Rockstar!eddie Munson X Reader - Tumblr Posts

I’m about to vomit

Oh my god I love this series

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the rockstar you have to work for, but most of the time, you feel like you are babysitting a teenager. He's messy, wild, and disobedient, and he never calls you by your name. He's sweet, though, but you are not allowed to think about that. Or in his smart mouth. Or in his hands playing that stupid guitar, shit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

The party was… way different from the ones you were used to with Eddie Munson hosting. Yeah, some people were already a bit tipsy and dancing, a couple of guys were passed out in a corner while a girl was giving them makeovers without them even feeling the tiniest tickle. You hadn't seen Eddie anywhere, but the party had started about an hour and a half ago, so they had probably already sung happy birthday to Steve, whom you hadn't met yet.

For a moment, you had tried to chicken out of this little commitment. Eddie had been really insistent that you come, and honestly, it had been a long time since you’d gone to a party with normal people. People who wouldn’t send you a list of allergies two months before the party or show up with two huge bodyguards. Nope, these were folks like you, though… dressed as Ghostbusters and Mario, you thought as you saw a group of guys in well-coordinated costumes carrying their Ecto-4s on their backs. You watched them walk past you with punch cups in their hands and tried to figure out where the punch bowl was.

When you found the bar at the edge of the grand staircase in Eddie’s foyer, you went over to ask for a huge glass of cold beer. You glanced to your side and saw a guy who seemed both familiar and strange, He was in a leather jacket, black shades hanging from his neck. He had metallic paint around his right eye, and that’s when you realized you were looking at the Terminator.

You smiled politely but didn’t say anything. They handed you your beer, and out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Henry, one of the security guards who always worked with Eddie. You walked over to him.

“Everything cool, Henry?” you asked, worried about any unwelcome guests crashing Eddie’s party.

The big blond guy looked at you and sighed, almost tiredly.

“Sorry, I’m not authorized to give you any information tonight.”

Your brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean? I just want to make sure…”

Henry looked uncomfortable, like he was a bit scared to have this conversation with you.

“Orders from the boss: he told me that you’re off duty tonight and I’m not to take any orders or give you any info that might worry you,” he said slowly, like he wanted to make sure you got the message and would drop the subject.

You huffed, almost offended but didn’t say anything. You just took a swig of your beer and walked away, feeling a bit defeated. As you took a long drink, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You swallowed hard and looked to your side. Terminator was looking at you with a smile.

“Bet you’re Fey!” the stranger greeted you, quickly letting go of your shoulder. “Eddie’s talked about you… and Robin.”

You looked at his well-kept hair and the moles on his face cautiously, then you recognized him from the brief description Eddie had given you.

“Steve,” you murmured, somewhat doubtful, very different from the confidence he’d had calling you by your nickname. “What exactly did Eddie say about me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

To hell with it, after the incident with Will Walsh, you definitely wanted to know what kind of gossip Eddie Munson was spreading about you.

“Uh…” he hesitated, like he was picking his words carefully. “He said you’re prolifically organized and very determined.”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at him suspiciously. “That sounds like he said I’m controlling and a stubborn demon,” you muttered, drinking your beer and then congratulating him on the party, trying to change the subject a bit.

He smiled, a bright and charming smile. A quality Robin had told you about before.

“Terminator,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in an attempt to change the subject while he watched you curiously.

You took his hand and shook it. “Titania… or something like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bit confused. “Something like that?…”

“From A Midsummer Night's Dream,” you clarified. “In my first year of college, we did the play and I was fascinated by Wilhelm's costume design,” you explained, letting go and looking at your tulle dress, its floating layers of white, purple, and small dots of green falling to your feet. “I tried to replicate it,” you murmured, a bit doubtful and slightly embarrassed. What was the point of dressing up as something no one else would recognize?

Steve seemed to understand and while he complimented your costume, he seemed to remember something.

“Robin said you graduated from NYU.”

You nodded, grateful for the topic change. “Yeah, I graduated in Marketing and Music,” you answered, taking another sip of your beer.

“Music? And you decided to work for Eddie?”

That was a common question. You shrugged. “I had financial issues and it was the best-paying job I could dream of,” you admitted honestly. “Plus, I specialized in public relations, so that’s been a hell of a help.”

Steve agreed with you. “You know?” he asked, savoring his rum and coke. “Maybe you, Robin, and I have crossed paths and didn’t even know it.”

You smiled, amused.

Here's the translated version with a touch of 90s slang and American English authenticity:

“That’s something Robin told me when we first met,” you muttered. “I know I’m technically not working tonight, but I need to make sure Eddie’s not planning any pranks tonight,” you added, chugging your last drink so fast that Steve looked a bit surprised.

The guy grinned and shrugged. “You’ll find him easily. But I don’t think he’s up to anything major tonight. See, he can be a big idiot sometimes, but we’re his friends, and if there’s one thing Eddie does for his friends, it’s making sacrifices.”

You frowned, a bit confused by his comment. You knew Eddie wasn’t selfish, no matter how much he tried to seem that way and maintain that image. But sacrifices? What kind of sacrifices could someone like him make for others? This party wasn’t a luxury compared to the opulence of other parties he’d had in the past; though you had to admit, with all the smiling people dancing and talking despite the loud music, the party was well-organized, and he’d invested heavily in security both inside and outside the house, unlike all his other wild parties.

You said goodbye to Steve, sure you’d see him again, and he gave you a playful wink while reciting a “Hasta la vista, baby” as a farewell. Then you weaved through the crowd, trying to make your way past a Ghostbuster and a girl dressed as Jean Grey, over the blaring music of The Kinks busting through the speakers. Robin greeted you from the dance floor Mariah had set up in the covered gallery Eddie had right before the backyard. The girl was dressed as Daria, or so you thought; you’d barely had time to catch the first episode, and the show was pretty recent. She was dancing with a girl dressed as Anne of Green Gables and looked like she was having a blast. Another Ghostbuster seemed half-forced to dance to the song with a girl dressed as Leia. You didn’t pay much more attention to the rest as you headed towards the dining area, where the table had been replaced by a minibar, and right across from it was Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson, with his wild hair and rebellious spirit. Eddie, laughing and serving drinks like he was born to do it. Eddie, with his head covered by some kind of black veil.

Eddie freaking Munson.

Dressed as a nun.

He was wearing a long black robe that reached the floor, wrapping his slim but solid body in a simple, unadorned fabric. The contrast with his usual chaotic style was stark. The dark fabric moved slightly with his movements, giving the impression that he was floating rather than walking. The wide sleeves covered his arms up to his wrists, hiding the tattoos he usually showed off with pride.

The black veil, which would traditionally fall gracefully, was slightly disheveled, letting a few of his dark curls peek through. These rebellious strands framed his face, adding a touch of carefree elegance to the ensemble. The silver cross hanging from his neck reflected the party lights, sparkling intermittently and drawing curious glances.

His combat boots, visibly worn, peeked out from under the robe, a subtle reminder of his true style. Despite the unusual outfit, Eddie hadn’t given up his essence. His smirk and bright eyes were the same, ready to challenge you, to go against you, to be your damn downfall.

The makeup he wore was another masterstroke in his transformation. He had darkened his eyes with black shadow, giving them a mysterious, almost hypnotic depth. A touch of pale blush on his cheeks contrasted with the black veil, highlighting his high cheekbones. However, his lips remained bare, showing his natural look.

All in all, Eddie Munson dressed as a nun was a bizarre blend of sacred and profane, ridiculous and fascinating, pure and dark.

His eyes met yours in the middle of his masterful drink-mixing. For a moment, his gaze seemed to get lost in itself and quickly scanned you, as if performing a fleeting assessment, before he recovered.

“Fey!” was his greeting. “Didn’t I tell you I could get nuns to serve drinks, huh?”

You looked at him, dumbfounded, as he lifted a drink with some unknown liquid toward you, and then you laughed.

Eddie had heard your laugh before; most of it was either ironic or mocking, but he knew you weren’t a total ice queen. Yet he had never heard the infectious laugh coming out of your mouth now. You, Feywild, dressed as a fairy and letting that tinkling laughter out of your lungs. Your cheeks were flushed, and you seemed on the verge of tears.

He made you laugh.

He, Edward Munson, had brought out genuine laughter in you, and he wanted to capture it on a record; to protect and store it until he could add it to one of his songs. He wanted to hide you from the world. Suddenly, he felt a fierce, surprising urge to wrap you in a silk blanket, shelter you in a music box that only he had access to.

He tried to calm that almost primal need with a long swig of his tequila and then let out a grunt.

“What’s up, Fey, you scared I’ll make a scene dressed like this?” he asked challengingly, trying not to be too transparent about his recent train of thought.

