#musician eddie is my life

[navnae]

While Eddie is in the studio with his band he gets a phone call from Steve and an idea pops up in his head. He runs to the booth then places his phone up to the microphone and let Steve say the most lovey dovey stuff he could think off. Eddie let’s Steve know that his voice will definitely be put in one of the songs on the album, Steve tries to hold back a gasp of excitement because he’s always dreamed of being on a song and now that it could be one of Eddie’s his little heart was beating out of his chest. The smoothness of his voice set the tone right for the song which made Eddie lose his mind. Hearing Steve’s voice and his music at the same time did so much to his brain that he couldn’t process all of it.

[mintcakeart]

This is the polaroid I imagined in one of the most recent chapters of this fic (plus a version with his neck scar because I’m such a sucker for the neck scar lol)

(did I spend 6 hours straight steddyifying a pinterest pic for less than one line of my silly little fanfic? yes. yes I did.)

[fish-bowl-2]

DON'T show Edd Weyes Blood. He WILL be annoying about it.

[my-life-on-parade]

Spider Taylor (my late husband of 43 years) with Ray Manzarek (The Doors) and Sky Saxon (The Seeds). The three of them jammed together along with Randy California (Spirit) on stage for a benefit in 1986.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[eddieschains]

Dream Come True

Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 2.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”

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

[demibats]

been thinking about richbuisnessman!eddie and how he would spoil you with gifts and jewels and different types of jewelry and clothes and accessories until one day he decides to get you an anklet with his initials on it and you surprise him one day buy putting on the lingerie he bought you a few weeks ago and putting the anklet on and everytime he hears it jingle while he’s thrusting into you he gets harder and rougher until youre both wore out 🤭🤭been thinking about doing a short fic on this but i would die to see your spin on it 👻👻

MY MIND IS REELING HOLY HELL. so i def took some creative liberties with this one because i wanted to stay true to eddie’s character, so in regards to him being a rich business man, i changed it just a bit 🤭 this has also been sitting in my ask box for probably near a year, but here ya go!!! changed it juuuuust slightly bc i believe that eddie munson is an absolute munch and eats pussy for his won pleasure. enjoy!

content warnings; smut (if you're under 18, do not interact!), fem terms and anatomy used, oral (f!receiving), eddie eating pussy because he loooooves it (and yes this needs it own tag), slight dom/sub dynamics, use of 'sir' as an honorific toward eddie

Eddie Munson is a modest man. With a wallet and dick that fat, you're surprised. Most men would be shouting from the rooftops of their penthouses that they're loaded, throwing hundreds at the dozen strippers they order every other friday night, just because they can.

But Eddie Munson isn't like that at all.

He doesn't live in some monstrous mansion or picturesque penthouse, he doesn't own six cars or a private jet. He isn't the kind of man to have a different girl in his bed every night, ones that really are only interested in him for his money. He's always been a gentleman and shot them down politely, but still met with a drink being thrown in his face or some uncalled for insult.

When you met him, he didn't give any indication that he had money. He wore a faded Dio shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks and a matching suit jacket. His thick fingers had scuffed silver rings, one for almost each of them. He had the most unruly curls you'd ever seen on a man. He flashed you a smile from your spot behind the bar, a toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth as he raised his glass in your direction, the men around him making comments about his boldness. From that moment forward, you were mesmerized.

The most difficult part about being romantically involved with him, was the gifts you'd receive from him. Eddie was very straight-foward with his wealth, he told you on your first date, to the exact same bar you tended. He told you he had toured with local bands from his hometown as an instrument and audio visual engineer. He made calls to different tour and musician managers to see if he would be able join their road crew. After a few years of life on the road, he managed to open up his own music shop. That's when the big bucks started flowing.

Despite knowing that he has more than enough money to spoil you with, you're still bashful and hesitant about accepting them. Hell, when he asked you to move in with him, you declined it almost immediately, not wanting to seem like you were financially leaning on him in any way. Even after you began living together, you maintained a 40-hour work week at the bar for some time.

The first gift, more like gifts, were beautiful bouquets of flowers he'd bring home to you. You'd be at home, curled up into the couch cushions with a paperback folded in your hands and in comes your darling boyfriend, ringed fingers curled around the green stems of another bouquet. Every Monday, he comes home from work with a fresh bouquet to replace your old ones. "To cure your Monday Blues, dollface," he'd say.

Then came the clothes. Every weekend he offered to take you shopping, saying something along the lines of, "Maybe we'll find something from one of those magazines you seem to actually read." Within the first month of living together, your portion of your shared closet took up the most space, at least a 3/4 ratio.

You feel beyond special, never taking his gifts for granted, especially since you're more than aware he knows he doesn't have to. He always tries to play it off, explaining how gift giving is just his love language. You might actually believe him, considering he gets his friends outrageous gifts as well, but it's different with you. There's a dark glimmer in his eyes when you tear back the paper encasing your newest present from your beloved.

Behind a deep maroon wrapping paper, lies a small white box. The name across the top of the box in golden script is of a jewelry shop you recognize. And it's not a cheap shop either. Lifting the lid off the box, your eyes flick up to meet Eddie, who's smirking, arms folded over his chest while a hand cradles his chin.

Once the gift has been revealed, a small gasp escapes from parted lips. It's a dainty anklet, sterling silver. As you lift the jewelry up by careful fingers, you notice the hanging letters. A less-than-subtle 'EM' charm hanging from it. It's also in a script font, making the 'E' look like a backwards '3'. A small gemstone sets between the initials, a beautiful cut ruby.

To say it's beautiful is an understatement. It's gorgeous, only something that Eddie Munson himself would think to be a perfect fit for his sweetheart. "Whaddya think?" He asks, though he already knows how you feel, more than confident at his gift-giving abilities.

"Eds, I love it. It's perfect, thank you," you chide, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips as another form of 'thank you.'

It isn't until Eddie decides that the two of you are going on vacation in Santorini that you ever really wear it. It's too ornate for every day wear, and a small part of you fears that it'll somehow slip or snap off and you'll have lost it.

Laid out on a reclining beach chair, you're soaking up the midday Grecian sun, shades perched atop the bridge of your nose and a mimosa in hand. The rental Eddie snagged for your two-week excursion was straight from a resort advertisement. The modern advancements made were stunning, but the architecture was true the city. You'd never imagined being sprawled out in front of a heated pool overlooking the beautiful seaside.

Aside from one of the many bikinis you packed for the trip and your sunglasses, you only had on the dainty anklet purchased by your lover. It settled against your skin and caught the sun's rays, making it shine.

"Look at you," you hear Eddie from over your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come outside, but the soft breath against the side of your neck made you jump, "spoiled rotten."

You can't help but snicker at his comment. He had made you this way with his expensive gifts, how could he judge? You decide to lean into this role of the 'spoiled rotten brat' he so lovingly teased you with, "What could you possibly want that's more important than me enjoying the sun?"

He knows better than to take the comment seriously, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he stands up from his crouched position, stepping to stand in front of the sun, "Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?"

You see him now, in all his glory. Long curls pulled back into a bun, strands creeping out from either movement or humidity, you aren't sure. A pair of black swim trunks hang off his hips and a Metallica muscle tank has been pulled over his tattooed torso, the ink etched into his arms still exposed. Good enough to eat.

Pushing your shades up on top of your head, you roll eyes at him once they're visible, "Ugh, you're blocking the sun, Eddie."

The metalhead raises his hands in defeat, a small smile on his features as he steps to the side, allowing the sun to once again be soaked up into your pores, "Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. Come inside for a while, I made lunch."

Even though you felt assured you'd won whatever playful battle was at hand, you weren't sure you were ready to drop the facade. Though, you were getting hungry, and if Eddie cooked? Your mouth watered at the thought.

"Fine. But because I'm hungry, not because you asked." You taunt as you swing your legs off the chair's recline, sliding your feet into your sandals.

Following him inside, he opens the sliding glass door for you, like the perfect gentleman he's always been, before following you through the threshold, sliding it shut behind him.

As the two of you enter the kitchen, your eyes land on the empty stove and countertops, eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Eddie, you said you-"

You're cut off by Eddie's fingers digging into your hip, backing you up against the marble counter top. Lifting your gaze up to his, the breath is nearly sucked out of you at his imposing stance in front of you, "I might've told a white lie," he mumbles, eyes glued to where his hand meets your flesh. His fingers slide underneath the thin band to your bottoms before allowing it to snap against your skin, "but then again, your attitude needs an adjustment."

Even with his tone bordering on mean, he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, taking his time. He can taste the freshly squeezed orange juice on your tongue. A firm, tattooed hand stays at your hip, holding you in place as your arms slink around his neck. With both his kiss and touch still relatively gentle, the thoughts that you're able to process are that he'll remain stern with you, but not unreasonable.

The brunette brings his kiss to your neck, down to your collarbone, traveling lower and lower until he reaches your navel. Glossy brown orbs lock onto yours as he slides the bottoms of your swimsuit down your legs.

"Don't cum until I say so," he states, his tone brokering no room for argument, "Got it?"

You nod, hands already white-knuckling against the edge of the counter, "yes..."

"Yes what?" he questions as he brings your ankles out of the fabric, eye catching that gorgeous anklet.

"Yes sir," you breathe, head lulling back, shoulders slumping already at the thought of his face buried between your thighs.

He carefully brings your thigh over his shoulder, one hand gripping the flesh there while the other has a determined hold on your opposite hip. Before another word can be passed between the two of you, his face is pressed to your core, tongue flattening out to lick a slow stripe between your folds. Although he's taking his time, listening intently to every sound you make, no matter how quiet, he's relentless. Tongue dipping into your weeping hole, his nose catching on your clit every so often. He's tuned in with your body, it's subtle movements, the noises you make and what the different sounds mean. You couldn't derail his focus if you tried.

