with his uncle, both also quite destitute but they have a good thing going there, though they are always treated poorly by the rich children there. The exceptions are of course the Wheeler child, the Sinclair children, and the Henderson child, as well as their friends the Hopper-Byers children who are there on scholarship. This is the group that welcomes Max into their fold eventually too.

Eddie of course thinks Steve is a bit too snooty when he first lays eyes on him, but then quickly realizes Steve isn’t like that at all. (Steve meanwhile thinks Eddie is uncouth until realizing he’s actually quite gentle and sensitive.) As well, if he has a child at such a young age, Eddie realizes that Steve must have had her probably around his first heat right after presenting. This is a belief everyone holds, and one Steve and Max actively encourages to prevent them taking Max away from him, but it does lead to them both being look down upon frequently and has ruined all prospects for Steve.

There’s obviously lots of pining, plenty of misunderstandings, and lots of Robin and Wayne and Max watching these two idiots dance around each other and face palming. Robin is of course the only one who knows the truth about Max because Robin knew Steve before he was disowned, and knew about Max’s past too. Maybe, just maybe, Steve rescued her from an abusive household. A violent stepfather, an abusive stepbrother, an alcoholic mother…maybe Steve helps her escape and leaves his past life behind.

MAYBE the reason Steve and Max crossed paths was because the Hargroves and the Harringtons were in talks of an arranged match between a!Billy and Steve. Steve didn’t want it, saw how miserable Max was, and basically kidnapped Max (with her consent) and ran away with her to give them both a chance at a better life.

Which is why, after Eddie and Steve finally start to make their moves, the climax of the story angst begins where Billy has found them (maybe Neil is dead idk and Billy took over managing the family), claiming Steve belongs to him and offering to drop all kidnapping charges if he returns quietly with Max. Eddie learns the truth about Max’s parentage then, and Steve’s past, and the whole lot of them come up with a solution that I don’t know what it is yet.

Maybe Steve sacrifices himself and agrees to return and mate with Billy only if Max can stay with her new friends and Robin and for the Hargroves forget about her existence. Billy would eventually accept this. Maybe while Steve and Billy are set to return home, Eddie rushes to prevent their departure and challenges Billy to a duel or something.

Blah blah blah Eddie wins of course and Steve and Max get to stay and Steve officially adopts her, and he and Eddie finally get together and knock boots. And Steve and Eddie love Max as their own and eventually give her a younger sibling which she then fears they’ll love more than her and worries Steve will regret adopting her but obviously that’s not true and Steve and Eddie make sure she knows that she is theirs in all ways. Their first child, no matter what.

Anyways yeah. Maybe one day I’ll do the research necessary for this. Also when I have time to devote myself to this story in its whole. Definitely deserves at least 50k I feel. And I sadly just don’t have time for that right now.

THAT BEING SAID.

I also really adore the idea of teacher Eddie and groundskeeper Steve, because I love reversing tropes and I love making Steve work with his hands in a lowly position, especially if he used to be from a “proper” family, but then the plot would definitely change some. Steve could honestly remain as the omega in this situation too, or switch it up and make him the alpha. Probably get rid of the parent aspect, unless perhaps it’s post-divorce Susan who has become an alcoholic and Eddie did actually officially adopt her because they had been neighbors or something before he moved for a better life.

OR Steve is the teacher but the above about Max and Eddie is still true and she can only attend the school because he’s the groundskeeper which still causes issues with the popular rich kids. And Steve is the teacher who takes a shining to her. Not sure what the main drama aspect would be then. Maybe Eddie is framed for something and is being sent away from the school or arrested or something, and Steve & Co. prove his innocence.

~

Idk. So many options. My issue with aus is that I also come up with aus of aus because I can’t decide how most I would love things to go which then makes it difficult to actually write anything 😂

-

If anyone else wants to use any of these ideas in the meantime, feel free! Just tag credit and link the fic so I can read it!

-

Hostage tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[fizzigigsimmer]

To B, With Love

Moodboard by @prettyboylikeyousteve

Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Harringrove

Summary: Steve, a society omega, puts out an add in the paper looking for an alpha among the lonely hearts expanding the west. He’s answered by Billy, a lonely cowboy living in a growing settlement in California rich  in just about everything but available omegas. Even though it is clear  that Billy hasn’t had the schooling that Steve has, Steve finds himself  charmed and intrigued by the intelligent and silly alpha who hangs on  his every word, who actually seems to want to listen to him. He seems  like the perfect choice, but there’s one problem. It’s not Billy who has  been writing Steve but his little sister Max.

Preview: In the aftermath of Max's near abduction Steve finds himself in an unexpected circumstance. Meanwhile Billy tries to keep himself and his companions alive in their hunt for Vecna's missing cattle. A dance of wills between him and Mac Owens leads him to an impossible choice.

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Steve Goes Punk Post Season 1

(I've been seeing all the art for this AU and I had to join in)

-After losing his friends and his position at school, Steve's left without any identity and it sends him into a bit of a spiral.

-Nancy barely comes over and without his parents home, Steve finds himself trying to, well, find himself.

-He's well aware of his nickname, Steve "The Hair" Harrington and decides to let everyone know he's not that by shaving the sides of his hair, leaving a short curly mohawk

-Steve's parents picked out every part of his life. Who his friends were, what sport he played, what he wore and now he's angry. Quitting basketball and burning almost all of his khakis and polos.

-He ends up buying a lot more jeans and band shirts. Picking up a leather jacket to complete his look, Steve comes back his senior year looking and acting very differently.

-Steve and Nancy breakup earlier and he retreats into music for comfort. Mostly The Smiths and David Bowie.

- It's only now that he finally starts to take notice of Eddie "The Freak" Munson, the older teen complimenting Steve on the Scorpions patch he haphazardly sewed on the sleeve of his jacket.

- They don't exactly hang out but they're more than acquaintances, Steve deciding to ask the kids he's started hanging around about the Dungeons and Dragons game they play to understand what Eddie's talking about half the time.

-Eddie's the one who takes him to the Claire's in the nearby strip mall to get his left ear pierced, giving him his hand to squeeze when the needle goes in.

"And you're sure the left ear's not the gay ear right?"

"Yes I'm sure. Why are you so hung up about this?"

"I just want to make sure!"

- It's as they're leaving that Steve notices Eddie's right ear is pierced.

[urhoneycombwitch]

i had an idea for high nite but then I forgot and fell asleep so I missed it 😔 but luckily I remembered 😁

I've seen some royal aus but they normally make Eddie the knight/blacksmith/stable boy which is cute but imagine the reverse

imagine prince Eddie who is very silver spoon but with a rebellious streak who has his eyes on maid/royal librarian/servant of some kind reader and will steal as many moments as he can go flirt even though it's a big no-no within the castle and would definitely make his father, the King, upset if he knew his Prince son had affection for someone "lower"

But don't imagine Prince Eddie in all his royal garb and his curls soft and shiny from the elegant products and his crown glistening as it goes askew on his head from hiking up reader's skirts to take them up against the wall trying to be quiet as to not alert anyone

waiiiiiit okay listen I’ll be the first to admit i’ve not been huge into the historical!au genre, however… this might’ve just swayed me, anon.

+18 mdni

because yeah have we considered Prince Eddie of the Western Plains who’s a known scamp. just an absolute dog for the maidens. so when he sets his sights on you, the Royal Gardener’s assistant (not the perfectly eligible, much more age-appropriate Royal Gardener, herself) it’s so… overwhelming.

he literally shirks all his duties, so there’s plenty of time for fucking around in the stables all day, broken up by the greenhouse visits he takes every few bells to tease and flirt with you.

“could come see me after dinner hour, princess,” Eddie says, leaning against one of the sturdy oak gardening tables, directly in the way of your handheld broom’s path.

you swat at his side with the brush, whipping around to make sure no one else was nearby before chiding with a hiss- “shhh. keep your voice down, sire. you’re going to get us both in trouble, calling me that.”

he pouts. unamused, you tap at his side again. “please, Eddie- move. you’ll get dirt on your trousers, besides.”