You slowly stopped laughing and shook your head with a half-smile. You didn’t seem to be bothered by his new defensive stance. You were still impressed by his creativity and bravery for wearing that outfit.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mun,” you finally spoke. “I know you won’t do anything; it’s Steve’s party, and if there’s one thing you’d do for him, it’s making sacrifices,” you added after understanding what Steve had meant with that phrase.

Eddie loved his friends. And he’d put aside his selfish desires for them and their well-being. He wouldn’t do anything to ruin Steve’s party. You gave him a half-smile. You took one of the tequila glasses from the table, leaving the empty beer glass behind, and with a casual gesture, moved away from him under Eddie’s curious gaze.

He needed to find Steve and figure out what you both had discussed. What you now knew about him.

Eddie was drunk. Really drunk. Robin had caught up with you while you were munching on a huge burger in the backyard to tell you.

“And why did he drink so much?” you asked, frowning.

You knew it couldn’t be as simple as a night of partying at his place. Tomorrow, he had to give an interview, the last one in North America before heading to Europe.

“I don’t know, we were talking about you with Steve. He told me you two met and you talked about NYU,” she mentioned while walking with you into the house. “He didn’t know you studied music,” she added.

“Nope. He never saw my resume,” you confirmed. “I didn’t think it was necessary and didn’t think to mention it unless he asked.” You frowned. “I don’t see why that would make him drink so much.”

Robin shook her head. “No. I mean, he seemed upset. Then he found out you were the one who tracked down all those sick new bands to open for this tour, and then he started drinking like a madman,” she announced.

Now you were more confused. What did it matter that you did that? Why would Eddie drink his weight in alcohol just because of that?

“Was he angry?” you asked.

After you asked, you realized you were worried he may be mad at you.

Robin shook her head. Navigating through the crowd with you to the foyer where some strategically placed chairs allowed partygoers to rest between dances. “No, actually, he seems sad,” she murmured, and then you saw the scene.

Eddie was being held up by Steve and a younger guy. He was one of the Ghostbusters and looked concerned.

“Eddie’s had too much to drink, huh, buddy?” Steve explained to you and then addressed Eddie, but he seemed too comfortable in that position, almost hugging his friend, to respond. “Fey, this is Dustin.”

“Don’t call her Fey!” you heard the slurred threat coming from Eddie, though his face was still somewhat hidden by his hair.

“Hi Dustin, I’ve heard about you,” you gave the guy a half-smile, and for the first time, you were aware of the people around, who quickly introduced themselves one by one.

It was a small group, consisting of the rest of the Ghostbusters, Leia, Jean Grey, Shelly Webster, Anne, Daria, Atreyu, and Buffy Summers, whom you later learned were El, Max, Nancy, Vickie, of course Robin, Suzie, and Erica. The Ghostbusters were Dustin, Will, Mike, and Lucas respectively, the crow was Jonathan, and of course, Terminator Steve.

You wondered where the rest of the band was, but you assumed they were off on their own adventures, and for now, you’d deal with one problem at a time, with the whiny baby of the party being the top priority.

You walked over to him, kneeling to get a better angle. His veil was askew, as was his makeup, and for some reason, it didn’t seem funny to you.

“Mun?” you whispered, placing your hand on his shoulder and trying to get him to sit up. “Hey, don’t you want some water? Wash your face? Or take a little nap?” you offered, not really knowing what he needed.

Steve was the one who responded. “I think he could use a rest.”

“I don’t need to rest,” Eddie mumbled like a lament.

That reply earned several impatient and tired sighs.

The Vampire Slayer was the first to place her hands on her hips. Erica had her long hair braided, and the stake (you hoped it was fake) was still being tightly gripped in her fingers as she looked at Eddie with a frown.

“Enough already,” she spoke with determination. “We’re all too old for this, including you, so you’re gonna get your pale behind up, go freshen up, and take a nap because it’s not your party, and you can’t just cry if you want,” she demanded with enough leadership to make Eddie pull away from Steve just enough to look at her, his eyes then traveling to you, and of course, he was drunk; otherwise, he’d be too embarrassed for you to see him like this.

It didn’t amuse you, though you had just discovered that even though sometimes you got mad and secretly wished he’d crap his pants in the middle of a show, it wasn’t fun to see him sad, even if the reason for his sadness was probably stupid and the result of too much booze. Hell, tomorrow he’d be really irritable.

You patted his knee, giving him encouragement. “It’s okay, Mun. Let’s go,” you cheered him on.

Steve and Dustin tried to lead him, but it was a party, and they shouldn’t have to spend it babysitting Eddie.

“Tonight you’re not working for me, Fey,” he slurred as you opened the door to his room and helped him sit on the settee at the foot of his bed.

You knelt in front of him to help him take off his combat boots.

“What happened, Mun?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and cradled his head in his hands.

“I’m dizzy, Fey,” he answered, not really responding to your question.

You removed his boots and had him sit on the plush carpet. You feared if you laid him down, he might puke and choke.

He slowly opened his eyes to meet yours, your hair falling in front; you’d braided it and had loose, wavy strands adorned with purple paper flowers. He looked at you and then gave a smile. You watched him back, still on your knees and in silence. Your tongue was a bit dry, and your jaw felt tight, making it hard to speak.

“You’re a fairy,” he murmured, and unlike his other slurred words, this was clear. He rubbed his eyes and then looked at you again, smiling with his whole face. “Why didn’t you tell me you studied music?”

You stood up to straighten his bed; Eddie had stretched the sheets and covers but hadn’t really put much effort into it.

“I didn’t think it was important.”

He made a clicking sound, still seeming dizzy, and his smudged makeup had started to form a sort of crust.

“It is important, Fey,” he murmured.

You finished straightening his bed and went to him with some moisturizer and a towel you got from his bathroom. You sat in front of him and held his chin to start wiping the makeup off his face. He docilely allowed you to gently drag the towel across his skin.

“Chill out, Mun,” you said softly. “I was in financial trouble, drowning in debt, and sent my resume to Robert’s company. There was nothing for me except being your assistant, and it pays well; I needed it. That’s it.”

He seemed a bit pissed at your response. “Ro… Robert’s an idiot,” he huffed, trying to manage his drunk state. “You’ve been doing his job—helping with the tour and scouting new bands. And he’s not paying you for it; he’s taking all the credit.”

You pulled away from him, now with a much cleaner face, and stepped back, surprised. What annoyed him wasn’t that you were doing the job; it was that Robert was taking advantage of you.

“Listen, it doesn’t matter. If I have to do this to prove I’m capable, if it helps Robert see my potential, I’ll keep doing it.”

He shook his head. “He’s a bully and will use you until you realize it. Then, when you refuse to work for free, he’ll discard you,” he lamented. “I don’t want you to leave, Fey.”

You frowned. “I’m not leaving, Mun. Who told you that?”

“I want you to do what you love, not to take care of me forever,” he admitted, and maybe it was the warm way he said it, almost weakened, but you could feel your heart pausing and then clenching inside you.

“Hey, working for you has helped me a lot. Seriously,” you stood up, trying to shake off that strange feeling in your heart as you carried the dirty towel to the bathroom and tossed it into Eddie’s laundry basket. “Thanks to Corroded Coffin, I’ve been able to learn more about bands up close, about what goes on behind the scenes when no one’s watching. It’s fascinating.” You turned back and tried to smile at Eddie, but he had gotten up and was right in front of you.

“I know I’m a pain in the ass.”

“I think it’s better if you lie down,” you suggested when you saw Eddie’s regret and the warning in his eyes that he was about to say things he’d regret later.

“No, Fey, stop,” he murmured. “I’m fine, I mean this. I want to say it,” he added, swaying. “I’m big, and fame isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me. I’ve lost my parents, my freedom, even my reputation. I almost lost my life,” he said so firmly that it surprised you how convincing he sounded.

If you hadn’t seen the scars, you wouldn’t have believed him.

“You know everything about me; well, almost everything,” he said awkwardly. “And I don’t know anything about you… didn’t know you liked music or that you were having financial problems. Didn’t know that while cleaning up my mess, you were also doing Robert’s job…” he paused and looked at you. “I don’t want you to leave, Fey,” he repeated.

You frowned.

“I’m not leaving, Mun,” you assured him. “Listen; you need to lie down and rest; then you’ll be able to make sense of things.”

“I do now; I’ve been awful to you. I’ve been a bad boss and, damn, a bad friend.”

Friends? You and Eddie were friends?

“What… what do you mean?” you asked, confused.

“Do you know why I told Walsh you were a bad assistant?” he asked suddenly, now full of new energy, not looking as drunk or melancholic, moving around you with the skirt of his costume floating around him. “Because I knew the second I told him you were the best assistant in the world, the only person who’s put up with my bad decisions for so long without leaving, he’d offer you something you couldn’t refuse,” he clarified. “And you’d leave. AND. I. DON’T. WANT. YOU. TO. LEAVE. FEY,” he said slowly.