Your fingers weave through his umber tresses even with it being tied back with an elastic, "Oh fuck..."

He devours you, laps at the liquid arousal trickling out, the noises caused by his actions utterly obscene. Wet, slurping and sucking noises mixed with your combined moans were a perfect melody to him. Something he'd listen to every day in his headphones, on repeat, without pausing. He shifts his eyes up, his gaze burning the image of your shallow breath matched with the swift rise and fall of your chest to memory.

The grip you have on his hair only spurs him on, especially when you tighten it. Calloused hands drag down your thighs, keeping them settled at both sides of his head like a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. He feels the soft bite of cold metal against his back, then remembers the anklet. Popping off of your dripping cunt, his chin glistening in your arousal, he brings his your thigh off of his shoulder and brings his hand down to your ankle, fingers delicately tracing over the thin metal chain.

You offer a soft whimper at the loss of contact, half-lidded eyes locked onto his figure, "Wha.. Why'd you stop?"

Cocking his head to the side, he taps the pad of his index finger against the jewelry dangling off your ankle, "Just... admiring the leash you so willingly wear." He coos, the words filled with lust.

He dives back in, bringing both thighs onto his shoulders, face snugly between them. He doesn't relent until you're arching your back, shuddering with every flick of his tongue. Even then, he's still not satisfied, and neither of you. You're on the cusp of your orgasm, trying to let Eddie know, but he just gives three gentle taps to your hip and a disapproving grunt. His words ring in your ears, Don't cum until I say so ... Got it?

Just as you're sure you can't hold out on him any longer, he mumbles 'you can cum, sweetheart,' against your mound, then goes right back to his assault on your clit. You spasm, thighs clenched around his head to the point you're sure he can't breathe, orgasm tearing through your body like a ripcord. He slowly brings the aggressive flicks of his tongue to a stop once you're whimpering, out of breath, sensitivity having taken a strong hold on you.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staying knelt between your legs as you catch your breath and return from the astral plane and back into your body. Though, he can't help but sneak glances at the silver anklet, and the 'EM" charm hanging off of it.

thank you for reading xx.

[navnae]

Steve still gets butterflies when Eddie writes a song about him even though he’s done it over a thousand times. The effort Eddie puts in to make Steve feel loved sometimes can be overwhelming because he’s never had someone do anything that special for him. So whenever Eddie shows Steve his journal full of lyrics he holds them close to his heart, it’s a refreshing feeling to know that Eddie loves him.

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat.  From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain.  The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache. 

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of  your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play.  You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs.  You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again.  Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.  

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open.  It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck.  “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life.  “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people.  You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.  

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright.  Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate. 

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town.  Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees.  A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing.  “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled.  You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck.  He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.  

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading.  And taking long walks with music to clear your head.  Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous.  Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants.  A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water.  Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet. 

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside.  The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books.  Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint.  He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.  

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right.  You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.  

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.  

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes.  It sat there close to the curb, idling.  You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile.  Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket.  Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.  

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it.  They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk.  A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.  

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand.  “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm.  She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family.  While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.   

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell.  The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month. 

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can.  They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational.  She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.  

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.  

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits.  There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.  

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.  

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot.  Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.  

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself.  “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit.  “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.  

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked.  “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.  

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room.  “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen.  “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts.  You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest.  Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling.  Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building.  It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel. 

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other,  so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.  

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.  

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face.  “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about. 

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree.  Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot.  Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said.  “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl.  You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.  

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him.  “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually.  You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one.  “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve.  They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear.  He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.  

“Hey, there the fuck you are.  I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building.  You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way.  The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed.  While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit.  “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself.  His name was Eddie.  

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour.  There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face. 

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe.  “I gotta run.  See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets.  He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way.  Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.  

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along. 

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.  

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face. 

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks.  Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again.  With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog. 

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation.  There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party.  She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier.  The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.  

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.  

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.  

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.  

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.  

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true.  But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.  

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink.  “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.  

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.  

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table. 

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours.  “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it. 

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.  

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself.  He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.   

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.  

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest.  He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.  

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him.  You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.  

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare. 

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property. 

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music.  It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.  

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it.  His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests.  Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing.  The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there. 

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another.  While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.  

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier.  He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage. 

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot.  You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.  

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.  

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.  

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention.  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie.  Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most. 

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter.  You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished.  Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.  

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going.  The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.  

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence. 

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.  

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead.  Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.  

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.  

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground.  You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed.  “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees.  “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped.  But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms. 

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

----

Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

------

taglist: @tlclick73 @micheledawn1975 @kurdtbean @katethetank @elvendria @spookysqaush86 @somethingvicked @stylesxmunson @laurenlokirby @sapphire4082

[sashaforthewin]

[on Ao3] Rated M, sex mention, Steddie

ATM Boy

The song started as a joke. Eddie wrote it to see Steve's reaction. 

It had a catchy tune and the lyrics began as a love song of sorts. Steve sat on the couch in Gareth's garage tapping his foot along to the heavy beat and smiling at Eddie as he sang. Until he got to the chorus, of course. 

"He's my ATM boy, my ATM boooooooyyyyy"

Steve rolled his eyes, assuming this was some dumb jab at his being rich. He was upper middle class, at best.

"I can tell he loves me / I can tell he's true / cause when we're in bed there's a thing that he lets me doooOOO!"

Steve was already frowning as soon as Eddie mentioned them in bed but Eddie kept singing, holding eye contact the whole time.

"He let's me go ass to mouth, ass to-"

"EDDIE! EDWARD J MUNSON, ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

The song cut off as various members of the band, Eddie most of all, lost their collective shit at Steve's reaction, laughing at his outburst.

Steve strode over to where Eddie was cackling into the mic, hands on hips, and when Eddie didn't stop, Steve just smacked the mic to the floor.

"Hey, that's expensive!"

"Then you better make sure not to sing about our sex life with the rest of your band present after you buy a replacement, huh?"

Everyone except Eddie agreed that Eddie had sort of deserved it and should replace the mic. Steve forgave him fairly quickly, though, since it was just some harmless joking among friends that would laugh it off. 

That was, until the gig. 

Corroded Coffin got booked to open for the metal band Devastator that were out of Indy. They had three times the fan base of Corroded Coffin, so probably upwards of twenty people were at the show. Sure, those people were also local musicians that were friends of the main band, but a fan is a fan, shut up.

Since the gig was at a shitty dive bar in the city, the kids couldn't come; but Robin, Jonathan, and Argyle decided to come along, as well as Murray, for some reason. Nancy had flat out said she didn't want to have to ride all that way to stand in a smoky bar and hear music she hated, so nobody tried to talk her into it.

Steve was up front in one of Eddie's home-made Corroded Coffin tee shirts. He was still wearing his light wash jeans and a pair of bright orange earplugs, though, so he didn't entirely fit in, but he wasn't as out of place as he thought he would be. There was a guy in a yellow disco suit in the crowd, after all. 

The gang were having a great time. Murray along with yellow disco suit dude were both at the center of the moshpit, slamming and being slammed, Jonathan and Argyle stood around Steve, helping block the worst of the crowd while Steve's hearing was muffled and he wasn't paying attention to anything but his boyfriend, and Robin was alternating hanging with Steve and going to hang against the wall where it was safest. 

Eddie and the boys seemed so happy and were doing great, aside from a few minor difficulties. One of Eddie's strings broke during their second song, but the guitarist from Devastator was quick to loan Eddie his own guitar for the rest of the set. 

The  rest of the Corroded Coffin set was going smoothly after the guitar swap. The crowd was really into the music, and Eddie looked like a natural up there. He introduced the band members and thanked the audience and Devastator for having them, and then announced that this next song would be their last. 

As the opening notes rang out, Eddie risked a glance at Steve and cringed. He was furious and Eddie would definitely be sleeping on the couch tonight. 

But the thing was, the song ATM Boy really was very catchy. It was daring, it was sexual, it was devious and queer, but above all, it was a bit of an earworm. The audience went nuts for it, they were screaming when the chorus hit and by the final chorus, a bunch of people were singing along. It went over better than they ever even thought it would. 

Which made it all the worse that Steve continued to stare at Eddie as if he had been betrayed in the worst possible way. He just stood there. Eddie had to force himself to concentrate on the crowd, not on Steve. As soon as the set was done, Corroded Coffin grabbed their shit and made way for Devastator while the party surrounded Steve and tried to pretend they hadn't just heard a very intimate fact about their friend, discussing the crowd energy and how good the boys had done and literally anything that wasn't the elephant in the room. Steve did not participate in the conversation at all, he was quietly seething. 

He refused to talk to or be touched by Eddie the entire rest of the night, making sure to put his arm around Robin so that only their party would know he was the so-called ATM boy. The ride home was awkward and a bit tense, but the fight was saved until they were at home, alone in Steve's house. Steve pulled off his Corroded Coffin shirt and threw it at Eddie's face before storming off up the stairs. 

"Baby, I'm sorry! Baby, come on, it was funny!"

"You asshole, you just told all our friends and Murray that I let you… that I… it was a one time thing! Do not think I am ever letting you do that again after you did this!"

"Yeah, that's fair. But baby, it's just shock value! And it's a surprisingly catchy tune, I don't know why it came out that way but it did! I swear I wrote it to make you laugh, but the guys all wanted to play it at the show. I voted not to but was overruled! Come on, please forgive me. Baby? Please? Baby?"