“i think I liked being called sire, by that sweet mouth, better than my own name.” he chooses an opposing table to drape himself against, silver circlet in his hair twinkling with sunlight as he tilts his head- “what’s got you all pent up, hmm?”

“I think you know what,” you whisper, with a clipped edge to your tone- “winding me up all day, putting a hand up my skirts as you pass-”

“careful, my lady.” Eddie’s voice is suddenly at your ear, his front fitting snug against your back, hips pressing your own into the table. “that sounds like heresy speech against a royal. they could put you in handcuffs, for that.”

your breath hitches. his long hair tickles at your cheek. the greenhouse is eerily quiet, just you and Eddie and the smell of rich, damp soil as you press back into the thickening bulge of his crotch.

“gonna tie me up, my lord? is that a promise?”

[starshideyourfics]

Chapter three of Build a Life with You, the omegaverse mail order bride au, is up now!

Enjoy a quick preview here, then enjoy the rest on ao3!

Angel of the Home

Steve’s nausea settles, but Eddie encourages him to take things easy and rest when he comes out to join them. Not that any of the Munsons are doing anything particularly taxing when he does; they’re spending the late afternoon talking in the front room, and Eddie keeps Steve pressed against his side once he joins them. Dustin bounces around until the sun begins to set, yawning and stretching as he visibly sags. Wayne’s just said his goodbyes, needing enough light to get home, and Eddie tells Dustin, “I think you had so much fun this week that your body needs a break. Go on and get ready for bed.”

Dustin sulks, fighting his clear exhaustion, and sits next to Steve, arms thrown around his neck. “Do I have to?” he asks, only a little whiney as he snuggles into Steve’s shoulder, his breathing already getting deep and even.

Steve looks to his husband, not wanting to overstep his bounds, but also desperate to comfort Dustin. Eddie sucks his teeth, but refrains from saying anything, simply nodding to Steve so they can present a united front without turning this into an argument. Stroking down Dustin’s back, Steve says, “I think you’re already halfway asleep, Dustin. You need to rest, and so do I. I promise you won’t miss anything exciting.”

“Pinky promise?” Dustin murmurs, looking up at Steve and holding out his little finger.

Linking his own pinky around it, Steve whispers, “Pinky promise,” against his fist the way he would with Tommy when they were still young enough and close enough for such things. Dustin grins, fighting to keep his eyes open, and Steve adds, no longer whispering, “But you can’t just come to me if Eddie tells you to do something you don’t like, all right? We’re pack and we work together.”

“All right,” he agrees, yawning again and hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie smiles indulgently at them both, Steve smiling back as he rubs little circles between Dustin’s shoulders. “I’ll go get the animals bedded down for the night and when I get back I can carry him up to bed,” Eddie whispers before dropping a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Scent sharing like this should be good for you both,” he adds as he ruffles Dustin’s hair before turning to leave.

Steve hums his assent, happy to continue cuddling the pup, feeling warmth spread through his body as Dustin’s powdery sweet scent fills his nose. Dustin mumbles something incoherent, fingers gripping harder at Steve’s shirt. “Shh,”Steve soothes, “Rest now. Just relax here with me.”

Pretty soon, Steve has his eyes closed too, letting himself drift…

A gentle, “Nooo, don’ wan’ go,” mumbled near Steve’s ear wakes him. Dustin clings to him, and Steve holds him tight and buries his nose in the boy’s curls.

“I’m just taking you up to bed, Dusty,” Eddie says, gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I can take him,” Steve announces sleepily, blinking to try and focus on his husband’s face. He shifts his arms, doing his best to cradle Dustin close and get an arm under his legs.

He tries to stand, but Eddie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him down as he leans to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetheart. I don’t want you to strain anything, and you’re clearly too tired as it is.” He carefully peels away Steve’s arms, omega and pup both huffing small whines at the loss of contact, and picks Dustin up, tucking him to his neck to calm him.

Steve stands, getting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and trailing behind him up the stairs. Walking gets his blood moving, wakes him up enough that he can dig through Dustin’s small chest of drawers and retrieve a nightshirt for the pup while Eddie gets him out of his clothes. Together, they have Dustin ready for bed in about a minute, Eddie tucking him in and Steve brushing a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back from his face. “Night,” the pup mumbles as he turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow.

“Good night, Dusty,” Eddie says from the doorway, already leading Steve slowly from the room and back downstairs.

Once in their own bedroom, Steve rests his head against his husband’s shoulder and hums. Eddie easily wraps him in his arms, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Sweetheart, you need rest. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“You too?” Steve asks sleepily, nuzzling forward to press his nose to Eddie’s neck and drawing in his scent. No matter how tired he is, Steve dislikes the very idea of sleeping without Eddie touching him. Two nights and he already can’t imagine going to bed alone.

“Me too, Stevie.” He drops a kiss to Steve’s temple and tugs him closer.

Steve rewards him with a smile as he lifts his head and leans in for a proper kiss. “Can you help me? Too tired for buttons.”

Eddie chuckles, cupping Steve’s cheek and kissing him again. “I can handle buttons,” he says, gently flicking open the placket of Steve’s shirtwaist, revealing his lace-trimmed chemise. His fingers trace over the lace, then move up to stroke over Steve’s collarbones. “Such a pretty package for my pretty wife,” Eddie murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

Glowing at the compliment, Steve wants to keep kissing his husband forever. He’s too tired to do so, and certainly too tired to even consider attempting more, but it doesn’t stop the wanting. “Eddie…”

“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” Eddie pets his hair and strokes down his back. Focus shifted, he helps Steve change into his nightgown, then strips down to his underwear to join Steve in their bed. “Wanna touch you,” he whispers by way of explanation, “Feel your skin against mine.”

Steve has the same desire, perfectly happy to snuggle against Eddie’s chest, falling asleep in the span of a few deep breaths.

[steddieunderdogfics]

An Act of Grace by missberrycake

Rating: Teen and Up

71,388 words, 8/8 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tags: Minor Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Crime, Thriller, Murder, Mystery, Murder Mystery, 1910’s, Modern Era, Multi-Era, Period-Typical Homophobia, Historical Romance, True Crime Podcast, Podcasting, Happy Ending, POV Multiple, No Smut, Novel, steddiebang23

Summary:

On the morning after Broughton Hall’s annual summer fête, the body of a local Baron’s son was found on the grounds of the estate, as lifeless and cold as the morning was warm. Having spent the summer together, member of the household staff Edward Munson was the first to be suspected. As for the Baron’s son, perhaps there was more to him than the Baron would have society believe. Decades later, Max Mayfield comes across the murder of Steven Harrington while researching topics for the second season of her hit true crime podcast. Along with her some-time engineer and full-time ex-boyfriend, Lucas, Max uncovers a story of two people that, entwined in secrecy and truths left unspoken, reaches out across history.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by Missberrycake. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[daryldamnson]

made a wish on elevens - historical royal au

summary: eddie’s a servant. he knows what that means. he knows he can’t have you. he loves you anyway. fem!reader, hardcore pining

unoffically made this for yearoftheotpevent's 2023 thing because i'm not actually taking part but i really liked the idea so i picked january: historical au

word count: 1k

title from wish on an eyelash by mallrat

“Is it so wrong?  Wishing to love and be loved in return?”

You remain oblivious to the sad, lovelorn stare levelled at you as you sigh quietly, gaze roving over the hills in the distance as you continue to muse.

“Perhaps not wrong, I suppose…  Just silly.  A naive wish I thought I’d long grown out of.”  You glance over at him and flash a dry smile.  “Apparently not.”

“You knew the day approached, My Lady.”  Eddie speaks softly, wary of slipping up and speaking out of turn, especially within the walls of the castle.  “Surely it does not come as a shock to you?”