You looked at him, somewhat surprised. Your plan to ignore that strange flutter in your heart wasn’t working.

“I wouldn’t go with the Walsh brothers; Freddie Walsh is misogynistic, vengeful, confrontational, and a public disgrace,” you listed. “You didn’t have to say I was a bad assistant.”

“I get nervous and say stupid things I shouldn’t, you know me, Fey, I’m a mess with you, and I won’t be better without you,” he clarified. “Because I know this, Fey; I know that one day you’re going to leave, and you’ll find someone way better than me. But if you go, I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

He was talking about your job as his assistant. You tried to remind yourself of that for a few seconds, though deep down, a little sabotaging voice told you Eddie might be referring to something deeper.

Nope; he was talking about you as his assistant.

“Eddie, you need to calm down, seriously,” you took him by the shoulders to make him look at you. “You’ve already apologized for the Walsh brothers, and I know I complain about you all the time, but you’re not the pain in the ass you think you are. Sometimes the things you do annoy me, but it’s because, honestly, you hurt yourself and only mess up your life and the way people see you,” you admitted. “The guy who looked after little Tobias, whose stripper-named mother left him to fend for himself at a stranger’s house? I’d like the world to see that guy, not the one who throws a orgy at one of the biggest hotels in the country.”

“It wasn’t a rager; we drank, I got hot, and ended up in my underwear; the media made it seem worse than it was,” he stopped to clarify.

“My point is that’s all it was; you apologized, and I forgave you. I was upset, but it was just hurt pride, it’s not a big deal, Munson,” you smiled and started to let go of his shoulders, moving away.

Eddie wouldn’t let that happen; he placed his hands on your shoulders and gently squeezed under your palms enough to keep you from moving away from his hold. He looked at you calmly, as if he had all the time in the world to keep doing it.

“Don’t leave, Fey.”

Frozen in place, with your whole body trembling and a cold running down your back, you frowned. “I’m not going anywhere, Mun.”

You felt the warmth of his breath, the smell of tequila and tobacco hitting the tip of your nose. It wasn’t unpleasant, and that scared you. Especially when his nose brushed against yours and his forehead rested just above your brows.

“Promise me?” he asked softly, eyes closed, but you couldn’t answer, too stunned. You just nodded. He opened his eyes, smiling, to look at you again. “You’re a fairy, Fey,” he said suddenly. “I always knew, from the first day I saw you, you were an undercover fairy,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

He closed his eyes, and his lips didn’t move on yours; he seemed to be enjoying just placing his mouth on yours. You were half mortified, surprised, and half numb. Eddie Munson was kissing you, half-drunk, with no one else watching, and voluntarily; it was surreal, to say the least. That idea had never crossed your mind; you were so different, and it was so unethical, even though there was no written rule about kissing your boss, it made you feel strange. Plus, he was a good kisser, and you refused to admit that you had actually wondered how he’d kiss. He kept kissing you, and his fingers caressed your neck in a loving massage that was becoming too pleasant. You were about to let him open your mouth and deepen the kiss, but Eddie suddenly pulled away.

He stepped back and vomited into the toilet.

Oh, you were so, so screwed.

I will cry until my eyes bleed

They’re so cute😭😭😭😭😭

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the rockstar you have to work for, but most of the time, you feel like you are babysitting a teenager. He's messy, wild, and disobedient, and he never calls you by your name. He's sweet, though, but you are not allowed to think about that. Or in his smart mouth. Or in his hands playing that stupid guitar, shit.

A/N: I didn’t expect anyone to dig this story, but it seems like there were a lot of us craving a fanfic of Eddie Munson as a rockstar and a bit of a pain in the ass. Hope you guys enjoy it! Also, feel free to request to be in the tag list!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Interview | Part 8

Eddie’s trailer looked way better from the outside than it did inside. Sure, it wasn’t about to collapse or anything, but it was clearly run-down. You could tell no one had been here in ages. When you stepped in behind Eddie and saw the ceiling crack with some shoddy plaster job, you freaked out. You glanced at Eddie, who had strolled in casually, not at all fazed by the mold, darkness, or dust—a clear sign of neglect.

"NOPE” you said firmly, and Eddie turned to you after fiddling with the kitchen sink taps.

He knew exactly what you meant.

“Oh, c’mon, Fey.”

You shook your head.

“No. I’m calling Steve,” you declared. “Or Wayne, or someone, God.”

“Hey,” he started to protest. “I can crash like a champ here, trust me.”

“I’m not worried about you being able to sleep here. I’m worried that with all this mold, moisture, and dust, you might suffocate and not wake up,” you clarified, pulling out your phone and starting to dial Steve’s number. You looked at Eddie seriously. “You’ve got a dozen friends here, and if you didn’t want to stay at Wayne’s, there are other places. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I haven’t complained about sleeping here,” he replied flatly, as if he was exercising every ounce of patience he had with you.

“You don’t have to; your trailer is doing it for you,” you shot back, ending the call as you closed your Motorola StarTAC. You’d try again once you convinced Eddie that staying here alone with no security was a terrible idea.

“Fey, this is my home,” he snapped. “I don’t see why I can’t stay in my own place when I come back to this town.”

“Why not…? I’ll tell you why,” you began walking around the inside of the trailer, listing off all the reasons he couldn’t seem to see. “The curtains are practically see-through, there’s literal duct tape over broken windows,” you pointed out. “This place is full of dirt and cobwebs; there’s mold on the walls, and should we talk about the elephant in the room?” you gestured to the massive crack. “The ceiling’s about to come crashing down.”

Eddie looked at you impatiently and rolled his eyes slowly with a sigh.

“The ceiling’s not caving in, trust me. It hasn’t before, and it sure as hell isn’t now.”

You huffed, frustrated.

“You’re impossible.”

He groaned irritably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket.

“Damn it, Fey. You’re acting like I’m asking you to stay the night here, and I’m not,” he argued. “And don’t you dare call someone. I’m not a bum. If I wanted, I could book a hotel—hell, I just footed the bill at Enzo’s tonight,” he snapped, his tone edging on anger.

“I didn’t say you were a bum—”

“’Cause I’m not!” he cut you off. “And I’m not running away, either,” he added defensively.

You frowned, genuinely concerned this time.

You had dinner at Enzo’s tonight. Of course, in your effort to keep your distance from whatever was happening inside you (you didn’t want to think about it too much because you didn’t want to know. You mean, that darn interview...nope, you were not thinking about that interview like never), you stayed physically away from Eddie, questioning your weakness—why you couldn’t say no to coming to Hawkins to hang out with his friends and family as if they were your friends and family. Why, when you knew you should’ve kept things strictly professional, you ended up following him to his hometown, the place he never seemed to want to return to. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Robin and Steve, you would’ve been like a piece of furniture at a long, elegant table in an old, prestigious restaurant. And it wasn’t because the rest weren’t kind to you—they were too kind; they were…terrifying. Because they were a family, and you didn’t have one. That scared you. But something was up with Eddie, and being too focused on how everything made you feel made you overlook the fact that since arriving in Hawkins a few hours ago, something was bothering him.

You stepped closer to Eddie, hoping he’d notice the symbolic white flag you were waving.

“Mun,” you spoke softly. “No one said you’re running away,” you added firmly, and finally, Eddie seemed to realize he’d been getting worked up defensively for the last minute and a half.

“I know,” he murmured. “Can you… Can you drop it, Fey?”

You silently shook your head.

“No, I can’t,” you replied, and that was enough for Eddie to let out another groan. “Wait, I’m serious. This isn’t right,” you pointed around. “Trust me, it’s not about it being a trailer or being in a trailer park. It’s about you being a well-known singer in a popular band, with no security, in a trailer that’s falling apart. If I knew this place was safe, trust me, I’d already be in my own hotel room, soaking in a bathtub, eating brownies with ice cream, and reading some trashy novel I’m not proud of, but that’s not the case…”

Eddie blinked quickly.

“I know I said I brought you along as my assistant, but I’m starting to regret it.”

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow with determination.

“You think I’m making a fuss because I’m your assistant?” you snapped and let out a huff. “I’m doing it because I care about you, idiot,” you whispered the last insult. “Munson, I don’t know what your deal is with this trailer, and I’m not gonna pry, but I’m not letting you crash here and put yourself at risk,” you said, frowning so hard your head was starting to hurt. Or maybe it was Eddie giving you a headache.

“Fey, c’mon… I thought we were past this,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, and you rolled your eyes.

“Have you heard the conversation we’re having? I think we’re going in circles,” you muttered, starting to lose patience again.

“Break the circle then; take the car keys and get outta here,” he spat, his voice calm, but his demeanor showing he was getting pissed off again.