"Ugh... Fine, okay, fine. I forgive you for humiliating me in front of our friends. At least the kids weren't there and only about thirty people heard it. I guess. And now it's over and I won't see most of those people ever again. So, I guess, yeah, it's kinda funny."

"You know I love you and I respect you so much. I'd let you go ATM on me as an apology."

Steve just huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, but he allowed Eddie to kiss him and wrap him in a hug. He was just glad this was the end of it.

Months went by and Steve had nearly forgotten about the whole thing. 

Until Eddie and the Coffin boys recorded their first demo. It wasn't anything professional, it was recorded in a large truckstop bathroom with decent acoustics and it was recorded with a portable cassette recorder, but it was recorded nonetheless. 

They had made a bunch of copies, sent them off to a few radio stations, and sold a bunch to indie record stores, handed them out to friends and sold them at their weekly gig. In the second week, a few new people showed up specifically to buy their tape because they had heard their friend's copy.

Eddie was so excited for the growing buzz that he wasn't thinking when he popped the tape into Steve's stereo to celebrate. He had been very careful to only play Steve Side B, never Side A, up until now. 

As soon as ATM Boy came on, Steve slammed on the brakes so hard Eddie nearly broke his face on the dashboard. When he saw Steve's expression, Eddie thought maybe breaking his face would've been preferable. 

Eddie slept on the couch for a week after that, but Steve eventually forgave him. 

Steve had nearly gone back to a completely normal life free of mortifying embarrassment, having convinced himself only subculture dwelling weirdos had heard the song.

But then a local radio station played ATM Boy. Not just once, they put it into their evening rotation. And then another station farther away picked it up. And then another. And then things spiraled from there. 

The only saving grace was that the radio had censored it. The lyrics were now "he lets me go ah- - t'mouth" though Steve suspected people probably still got the gist of it from the rest of the song. 

Corroded Coffin got signed to a record label and they recorded their first album in an actual studio. On the studio release, it was decided for the lyrics to become "he lets me go A T M" even though "to mouth" did not strictly speaking need censoring, it flowed better. 

ATM Boy, meanwhile, was starting to spread. It reached the billboard Top 100 list and started climbing. The band started touring for real, not just road trips to Indy and Chicago. They started selling out mid-sized venues and meeting other bands and forming friendships with fellow creatives. 

Eddie was finally the rock star he had dreamed of. 

And Steve was struggling to be supportive while also wishing he was invisible and unknown to anyone. He was living in constant fear of being found out. Not just because he wasn’t publicly out, but because Steve did not want to be known as the ATM boy and he felt even being seen in Eddie’s presence would damn him. 

At first he refused to tour with Eddie and the band, but after not seeing his boyfriend for months, Steve was both lonely and worried Eddie would cheat or leave him for someone else. It took Eddie a while to notice how badly Steve was handling everything but once he did, he hired Steve as his hairdresser so that he would be able to drag Steve around and have an on-the-books excuse for his constant presence. He groveled and doted on Steve and tried everything in his power to atone for the embarrassment, paranoia, and distress he had caused the man he loved.

There were many rocky years but they managed to stay together through it all. Caring for Steve and focusing on him was actually what helped Eddie avoid the pitfalls of fame that so many bands fell victim to. Who has time to do drugs when they have so many beautiful moles to kiss and a gorgeous toned back to massage?

And on a talk show, nearly forty years after the song ATM Boy was written, Eddie Munson told the audience about his wonderful husband and about the real ATM boy.

“It wasn't my husband, just some other guy I slept with.” 

Unfortunately, two minutes later in the interview he off-handedly mentioned Steve is the only guy he's ever slept with or dated.

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | II | Eddie Munson regency!au

Dear reader, my sincerest apologies for the delay in the upcoming chapter. It seems that there had been some technical problems at the printer's shop and some terrible time management on this writer's part. Before we resume this tale of love, however, I would also like to thank all who have read the first chapter and shared their thoughts on it with not only me but others. Know that your support does not go unnoticed, and I cherish it with all my heart.

Word Count: 8.1k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. family disputes. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist - Read Chapter 1 here -

Chapter Two: A Time for Scandal

“At a private ball, no lady will refuse an introduction to a gentleman. It is an insult to her hostess, implying that her guests are not gentlemen. It is optional with the lady whether to continue to drop the acquaintance after the ball is over, but for that evening, however disagreeable, etiquette requires her to accept him for one dance, if she is disengaged, and her hostess requests it.” - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, 1873

The Royal family's return to London brings a new life to the city each year as its elite congregates fervently for all possible occasions. The notable number of balls, soirees, and other social gatherings mark a particularly eventful point in the year that no eager lady or gentleman would want to miss. And whilst the matchmakings occupy most thoughts, this motivation somewhat overshadows the mere social aspect of the season. The parties offer the perfect meeting ground for all ton members, as they can indulge in all the niceties the hosts provide. Whether it be the music, magnificent foods and drinks, or simply pleasant conversation. To miss a social event, especially for a debutante such as yourself, Dear Reader, is to miss an opportunity to present oneself to her suitors and the entire town. It is to miss the happenings that drive the whole court forward. 

Thus, you were obligated to accept every single invitation presented to you and your family. And as spectacular as they all were, weariness settled deep in your bones with each new event. No matter how lavish, it all began to blur together into one repetitive pattern.

Each time, you would find yourself atop a grand staircase, your family trailing behind, as the earlier arrivals looked up in awe and envy. With a shaky breath and a tremble to the hand holding your skirt, you descended the steps onto the dancefloor, where a wonderful yet pesky gentleman awaited to greet you. If fortune were in their favour, they would even gather in a pack, making you the bearer of choice who to greet first, whose offer for refreshment to accept, and whose signature to claim on your dance card in which order. Meanwhile, your mother gawked in a nearby distance with a smile stretching for miles, already planning what cakes to ask the chef about for the next morning’s calling hour. 

The lights around you sparkled wonderfully, and you could not deny that Lord and Lady Parsnell had outdone themselves for their annual ball. Theirs was a particularly beautiful ballroom, with windows covering the entirety of the large west wall. It overlooked the gardens illuminated with lanterns of all colours, and the room was in an everlasting golden glow. The music played from the far right corner, where the musicians were located on their platform, all dressed in elaborate costumes and wigs, completely painted in bronze to imitate the likeness of statues and as the bypassing guests were gawking up at them, you felt a twinge of a connection between yourself and the talent across the room.

‘Would you care to dance, miss?’ one of the gentlemen asked, and as you could not find a single polite response in your entire vocabulary, you opted for a kind smile as you extended your hand in agreement. 

As with all the others, this was making itself out to be a long and dreadful evening.

On your way to the centre of the floor to join all the other couples, you caught a glimpse of your oldest brother, Nicholas. To no one’s surprise, he had found himself in deep conversation with a young lady dressed in a gorgeous sea-blue dress, a fan to match fluttering purposefully over her bosom. For the entirety of the dance, you kept your eyes on the two of them. No matter how lacking intellectual stimulation your brother’s endeavours may be, they forever remained more fascinating than anything your dance partner had to offer. You only turned your attention to the man at the harsh sound of his laugh. It appeared he had been entertaining himself with his jokes for the duration of the waltz. This and how he slurred you around the room, practically dragging your limbs behind him, made you doubt you were very needed at that moment. 

Finally, the music slowed, and you were released from Lord Bramley's harsh hold on your hands. You bid him farewell with a respectable curtsy and walked away before the man could utter another word, let alone request another dance. As you walked off the floor, a most horrid apparition revealed itself in the corner of your eye in the shape of another available man in conversation with your mama. Too occupied by the gentleman, she had not noticed you to have finished your dance, and so you saw the opportunity to make yourself scarce in the crowd, at least for the moment.

‘You cannot hide forever.’ A hum more irritating than a critter tickled at your ear as your second brother, Christopher, appeared by your side at the confectionery table. 

‘I certainly can try, can I not?’ you grinned, tasting the icing on a strawberry cake. 

‘Because we know how well that turned out for you the last time,’ he reminded you. All you could do was grin at him maliciously as you thought back to the day when— 

❀❀❀

Your mother had lovingly retrieved you from the stables as you had attempted to escape one of your family’s countless matchmaking attempts. And while the man you had met, Mr Steve Harrington, had turned out to be quite pleasant, you still struggled to relive the embarrassment of being hunted down by your mother through the garden. Not to mention the judgment of your siblings the very next day at breakfast as you learned they had been told all of what had occurred the day prior.

You walked into the room with an appetite that disappeared as soon as you saw the amusement on your family’s faces and heard the hushed tones with which they spoke as you found your seat. Perhaps if they had been more straightforward, you could have endured it, but they all remained silent as they watched you take your pick of the food, portioning it onto your plate at your own pace. Only as you took your first bite did the first words erupt, nearly leading you to choke. 

‘Your lunch with Harrington went well, I take it?’ Nicholas asked, much to his amusement.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, answering with your own question, with no intention of looking your family in the eye as you did. 

‘Mother has just caught us up with the events of yesterday afternoon,’ your brother stated, his enthusiasm in stark contrast to your discomfort at the moment. 

‘I cannot see how there was much to speak of.’ You tore off another piece of the toast with your teeth. ‘It was dreadful.’

‘Dreadful, you say,’ Christopher snickered, barging into the conversation, as unwelcome as the rest, ‘it is not the word I would use, given what we have heard.’