“I don’t know, I…. I suppose I never truly thought it through until today.  Or, rather, I did and simply hoped I may grow to love the man chosen for me.”  You let out an amused huff of air, shaking your head.  “Or, Gods, even like him.  Is a fondness for my husband really so strange a wish?”

“Of course not, My Lady.”  And then, because apparently he’s a masochist, “You don’t believe you may form affection for Lord Hargrove?”

Your eyes flick over to him and he can’t help the soft breath of laughter that escapes him at your expression.

“That awful?”

“And more.  Gods, Eddie, you should’ve heard the way he spoke to his footman.  And Robin when she served his drink ‘from the wrong side’ - honestly!  He has also clearly never had to use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ before, which is a minor indictment on his list of offences, I assure you, but I find it enraging all the same.  And - stop laughing at me!”

Even as you admonish him for his stifled laughter a bright smile grows on your face and a few giggles of your own slip through.  He’s not always entirely sure how he does it - though he certainly puts on the show of a jester sometimes just for your sake - but Eddie loves making you smile like that.

He shouldn’t, he knows that.  It’s wrong.  You’re a Lady and he’s lucky to even work in the castle, let alone harbour affections towards…  It’s wrong.  It’s wrong.  It’s wrong.

Eddie tries his hardest to convince himself, but how can his - usually successful - attempts at bringing such a lovely smile to your face be anything but right and good? 

Your laughter fades out but there’s a happy quirk to your lips that remains so Eddie takes this as a success.

“I’m truly serious, Eddie, he…”  You shake your head, almost baffled-looking.  “I cannot imagine having to marry a person like that.  Basic decency should never be an optional trait - certainly not in someone I’m to spend my life with or trust to look after my people.  I had hoped…  I don’t know, that I could at least be friends with my betrothed.  Best friends, preferably.  I mean, is that not the point?  Are we not supposed to get along?  Make each other happy?  Want to spend time together?  I don’t believe any of those things could be true if I were to marry that selfish, tactless, inconsiderate brute.”

Your weary sigh and freshly returned frown weighs heavily on his chest, and he finds himself scrambling for something to reassure you with.  But nothing appears - what can you say to a woman destined to marry someone not of her own choosing?

Marry me instead, a voice echoes in his head.  I would make you happy, or try my best to.  I would be devoted to you for the rest of my life - I will be anyway, no matter whom you marry.  Please.  Just consider me.  I love you, I love you, I love you.

No.  He certainly can’t say that.

“I am sorry, My Lady,” he lands on, pouring sympathy into his tone as your gaze lands on him once again.

There’s a comfortable pause before you speak, holding eye contact as you grace him with another gentle smile.  Eddie hopes he isn’t imagining the fondness in your eyes or your tone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“For what?  I hardly provided useful council.”

“For listening.  For always…  Always listening and letting me ramble on at you.  I’m forever grateful.  You truly are my best friend.”

Your hand rises and hovers near his arm, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips as you pull away, both of you distinctly aware of what the ramifications of you touching a male servant in such a familiar way would be.

Eddie would suffer for it, and you won’t stand for that.  Sometimes he thinks it would be worth it, but were he banished or imprisoned he’d never see you again so he has to admit he’s infinitely grateful for your stronger willpower.

The sudden appearance of Robin causes you to take another step back from him and Eddie finds himself mourning the loss.  Even more so when she informs you that your mother is requesting your presence and you let out a long-suffering sigh as you turn to follow her.

You exchange a parting glance, Eddie dipping into a gentle bow as you walk past, and it’s not until you’re halfway down the hallway before you look over your shoulder to see him watching you leave.

“Wish me luck that the next is more tolerable!”

He can’t call down the hall at that volume the way you can lest he be punished, but he does mutter “good luck, My Lady,” under his breath for you.

Because as much as he longs for you to return his feelings, you are more important.  You will undoubtedly be marrying a man of your own stature, and Eddie loves you too much to wish you anything but pure happiness, even if that is found with someone else.  Even when it would break his heart.

Eddie would happily wish for it to be torn to pieces if only to ensure you a contented life.

The heavy doors close behind you and Eddie turns to look out of the same window you had occupied only moments before.

He allows himself one moment to let his thoughts of you swirl through his mind before he closes the lid once more and turns to walk in the opposite direction, off to complete the duties of a lowly manservant you would never be allowed to marry.

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

p.s. it was no accident that reader said she wanted to marry her best friend and then called eddie her best friend two minutes later, eddie thinks it's unrequited but he's dumb ♡

[justrambles]

(Beauty and the beast steddie)

No.6 — Stay

As Erica stated, the kids are nerds — surprisingly, even Erica herself.

So obviously the kids get interested in Eddie's stuff, the fantasy books and Dungeons and Dragons manuals and more (turns out they have been big fans of Lord of the Rings since the 50s). And now Eddie is indulging them in the world of fantasy within and beyond Lord of the Rings — that means, he's started to recount his memorable Dungeons and Dragons campaigns to them in the living room. He loves introducing dnd to kids, loved it when he ran the Hellfire club. He wonders if he can play it with these kids. Hopefully.

Eddie thinks he's got the time for it anyway. The storm is still evergoing, painting the world in a gray hue. He didn't expect to be staying here—for two days already— but he guesses it's nice. The kids. Nancy. Steve.

Steve. Since last night's talk, he already feels close to the guy. Eddie feels curious, about why he won't come out, and he nearly gets bitten by Erica when he spaces out thinking about Steve.

That's when a crow runs in.

It's a weird thing to say in your head. Why is it not flying? And how does a crow look so excited? But the kids all act like this is a normal occurrence, so Eddie decides to stay chill, too.

Not having noticed Eddie yet, (which is surprising because he is the biggest lump there) the crow urgently asks,

"Is the Eddie guy still here?"

And quickly finds him herself.

"Good, you're still here. You're staying. I mean, I'm not forcing you to stay, but I'd really like if you did. For a bit longer. You're like, a crazy good thing that's happened to us. Those dorks love you, Nance likes you okay too, And Steve, Steve likes you, he's in a good mood and that's—"

"ROBIN!"

The crow's rambling is only stopped by Steve's voice yelling from upstairs, and Eddie is honestly impressed. He's never seen anyone talk so fast, without control. The crow, Robin, only turns her head towards the stairs and shouts, "Shut up, dingus! I'm trying to do something here, for all of us!"

That causes Steve to grumble, very loudly, from upstairs and shut the door with a bang. Robin doesn't even flinch and turns back to Eddie.

"So, will you stay? With us, for a while?"

Eddie makes a pondering gesture, as if he's thinking it through thoroughly. The kids twitch beside him, waiting for his answer.

"I mean, I couldn't have left if I wanted to right now—not that I want to anyway— but yeah I'll stay, under one condition. That is, only if you answer this question."

"Shoot."

Eddie turns his expression serious, as if he's asking the most difficult question to ever exist.

"Why are you not flying?"

He doesn't know how it's possible, but Robin gives him an incredulous look.

"Have you-, have you tried flying? It takes up more energy than you can imagine. Like, I flap my wings a bit and they get really tired, it gets sore for days after, so it's best if I walk. Or hitch a ride from Steve and Max."

And that... kind of makes sense, okay. So Eddie shrugs to show he's satisfied with the answer.

"Alright, guess I'll be staying then."

***

"So," Eddie begins, leaning his head on the doorframe.

"I guess I'll be in your hair for a while."

Steve's voice comes from behind the door, maybe as close to it as Eddie is right now.

"I guess you will be."

They are talking with the door between them again, Eddie and Steve. This is the fourth time it's happening, because Eddie couldn't stay away after last night and just came back to the door whenever he could. He kind of likes talking like this, he's never talked through doors and somehow it feels more private, more intimate.

"Eddie, about what Robin said—"

Eddie hums, recalling the talk from before.