You planted your feet firmly on the ground and crossed your arms, standing in front of him again.

“I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m gonna get my stuff because I’m staying here,” you said, licking your lips with determination.

“You’re serious?” Eddie dropped his hand from his nose to look at you.

You clicked your tongue.

“Of course, I’m crashing on… that couch,” your eyes landed on the dingy brown couch in the small trailer living room. If it wasn’t covered in spiders and dirt, you might’ve been tempted to try it out because it looked like it was comfy enough to house a tenant back in the day.

Eddie let out an incredulous laugh.

“Alright, Fey, make yourself at home,” he invited you with a smug little grin on his face, like he was sure you’d give up right away.

“Get ready for a sleepover. I might even braid your hair again,” you teased, and he shot back with a mock grimace. You smiled. “I’m gonna get my stuff then,” you said, turning toward the door, taking firm and confident steps, but hoping, oh please, God, if you’re out there, that he’d stop you and drop this stubborn act of his.

You opened the faded wooden door and took a step outside. That’s when you heard Eddie’s irritated sigh, and you could almost imagine him looking up at the cracked ceiling of his trailer in resignation.

“FU-FINE!,” he snapped, clearly pissed off.

You smiled victoriously but quickly tried to mask it with a serious look. You turned towards him and walked into the trailer.

“Thanks for understanding,” you replied with genuine relief.

He seemed upset, and it looked just as genuine.

“Noooo, Fey-wild, thanks a ton,” he said sarcastically. “It’s just a blast that you can also understand me,” he added, his gaze cold and direct.

Then he grabbed his small bag, the one that held all his clothes, his B.C. Rich, and stormed out of the trailer in just two giant steps. You stayed there, right next to the door, letting out a frustrated and almost guilty sigh before turning off the light and closing the trailer behind you. You headed to the rented car, got into the black Volkswagen Golf, and put the keys in the ignition, convinced you had done the right thing, but why the hell did you feel bad? You were damn well looking out for him, and if he was too ungrateful to see that, it wasn’t your problem.

Right?

You straightened up in the leather seat and looked towards his old but well-kept Chevy Van, which hadn’t moved an inch. Eddie seemed frozen in his seat, staring at the dark, cold trailer from inside his car. You watched him for a few seconds, debating with yourself, trying to convince yourself that you had done the right thing. You cared for him. You prevented a potential incident; Eddie is, however, so insuffer—

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, pulling the key from the ignition and stepping out of the car. You locked it and walked toward the van. Suddenly, the cold had set in Hawkins, and you hugged yourself as you reached the passenger door, knocking on the window with your knuckles. Eddie snapped out of his daze and reluctantly opened the door, letting you jump in quickly. The two of you sat in silence for an uncomfortable moment. You knew he wouldn’t be the first to speak. You looked around, noticing a pair of Dungeons & Dragons dice hanging from the rearview mirror, trying to find the right words to start a conversation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” was the first thing that came out of your mouth, but you didn’t look at him when you said it, your eyes, like his, still fixed on the trailer.

“Thanks, Fey, I can tell you really meant that,” he replied with a smile meant to be ironic despite the feigned sweetness in his eyes.

You looked at him with a sharp turn of your head. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, please?”

Eddie was now looking at you too, and despite everything, his eyes had taken on a hint of sadness. You saw the clean expression on his face; he wasn’t wearing any makeup, and his hair was perfectly combed.

You pressed your lips together, hesitant. “Why do you want to stay in this place?” you finally asked. That question had been floating in your mind ever since Eddie decided to stay in Indianapolis instead of with his uncle, whom he even called ‘Dad.’

“It’s me,” he finally responded, somewhat nervously, running his fingers through his hair in discomfort. You looked at him, feeling sorry for not understanding what he meant. “This trailer; it’s me; insecure, lost, and broken. The reason it’s like this is… partly my fault,” he said. “Do you know why there’s a crack in the ceiling?”

You wetted your lips and nodded. You knew; you knew about the murder accusations against Eddie that were later proven false. You knew about the blonde cheerleader who had died in that trailer that night, and because of that, you couldn’t understand why Eddie wanted to torture himself this way.

“Yes, Christy?” You reply doubtfully.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he corrected you and looked back at the trailer as if he could relive everything just by looking at it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you murmured.

“She wanted drugs, something strong to forget… probably all the shit happening in her life. I should have told her no. But it was Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High, she was kind and sweet, and I was a… loser who couldn’t graduate, whose friends were mostly kids; the freak of Hawkins High,” he described himself with disdain. “How could I say no?” he asked. “So I brought her here, and when I saw what was happening, I ran away, like a coward; I fled.”

“You couldn’t have predicted it,” you replied confidently. “The TV said that guy, the one who disappeared and came back deformed… damn,” you muttered, somewhat confused, unable to believe it actually happened and to remember his name. “He killed all those people, right?”

“Yes, he opened that damn crack.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you kept talking, determined to try to reason with Eddie.

“And he would have done it with Chrissy anywhere. Hey, she could have been safe in her room, and he would have killed her, Mun,” you reminded him. “And I hate to be the one to say this, but you can’t freeze time in that trailer, torture yourself, and expect it to change anything,” you spoke with compassion.

“I can’t forget it, Fey. If I forget it, it’ll stop hurting, and it has to hurt, I deserve it,” he whispered.

Your chest tightened; this was much sadder than you thought. And of course, it was hard for you to see him sad when all you knew of Eddie before Steve’s party was his sarcasm, twisted humor, smirks, and self-protective indifference.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, taking a deep breath and at the same time a gulp of courage. “Did I ever tell you I was raised by my grandparents?” you asked, looking at the sun visor while fiddling with it uncomfortably.

“No.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, since I was 13, they took care of me after my parents died.”

Eddie looked at you, somewhat confused, and suddenly felt sad for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t know.”

You shrugged, trying not to bring tears into the conversation. Once you started crying, there was no turning back, and this was already too intimate.

“I hadn’t told you,” you replied. “They died in a car accident. We were arguing, and my mom took off her seatbelt to cover me. The car flipped a few times… yeah, I was in a coma for two weeks, and they say they died instantly,” you narrated. “That’s good, I mean, the doctors say they didn’t suffer,” you clarified, clearing your throat. “I don’t even remember why the argument started. I just know I started it and… finished it, and that thought stayed with me for many years,” you whispered nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear. “That I killed my parents,” you said in a faint voice that Eddie tried to soothe by placing his hand on your knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans, and the circles he traced eased the sudden pain you always felt when talking about your parents. “I thought I should isolate myself; that I deserved it; that this was how I’d pay for what I did and prevent anyone else from suffering because of me. It took me a long time to understand that the rain that day, combined with the fog, was a lethal combination, and it wasn’t my fault, even though one always tries to find someone to blame when catastrophes happen,” you swallowed hard to keep talking. “I spent a long time believing I had to pay the price for a sin I didn’t commit, crying alone, thinking maybe the tears would lighten the burden of the pain,” you shook your head, placing your hand on Eddie’s, which still rested on your knee. “I don’t know if it’s the same for you, but I think we’ve got it all wrong. It’s not about torturing ourselves forever.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Fey. You were just a kid,” he reminded you.

You nodded, feeling a tear slip down your cheek and quickly wiping it away with your hand.

“So were you,” you replied, meeting his gaze. His eyes seemed a bit glassy, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your story or his own feelings. “And it was something you couldn’t control.”

“I was 21.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “and it’s been a while since then.” You wiped away another tear, adjusting yourself in the seat to face him, taking his hand between yours. You wanted to comfort him, tracing circles over the back of his hand, feeling the metal of his rings. “You should feel a little more empathy for that Eddie Munson from back then—the one who didn’t know what he wanted, who was alone and witnessed the murder of someone he cared about. The one who survived. Just think about it—those scars you have were once open wounds he had to deal with.” You released his hand and leaned back against the seat, taking a deep breath.

Eddie watched you. You looked so small, and he wasn’t mad at you anymore. The relentless sense of uselessness seemed to lift. He wanted to make things right—not have to go back to that run-down trailer because he didn’t think it was right to fix it up. But he felt like he deserved that wound to heal, if we’re sticking with the analogy.

“And what if… I promise to try and forgive myself if you promise the same?” he asked, somewhat hesitant.

You let out a long sigh, which eventually faded into the silence inside the van. You nodded, wiping away the lingering dampness on your face.

“Yeah, we could do that. What do you think, Mun? You promise to give it a shot?”

He extended his hand toward you, and you caught it halfway.

“I promise,” he said confidently, flashing you one of his charismatic smiles.

“I promise,” you replied, quickly letting go of his hand. If you kept holding on, it would get harder to ignore the electric pins and needles that prickled every time he touched you.