‘Please enlighten me, then, brother? What do you deem an appropriate summary given what I can only assume was mother’s thoroughly accurate recount of what happened?’ You could imagine that she had embellished aspects of the day to fit her narrative; one that most definitely would not suit your future objectives in any way. Truly, since when had the breakfast meal also become the time for your entire family to torture you? It seemed that any moment you all found yourselves in one place, it was deemed the designated time for inquiries regarding your prospects. 

‘I had only told them that you seemed to have rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington,' your mother said nonchalantly as if she had not just struck you with a verbal mallet over the head. 

‘Mother!’ you said with a frozen-in-shock expression, but your mother only blinked slowly in bewilderment. You blinked slowly as well. ‘How could you?’

‘Is that an offence to say these days?’ She replied, chuckling, underestimating the damage she had caused with that simple phrase. You had rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington. The string of simple words opened the floodgates that until then kept back the unwanted commentary of your siblings, in particular, the vaunting of Nicholas, who had pridefully acclaimed the matchmaking between you and Mr Harrington to himself and would not let anyone forget that for the rest of the meal or the hours, even days, after—

❀❀❀

But you were happy to put all this far behind you. No matter how keen your siblings or parents were to return to that day, you were not one to dwell in the past. You looked forward. More specifically, right ahead of you, where there seemed to be a clear exit route in the form of a pair of large oaken doors—like a gleaming, delicious yet forbidden fruit tormenting you from a distance. You shook the silly thought out of your mind, returning your attention to Christopher, who indulged himself in a puff pastry delicacy.

‘Can you blame me, brother, for acting out after having endured an entire day of the most monotonous, unspirited, and, dare I say, upright dull conversation a man has to offer?’ You watched Christopher pick up a glass of wine, quickly grabbing it out of his hands to consume the drink yourself, leaving him, in turn, in a slightly shocked state of confusion.  

He blinked slowly and sighed. ‘You do not have to explain yourself to me, and I hope you do recognise that,’ he said as he watched you finish the last drops of his wine. ‘I am merely suggesting that if you know what is good for you, you will open yourself up to these opportunities, as by defying, you will only end up causing yourself more harm.’

Now it was your turn to heave out a heavy and tired breath. You put the glass down, perhaps a bit too harshly, as the thud against the table spurred on a few looks from the ladies around you, but you were too occupied with your brother’s words. He was right, of course, on both accounts. Of all your siblings, Christopher was most like yourself, never entirely understanding the need for marriage. Of course, as a male and a second-born son, he had no such obligation or needs to fulfil. It was perfectly well for him to remain a bachelor for as long as he pleased, not to mention pursue any interests he might have.

Meanwhile, all of these “opportunities” you had that he spoke of were in matters of either matchmaking or to enhance your appeal for such exact situations. Yes, you had a more than fortunate education. You spoke various languages, understood maths and geography, could play the pianoforte prettily, perform any dance in your sleep, and occupy yourself with perfectly fine needlework. But it was disheartening, as at the end of the day, all these accomplishments were meant as nothing more than to advertise yourself to men who could not care one bit for any of it as long as your face and body were adequate for their tastes.

But you also knew, through your assumptions and fair warnings from others, that if you were not to find a husband yourself, someone else would do so for you, and a last resort comes to be just that for apparent reasons but ones you would rather not familiarise yourself with. 

‘Do not tell me I have managed actually to silence you and put a stop to your wit.’ Christopher chuckled. 

‘You wish,’ you responded, possibly proving his point. Meanwhile, another song began to play as more couples took to the floor. Your eyes immediately examined the room for any threats of men reaching for your hand for a dance, particularly a certain Mr Bridgerton, who you read to have claimed a spot on your dance card. 

‘Rules are rules,’ Christopher sang teasingly as he saw you check the card tied around your wrist. ‘You cannot deny a gentleman’s—’ but he never entirely managed to finish his sentence as he watched you tug at the ribbon connecting you to the list of men waiting for a dance. The material tightened, most likely leaving a nasty red line across your arm as you pulled and pulled until—snap—you broke free. The piece of paper fell to the floor. 

‘Oh my!’ You covered your mouth in faux-wide-eyed perplexity as you kicked the discarded card behind a large potted plant, far into the forgotten shadows of the room. ‘How can I remember the gentlemen’s names whom I have promised a dance now?’

Against his better judgement, your brother cracked a smile, ‘I can tell you now, you will regret doing that.’

‘Somehow, I rather doubt that,’ you twirled your wrist, enjoying how freeing it felt not to be tied up any longer. 

‘The second that mother finds you without that silly little thing around your hand, you will sing a different tune, sister.’ He finally took another glass of wine, cheering you on, ‘And do not come crying to me about it when that happens.’ The large chug he took was anything but galant. Still, it was his final act before he bid you farewell and left you at the confectionary table to fend for yourself. You had not expected the doubt to settle as quickly as it did, but perhaps the lack of a big brother-shaped guard dog by your side made you feel abnormally self-conscious. For a moment, you considered running after Christopher, but from what you could see through the crowd, he had quickly crossed the room and was already entertaining his friends—each of them a gentleman you were attempting to ignore. 

Things only seemed to be taking a turn for the worse when you picked up a foreign accent which deafened all others around you. 

Harrington. 

You cursed to yourself, quickly turning around to face the tables. What on earth was this man doing here? The Parsnell family was ever the charitable one, but never in the matters of their parties. You could not imagine what would make them want to invite some foreign merchant’s son. 

Well, the answer was simple. It was the same as any other question regarding Steve Harrington and his actions towards you. It must have been your eldest brother’s doing, of course. It was all Nicholas from the very beginning, and he would not let you forget it ever since that breakfast the day after you met with the American—-

❀❀❀

‘I knew it from the moment I met the good man; you would make a perfect pair.’ He said as he sat across from you in the drawing room, feet hanging over the couch’s armrest. 

‘And how, pray tell, could you predict this exactly?’ You rolled your eyes. While most often, it was Nicholas who attempted to drown out your voice through the words on a page, it was your turn that day to try to ignore his rambling.

‘As much as you would like to think better of yourself,’ Nicholas leaned forward, more than happy to keep talking about the subject, mainly if it covered a topic that could humble you: ‘the truth is that you are as shallow as the rest of us, sister, not to mention as easy to read on the subject of these matters as everyone else.’ 

‘Even if I had such biases, I would not share them with you,�� you scoffed, flipping an unread page. 

‘There was no need for that explicitly, I have conducted my research and come to the right conclusions, have I not?’ It was impossible to wipe the smug smile off his face; you knew that by now, and yet…

‘If you do not shut your mouth this instant, I swear, I will throw this book at you,’ you threatened, putting the book you had occupied yourself with over your head. 

‘You are only this upset because you know I am right.’ Nicholas gloated, but you were happy to see him tense up in the shoulders as you began aiming the book in his direction. Not that you would actually throw it… just yet. A lady can do heinous things if pushed far enough, and you felt yourself standing on the edge. 

‘I know that you are being completely maddening.’ You dropped the book in your lap. ‘And must be mad if you think I am in love with this man. He was a pleasant conversation partner, that is all. I assume mother has been deprived of social engagements for far too long, if she thinks me laughing at this man’s jests is enough for there to be an engagement already.’ Harrington’s jokes had been funny, you had to admit, but it must have been a joke from the powers above that sent the following footman into the room in that instance, announcing a gift had been left for you at the door. 

Before you could say anything, Nicholas requested it to be brought into the room. From the irrepressible smirk on his face, he seemed to have an edge of knowledge on you on what was about to be presented through that door in the following moments.

And indeed, not much later, the man returned holding an oversized vase filled with flowers—a bouquet of colours combined into a lovely smell overpowering your senses. 

You said nothing as you walked up to the table where the heavy gift was set, but your lips could not help but part in surprise. You noticed the paper sticking out from between the buds and gently pulled it out. 

See these flowers as a token of my appreciation for thy hospitality and benignity. 

Sincerest greetings, 

S.H. 

You groaned out, reading the words. ‘You are despicable, brother!’ Nicholas, who had been reading along with you from behind your shoulder, quickly stepped aside as you turned his way, ‘You set him up to do this.’ the accusation came out of your mouth like venom. 

‘I did no such thing.’ But his smile remained easy to read. Although… was it a remnant of his earlier pride, or did he see the flowers as yet another gratification for his unbearable attitude? 

‘But you did! It has your grimy hands written all over it.’ You flicked the paper in his face. How many times had you seen your brother write notes to the ladies he attempted to court or send out servants to pick flowers from the garden? ‘Did you scheme this whole thing out on the boat on your way home?’ You could already see it all so clearly. The two of them standing in a corner of the ship, your brother acting like a snake charmer, teaching Harrington everything for him to win you over. It all left a rather sour taste in your mouth.

‘I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.’ He glanced at the flowers, ‘but you must admit that the man has a great taste.’

‘Yes, I am sure his servant has great botanical knowledge. Do you think me to be so dense that I would expect the man to do this all by himself?’

‘You cannot make me believe you were not impressed for even a moment?’ Nicholas argued. You glared at him, eyes formed into narrow poisonous slits, but in the end, all you could emanate from your mouth was another angry groan. Feeling hopeless, you let your body guide you back to the chaise across the drawing room. The smell of the flowers seemed to linger on despite your effort to distance yourself.

‘So you are to say that you have no feelings for Harrington? What so ever?’ Nicholas trotted behind you, taking the seat next to you.

‘No more than I have for you at the moment,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Ah, so you do love him!’

‘Ugh,’ you exclaimed—

❀❀❀

 Much as you did when you suddenly felt a presence behind you calling your name. To compose yourself in the crowd and avoid further embarrassment for anyone, you quickly turned back around to face the man approaching you. However, by doing so, your sudden movement caused a chain reaction in the glass you had just reached for, spilling all its content on your person.