"Don't-, don't feel pressured to stay, okay? We, uh, the kids love you here but that doesn't mean you have to stay for us. Do... whatever you want. Go wherever you want."

Eddie gives another hum.

"You know, Steve, thanks for the offer but I like it here. Don't have anywhere else to go, anyway. I was only moving out of Indiana because I finished high school and had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Had no place in mind, actually."

Maybe this is where I was supposed to end up.

"So... yeah. I'm not staying only for the kids but for me, too."

There's a pause.

"Yeah?" It's a soft question, looking for affirmation.

"Yeah," Eddie answers.

And then he hastily adds, "And for you, too— since you like me sooo much, Stevie," just because he loves being a menace.

Eddie hears Steve's groan slip out through the crack and cackles.

"Well, don't worry— I like you too, man."

[stevieschrodinger]

Steve fiddles with the hem of the nightdress they'd given him to wear.

It’s soft at least, flowing and comfortable. White. Pure.

Virginal.

It barely covers the top of Steve’s thighs.

He tugs as the nightgown again, embarrassment ticking at him. It was the only thing he’d been given to wear though, so it’s either this or nude, which isn’t really an option. He’s still resentful of it though.

A large moth flutters across the room, the noise of it’s wings barely discernible over the crackle of the fire.

Steve's trapped in the castle; his only option is to wait for the monster to arrive.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Wedding Night

historical, aob, steddie, the sensuality of see-through silk tulle

Steve has given plenty of thought to his trouseau, ensuring he has enough step-ins and slips and nightgowns to last his entire two week honeymoon.

But the most important piece is the one he will change into once he and Eddie leave their wedding reception. The silk is gossamer fine, concealing nothing.

He pets over his beautiful boudoir suit, knows his mother would call it a frivolous waste.

And it is. 

On his wedding night, Steve changes, every part of him on display as he lounges coquettishly at the foot of the bed. 

Eddie enters, still in his suit, pulling at the knot in his bowtie, his jaw practically dropping to the floor when he sees Steve. All of Steve.

He shucks his coat, throwing it on a chair. His waistcoat follows as he growls, “My love, what a surprise you are.”

“You like it?” Steve asks, coy as he drags a hand up his thigh, drawing Eddie’s gaze.

“Oh, darling, you put Venus to shame with your loveliness.”

Eddie struggles to remove his cufflinks, all the studs from his shirt front, jet and gold and mother-of-pearl falling to the floor—a problem for the morning—as he casts off his shirt and suspenders. His trousers go next, leaving only his drawers.

Steve stands, lets Eddie embrace him, his husband sucking hungry kisses along his jaw and down his neck. 

Their mouths meet, and Steve knows he’s already begun to ruin the silk with his slick.

Stepping back, taking a much needed breath, Eddie’s eyes rove over Steve’s body. He traces over a rosy nipple, runs his fingers down to Steve’s hips. Cups the round swell of his buttocks. Whispers, “Mrs. Munson, let me taste you.”

“Yes, alpha. I’m all yours,” Steve whispers back, melting into a kiss as Eddie undoes the tiny buttons down his back.

Soon he will know the pleasure of his alpha’s knot. The beauty of the marriage bed.

It took fewer than ten minutes for him to be naked, in his husband’s arms.

He may as well have started out naked.

A frivolous expense.

But he felt so beautiful wearing it.

[you-came-back]

Steve and Eddie but make it Our Flag Means Death

I recently created a cross over of Our Flag Means Death and Stranger Things. Here is a link to the fic as well!!

[loserharrington]

for some reason i’m absolutely obsessed with 1920s new orleans and feel the need to put all my favorite ships in the time period soooo

Jazz singer Steve Harrington and

Bartender Eddie who works at the speakeasy that Steve frequently preforms

Steve who always wears a white pressed suit that stands out in the low orange lights of the place paired with a beautiful pearl necklace that shines when he twist just right. His voice is strong and deep. Sultry, almost, and it makes Eddie feel like he’s drowning in all that was Steve Harrington.

He’s unconventional in the way he sings, often singing songs you’d expect from a woman. Covering love songs and not bothering to change the pronouns. The theme of them are a little questionable, having a man as a lover, a boy to go home to, but his voice was hypnotizing. Alluring in a way that was almost magical, so nobody dared to question him.

But Eddie knew. Eddie knew what Steve was trying to say, especially when he catches his eye from across the room. He feels it. the Zing! between them and all the secrets left unsaid.

They were one and the same.

[theladycarpathia]

And My Waves Meet Your Shore Chapter 2: Quarter

The day after Chrissy makes her escape from Hawkins, one of the pirates knocks on her door.

She scrambles for the housecoat lent to her by Captain Munson and carefully pulls it around her before she opens it. She’d slept in her petticoat, the only piece of clothing she had that was suitable, but she’s not about to let anyone else see her in such a state. She hurriedly smooths down her hair, although she’s not entirely certain why.

The gentleman waiting for her outside is tall with curly brown hair and a rounded face. She’d seen him briefly the night before, deep in discussion with the captain. He holds out a large canvas bag and she carefully takes it.

“The captain thought you might like a change of clothes, miss,” he says, gesturing to her unexpected parcel. Chrissy feels a trickle of relief. She’d half expected to wear her heavy teal dress for another day or so. She’d feel so out of place among the pirates with their colorful waistcoats, gleaming belt buckles, and sturdy boots.

“Thank you…” Chrissy says, remembering her manners and then trails off. She doesn’t know his name. Yesterday she’d been brought aboard and taken to one of the few private rooms that are kept for higher ranking members of the crew or their paying passengers. It’s very simple - a single bed and table bolted to the floor, a hook on the back of the door. There’s a small mirror attached to the wall, and a box under the bed to store valuables. She’d immediately locked her bag away in there, well aware that it’s everything she now owns in the world.

“Gareth, miss,” he says, not at all affronted. “The Captain would like to see you for breakfast in his quarters when you’re dressed.”

There’s an excited shiver down her spine. Yesterday she’d eaten in her room, bread and cheese and meat delivered to her on a tray. Captain Munson had thought it best they be far away from Hawkins before she stepped out on deck. She hadn’t minded so much. The bread was fresh, the slices of ham were delicious and she’d laid back and listened to the crashing of the waves. She was going, she was going.

“Thank you, Gareth,” she says, because she’s still Lady Christine underneath. She could be sixty and she’d still remember how to waltz and how to use her soup spoon like a lady. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Inside a bag are several simple cotton dresses - a pale sky blue, a foamy ocean green, a bright sunflower yellow. Each one is soft and lightweight, much more suited to a life at sea than the heavy teal skirts and corset that she escaped with. She closes the door and looks over her choice, finally pulling out the green dress with the long sleeves and a delicate neckline. She pulls it on over her undergarments and carefully brushes her hair, leaving it down over her shoulders.

She did not pick this dress because she thinks Captain Munson would like it.

But her fingers still tremble when Gareth returns to escort her to the captain’s quarters.

It’s quiet when they cross the deck, only a few crew members already up and at work. The same cabin boy from yesterday mops the deck and there’s a glint up in the crow’s nest as the lookout keeps watch. What startles her is the pirate’s flag hanging from the mast, the sharp white of the crossbones against the bright blue of the sky. The Hellfire takes down the flag sailing into ports but somehow it’s still shocking to her that these men are all pirates. All she’s encountered so far is kindness and good manners.

They head down into the cabin at the stern of the ship, where the captain lives. Chrissy raises another nervous hand to her hair as Gareth raps at the door.

“Enter!” comes a voice from inside and when Gareth opens the door, she finds herself urged inside. Clearly, Gareth is not meant to join them.

When the door shuts behind her, she forgets her nerves and stares around the space in amazement. It’s an Aladdin’s cave of treasures: a mahogany jewelry box, overflowing with thick chains and large rings of silver, beautiful portraits hung on the walls, heavy looking rugs woven with gold string. There’s a large wardrobe, with elaborate carved mermaids on the doors tucked away in a corner and to the far side of the room there’s a bed, messily made, and she hurriedly turns her eyes away from it. She’s hesitant to think of the captain sleeping there, his long dark hair spread across one of the silk pillows.