“Thanks, Fey,” Eddie said, feeling lighter with his hands on the steering wheel. “You’d think after all these years, it’d get easier to talk about all this, but…”

The sentence trailed off, and he seemed unable to finish it.

“Maybe you should try talking to your friends or Wayne. He seems worried about you, and I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, especially now that you’re with them,” you encouraged him. “Besides, there’s no one else in the world who could understand you better than they do,” you added with a smile.

“Did you mean that, Fey?” Eddie asked, glancing at you without letting go of the steering wheel. He seemed affected, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “That you worry about me?”

Your stomach churned.

“I’m your assistant, Mun,” you smiled, recalling the line he’d thrown at you at his house. “You pay me to assist you, not to be your motivational coach.”

Eddie chuckled, rolling his eyes as he turned on the van.

“Very funny, Fey,” he said, checking the rearview mirrors. “Go grab your stuff. I’m not letting you drive alone back to the hotel. By the way, Wayne had a room all set up for you. You’re breaking his heart.”

You shook your head with a laugh and hopped out of the van to fetch your things from the rental car. When you returned with your bag, making sure the car was securely locked, you got back into the van and buckled up.

“You think it’ll be safe here?”

“You know when the last time someone stole a car around here was?” he asked with a grin. “1986, babe—the year I graduated high school and split from here.”

You burst out laughing, as expected of Eddie Munson—bold and always charming. Eddie heard your laugh and felt a strong sense of déjà vu tugging at him, filling him with a strange urgency he’d felt at the party.

“I’ll trust you,” you said as Eddie pulled the van out of the trailer park and onto the dark road surrounded by thick trees. “You know, maybe you could use the room Wayne set up for me. I bet he’d be over the moon if you stayed there with him.”

He hummed in response and finally nodded.

“Alright, Fey, enough with the hints, please,” he asked with sarcasm. “What do you want from me?” He flashed you a charming smile and batted his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back, realizing it was hard to decide what answer to give him.

“Stay with Wayne. Stay with your old man. You’ll make him happy.”

He looked at you for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to the road.

“Fine, milady. Thou hast played thy dice well and hast won the battle,” he said dramatically. “But I have one humble request,” he added.

You raised an eyebrow. “What request?”

“Cancel the hotel, and stop being so stubborn,” he asked, this time without the playful accent.

“Munson…” you tilted your head. “…it’s not a good idea.”

“And why not? This time, you won’t have to take care of me. I’m not drunk… yet.”

You smiled, amused.

“It’s not that, Mun… you don’t need me, and you know it. I’m here because you wanted me here, and I was weak enough to accept coming along. But technically…”

“Technically…” Eddie mocked, “technically, it’s me who decides whether I need you or not,” he clarified. “And what if I suddenly crave some Norwegian water with a twist of lemon? Or if I need you to shuffle some dates around between gigs? I don’t know, Fey, an assistant need might pop up at any minute.”

“You’re making all that up,” you complained, feeling your stomach churn again.

DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, DAMN HIM.

“Only I know, Fey. And besides, what if I am? It’s been fun having you around with my friends, and honestly, the only person who gives me a run for my money in arguments is you. My friends have already given up trying to convince me not to do dumb stuff,” he added, then looked at you with determination. “Come stay with Wayne and me. You’re possibly the only girl who plays hard to get when I invite her over.”

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. DAMN HIM TO HELL.

“I-it’s not the same,” you cursed yourself, your voice trembling.

He noticed, judging by the little smirk on his face.

“It is, technically,” he repeated, “but in theory, you’re a girl, and I’m asking you to come home with me. Or maybe I should head back to the trailer again? You’d never know.”

You flared your nostrils in frustration, momentarily forgetting your sudden dizziness.

“Now you’re manipulating me,” you warned.

“I’m running out of persuasive tactics, Fey. You’re a tough nut to crack.”

You bit your inner cheek nervously and finally nodded. It was a moment of weakness, and you gave in. Maybe you’d regret it later, or maybe not. Maybe it was true, and Eddie really needed you.

“I need to go to the hotel to cancel the reservation.”

“To the hotel, then, and afterward, we’ll head to Wayne’s.”

That was enough to please him. He had already conceded earlier by letting you win the battle, so you’d count your blessings. You fiddled with his radio, earning his complaints, but even when you left the station on one that was playing “Angel Eyes” by Wet Wet Wet, he didn’t intervene to break your groove. In fact, he even sang along, blaming Steve and his taste in music. When you got out of the van, just outside the small but classy hotel where you were staying, you said goodbye to him.

An idea crossed your mind, but as you stepped out of the car and bit your lip, you debated whether to say it out loud.

You turned to look at Eddie, and smiled at him.

“I wasn’t lying,” you said, “I… I really do care about you.” The words hung in the air between you, leaving Eddie speechless, unable to respond. You smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed, and waved goodbye to him. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiled, a small, weak smile, but it was there.

“I knew it, Fey. I knew deep down, I’m more than just a job.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the hotel entrance.

“Sure, Mun. Sure.”

Tag list: @sapphire4082 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @darknesseddiem @kikiandbella

I will scream so loud dude

They’re so cuteeee

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the rockstar you have to work for, but most of the time, you feel like you are babysitting a teenager. He's messy, wild, and disobedient, and he never calls you by your name. He's sweet, though, but you are not allowed to think about that. Or in his smart mouth. Or in his hands playing that stupid guitar, shit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Interview | Part 8 | Part 9|

It had been a beautiful day. You were used to the city, the concrete, the fast food joints, and the fast-paced life. So, a BBQ at a lake house with people who lived a laid-back life was comforting. Especially because the idea of family had become a distant dream or an urban legend—something others had, but you didn’t. You’d spent the whole afternoon on the grass, soaking up the sun, reading a good book, and then making a few calls (whenever you could find decent reception) to ensure everything was ready for Eddie’s arrival in England, the first stop on the tour.

"Fey, I got you a burger. Not sure if you're into them, but... you haven’t eaten, and Wayne was getting worried," Dustin said as he approached with a cardboard plate holding a juicy burger.

You looked up from your notebook, setting it aside as you sat up on the blanket you had spread out on the grass.

"Oh, Dustin, thank you," you murmured, suddenly aware of your empty stomach. "That’s really sweet of you," you said, taking a quick bite of what instantly became the best burger in the world. "I lost track of time."

Dustin smiled at you, grinning from ear to ear, and then sat down beside you. You looked at him, a bit surprised, but welcomed his company with a smile.

"And Suzie? I thought I'd see her today."

Dustin brushed a curl from his forehead, and his face lit up instantly when you mentioned his girlfriend.

"She’s meeting up with her mom in Cincinnati to try on her dress for the first time. I don’t know much about it since, apparently, I’m not allowed to know anything."

You laughed, taking another bite of your burger as he offered you a can of Coke, which you accepted with a grateful nod.

"Make sure Suzie gets in touch with me. Eddie needs to send her the check for that."

Dustin shook his head.

"Nah, I already talked to Eddie about it. He wants to cover the guests’ hotel, the reception, food, even the band. He can’t be paying for Suzie’s dress, too. Plus, her parents want to help, so..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"Dustin, Dustin," you stopped his rambling with a smile, swallowing your bite before you spoke again. "How long have you known Munson?"

Dustin paused, his dreamy eyes gazing into the distance.

"He’s been my brother, my friend, and my mentor since I was 15."

You smiled, touched by the affection Dustin had for Eddie.

"You’ve known him for over a decade, and that’s enough to know he’s not going to let you refuse his wedding gift."

"I’m stubborn too, Fey," Dustin grinned, almost proud of his declaration. "Eddie says it’s more about the tone I use when I talk, but I like to think I’ve got some persuasion power, too."

You laughed, cracking open the Coke and taking a sip.

"I bet Suzie's not thrilled about accepting more gifts from Eddie, huh?" you asked.

Dustin's cheeks turned pink, and he smiled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"You’re pretty perceptive," Dustin admitted with a nervous grin. "Look, it’s already a huge deal for her parents to accept me, and having someone else pay for everything is offensive to her dad. It makes him feel... useless," he confessed.

You opened your notebook and grabbed your pencil.

"And does Suzie’s dad have a contact number?" you asked.

Dustin chuckled dryly.

"You’re not gonna convince him, trust me."

You smiled back at him, peering over your sunglasses.

"Listen, I work with a temperamental, playful rock star whose idea of fun is filling his pool with punch and buying giant straws for a suction contest that left two bandmates with respiratory issues and forced us to cancel a show at one of L.A.’s biggest arenas," you summarized. "You have no idea what I’ve managed to get Eddie to do—or not do—with conviction and persuasion."

He raised his eyebrows.

"You’re gonna talk to Suzie’s dad?" he asked, incredulous.

You shrugged.

"Corroded Coffin leaves early the day after tomorrow. I’ll invite Suzie and her mom somewhere nice in Cincinnati, convince them, and let them do the work on your future father-in-law."