‘Mr Harrington!’ You gasped. However, any possible enthusiasm you might have felt for the man’s presence was overtaken by the shock as your bodice soaked in the cold beverage, knowing that the material of your dress was gaining more damage with each passing second. Of course, a handful of people nearby stopped what they were doing to gawk at what surely must be a rather embarrassing moment between a young lady and a suitor she was attempting to seduce. 

‘Miss Byrnwick,’  Harrington jumped into action, ‘let me find you a maid.’ Within another second, he had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to cry in shame at your brother’s side—your brother, Nicholas, who did not seem one ounce affected by your dramatics.

‘Have you no shame?’ he asked between tight lips, leaning in your direction to avoid the eager ears of the nearby audience.

‘Oh, brother, I have only begun.’ You smiled with a whisper before taking a step back, and another, until your back was met with the soft texture of the cake placed directly behind you. How ridiculous of you to have forgotten. 

You cried out.

‘There there, sister,’ Nicholas failed to find a single sincere vocal cord from what it seemed. ‘Let us get you cleaned up.’ He reached for your arm, smiling at a hoard of ladies standing a few feet away, but you quickly pulled away.

‘Do not be ridiculous, my dress is in ruins!’ You did anything but shout. Anyone paying attention, and by this point, this had included the majority of the gathering, would be no fool to expect your eyes to be on the verge of tears as you attempted to cover yourself up to no avail. Why, after this fiasco, no one could blame you for making a swift departure out of the ballroom.

That is nearly nobody, for your mother caught you just as you were about to exit. 

‘Dearest, what has happened to your dress?’ Her face showed an awkward smile filled with concern, but you knew that not that deep inside, she was raging with fury as she took in your state.

‘It was an accident, mama.’ You sniffed, wiping at your dry cheeks. ‘Now, will you excuse me? I would like to go home, please.’ 

In this instance, with more and more people collecting around you to look at and their whispered words making their rounds around the room faster than the country dance performed just moments ago, there was very little your mother could do. After a final look around the room in hopes of finding a suitable reason for you to stay, yet failing to do so, she had no choice but to let you go.

‘Let me at least find one of your brothers to escort you,’ your mother sighed in defeat.

‘I am perfectly capable of going home by myself, mother.’ You resumed taking steps toward the doors, their appeal practically pulling at your feet eagerly. ‘And besides, I will not be alone. I will have the carriage driver for company.’ This did not make your mother any more confident in the situation, but both your brothers also appeared to have vanished into thin air, and the gossip was only growing more potent the longer you stood there in your stained ensemble.

‘Alright then,’ Mother gave in, ‘just… be careful.’

‘Of course.’ You reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Thank you.’ With this farewell, you ran out of the room as politely as it was possible in good society. There had not been many occasions in which you had visited Lord Parsnell’s estate, so it took a moment before you found the main entrance. 

‘Everything alright, miss?’ a footman standing by the door called out, clearly having noticed your distress. 

‘Perfectly well,’ you caught your breath. I simply require my carriage.’ To this, the man nodded and disappeared into a corridor to call for your transport. The music seeped through the main hallway from across the other side of the large house. Mindlessly, you let your body move in sync with the violins. You took small but correct steps over the marble flooring until the man returned, announcing your carriage would be ready momentarily.

‘I shall wait outside,’ you explained, and just like that, the grand doors opened to reveal the late night. Crickets chirped across the fields nearby as the moon and stars illuminated the gravel at the entrance. With nobody around and the cool night air pleasing to your heated skin, you took a deep breath and let your legs give in.

‘Danced too hard, miss?’ a familiar voice called over the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels rolling. ‘You look like you have just walked through a storm.’

‘Balls have that effect on a lady.’

‘They sure do,’ Eddie chuckled, for a reason unclear to you.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘No, it’s nothing,’ he shook his head, changing the subject, ‘Will your family be long?’

‘They shall take the second carriage. I will be making my return alone.’ With your numbers, one carriage would have called for a relatively tight, possibly hazardous fit. So you and your brothers had taken the larger coach—steered by your family’s coachmen—whilst your parents drove in the smaller hansom that Mr Munson had kindly offered to operate for the other regular driver had coincidentally fallen ill. 

Thus, now that you were returning alone, you had the smaller carriage all to yourself. 

‘No chaperone?’ Eddie asked, somewhat apprehensively.

‘I have you, have I not?’ you said as you hiked up your dress to climb aboard. The footman that had so generously opened the coach door looked reasonably stunned as, instead, you took your seat next to Eddie in the driver’s seat. He looked at you with just as much surprise. ‘I’d like to enjoy the mid-night air, if that is alright with you,’ you explained.

‘You won’t hear me complain, miss,’ he smiled, pulling the reigns and setting the horses into motion. As you drove off, you dared to take a peak behind you. The footman remained confused in his place, trying to comprehend what exactly he had just witnessed and whether or not to call it a scandal or not. But, in your modest opinion, you could not find anything scandalous in a young lady who was seeking comfort from one of her family’s employees and one you had, above all, learned to trust a great deal in the last weeks.

As you know, you have always found comfort in the gardens surrounding your house, yet after your first meeting with Mr Munson, you found yourself seeking refuge on the grounds even more often than before. Especially as the arguments regarding your prospects grew more heated and the tensions between you and your family became more tiresome by the day. It became an almost daily routine for someone to shout out obscenities and slam a door in protest, and nearly every fight ended in you needing to catch a breath amongst the flora. And more often than not, you wandered around until you found yourself at the stables. But unlike in your childhood when it was the horses’ company you were looking for, it was now a person’s attention you were hoping to catch—

❀❀❀

You certainly had no intentions of returning to the stables the first time you did so. Initially, you had planned to visit the orangery, but the gardeners were currently occupying it, and in your need for solitude, it did not feel like the right place to be, which is why you surprised yourself as you called out into the empty aisle. 

‘Hello?’

No response came. Nobody was around except the stallions and mares, who were comfortably munching away at their hay, unaware of anything happening outside the building. 

You stood in front of the entrance, looking ahead of you, unsure of what to do next and still not entirely certain why you had come here in the first place. You listened to the soft, unbothered noises of the horses and fiddled with the fabric of your dress for a moment or two until the silence became unbearable. It could not have been longer than a minute that you stood there, but to you, it felt like an eternity, and with each passing second and no plan on what to do next, you only felt sillier and sillier. You had to leave here before someone caught you standing and waiting like a statue. And as you turned around, you slammed into the arms of the one person you had hoped would not catch you this way. 

‘We must stop meeting this way,’ Eddie smiled, but the grin quickly disappeared as he caught a glimpse of your expression. ‘Everything alright, ma’am?’ 

‘Yes, of course,’ you wiped the folds in your dress nervously. Something about his gaze made it impossible for you to return it. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You look as if you’d just seen a ghost.’ 

‘Well, you did just scare me half to death, Mr Munson.’ It was true. You felt your heart leap up into your throat as your bodies collided. ‘You are far too stealthy, you know.’ 

‘Apologies. I have learned to be quiet around the horses so as not to startle them—’ 

‘Which has the exact opposite effect on humans, does it not? ' you said, pushing the corners of your mouth into a smile. 

‘It appears so, miss.’ He returned the gesture. 

It took far too long for you to realise that, according to the general rules of conversation, you were expected to say something next; however, before you could remedy that misstep, Eddie spoke up once more. 

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ 

‘Yes,’ you shook your head, ‘perfectly so. Is the weather not lovely?’ You looked up, just anywhere but at him, to see the cloudless sky. ‘I er— I thought of taking Barley Sugar out for a ride.’ Suddenly, your intentions of finding yourself in front of the stableman were perfectly clear. 

‘Of course, ma’am. Which horse will your chaperone be taking?’ The question stumped you, which must have been clear to the man looking so intently at you, for he quickly asked: ‘You do have a chaperone, do you not?’ 

‘I do not. I am more than capable of riding the horse on my own, thank you. I have been doing so since I was 5 years old.’ 

Eddie hovered over his words briefly. ‘I did not intend to question your skills, ma’am; it is only that it had been made clear to me upon my employment that you are required to have someone accompany you when you leave the residence—for the horse’s safety, if anything.’ He quickly added, sensing that it might soften the blow of your horse-riding chastising.

‘I did not think you to be such a stickler for the rules, Mr Munson,’ you found yourself to tease the man. Where the nerve to do so came from, you did not know, but it looked to be appreciated. Eddie shook his head, possibly already regretting his following words.

‘May I at least ask where you will be headed then?’ 

‘I have not thought of that yet,’ you responded honestly. ‘I might just see where Barley takes me.’ At this, however, the stableman visibly winced. You raised a brow. ‘Is something the matter?’

Eddie shook his head in disappointment.  ‘I only wish you had not said that, miss. I cannot, in good conscience, let Barley Sugar go out unprepared like that. The old thing could get lost or, even worse, hurt. To even think of such a thing happening—’ he looked away, reminding you of how the actors moved in the many plays you had visited at the theatre. ‘Well, it is simply too painful even to consider.’  

‘I am sure Barley can manage such a venture… and she is certainly not old.’

‘Of course,’ he corrected, ‘But we must consider the risks and wouldn’t want anything to happen to Barley, now, would we?’ As he spoke, you made the grave mistake of finding his eyes and the stare he greeted you with, while warm, was intense and rather dizzying. 

You cleared your throat, suppressing a smile, ‘Well, perhaps, if you insist, you should be the one to accompany me on this ride… for Barley’s sake.’