There’s a grand window right in front of her, the bright morning light falling onto a dining table laid for breakfast for two. But she doesn’t see this, just the man staring out at the endless blue.

“Good morning,” Chrissy says shyly and he turns. His eyes are soft as they look her over, taking in the hair curling around her ears, the shade of green against her pale skin. She resists the urge to tug on her sleeves, wondering if she's presentable. Her shoes are the pair that she’d escaped with, teal slippers that don’t quite match, and she lacks any sort of ribbon for her hair. But when she sees him smile, she no longer minds.

“Good morning, my lady,” he says warmly. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Chrissy says, to her surprise. She hadn’t expected it, not when the sounds and smells are so different from her family’s country estate. The tang of salt in the air, the thrash of the waves against the wood, the early morning calls of the crew as they work. But she’d fallen asleep so easily, the lead weight buried in her chest suddenly lightened. “Thank you. And thank you for the dresses. I wasn’t sure what else to wear this morning.”

Captain Munson drags out a chair for her to sit in and then takes his place. Chrissy inhales the smell of fresh bread, the sweet smell of strawberries, and the rich scent of coffee. There’s too much food and she wonders if he’s made the extra effort for her sake.

“You left with so little and we have some supplies onboard,” he says, deftly removing his hat and placing it on the table. “I hope you don’t mind - I chose the dresses I thought you would like.”

“I do,” Chrissy assures him. “They’re wonderful.” She touches the soft cotton of her skirts, thinking how her mother would hate that she was wearing anything other than silk or fur or linen. Chrissy is used to petticoats and corsets, several layers of heavy material, gilt-tipped pins in her hair.

“Please help yourself,” Captain Munson says, seeing her eyes flick over the bowls of porridge and the freshly cut fruit. “I apologize for you being confined to your rooms last night. It seemed safest, just in case your betrothed happened to catch wind of your disappearance before we were fully out to sea. You said he was a merchant?”

Chrissy has to stop herself from piling her bowl of porridge too high, covering it with a fine layer of brown sugar and slices of fresh strawberries. She doesn’t protest when the captain fills her cup with steaming hot coffee.

“He is,” she says, dipping her spoon into the thick, gooey concoction. “And he often sails to other ports to trade. He has many friends along this coast, as far as Red Lake.”

“Is that so?” Captain Munson notes, filling his own plate with bread, eggs, sausage and ham. Chrissy places the spoon on her tongue and nearly swoons. This is so much better than the watery porridge that she was served at home.

“If that’s the case, I think we’d better amend the agenda,” he says thoughtfully. “I had intended for us to stop at a nearby fishing port to purchase some supplies for yourself. However, if his reach extends this far out of Hawkins then perhaps you can supply us with a list. I have a few women on my crew and they’re more than capable of fetching what you need.”

Chrissy swallows her mouthful far too quickly in her excitement and it burns all the way down her throat. But she doesn’t care. She can have soap and fresh slippers and a matching ribbon for her new dresses.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m very grateful. But won’t your crew mind?” Captain Munson snorts in amusement, and stabs at another sausage for his plate. Somehow the large quantities of food he’d served himself have already decreased at an impressive speed.

“Far from it. The men usually get the fun jobs of going into town to trade, especially in less savory places like Driscoll. They’ll be delighted to wander around the local shops to gather what you need. After you’ve eaten, I’ll find you some paper and a pencil.”

“Thank you, Captain Munson,” she says again, wondering if she’s able to say anything else and he smiles. When her stomach churns, she tells herself that it’s just the porridge.

“Edward,” he corrects. “Or Eddie, if your manners permit you.”

“Edward,” she says, trying out the name on her tongue. The look he gives her when she says his name is just as sweet as the fruit on her plate.

XXX

He’s true to his word and brings her paper as soon as the plates have been cleared away. She twirls the quill between her fingers and considers what might be the priority items. She’s not used to having to use what possessions to have, not when she’s been given every single whim her heart ever desired. But she’s quick and thorough, choosing the necessary amenities that will see her through a brief life on the ship.

Captain Munson looks over her note briefly and nods, tucking it away in a breast pocket.

“I’ll give this to the ladies,” he says, and offers her an arm to escort her. They’re mere miles up the coast from Hawkins and she’ll have to stay on board when the ship docks for a while. This close to her former home, there will be plenty of people who might recognise her. It’s a risk that they can’t take.

“How did you come to have women on board?” Chrissy asks curiously, settling her arm neatly into his as though she’s done it all of her life. “I thought pirates viewed female sailors as bad luck.” Eddie chuckles.

“I view these two as bad luck, although not because they’re women,” he says dryly. “You’ll understand when you meet them. Robin, in particular, is always getting me into a world of trouble. The girl’s mouth runs a mile a minute, often without her brain in tow.”

“I look forward to meeting them,” Chrissy says, a little delighted that she will have company during her journey. She’s so used to the presence of other women around her. Nancy and Barbara have been her friends since their debutante days. Carol and Tina making little jokes at the dinner table, Heidi bemoaning Lord Harrington’s lack of interest in having a space on her dance card. She is used to perfume and chatter, talking to each other from behind their fans.

She misses Nancy more than she can say, the lack of her friend feeling like a gaping wound in her side. Nancy has always been there, even after she wed a local boy. When Chrissy went to her for help, she and Jonathan had immediately offered a plan and their aid.

On deck, there is a clamor of activity already and Chrissy looks around with interest. A young lad with dark hair and a pale face pauses in mopping the deck to make way for Chrissy and Eddie to pass. There’s a figure up in the crow’s nest, a spyglass pressed to his eye, watching for danger on the horizon. Even pirate ships are never truly safe on the seas, fearing ambush from a rival crew or being spotted by the royal navy. The Hellfire are cautious, taking care to lower their flag when they’re near any proper civilisation.

Captain Munson takes her down the stairs to the dining area and Chrissy immediately spots a young woman with short, red hair, wearing a pirate’s bandana around her neck. She has a pretty, elfin face, with a small nose and a rosebud mouth. To her shock and delight, Chrissy spots that the girl is wearing trousers, like the men do, in a fading blue color, fraying around the ankles. The shirt she wears is a man’s - tied instead of buttoned at the waist - as are the sturdy pair of boots and she sloshes water over them as she mops.

“Vickie!” Edward calls and the girl looks up. “Come meet our guest.”

“More strays, Cap?” she asks cheekily, as she takes Chrissy in. Edward fondly rolls his eyes at her and Chrissy feels a low prickle of jealousy in her gut. She hadn’t considered the ramifications of other women being on the ship. But when she sees Edward ruffle Vickie’s hair, the shards of envy fade away. Clearly, their relationship is not a romantic one.

“This is our paying guest,” Edward corrects her. “This is…Christine Cunningham. She’s sailing for a new life further up the coast and we have the honor of taking her.” He’s missed off her title for a purpose, she realizes. Better to not make a fuss of nobility fleeing her home. Young women strike out to seek their fortunes every day…just not ladies of Chrissy’s rank.

“Hello,” Vickie says cheerfully and extends her hand. Startled, Chrissy takes it.

“Hello,” Chrissy says shyly. There’s a clatter behind them and a loud bang, followed by some words Chrissy only ever heard from the men by the servants’ entrance.

“That is Robin,” Edward informs her helpfully. “And you can see why she gets me into trouble more often than not.” Vickie playfully swipes at his arm.

“She’s not that bad,” she protests, as another young woman emerges from the swing door of the galley, caked in flour. She wears a similar outfit - beige trousers, a loose red shirt, her dirty blonde hair pulled back from her face with yet another bandana, and absolutely all of it covered in a thin layer of white. She stops dead when she sees the Captain. “That was not my fault, Cap,” she says immediately, brushing off her hands into clouds of fine white dust. Vickie sighs heavily, as it settles onto a previously clean patch of floor.