He shot you a suspicious look.

"I’ll give you Suzie’s contact, but I’m not part of this. I want to marry her, and I’m not doing anything that could jeopardize that."

You laughed and took another bite of your burger.

"Everything’s gonna be fine. Besides, it’s my job, right?"

He frowned.

"Vickie, Nancy, and Robin put on an '80s karaoke DVD, and they’re belting it out in the living room. Gareth opened a bottle of wine," Jane—known as El to everyone—plopped down next to you on the grass, looking at both of you curiously. "What are we talking about?" she asked just as Mike, Max, and Lucas next to you and Dustin, forming a circle.

"Fey wants to convince Suzie’s dad to let Eddie pay for the wedding," Dustin explained.

The others groaned, but Max and El nodded confidently.

"Fey can do it. She got Eddie to sleep at Wayne’s house, didn’t she?" Max pointed out.

El agreed. "And she got him back to Hawkins," she added, making the others nod.

"You guys act like Eddie’s the most stubborn person on earth. You’ve got him wrapped around your fingers. I’m sure if you asked, he’d cross the world to get you something," you laughed, leaning back on the grass.

They collectively rolled their eyes, making you laugh even harder.

"As if you don’t," Lucas chuckled.

You frowned, sipping your Coke before continuing the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

Of course, you had to ask.

"I know you’ve got that persuasion power you’re so proud of," Max said, "but you’re totally clueless if you think that’s the only reason you can convince Eddie not to do the crazy stuff he’d normally do."

You frowned.

"Oh," El nudged Max sharply, but not hard enough to hurt. "She doesn’t know."

Mike snickered while stuffing his face with more microwave popcorn.

"She’s totally clueless," he muttered through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Eddie..." Dustin stole some popcorn from Mike before continuing, "...Eddie’s got a bit of a soft spot for you."

"Tiny," El nodded.

"Kind of big," Max tilted her head from side to side.

"Yeah, what Max said," Lucas and Mike agreed.

You scoffed, letting out a disbelieving laugh before taking another sip of your Coke.

"You guys are delusional," you took another sip. "First off, Eddie Munson DOES NOT have a soft spot for me, and second, why aren’t you singing karaoke with the rest?"

"She’s changing the subject," Mike said, bumping into Lucas, who laughed. His long braided hair shook as he did.

"Stop laughing. You kids are crazy," you commented, amused.

"kids? You’re like, three years older than us," Mike pulled out a cigarette. He tried lighting it, but every time he got a flame, it would fizzle out. The conversation paused as everyone watched Mike struggle with the cigarette. On his fourth attempt, he seemed to snap out of it and looked directly at El, who had covered her face with her long brown hair, avoiding eye contact and wiping a small drop of blood from her nose.

"El!" he called out, annoyed.

"Oh my God, sweetie, are you okay?" you asked, concerned, handing her a napkin, which she took gratefully.

"She’s fine," Mike brushed it off as the guys snickered. "Just because she’s my girlfriend, she thinks she can make me quit smoking. And just because Fey has inmunity with Eddie doesn’t mean you have the same with me."

You started shaking your head.

"Eddie and I aren’t actually…" nobody listened to you anyways. El and Mike were having a talk.

"Yes, I have it," El spoke up as she finished wiping her nose and pulled her hair away from her face, smiling big and bright.

Mike looked at his cigarette, sighed in defeat, and put it away, nodding.

"Yeahyouhaveit" he agreed "Okay, fine, you win," he conceded, standing up to offer his hand to El, inviting her for a walk.

Lucas watched the couple head toward the lake and groaned.

"Damn, they stole my idea!"

Max playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Of course they did, Casanova. But I’ve got a better one; I think there’s a cozy rock nearby we can hang out on."

Dustin made a horrified face, but the others ignored him, said their goodbyes, and ran off.

You smiled and looked at Dustin, who was studying you carefully, like he was analyzing something.

“What?”

“He calls you Fey,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And you don’t like it when we call you Fey.”

OH MY GOD not this.

“I know. I still don’t get what’s up with that,” you huffed.

“Feywild. You know he plays Dungeons & Dragons, right?”

You nodded, finishing the last of your drink.

“Yeah, I’m the one who sends the monthly deposit to fund that school club of his… Lucifer’s Flame?”

“Hawkins High's Hellfire Club,” he corrected, sounding mildly offended.

You laughed.

“God, I know. I write that check every month. You D&D fans are so sensitive.”

“That game brought us together, shaped us in a world full of narrow-minded people.”

You smiled, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“I know,” you murmured, then sighed, realizing you couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer. “Why does he call me Fey?”

“It’s not a random nickname. It’s got to do with D&D characters.”

You frowned. “Oh God, please tell me it’s not some monstrous thing with horns in places it shouldn’t have them.”

He frowned too. “Where exactly should horns be, Fey?”

You raised your eyebrows innocently. “I don’t know, between the eyes? One on each side of the head?”

Dustin stared at you. “Okay. God, that’s why you and Steve get along so well,” he clapped his hands together, getting back on track. “Dungeons & Dragons, Fey.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, well; he never calls me by my real name, never, not once.”

“There’s a reason for that, and believe me, you won’t hate it once you hear it.”

You sighed heavily, shaking your empty can even though you knew it was already finished.

“Feywild is a chaotic realm of fairies and magic. It’s totally unpredictable, sure, but captivating,” he shrugged. “The fairies in the game aren’t just about pulling tricks; they’re usually the ones who help the hero grow, you know, on a quest. I think you’re kind of like that for Eddie. You keep him grounded, even if you don’t realize it.”

You widened your eyes, incredulous. “Really? I should probably be a troll or something bigger; it’s tough keeping him grounded,” you laughed, trying to keep it light. If you took this seriously, you’d overthink it. “So I’m a fairy… basically the mythical equivalent of an assistant, Dustin,” you clarified.

“I get that; yeah, he pays you to be in his business,” he agreed. “But it’s more than that; he involves you. Hell, it’s like he doesn’t let just anyone in, and this goes beyond being a rock star. The last time he let someone in and showed them who he really was, it ended in tragedy.”

Chrissy. The cheerleader. The queen of high school. The beautiful blonde with her whole life ahead of her that Eddie let in—and it ended in a deal with death.

You looked down, feeling uncomfortable, especially with the sadness that washed over you when you remembered Eddie’s almost defeated, guilt-ridden face the night before.

“That really messed him up… didn’t it?” you asked softly, feeling guilty for talking about it without Eddie being there.

“Big time. See why this is important? With you, it’s different, Fey. Maybe you don’t realize it because you’re a bit clueless, like the girls said—though I think you just want to be,” he concluded but didn’t give you time to defend yourself as he continued, “but you have a place in his life that no one else does. And that nickname… it’s like he’s bringing you into his world, making you part of it.”

His words hit hard. They echoed in your ears, drowning out everything else as a sharp ringing sound filled your head and your thoughts swirled in a wave of intrusive emotions. You looked away from Dustin, not wanting him to see the battle raging inside you.

“Dustin, he and I… he’s my boss, you know that? I’m here to assist him, and when he doesn’t need me anymore…”

He shook his head immediately, almost upset by your comment. You knew it was a low blow, that you couldn’t limit your relationship with Eddie to just professional terms anymore. The line had been crossed, and it wasn’t because of the kiss, no. You had crossed it long before, that night at the record label party when your heart broke at what you thought was a betrayal from Eddie. He wasn’t just your boss, and you weren’t just his employee.

Realizing that didn’t make things any easier.

“You know that’s not true. I get how it sounds, you are close and that’s okay. Eddie’s not into formalities anyway,” he clarified.

You opened your mouth, realizing when the air entered your lungs that you had been holding your breath while he spoke.

You started shaking your head, a bit scared. The idea of someone caring about you, of someone wanting you in their life, was a huge responsibility, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to handle it yet. You hadn’t felt that way since your grandparents. They were the last people, after your parents, whose lives had impacted yours and whom you had impacted.

“Guys!” Mike and El called from the lake house porch. Mike had his arm around El’s shoulders, and she was leaning on him with a huge smile. “You’ve got to see this! Big Rock is about to sing Rick Astley!”

Dustin laughed and started to get up, offering you his hand.

“Come on, Fey, I didn’t mean to stress you out. How about you forget this conversation for the next few hours and have some fun with us?”

You smiled at him.

“Thanks, Dustin.” You took his hand for a moment until you were on your feet, still holding your notebook and book. You tried, as Dustin suggested, to leave the anxiety from that conversation behind.

The lake at night was stunning. You could appreciate it up close on the small dock of Steve’s house. He had told you he bought it after receiving a generous government settlement. You admired all of them a bit more for that; with the money they had, they could easily live peacefully without doing anything, just letting their traumas take over, but they didn’t. They were all valuable and talented, making their way through life’s jungle with grace and bravery.