‘For Barley’s sake.’ He echoed your words softer, and just like that, any protocol that should have been considered was thrown out the window. As a newly acquired help, Eddie had no right to accompany you on outings as a chaperone, not without senior permission, at the least. And yet, it was not even ten minutes later that you were both seated on your horses— you upon Barley Sugar and Eddie on the back of a dark brown stallion named Marzipan—and briskly making your way out of the enclosed grounds of the estate.

Ever since, as if by a magnet, you felt yourself pulled towards that particular side of the garden at the sight of any inconvenience. You knew that there was not only an ear always eager to listen but a voice happy to speak to you freely and happily. And though most days, there would be the excuse of a horse or carriage ride for your visit, other times, you would plainly sit by as Eddie worked, chatting away for hours on end or however much time you had to offer. 

‘Are you quite sure that it is alright for you to be here, miss?’ Eddie asked after a week’s worth of your visits. You watched him pick up a large sack of feed as if it weighed nothing at all and put it across the stable room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing that however strainless the carrying of the weight might seem, he had certainly put his muscles to work.

‘I may not own this house directly,’ you answered, ‘but I am the lord’s daughter, and I am free to do as I please… to a certain extent.’ No one could tell you not to roam through the grounds or converse with the groom in your free time, but total freedom you had not. 

 ‘Well, with risk or not,’ Eddie threw another sack on top of the previous, ‘I consider it a great honour to be the recipient of your company.’

‘I am surprised none of the gentlemen have attempted to use such a phrase to charm me.’ You could not help but roll your eyes. ‘And besides, Mr Munson, the honour is all mine. It is rare for me to find a person that finds me agreeable enough to talk to me at such length as you do.’ And one I find as agreeable too, you considered adding but decided against it. 

That smile peeked out over his lips again as he walked up to you. ‘Well, I have hardly any choice, I mean, when you come here to my place of work, it’s not like I can just walk away.’

‘Oh, you,’ you pushed at him lightly. But with him having squatted down to meet you at eye level, the slight push was enough to topple him over onto the ground. And to think I wanted to ask you to escort me on another horse ride.’

‘In these clothes?’ Eddie looked at the both of you, him covered in mud and dust, and your dress was much the same. ‘What will people think?’ 

You got off your makeshift seat to help him back on his feet. 

‘Then let us hope there will be no one to see us.’

❀❀❀

The carriage wobbled over the uneven ground as you distanced yourselves from the Parsnell estate, and the quiet of the night was filled with your retelling of the evening.

‘So I am to understand that this,’ Eddie cocked his head your way, referring to your dress, ‘was your own doing?’

‘I thought it quite ingenious,’ you shrugged.

‘And what of this Mr… Harrington? He must still be looking for you with that maid of his I imagine.’ 

‘No.’ But the image of a disappointed Mr Harrington walking through the room, a maid in tow, with you nowhere to be seen, did sting at your heart a little with guilt. ‘Do you really think he is still looking for me?’ A giggle burst through against your better judgment despite your attempts to suppress it with the hand you covered your mouth with. ‘I am quite cruel, aren’t I?’

‘Absolutely wicked,’ Eddie commented with a weirdly proud smile. As the road went on straight, he took his eyes off it from time to time to glance your way—just briefly and only a handful of times, but enough for you to notice. You could only hope he was not as observant towards your actions.

‘What is it?’ you asked after several more glances directed towards you as a sweet silence fell between you. 

‘It is nothing,’ Eddie smiled it off.

‘Which means it is certainly something. Go on, enlighten me.’

He shook his head. ‘I suppose it is just that, from how you described the night, I do not see what must be so awful about it— you speak of delicious food, drinking and dancing. I don’t necessarily see a problem in this.’

‘Because that is not the problem. It is not the dancing, it is who I am to dance with.’ You sighed. ‘Night after night, it is an endless rotation of the same men I am as uninterested in as the very first day I met them. They corner me to ask me a million questions, each shallower than the last, only to then try and coax me into a dance where they will surely trample my feet.’

‘I see,’ Eddie nodded, but perhaps it was only the vibrations caused by the carriage’s movement that made him agree with your ramblings. 

‘I apologise. I do not mean to talk of my problems constantly.’ Indeed, the man must have his own issues, and ones that most likely outweighed your marital prospects severely. 

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, miss. I am happy to listen,’ he said earnestly.

‘Very well,’ you contemplated your words for a moment until you quickly blurted out with curiosity, ‘but how was your evening?’ 

‘Mine?’ To your surprise, your question had caused Eddie to chuckle.

‘Yes. I assume you must have done something to fulfil the last hours. Or do carriage drivers freeze up when unattended, only to thaw at their master’s command?’

‘I would say that is partly true.’ He quickly looked your way with a smile before explaining himself. ‘For the most part, when on duty, you have to keep your mind on the job, so I cannot exactly indulge in things and have to be ready in case a lady’s dress is ruined and she is in dire need of her getaway carriage.’ Your eyes met briefly. ‘But that does not mean that I am to sit still in an empty room until you come to call, no.’

‘So? What is it that you do in the meantime?’ 

‘Card games, for the most part.’ He shrugged, not seeing your interest in the topic, too focused on the road ahead to notice how you eagerly looked at him, awaiting his following words. 

You had to admit, until that night, you had never put much thought behind the private lives of those who waited on you. Yes, you understood that not all their day revolved around you or your family, but you also never considered it to be any of your business to follow theirs. You listened whenever your maid, Claire, told you stories about her family, storing the basic information of the names and so on in the back of your mind, but at the end of the day, these were nothing more than anecdotes amid polite conversation. Yet, with Eddie, you were eager to know everything about him. The longer you spoke, the more questions filled your mind, and the less adequate you felt to ask them. You were, after all, friendly, or so you hoped, but you knew there was a thick line in society when it came to friendships such as this one, and you were not sure where that line would be crossed and if to be scared of what would happen once it happened. But now and then, curiosity got the better of you, and you managed to trickle in a question for Eddie to open up to you.

‘What er– kind of card games?’ You nudged on in your questioning. 

‘The regular kind, the ones nobody mentions by name, but everyone simply knows the rules of.’

‘I do not think I am familiar with any of such kind,’ you admitted. In the meantime, the carriage drew to a slow halt at the crossing of two roads. ‘You take the left here,’ you told Eddie, who looked at you in surprise. 

‘I cannot say my navigational skills are perfect,’ you said, ‘but I pay attention, and I remember going past the large boulder on our way to the party. There.’ You pointed towards the rock some meters away from the crossing in the left direction.

‘You are quite observant, I’ll give you that.’ He brought the horses back to action, and the rattling of hooves and wheels on the uneven ground resumed. As you passed the large boulder once more, Eddie then resumed your conversation. ‘You do not play any card games, then?’

‘I will admit, I prefer chess, but I do often play Cribbage with my siblings—or Brag. My brother Nicholas is also very fond of Piquet, and as I am the only one in the house that can stand his unsportsmanlike antics, he often forces me to play it with him.’

‘Very well,’ Eddie listened, then asked, ‘Do you know Trischaken?’

‘Pardon?’ you barely understood what he had said. 

‘Trischaken. It’s a Prussian card game, or perhaps Austrian; you’ll have to excuse my awful memory for geography.’ At this, you both laughed politely,

‘No, I do not think I have heard of it.’

‘Oh, it’s great, I must teach how to play one day.’ Only once his enthusiasm unfogged his mind a second later did Eddie pull back the excitement of his invitation to a polite suggestion, ‘If that is something that would interest you… ma’am.’

‘I would like that very much.’ You smiled, showing a bigger and more authentic smile than you had the entirety of the passing night. And barely did that smile fade for the remaining hours as you drove back home and listened to Eddie talk, trying to explain the rules of the intricate foreign game or tell you about his life outside of work. 

‘I did not take you for a music fanatic.’ You admitted as you approached the vicinity of Ridlington Park, its gates already glowing from the lights around it in the near distance. 

‘It must be a very sour sort of man that does not enjoy music. Are there really such types?’

‘And he is more common than you’d imagine, I am afraid, and it seems to be the type that my parents see me to marry one day.’

‘I am beginning to understand your problem,’ Eddie said, ‘but yes, music has always had a special place in my heart. My father had taught me how to play when I was a young boy and since then, it’s always brought me a great comfort. It was actually one of the very few things I brought with me from America.’

‘Is it hard? being so far away from your family?’ You asked softly, unable to imagine how you would feel if you were to leave everything and everyone you had ever known to work in some foreign land on the opposite side of the world. 

‘There are many things that I am still growing accustomed to, but I cherish the change.’

‘That is a very diplomatic mindset. I for one could not bear a day without the possibility of seeing my family, I think, no matter how meddlesome they are.’

Eddie’s eyes shimmered with kindness for your words. ‘I suppose I have grown used to it. I have been travelling for years now and have not seen my family for an even longer time, so it is actually the lack of independence and presence of…. this closeness of others that I am attempting to grow used to now.’

‘Ah.’ You blinked, not having expected that kind of response. Immediately, as the door of Eddie’s past unlocked, even if just for a moment, a mountain of questions spilt inside you, but you pushed those urges back. ‘I see. Well, if you ever require solitude and wish me to leave you alone, please be not afraid to just tell me so. I shall respect your wishes.’ Had you been too eager to sit beside him for the entirety of the ride, talking his ear off? Or all those other days when you bothered him at work. Oh, the embarrassment. If it was not for the fact that you were already coming through the Ridlington Park gates, you would have jumped off the carriage and walked the rest of the way home.