“Whose fault was it?” Edward asks, but his face is immeasurably fond. He clearly loves these women, enough for him to ignore any disapproval of their place on board the ship. “That wretched cat for not doing his job,” Robin grumbles and her face is sheepish when she spots the mess that she’s made, a winding trail of flour following her footsteps all the way from the kitchen. “We have mice again.”

“It’s not Larry’s fault,” Vickie insists immediately, folding her arms across her chest.

“Given that Larry is meant to be a pirate cat and his only job is to catch mice, he’s certainly failing at it,” Edward sighs. “Ladies, I actually did have a job in mind for you, if you are done bickering and making a mess of my ship?”

“Oh?” Robin asks, and Chrissy can see her eyes flick inquisitively over her. She wasn’t seen by many of the crew when she arrived yesterday, and she was settled in a guest cabin almost immediately. “How’s that, Cap?”

“Miss Cunningham here left home quite suddenly and is in need of a few items,” Edward explains. “I thought perhaps that you both might be interested in going ashore to retrieve them for her?” Vickie drops the mop in her excitement, all mentions of flour forgotten.

“Really?” she asks, exchanging a gleeful look with Robin. Eddie pulls Chrissy’s list from his pocket with two fingers and dangles it in front of the two girls.

“Really,” he says and then tugs it away again before Vickie can grab it. “But I want all of this cleaned up! And you must take someone with you. Driscoll isn’t a safe town. Have Fred or Argyle go with you.” Robin immediately pouts.

“Why have us go at all, if you’re having us chaperoned?” she complains, but she takes the offered list anyway.

“Because I don’t trust one of the men to fetch the correct items for Miss Cunningham,” Edward`says, perhaps entirely correctly. Chrissy has asked for undergarments, beauty products, and several hair ribbons. She’s not sure what one of these men would bring back for her, save for a barrel of ale.

Vickie flicks her eyes eagerly over the list. Robin wanders up behind and peers over her shoulder.

“Should be simple enough,” Vickie says, with a nod. She tucks the paper away into her trouser pocket and Chrissy marvels at the concept. Women wearing trousers. Pockets. As lovely as her new gown is, it lacks pockets.

Edward digs in his coat and pulls out a small velvet bag that clinks. Chrissy grips at his arm and he smirks.

“Don’t make that face at me,” he says, of her indignant expression. “I will not hear of it.”

“I’m supposed to pay my way!” she says furiously, because she suspected from the moment that she stepped on the ship that he was undercharging her. She does not want to be pitied or coddled just because she’s had a sheltered life.

“I’m sure we can arrange another method of compensation,” he says easily. “There’s always work to be done on a ship. Cooking, cleaning, sewing. Vickie and Robin can help you.” She scowls at him. Tasks that she doesn’t know how to do, tasks she was not allowed to do. Simple things that she will need to learn to survive.

“Did you plan this?” she asks suspiciously. There’s a glint in his eyes before he slides his arm away from her’s. She feels a momentary sense of loss before he gently raises her hand to his lips.

The brush of his mouth against her bare skin is enough to make her knees want to buckle. For a split second when his lips brush gossamer soft against her knuckles her entire world narrows down to the instant where she can feel him. So far, his only touches have been proper and gentlemanly, taking her arm and reaching out to steady her. This is something else and the hunger that claws its way out of her belly is only just successfully pushed back down below her rib-cage.

“I’m a pirate, Miss Cunningham,” he says, his eyes light, and her heart skitters furiously.

“Chrissy,” she corrects him. But he’s right - he’s a pirate and she should remember that.

He just smiles at her in that incredibly attractive and infuriating way and nods to the women, before leaving. Chrissy listens to his boots disappear up the steps and wonders if her face is as hot as she suspects that it is.

When she turns to look at Robin and Vickie, their faces tell her everything.

“What should I do?” Chrissy asks, self-consciously pressing a hand against her burning cheek. She’s never felt like that with a man before, ever. She’s had plenty of men kiss her hand in her time out in society. Lord Harrington has kissed her hand plenty, as has Duke Hagan. Mr Byers, Nancy’s new husband, has once or twice, and Jason in more recent months.

“Go upstairs and take a dunk in the ocean to cool off,” Robin says bluntly and Vickie neatly steps on her foot.

“It’s fine,” Vickie says hurriedly. “Don’t embarrass her!” Robin shrugs and runs a hand through her hair, shedding more white dust down onto the floor.

“Well, she should,” Robin continues calmly. “She looks as though she might need it. Or she can come stand in this mop bucket.”

“Ignore her,” Vickie says, throwing an annoyed look at Robin as she vanishes back through the doors into the kitchen. “I think she’s a little stunned. We’ve never seen Cap act like that with a woman before.”

“Really?” Chrissy asks, unable to stop the excitement rising in her voice. Vickie shrugs and picks up her mop again.

“Not really,” she says, dunking the mop into the dark bucket of water. “There was a bar wench a year back, I think? Very briefly while we were docked for a job.”

Chrissy watches the sloshing over the water over the floorboards rather than think about Edward and the tavern girl.

“It was a very long time ago,” Vickie says, seeing her face. She offers Chrissy the handle of the mop. “Here. You can get to grips with the basics of mopping before we arrive at Driscoll.”

Chrissy makes a mess of mopping while Vickie sweeps up Robin’s stray trail of flour. Where the woman herself has gone, Chrissy doesn’t know.

“So how did you come to book passage with us?” Vickie asks politely and Chrissy tightens her hands around her mop. She’s glad that Vickie’s face is turned away so that she can’t see Chrissy’s obvious indecision. She’s not used to lying.

“My family,” she says instead, opting for the half-truth. “They had plans for me. Expectations.” Vickie snorts.

“None of which aligned with your actual plans for your life?” she asks.

“No,” Chrissy agrees. “So I just…decided that it would be best to leave. Start fresh.”

“Well,” Vickie says, neatly chasing the flour that has crept into the corners. “If it helps, you’re not the only one. Robin and I…we don’t have the best relationships with our families. Or any relationship at all, really.” Chrissy can’t miss the dark note of bitterness coloring Vickie’s tone.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Chrissy says and then frowns as she forgets to wring out the mop again. But Vickie shrugs - whatever estrangement she has is merely a fact of life to her now, something that settles over her like a familiar, worn old coat. Chrissy wonders if she will feel like that in a few years, wondering about her parents, her brother. She feels a twinge at the thought of Andrew but she pushes it away. He’s heir, so he’ll have no shortage of opportunities and a suitable marriage when the time comes.

“Sometimes, the people who love us only think of the things that are best for themselves,” Vickie says pragmatically and lifts her head up as the kitchen door creaks on its hinges. “There you are!”

Robin emerges, free of the smears of white that had caked her chest and head, her face washed clean. She looks over Chrissy’s sloppy mopping but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she runs her fingers through her hair, looking pleased.

“I cleaned up,” she says. Vickie shakes her head and rests her chin on her mop. There’s an achingly fond smile on her face and there’s something about the softness of it that feels familiar.

“You left us with the flour out here though!” she admonishes. “I just hope that the kitchen is clean for dinner. Help Chrissy with that mop.”

But before Robin can move, there’s a shout from overheard and a sudden clamor. It means nothing to Chrissy but both girls suddenly look delighted. Vickie leans her broom against the wall and gestures to Chrissy in excitement.

“We’re arrived!” she says, and indicates that Chrissy should leave her task. “Come see!”

Chrissy looks hesitantly at her work and then agrees. Hopefully, Edward will not see the wet clumps before she returns.

They pile up the stairs into the glare of the sunshine and find the deck in a flurry of activity. Chrissy watches with amazement at the men rushing back and forth, pulling on ropes, and shouting to each other. She follows Vickie and Robin to the rail and leans over to see Driscoll come into view.