You spotted car headlights here and there around the lake; you’d been told it was famous among lovers, so you watched the moon's reflection on the water and enjoyed the sound of crickets and frogs croaking in solitude.

“There you are,” Eddie’s voice startled you. He was a little bit tipsy —not too much—but you could see the childish look in his eyes, that lazy gleam like a haze over his irises. He handed you an open beer. “I told Dustin that giving you a Coke earlier to talk was an amateur move. You do like beer, right?”

You looked at the glass bottle and smiled, a bit puzzled as you took it. “What are you doing here? I thought you and the guys were putting on a little concert for the group,” you asked before taking a sip of the dark, cold beer.

“Yeah, until Cynthia called Gareth, and they’ve been on the phone for half an hour now. It’s gonna cost him a fortune.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and smiled, excited. “Cynthia called Gareth?” you asked, letting out an impressed giggle as you took another sip.

“I’m not gonna gossip about a friend’s possible romantic situation,” he replied with a sarcastic tone.

You laughed, took a sip, and kept looking at him. “Why are you out here alone, Fey?”

You glanced around and shrugged. “Look at this, Mun… we don’t have this in L.A.,” you murmured, then sat down on the dock’s wooden planks, getting much closer to the water. “Why don’t you buy a house here?” you asked when he sat next to you with his own beer. You steadied him by the shoulder when you saw him sway slightly, but he just chuckled in response.

“You want me to buy a house here, Fey? We’ve got Steve’s!”

“It’d be easier to convince me to come help you if you had a lake house; it doesn’t have to be big, maybe a shack,” you joked. “But this is nice.”

Both of you fell silent for a moment, drinking your beers and enjoying the quiet.

“I used to make deals with the owner of this place,” he suddenly broke the silence, “drug deals.”

“Yeah…” you cut him off, closing your eyes and praying for patience. “I got what you meant.” You looked at him. “Does it bring back good memories?”

“Not at all,” he shook his head. “That’s actually the point and the reason Steve bought it.”

You frowned. “You know, I didn’t think you were that drunk. You’re not making sense.”

He let out a chuckle. “I hid out here when everyone thought I was killing people. Dustin, Steve, Max, and Robin worked hard to find me and prove my innocence,” he downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle beside him, right between you and him, smiling. “Years later, Steve bought it and decided to turn this place into something good, thinking that if we made enough good memories, eventually the bad ones would fade.” He laughed, almost embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s cheesy, I know.”

“No, well, yeah, it is cheesy,” you laughed, “but it’s sweet. It’s sweet that you have that kind of friends,” you murmured.

“Well, they’re kind of your friends now, too, so…”

“Oh no,” you immediately shook your head. “We’re not doing this.”

He laughed, “Doing what?”

“This,” you whined. “You can’t keep telling me stories that make you more human.”

He let out a huff, almost offended. “What are you talking about, Fey?”

“At some point, you just started opening your heart like crazy, and suddenly, you’re not the grumpy rockstar I had to get out of trouble. You’re human.”

“I’ve always been human,” he let out a dry laugh.

“No, you were a vampire right before you started telling me your life story,” you defended yourself. “This is just another level of getting involved.”

You thought he might get upset, maybe even seem annoyed. The last thing you expected was for him to smile like a Cheshire cat.

“Fey, I told you at Steve’s party, I want to know about you. You literally know my underwear size.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and gave him a knowing look. “Well, you’ve literally had me buying your underwear in the middle of a tour because you thought giving the pair you were wearing to your fans was a fantastic idea.”

He chuckled. “It was fun, admit it,” he replied.

Then you heard a ringing noise. Loud and deafening. One that made your neck feel so heavy you thought your head might fall off. Suddenly, all of Hawkins' cold seemed to invade your body.

“Do you remember what you said at Steve’s party?” you asked, trying not to stutter or sound too affected, though judging by Eddie’s expression, it probably showed on your face. “I thought you were drunk as a skunk.”

He cleared his throat and stopped looking at you for a few seconds.

Bad sign.

No-oh.

Look at me again, you thought with a queasy feeling in your stomach. If you’re not looking at me, it’s because you’re hiding something.

Like that time, in your first week on the job, when he tried to sneak a llama into his hotel room where no animals were allowed.

“I know why I started drinking like an idiot that night, Fey.”

That eased your mind a bit. Maybe he really didn’t remember the rest; the whole fairy thing and how he seemed to crumble at the thought of you leaving. You didn’t want to have to break down that conversation with him.

“Why did you start drinking?” you sighed, playing dumb. It’d be good to hear his reasons while he was sober. You glanced at the empty bottle beside him—well, somewhat sober.

But was Eddie Munson ever fully sober?

“I didn’t get it, Fey. I know sometimes I act difficult"

“No, no, no,” you interrupted. “You are difficult.”

“What’s difficult is having this conversation with you, Feywild.” he replied between his teeth.

Uh-oh, full name. You were in trouble.

You nodded in agreement and pretended to zip your lips.

“I know I complicate your life sometimes, and I’ve asked you many times just to be my assistant and stick to that, but deep down, I know that’s not how it is. I know you’re my friend, even if you’re not proud of it—the only girl in the world who feels that way, by the way,” he added the last part with that charismatic smile: the one he throws at his fans and the girls he takes home after a party or a good show. “And you know what sucks? It sucks when your friend knows more about you, and you realize your life is in the hands of a stranger. I didn’t know anything about you. I didn’t know about your parents, your unused degree, or that Robert was dumping his work on you without paying you while taking all the credit.”

“It’s the justice-seeker in you,” you pointed out, “and a bit of the control freak; you can’t stand not knowing everything.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You said your parents died. What about your grandparents?”

You exhaled, making a brief sound with your upper lip. I mean, you had kind of promised to open up, right? And he was asking nicely.

“My grandmother passed away when I turned 18, just after I graduated from school; lung cancer. And my grandfather was diagnosed with heart problems over time and started to weaken. I think he also wanted to go. Anyway, he passed away after I graduated from university, in his hospital bed,” you recounted briefly.

But Eddie was perceptive; he gave you a sharp yet gentle look.

“Your debts…” he guessed.

You nodded, watching your feet swing in the air and the dark reflection of yourself in the water.

“I needed a good salary, and this job was literally a lifeline,” you admitted.

“Why music?” he asked, frowning.

You shook your head with a smile. “No,” you said firmly, “you have to answer something first.”

“Damn it, Fey, you already know so much about me,” he complained.

You leaned back, supporting yourself on the wood with both palms, leaving the beer bottle next to Eddie’s empty one.

“I know you’re not allergic to anything at all, but you pretend that wheat makes you sick so that girls feel sorry for you and see you from a more exotic angle.”

He rolled his eyes. “I bloat with bread.”

This time you rolled your eyes and laughed. “Yeah, if you eat ten bagels at once, of course, you’ll bloat; it’s called bread bump, pretty normal”

He stuck his tongue out at you and smiled. “What the hell do you want to know?”

He pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it, placing the thin roll between his teeth.

“Why do you call me Fey?”

He looked at you, but his gaze seemed miles away, and you wondered if you could reach him sitting next to him.

“It’s actually about D&D.”

You laughed. “Yeah, like everything in your life.”

That didn’t seem to offend him.

“It was the first thing that came to mind when I met you,” he half-smiled, still deep inside himself, unable to look you in the eyes. “I didn’t want an assistant, and I wasn’t going to accept it, especially if Robert suggested it, who thinks he knows what I need.” He rolled his eyes. “I did everything to avoid meeting you that day. But you figured out where I’d be and showed up at our recording studio in your green dress with your notebook.” He laughed softly, letting out a sigh. “God, I treated you horribly. You just did your job efficiently, shaking your hair around, making friends with the band, and your eyes…" he paused "You read me, Fey; you anticipated my moves from the very first moment. Those eyes were knowing. As if you saw everything for the first time but at the same time knew every corner of my world perfectly.”

Eddie shifted on the now chilling wood, and his words began to flow freely. Even if he’d let you speak, you wouldn’t have been able to. You didn’t even remember wearing a dress that day, let alone the color.

“You know, fairies aren’t the protagonists in D&D campaigns, but they’re always there with a purpose; they help advance the plot, they’re like, small and powerful agents who get involved just enough.” Now he looked at you, his brown eyes piercing, tearing down and rebuilding your breath. “You’re like the whole damn world embodied; you’re the shield when I need protection, the fire when I’m freezing, if I get lost so much in this damn new wild life that I don’t know how to find my way back. The storm if what I need is to fight someone to finally come to my senses. You have this way of being everything at once; the voice of reason, the avenger, and chaos. Always, always, always, you know exactly what I need.” He smiled as if saying all this had relieved him. “You came into my life that day straight out of the stories I used to escape to when my mom was sick and the only lesson my dad had to give me was about his belt and how to steal cigarettes from a convenience store. Only you’re real, Fey; you’re here. Honestly, I’m grateful for that.”