‘No, I did not mean it like that.’ Eddie quickly recovered his words. ‘Please, do not think I do not greatly appreciate and enjoy our conversations. They— they have been the highlight of my days.’

‘Really?’ Your proud smile was too strong to keep at bay. 

‘Yes, really.’ Eddie’s words pushed out a breathy laugh. ‘I see it as a welcome escape from the work.’

‘So do I,’ you noticed the wrong fit of your phrasing, ‘I mean, I enjoy our conversations as well.’ Would it be too much to call them an escape from reality? To him, perhaps. The entire night had already been a far breach of that line of what is proper or not for a lady to do. You knew you were awaiting a scolding the second your mother returned from the Parsnell ball. Now, the territory your and Eddie’s exchange was heading into felt anxiously foreign, somewhere you realised you had never gone to with any of your friends or acquaintances. Your heart picked up its pace as the carriage slowed down for the final time that night, arriving at its destination. 

Before you could do or say anything, Eddie had jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran across the back of the hansom to assist your exit. He extended his hand for you to take, and the moment your fingertips met, you knew it had been a mistake. Your hold tightened around his hand as you took the steps onto the ground, and though you found your footing perfectly well, you did not find the power to let go of Eddie.

And neither did he of you.

The two of you stood in front of each other, eyes locked into a deep gaze, only broken by his glances to the point where you were connected. Your hand was in his and burning like a fire between you; for the brief seconds as they pulled you closer together, your fingertips felt like the centre of the entire universe.

A fire that surely would burn and scar if you were to touch it.

It was dangerous. You knew it.

But what was life without a bit of risk?

‘My apologies,’ Eddie cleared his throat, taking a step back, letting your hand fall through the cold air.

‘There is no need for that.’ You shook your head out of all thoughts, or at least attempted to do so. ‘It is I who should apologise. If you will excuse me, I must change into something less… cakey. Good night, Mr Munson.’ You looked down at your dress, which was still, very much, covered in remnants of wine and cake. You were to leave, but Eddie quickly called to you, almost as if the words were faster than his mouth.

‘How many times must I ask you just to call me Eddie?’ His eyes were those of a pleading man, pleading for something you did not quite comprehend, but at the same time, you knew the consequences of giving in to his request.

You looked back at the windows of Ridlington Park. The building was enveloped in darkness, as no one was there to occupy the rooms or to see you. All you could do was remind yourself that there was nothing wrong with you being alone with a carriage driver or any other member of staff, but it certainly did not feel that way. There was undoubtedly something dangerous going on in that instance.

You took a deep breath as he held it in. The line you were scared to cross was getting thinner, and you grasped for something to hold onto as you felt your feet slip away. 

‘Good night, Eddie.’

And just like that, with only the hope there was no one around to see it, you both fell.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message. And don't forget to join the taglist if you want to be kept up to date on the chapters [yes, I promise, more will be coming]

[hopeluna]

!! Fic Recs

Most of these are long fics or series and some of these are 18+ so be aware? But anyways, enjoy these works from absolute writing angels <33

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wanna be yours by @nezuscribe

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Synopsis: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

his kiss, the riot by @nezuscribe

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Geto Suguru x reader

Summary: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

Boku No Hero Academia

@andypantsx3

Yes, her entire blog. Pls each and every series of her is god send. I cannot reccomend this to you enough!!

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Platonic!young!shimura tenko x reader

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Synopsis: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

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Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

Please do tell me if you want to be removed from this for whatever reason!!

[queenimmadolla]

Do you think some of Eddie peers are jealous that he’s got wife and 3 kids at home, sure Eddie feel into the rock and roll lifestyle but he didn’t let partying, groupies or drugs consume him, he’s got a loving wife and adorable kids waiting for him and they see that all of eddies love and devotion is for his family and music. Eddies just like “I do my job, rock out and go home”

Say he got invited to a big after party where he’ll party with Ozzy or Metallica but he declines because he just found out his kids are having their own Wrestler Mania back at the hotel room and he can’t miss that again

Or Eddie takes you to the party and y’all are getting approach and people like your relationship vibe and yall are getting hit on that you get both get a invitation to go to a “different party” in a hotel room and it goes over your head like “oh actually we aren’t staying long we gotta get back before the new Simpsons episode start”

Or when the band gets interviewed we see the kids in the background and the world gets to see Eddie being the best dad and loving husband. Every 80/90’s musician in the rock/metal scene are single, loves to party, and is reckless so Eddie was a change they weren’t expecting.

Sooo….You’re not gonna be very happy with me. Let’s go through this together and hopefully you wont hate me too much because it does get better.

Yes, Eddie’s peers do experience a little jealousy at the family he has, the constant love surrounding him—but he does succumb to the partying, drugs….and almost a groupie (THIS WILL BE TOUCHED ON MORE IN THE FIC IM PERFECTING, DONT THROW THE TOMATOES). He does his job, rocks out, and sometimes he craves reaping the rewards (drugs and parting and soaking it all in—not the groupies, that’s a related situation but not a part of what he craves) of his success. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he gets caught up in it. And it eats at him because he also knows his wife and his beautiful kids are also a once in a lifetime opportunity. That’s what kicks his ass back into gear.

It’s a life that you enjoy sometimes, love being on his arm, at his side, watching him glow underneath all those flashing lights. That confident smirk on his face, he belongs. It’s completely his element, what you knew he was always meant to do. And for the most part, you love being his wife, the wife of a Rockstar. How he’s always ravenous for you, the way he handles you when he’s fresh off the stage—be stadium stage or a some big fancy hall stage for an award ceremony—the parties he takes you to, the material things, not having to work your ass off to survive anymore, not having to work at all. You hate how women literally throw themselves at him, constantly expose themselves to him (the amount of flashing is INSANE, you see more titties than you ever did in the girls’ locker room back in high l when you’re tucked under his arm) but he only ever has eyes for you (shhh, we’re not talking about the groupie rn, that will be explained and you will understand).

And sometimes, being the wife of a Rockstar is hard. The tabloids are relentless, he tours the world and you stay with the kids, he’s doing coke with his pals and their gals while you’re washing the dishes halfway across the world. He’s partying after tour nights, you’re reading bedtime stories. You’re the wife of a Rockstar alright, and while he doesn’t have a mistress, sometimes the world acts as one. Sometimes the world gets him more than you do and he forgets that. Sometimes you don’t want to be the wife of a rockstar. You just want to be Eddie’s wife.

He gets there though, he gets to the points you’re talking about. Maybe not all of them, but he doesn’t become that messy playboy the world wants him to be. Still looks like a bad boy, but interviewers always note in articles they write, about the toys lingering around the house. Empty spaces on the walls, tables and shelves that had no doubt held picture frames prior to the journalists’ arrival, he was intent on keeping every precious moment and memory with his family private and away from the vicious prying eyes of the public. It’s interesting for you to read, because the first thought of an outsider’s mind is maybe something along the lines of Eddie not being sentimental or ashamed of the family, when it’s the entire opposite.

He starts ditching parties early to go back home and party with his favorite people before their bedtime (and then party with you all night long), starts having you and the kids closer during his shows again (you used to come to a few when Corroded Coffin made it bring, would bring the kids, until the shows got even bigger somehow, rowdier and fans get invasive). its difficult, especially with having to wrangle Maple—but Eddie doesn’t mind it when she runs onto the stage. if he’s feeling particularly nice, he’ll share her with the crowd for a song—but not much longer than that. He’s stingy with his family, protective, doesn’t need people thinking they can throw their unwanted opinions about his own damn kids out there—he’s assaulted people over it. And that’s not to say he hasn’t flaunted all of you, either. Fame is such a bittersweet accomplishment, he wants to show you all off to the world and sometimes he does, but the world is not kind, so he’s gotta keep you close and away from the cameras. He struggles with the back and forth a lot.

Again, the media is not kind to him, even while watching him be a father. But a couple of years from then, when his kids are older, the media/internet/etc. will pull up the photos/videos of him from the past with his kids, being so tender and playful with them. Loving. And he’ll be properly appreciated by them then. The two of you will have risen to be one of Hollywood’s golden couples, by then too. Heavily romanticized—and they’re not wrong.

It gets messy, gets cleaned up, gets messy, gets cleaned up, stays relatively clean. That’s the late 90s and Y2K, baby 😎

[simp-ly-writes]

The Bodyguard

─────── · · THE GENTLEMEN (2024)

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Edward "Eddie" Horniman x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your parents decide with your recent party-heavy behaviour that you are in need of an adult babysitter- or as they call it a bodyguard.

─ · · WARNINGS: contract relationship, child neglect, anxiety attacks, overall angst with fluff

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,112

─ · · A/N: Find it funny how many posts I see complain about "small fandoms" then you have The Gentlemen (2024). I need more people to talk to about this show...

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Up until now, you were always by yourself. In school you struggled to make friends and the few that you still kept in contact with were set with quarterly interactions. The large house you resided in empty besides the few staff that maintained the estate- they were disgusted by the lifestyle you lived- or rather, how they thought you lived.

You got used to not having your parents home, on having no one to ask you how your day went, if you ate that night and what your plans were later that week. The statue collection soon became your greatest confidants, the gallery your absolute favourite room to take lunch in beside the garden when the weather was acceptable.

In all the assets you held, the clothes all still new with tags on in the closet, the endless rows of wine bottles in the basement that your teenage self drowned in and the hedge maze you lost yourself in even when knowing where every exit and secret nook and cranny of. It was plastic happiness, just shiny objects staring back at you and reflecting upon yourself.