Captain Munson is at the helm, his hand resting on the beautiful carved wheel. She watches the feather in his hat rippling in the wind and thinks that she’s never seen him look so at ease. He belongs on this ship, in a way that she used to fit in a crowded ballroom.

There’s a dim ache in her chest that she refuses to look at too closely, so she turns her head away towards the promising gleam of shore.

XXX

Chrissy changes into a sunny yellow gown for her first meal with the crew. Old habits are hard to break, after all.

The dining area is as loud as the very tavern where she first met Edward, the constant chatter and laughter, the familiar clank of tankards. She sticks close to Vickie and Robin as they lead her to the hatch where they retrieve full bowls and mugs. Chrissy wobbles slightly as she follows them back to a table with her tray. She’s managed to keep her grace so far on board, even managing to control the nausea that comes with the constant rocking of the ship.

The table they sit down at is at the back of the room, much smaller than the large tables that hold the men. Chrissy puts down her tray before she takes her seat and hopes that the waves don’t become too choppy.

They’re not alone, as the crew picked up another female passenger in Driscoll. She’s already sitting down, dunking her spoon into her bowl, roughly cut dark hair falling into her eyes.

“Thank you for getting those things for me,” Chrissy says gratefully, even though she’s already profusely thanked both of them. Spread across her small bunk are the assorted items that the girls had delivered to her this afternoon. To her delight, they’d successfully retrieved everything she’d asked for. A new bar of soap, a comb, some rouge, assorted undergarments, a nightshirt, hair ribbons and a new pair of slippers.

But Robin just waves off her gratitude. “Not at all. It was good to get off the ship for a while. Cap never lets us do the fun stuff.”

“She means the dangerous stuff,” Vickie says wryly, reaching for the water jug. “There are a few female pirates but they’re lethal. I suppose they have to be.”

“I didn’t know there were any,” Chrissy says, a little surprised. Robin shrugs. She’s still wearing the same red shirt and trousers that she’d had on earlier but Vickie has changed into a sage green dress, the color suiting her red hair.

“I only really know of two,” she admits. “And they’re deadlier and more ruthless than most male pirates. It’s the only way they’d be taken seriously. Eddie can afford to be a little amiable but any woman in this business would be called soft if they did what he does. Speaking of...” Robin licks her spoon clean and jabs it at the door. Chrissy twists in her seat and, to her shock, spots a familiar figure striding in the door.

“He’s not like the other captains,” Robin says, spotting Chrissy’s wide eyes. “He won’t hide in his quarters away from us. There aren’t any other captains who’d have us aboard anyway. Eddie’s special.”

Chrissy hides her face by raising her mug for a sip that she doesn’t even want. She’s been beginning to suspect as much herself.

She watches Eddie stride through the room and tries to smother her nerves as he gets closer. He pats a young man on the back, makes a quick comment to another and then pauses as he reaches their table. He looks hesitant when he sees her, and it’s the first time he’s ever looked truly uncertain. This is her first night as part of the ship and it’s almost as though he’s thrown by it.

“Cap?” Robin asks, pausing in the middle of her bowl. It’s some sort of seafood stew, hot and thick with tomatoes and Chrissy - who is used to bland vegetables, watery potatoes, and delicate cuts of chicken - has enjoyed it far more than she expected to.

“May I join you ladies?” he asks, and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Their small table is exclusively women - the three of them, and Eden Bingham that they picked up in Driscoll.

“Of course,” Vickie says, when everyone else is too stunned to speak. She shifts a few bowls over, earning herself a dirty look from Eden when she nearly tips the young woman’s water glass right over.

“Thank you,” Edward says, easing himself down into one of the spare chairs. He removes his hat and politely drops it into his lap. Chrissy pulls her arms into her body, suddenly afraid that she might reach out, overcome with the urge to graze his hand.

“What brings you here, Cap?” Robin asks and shrugs when Vickie shoots her a look. “I can ask! It’s allowed, isn’t it?” Edward chuckles, and accepts the bowl that’s been brought to him by another crew member. Chrissy has had little opportunity to learn their names. She recognises Jeff and Gareth, Edward’s first mates and his right hand men, who are often by his side. Both have been unfailingly polite to her and she has to wonder if they behave this way with all guests or whether it’s at the Captain’s request.

“I thought I’d come and see how our new guests are settling in,” he says and judging by Robin’s raised eyebrows, this isn’t something that she believes.

“Because you’re so usually interested in our paying customers?” she says pointedly and there’s a brief scuffle under the table as Vickie tries to tread on her friend’s foot. This appears to be a common occurrence.

“I can be,” Edward says and there’s a distinct edge to his tone, something that causes Robin to pick up her spoon once more. “Miss Bingham, Miss Cunningham, are you well?” Chrissy mutely nods. Eden shrugs and places a small bite of bread on her tongue. Their new traveling companion is far from chatty, with dark hair and matching eyes set into a pale face.

“We’ll drop you in Montmouth in a few days' time,'' Edward says to her, clearly not bothered by the less than social attitude of their passenger. Chrissy is a little unsure of how or why Eden came to be on the Hellfire but she supposes that it’s Eden’s business, given her own lies.

“Sure,” Eden says easily, and she’s the one least phased by the Captain’s appearance to dine with them.

“And Miss Cunningham…?” Edward says hesitantly and Chrissy accidentally drops her spoon back into her bowl.

“Yes?” she says, hurriedly checking that no flecks of bright red have made it onto her dress.

“I know that you didn’t have a destination in mind but I may have found a place for you,” Edward says. “Vickie here has some family up south, in a little town named Frostproof. It’s fairly quiet, without a particularly large or busy port. There’s a train station nearby and you could go anywhere you want.”

Back in Hawkins, Chrissy would have adored the sound of that. Miles up the coast, and able to climb onto a train to go anywhere she wanted, starting anew. But she catches the tension at the corner of his mouth and thinks that he dislikes this suggestion as much as she does. She can go anywhere…but it will only take her farther away from him. “I have cousins I still send letters to,” Vickie says, perhaps not noticing the sudden and strange atmosphere. Chrissy stares into her bowl rather than at Edward. She’s known him for two days. She can’t be considering changing her plans for a man that she only just met.

“I’ll write to them to let them know that we’re coming,” Vickie continues and reaches for her butter knife. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to let you stay with them until you’re on your feet.”

“Thank you,” Chrissy says quietly. It’s a huge imposition and she should be grateful for the effort that everyone is going to on her behalf. She twirls her spoon in her bowl, suddenly no longer hungry.

“We’ll take care until we’re further up the coast,” Edward says. “And I trust that both of you will show them where to go should we run into any trouble?” He looks pointedly at Robin and Vickie. Robin swallows her mouthful and looks indignant.

“We’ll show them tomorrow, Cap,” and Edward gives her a look.

“You’ll show them tonight, in case we are boarded before dawn,” he says mildly and Eden visibly brightens.

“Are you often attacked by other pirates?” she asks curiously. Robin scoffs.

“Hardly,” she says disdainfully. “Not with a reputation like the Hellfire.” Edward takes pity on Eden and leans in to explain.

“Not often,” he says, to Chrissy’s great relief. She’s not sure she finds a pirate siege quite as exciting as Eden does. “We have a large ship and a full crew, with plenty of weapons to fight back. Only someone foolish would think to try and board us.” Eden deflates.

“Are there any ships who would be able to take the ship?” She pushes and neither she nor Chrissy miss the wary glance exchanged between the three members of the Hellfire. “There’s one,” Robin admits reluctantly. “We’ve never encountered them personally. A jet black ship, manned by the devil himself.”

“He’s not actually a devil!” Vickie protests, although the change of topic has left her looking uneasy. “But…he might be the closest thing there is to one.”

“They say he was a lord once,” Edward adds. “With a grand manor and many carriages and more money than half of England.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asks, curious despite herself. She catches sight of Eden leaning forward in her chair too, equally intrigued.

“People say he lost his mind,” Robin says, with a shrug. “Went half mad and vanished off the face of the Earth, reappearing several years later as the cruel and feared captain of the Chronos. But if you ask me, the change wasn’t all that sudden or unexpected.”

“Henry Creel’s family were all murdered when he was young,” Edward says, scraping his spoon around his bowl. “Mother, father, young sister, grandfather, an aunt…all butchered in their home. Some say that his father was still sitting in his chair clutching his spoon, waiting for his morning porridge.”

“The culprit was never caught,” Robin continues and Eden’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Their new companion is no pirate but she certainly has strange, bloodthirsty tastes. “Henry was the only one who survived. Out riding, so he claims,” she says, pointedly tapping her nose. “Bit convenient, if you ask me.”

“All rumors,” Edward says, catching sight of Chrissy’s face. “But…Henry was notorious even before the murders. He was an odd fellow, so I gathered. Too fascinated by the occult. He kept cages of large, poisonous spiders.”

“And now he’s a pirate,” Eden breathes. “Have you ever encountered him?”

“No,” Edward says coolly, dropping his spoon back into his bowl, every bit of stew devoured. “Not face to face. I’ve seen the devastation he’s left behind. Ships blown to bits, bodies left in the water, everything pillaged and ransacked. I am responsible for the safety of my crew and I will not take any risk that Henry Creel will ever have the slightest chance to board us.”

“Which is why should there ever be a chance that we’re about to be boarded, we have a place to hide,” Vickie says, pushing away her own empty bowl. “It’s a hidey hole down below in the storage area and can’t be found unless you know where to look. We’ve had to use it once before, not long after we joined the crew.” “If there’s any trouble at all, that is where you go,” Edward says, firmly, looking between Eden and Chrissy. “Anything at all. Captain Creel aside, there are still plenty of dangers out there. That may be the life that we signed up for but I’m aware that my passengers did not.”

The conversation becomes lighter after that, returning to upcoming stops, the chores list, necessary supplies. Eden quietly eats her portion of fruit and doesn’t join in again until the meal is over.

Very briefly, when most of the crew have vanished back to their various duties, Chrissy notices how Vickie’s arm rests so easily against Robin’s, the inevitable closeness of their bodies as they lean in to talk to each other. It’s not much but it reminds her of how new young couples used to look in dark corners of the ballrooms. The reason why both women left their homes for a pirate ship becomes startlingly clear.

Finally, when Chrissy feels herself begin to yawn, Vickie rests a hand on her shoulder, indicating that she and Eden should come quickly to see the bolthole for them to hide in. It appears that their captain doesn’t give too many orders but when he does, they are to be immediately obeyed.

“Good night, Miss Cunningham,” Edward says and Chrissy pauses.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she says, and follows Vickie out.

XXX

“Who’s the girl?” Jeff asks curiously, once Chrissy’s long red hair has vanished out of the door. Eddie has joined his usual table and it appears that his meal with the women has not gone unnoticed.

“A passenger,” Eddie says briefly. Most of his crew have drifted away back to their regular duties, or to play card games down below. Even so, he’s not willing to divulge Lady Cunningham’s real identity. “She joined us at Hawkins. Approached me in the Hawk and Dog yesterday. She was willing to pay.”

Jeff raises an eyebrow and reaches for his tankard. Judging by the flush to their cheeks, it may be one drink of ale too many this evening.

“You never normally sit with the passengers,” he points out, his tone deliberately casual. Eddie catches sight of Gareth’s smirk into his bowl.

He’d known that it would draw attention but somehow he’d been unable to resist the urge to be near her. She only has a limited time aboard and Eddie wants to make the most of it. Because before he knows it, she’ll be gone and the only one left to remember that she was even here will be himself. The sea, the floorboards of the Hellfire, even the crew…they’ll all forget after some time. He won’t. Some experiences - some people - carve themselves into your heart that way the ocean wears away at the cliffs.

“Well, I have done today,” Eddie retorts frostily. He reaches out to the bowl in the middle of the table. He’ll finish his meal in his cabin. He palms an orange and shoves it in a coat pocket.

“I thought we were going to discuss that job?” Jeff asks mildly but Eddie stands anyway.

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says. He’s in no mood to discuss work tonight. Every time he has to leave her, he finds himself at a strange sort of unease, like an itch under his skin was soothed without him even realizing it.

He stalks back to his quarters and shuts the door. He half wonders if he’d made a mistake but even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows that he didn’t. He never could have left her there in the Hawk and Dog, destined to marry someone she doesn’t love. But he’s going to have to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t purely goodness or out of pity that persuaded him to bring her on board the ship.

He drops down into a chair, looking out of the window across the dark sea. He loves nights like these, where the ocean meets the sky in the same stormy blue. He digs the orange out of his pocket and carefully peels it, very aware that only this morning Chrissy had sat in this chair.

Seeing her eat with the crew this evening had provoked the same sort of feeling in his chest. A strange wistfulness that comes with knowing something isn’t permanent. And he’s about to have three weeks of that same feeling, three long weeks until they reach the balmy southern waters of Frostproof.

Eddie places a section of orange into his mouth. He should be thinking of work, because that’s what his role requires. He’s responsible for every soul, to make sure that they stay fed and well armed, that they have enough to keep sailing. There’s trades to be made, cleaning to get done, the occasional threat made in a public enough place to keep his reputation alive and well. He doesn’t have time to sit and think about the curve of her cheek, the strands of ribbon in her brilliant hair, the expression on her face as she’d first seen the Hellfire.

But as the moon climbs higher in the sky, that is all he does.

[sleepyeye17]

Anybody want a Steddie WWI AU?

This is what I have so far, but I haven’t decided if I’ll continue:

The sky was broad and white from edge to edge. The sun hadn’t broken the horizon yet, but it was already lighting the morning fog, and turning the mist into a uniformly white scrim. Steve squinted against the brightness, but they weren’t allowed to look away. All down the line, their bayonets were attached, their guns loaded and ready to fire. One hundred yards away, the enemy did the same. It was a perfect mirror image. They stood at the trench edge and watched for the enemy, and the enemy watched for them. 

Eddie slipped, staggered, slid three feet down the board. Stay low. He was a mud man, a golem made of earth, born from the wet gash of the trench. The mud in his mouth tasted like metal, and it was the taste of men he’d killed, the iron flavor of the men he’d loved and who’d died beside him. They’d all drowned in that mud, turning it into a human chowder. 

“I see something!” Private Henderson shouted. “Two o’clock!”

Twenty sets of eyes swiveled to the right. Steve looked through his binoculars. There was something there, alright. He squinted against the brightness. It looked like a dog, or a small horse.

“Hold,” Steve said, “Looks like a donkey.”

“Sir,” Sergeant Wheeler said, “It could be the enemy.”

“They wouldn’t be such idiots,” Steve said. “Nobody goes over this early.”

Eddie was one throbbing nerve. His arms ached. He was a dung beetle scuttling across a busy highway. He staggered upright, then a shot from behind him sent him back down. 

“It’s a man!”

“Hold,” Steve said. He could feel Wheeler’s eyes on him. “Hold,” he repeated. He squinted through his binoculars again.

The figure was more creature than human. Mud caked him from head to foot, making it impossible to tell race or uniform. His eyes stood out like great white holes in his face, and his arms were tied to something, crucifixion style. Steve focused the lenses. It was a wagon wheel, tied to the man’s back.

Steve had never believed in Field Punishment Number One. Both sides did it, sending men over the top as live bait, but he’d always seen it as a waste. 

“Hold,” Steve said again. “It’s an FP Number One. Let him down.”

Pale hands reached out from the trench and Eddie collapsed into them. He didn’t care if they were German or allies. He let them pull him into the safety of the earth. Before he fainted, he heard someone saying,

“Corporal Harrington! He’s one of ours!”