You tried to loose yourself in the high life just as every other member of your family did. Sleeping with actors and musicians alike, forcing yourself into yoga classes with young rich wives that only used their manicured nails to pierce each others skin behind doors. It was when you were reaching your late twenties that your parents took notice of your failing public image as you stumbled out of cabs, got caught in multiple scandals only because you were affecting their businesses.

And thats how you found yourself no longer alone but with an adult babysitter, or how your parents described it- a bodyguard.

─────── · ·

"I am old enough to take care of myself, I hate no need for someone to follow me around-" you started to say, your nails digging into your palms as anger started to swell into your eyes in unshed tears of frustration. A younger version of yourself would have been jumping out of joy for having company- your mature self only realizing how much having someone with you would only be added weight.

"Well it is too late for your opinion, the contract has already been finalized and settled, now he is waiting for you by the car. Please, don't make a further embarrassment of the family name," your mother concluded, already turning away from you and walking down the overwhelmingly bare and white hallway. Her heels clacking to a still as you picked up your voice in retaliation.

"How am I much more of an embarrassment than your lack of care or Cousin Simon's multi-day ragers! What about father's multiple hook-ups, or Jacklyns-"

"ENOUGH! I am sick and tired of your incessant whining since you were a child- you are a spoiled little thing since you were born. I gave you everything you could have wanted: books, toys, clothes, sports, and yet you throw all of my hard work aside for what- your constant need for attention? Your new bodyguard will give you everything you ever wanted- be grateful for once in your life and go- now."

The tears now endlessly poured down your cheeks, your breathing rapid, in-takes frequent as you stumbled outside the office space. Your vision was blurry, hands shaking and make-up now a mess as you threw yourself into the car without a second thought.

A detailed handkerchief was soon presented in front of your face as your eyes narrowed in confusion. Turning your gaze to the side and up an attractive man stared back at you. Brown curls framed his eyes paired with slim black frames for glasses. His beard was freshly cut, stubble poking out across his cheeks and chin as he offered you a polite smile at the time you took to analyze him and the well-tailored suit that fitted his tall form.

Cheeks feeling warm, you pitifully chuckled to yourself and took the napkin, opening up your handbag to find a compact mirror as you readjusted yourself. Satisfied you thought of handing the piece of cloth back before decided otherwise, the man noticed your hesitating hand with a brief chuckle before responding, "I can take it back later, are you doing better now miss?"

Still struggling to find your voice to signal your shock, grief, and anger after the interaction with your mother- you forced a nod before looking out the window. Your shoulders only rising as anxiety coated every goosebump on your skin. The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating with himself to continue conversation before decided to continue the ride home in silence- much to your approval.

─────── · ·

A few weeks into having your bodyguard, who you found to be named Edward- Eddie he insisted you called him with how much time your spent alongside one another. You tried to forget he was there as you continued your schedule, taking breakfast in bed as he stood outside your door to take you down to the car.

You would then head to your morning yoga classes. He would stand near the door, your water bottle and bag in hand as multiple of the said-to-be-married women tried to coax him into their beds with fake eyelash flutters and tight-fitting clothes yet he would keep his gaze forward. Eyes only snapping to your own as he greeted you with a pleasant smile, asked you how your session went and provided you with the materials in hand before leading you out once more.

Next, a walk around downtown and a visit to the local galleries, two steps behind you he walks was, you could see his shadow overtaking your own on the floor as you talked with the curators- wondering if you could add to your parents (now practically your own) growing collection before heading back home for lunch among the paintings or flowers.

You would insist on Edward- Eddie, to sit across from you. A guilty part eating away at yourself for having someone to join your little glass prison as you offered food of your plate only to be denied. "I will take care of myself once knowing you are fully taken care of miss, now please enjoy your meal- act as if I am not here as you usually do."

When you first met him, you failed to realize how comforting his baritone voice sounded in your ears. How heavy he made each word feel as they draped a blanket of calmness of yourself in reassurance. Offering him a smile in silent thanks, he raised a brow in question to your reaction yet continued just as he asked- chipping away at your meal before turning in early for the day.

─────── · ·

He was protective, you noted to yourself- maybe even bridging on overprotective as his eyes followed your shining form in that dress across the bar top and towards the dance floor as you met up with nepo-babies and start-up engineers alike.

You danced in twirled, a smile fighting its way across Edwards face as he took in your radiant smile as you drifted in between the sea of sweaty bodies and pumping music. The strobe lights had him seeing double before clarity soon coated his vision alongside red as a man felt of your backside. He watched you politely smile, your shoulders crawling upwards, your spine twisting into itself as you tried to raise the mans touch to a more respectable level before looking for a way out once realizing he was not taking the hint.

Edward walked through the people as the crowd parted for him with his determined steps. His hand gripped the mans, his head flipping over to catch the glare in his stare levelling his own. "More along," Edward said in a firm tone leaving no room for question- or what you both thought. The man smirked up at your bodyguard, a laugh erupting in his throat as he leaved in closer a finger pressing at Edwards chest. "And who are you to tell me off, the girls single so you need back the fuck off man- I got to her first."

"And it seems even though you were first, you are the last person she wants to be with right now. I ask you again to leave or I will show you out, your choice," Edward replied. His head and tone dipping towards the shorted man as you looked in between the two. Not knowing weather to jump the man for touching you or to jump your bodyguard for the vein budging from his neck. Your stomach soon decided for you as you leaned into Edwards side, face pressing into his arm, "I want to go home now, I feel like shit."

"Alright miss," and with one last glare towards the man, he wrapped his jacket around yourself as you fell back into and out of your party lifestyle once realizing he was not going to leave your side and also realized just how much his gaze on you made you feel like a teenage girl once again.

Butterflies in your stomach, skin hot and eyes wide as you stared up at him in a drunken daze. You felt his hand on your cheeks as he inspected your face, catching on your nose as some residue still sat on its tip. Wiping it off with his thumb before calling up your driver. He sat with you the whole ride home as you snuggled into his side with your hazed babbles.

Once exiting the car, you swore to feel the need of puking- the next moment he was holding your hair back, rubbing your back as you emptied your stomach into the front bushes.

You don't know how you made it into your bed the next day, or slipped out of your heels and took your hair out of its style in your drunken state. Yet you celebrated yourself by taking a bath that morning before getting lost in the warm waters that soon turned into cold realization. You couldn't look at your bodyguard for the next week without doing your best to speedily walk away from him, or turn your head when he asked about your itinerary.

You hated how much you smiled when hearing his chuckle at your antics, reminding you it was all part of the job. And you equally hated the disappointment your heart felt when he mentioned your time together was a contracted one.

─────── · ·

You soon became obsessed with taking in every detail of this man. How after you asked where his glasses went on that first day had returned the next. How he fixed them every time you laughed at a snide comment he made, joining your commentary of the women at yoga that day.

You became fixated on how his suit would move with his body, fabric subtly outlining the muscles of his arms, how how when you ate dinner in the greenhouse, he would straighten out his coat on the chair behind himself. Rolling his sleeves up before picking up the seemingly small teacup in his large hands with high-class elegance before casting you a cheeky wink as you choked on your own drink.

You loved the way he rushed to pat your back, ask if you were feeling alright and then went back to his emotionless facade as if nothing had happened moments later and you too would fall into this habit. Your lagging mind catching up with your heart as realization overcame the two of you on how nothing more could come of this- nothing good at least.

Edward would open every door for you, allow you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, would make sure you had the booth seat and take a hand in between your shoulder blades, sometimes the back of your neck in crammed and crowded spaces as you made your way through your parents workplace events and end-of-year parties.

And every night when you would come home, the house quiet your cold bed waiting for you with dim lights. Edward would wish you a goodnight before softly closing the door, you would wait in the far side of your room till you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore in fear of asking him to stay with you.

To truly give you all of his time, your mothers voice came back into your head, calling you selfish in your wants and you listened once more. Listening had gotten you to meet Eddie but maybe you were failing to listen to the right parts...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: It has been such a long time since I have written something, I hope that this was not a terrible read (hahaha... ermmm...)

[writer-in-theory]

"Eddie, love of my life, what do you mean you found a child on tour?"

Eddie looked off to the side, considering his options before shrugging like he couldn't really help it. "I don't know, seems pretty straightforward."

"No, no it's not," Steve exclaimed, "You don't just find children!"

"They were lost!" Eddie defended quickly, throwing his hands out like it should have been obvious. "Their parents kicked 'em out, they don't have anywhere else to go, Stevie."

"And you're sure? They really don't have anywhere to go? No one looking for them?" Eddie must have known the soft spot this would have hit, gnawing on that nerve his own parents had damaged upon finding out about his relationship with the musician.

"They need help. They're like us, Steve," Eddie pressed, grinning when Steve's shoulders dropped. Victory. "C'mon, we already have a guest bedroom and they're the same age as the other rugrats. Please? Can we keep them?"

Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie's dramatics, but regardless nodded his head. "We're calling Hopper in the morning."

"Deal! Love you so much, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," Steve chuckled, unable to stop smiling at Eddie's happiness. "Where are they then?"

"In the van!"

"We have to work on your wording," Steve muttered as Eddie ran out to go tell the teenager the good news. Only Eddie would find another stray kid who needed help while on tour. Of course, Eddie would be perfect for the job of helping out a kid who needed somewhere to land. Of course they would offer up a bed and warm food, a chance at guardians who didn't judge for who they loved. Of course, of course.

The front door was opening again. Steve fixed up his shirt, running his hand through his hair and hoping he didn't look too scary for the kid.

"C'mon, I want you to meet Steve. You're gonna love it here!"

Yeah, they would be okay.