You could have sworn a black hole appeared and sucked away all the cold of the place. His words wrapped around you, making you feel seen and appreciated in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Your heart raced, but you tried to ignore it, attempting to stay grounded in the role you assigned yourself; his assistant, his friend, nothing more. Still, he was talking about you as if you were a myth, (how did you deserve that honor?) a force of nature. It was too much, and at the same time, you felt under your burden that you could listen to him talk about you this way forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to hold onto his words, let them hang in the air, but also let the wind carry them away, bury them at the bottom of the lake with heavy anchors to keep yourself safe.

As Eddie spoke, your mind was racing. You were amazed—how could you not be? His voice, the way he looked at you, made you feel like something more than you had ever seen yourself as. But with that amazement came confusion, a deep and unsettling feeling of being lost in a place you hadn’t planned to enter.

You tried to find something to say, something to ground you, but words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just stayed there, caught between the magic of his words and the reality of what you meant to each other. It was a dizzying, disorienting feeling, like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“That… Mun…” you murmured after swallowing the lump in your throat, not really knowing what to say. “Thank you… I, damn,” you murmured, trying to find the right words.

Then he hurried to speak. It was few words. A sentence said quickly as if saying it slowly and deliberately would be worse.

Eddie just opened his mouth and said,

“Fey, please don’t freak out. But I remember everything. I remember the kiss.”

Tag list: @sapphire4082 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @darknesseddiem @kikiandbella @moonisu @idkatee @daisy-munson @amandahobblepot @loves0phelia

BRO

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the rockstar you have to work for, but most of the time, you feel like you are babysitting a teenager. He's messy, wild, and disobedient, and he never calls you by your name. He's sweet, though, but you are not allowed to think about that. Or in his smart mouth. Or in his hands playing that stupid guitar, shit.

A/N: hello my universe's angels, you asked, now you are receiving.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Interview | Part 8 |Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11

Your red boots were caked in mud. They would never have gotten this dirty in Los Angeles, but here in Glastonbury, the day was cold, cloudy, and damp. Even so, it was spectacular, you thought, as you watched people taking a short break to shop at the food stalls, not letting the mud, which could potentially reach their knees, ruin their outfits. They had come up with creative solutions using bags and even aluminum from the cardboard fries containers at a fast-food stand. You smiled and looked down; you didn't want to ruin someone's day by seeming like you were mocking their inventive efforts to combat the mud and water.

You walked toward the restricted area where the buses and trailers assigned to the bands were parked. Presenting your pass to the guard at the entrance, you carefully made your way through, making sure not to lose a boot in the process. You looked at the Corroded Coffin trailer and sighed, seeing that you still had a long way to go. You continued slowly until you took a few steps when you heard a door from a nearby trailer open and stopped to avoid looking foolish in front of someone.

You looked around, moving your hair out of your peripheral vision, and spotted the staircase outside a trailer a few meters away. You smiled and raised your hand to wave. Will Walsh was dressed in a large, seemingly warm jacket with a fleece lining. Not only did he return your wave with a smile, but he also walked over to you, closing the distance to just a few steps away.

"Hi, Will," you greeted, unsure if he would even remember your name from that infamous conversation in Los Angeles a few weeks ago.

"Fey," he greeted back, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Are you stuck?" he asked.

"I…" you looked at your boots buried in the mud and smiled nervously. "No?"

He smiled, amused, observing the slow process of you lifting your boots and taking a step.

"Do you need a hand?" he offered, his gaze returning to you.

"Oh, no, don’t worry," you quickly dismissed it and frowned in confusion when you saw him. "What are you doing?"

He draped his jacket over your shoulders, and the heavy, waterproof fabric pressed against your knitted sweater.

" We can tell an American by their attire; they’re always caught out by our rain and haven’t got a clue how to navigate the mud," he added with a teasing tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah? Well… at least we know how to laugh at ourselves," you replied, adjusting the jacket over you. "Thanks," you murmured, feeling strange under his clothes, smelling his perfume. Will Walsh’s perfume.

Yes, it felt wrong, like you had suddenly developed a strange allergy to other people's jackets.

" So, you didn’t go then, did you?” he asked, apparently trying to make conversation.

"Uh, no. My decision, anyway," you clarified. "I’m not going to leave Eddie… the band," you corrected yourself quickly. "And no offense, but I would never work for your brother."

He, of course, didn’t seem offended.

"Don’t worry, if I were you, I wouldn’t work for him either."

" Thank you for thinking of me, though" you admitted, bending down to take one of your boots between your hands and help yourself out of the mud. When you did, you smiled at him. "It was nice seeing you, Will."

He surprised you mid-sentence by picking you up in a bridal carry.

" Alright, where’s the trailer then?."

"Will," you said, feeling awkward in his arms, looking around to make sure no one was watching. There were a couple of guards and technicians who glanced curiously but went on their way, and you felt your cheeks flush. "I’m sure you came out of your trailer to do something, and that something isn’t this."

He laughed, adjusting you in his arms, making you clutch his shoulder with the fear of falling into the mud.

"My brother, who you’d never work for, was driving me mad, so I decided to find something to take my mind off it."

"Well, you’re welcome, then" you murmured, still feeling strange. "It’s that one over there," you pointed, and Will began walking in that direction.

"And how have you been?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Please don’t try to normalize this," you asked with a trembling voice, making him laugh, but he didn’t say anything more for the entire length of the walk.

"Alright, we’re here," he said as you finally set your muddy boots on the metal of the Corroded Coffin trailer.

"Thanks, Will. I hope you can find someone to work for your brother," you wished him honestly. "People climb cliffs and swim with sharks because they love danger. Maybe one of those would be interested in working for him."

Will let out a hearty laugh, genuinely amused.

“I don’t think so, Fey, but it’s not my concern.," he said solemnly. "I’ll leave him to it," he admitted, then smiled as if saying it out loud was a relief.

You frowned, almost fearful.

"He’s going to want to destroy you," you murmured. "He’s conflicted and very vengeful…" you emphasized.

"I know," he nodded, completely unperturbed by your words  "And he’s my brother… I know him inside out. I can tell what he’s going to do before he does it. Plus, the press knows him too; he’ll try to cause trouble and give interviews, but no one will bite."

"He’s the industry's spoiled brat, and you’ve been the toy he’s been beating up since I’ve read about you in the magazines," you cleared your throat. "I hope your new career goes well. You’re talented, charismatic, and good-looking; you’re going to make it as a solo artist, and now is the time," you said, starting to say goodbye. Then he buried his hands in his jeans pockets.

" I’m going to need a manager, you know," he said, just like that, as if talking about something routine.

Oh, Will, the sky is blue. Water is wet.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You were frozen there, and your stomach really started to ache. It was an excellent offer, undoubtedly much better than being the assistant to his problematic brother. But for some reason, your immediate instinct was to say no. However, it wasn’t coming out of your throat, as if it were digging its nails into your flesh, struggling against your will.

"Will…"

"You don’t have to say it now. I know about your skills, and I’m aware you’re Eddie’s assistant, but I also know how lucky the band is to have you. That manager of theirs is just window dressing. We all know that, don’t we?" He rolled his eyes. "Robert’s history, and he’s hanging onto Corroded Coffin with all his might because if he loses them, he’ll be done for."

"Thanks, Will," you finally managed to speak. "But I don’t think… thank you," you repeated awkwardly. "But I…"

You felt the door behind you open and turned to find Eddie. But he wasn’t looking at you; his eyes were on Will. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his gaze was intense.

"Will Walsh," he greeted.

Will gave him a slight smile and waved his hand in greeting.

"Hey, Munson, getting ready for the big show?"

His brown eyes darkened.

"Mmmyes," he muttered, not in the mood for conversation, and his eyes fell on you, still on the stairs, and settled on the jacket over you. "Fey-wild."

You blinked and felt like a child being scolded for something they had done wrong. But what? What the hell had you done now?

You cleared your throat and smiled.

"And the guys? I ordered the spicy chicken they wanted; it’ll be delivered in a few minutes," you informed, but to Eddie, the rock star who had almost thrown a tantrum an hour ago about wanting spicy chicken, it now seemed like he couldn’t care less about the food you had been tasked to buy.

"I’m writing songs; they were on my way," he huffed.

You pressed your lips for a few seconds. If it weren’t for Will, being the only witness to this conversation, you’d already be telling him to fix his face and remove the stick that seemed to be stuck up his butt.

"So that makes me a burden too," you conceded. "And Robin? Steve"

"She went to see a feminist rock band that’s performing now. Steve went with her; a place full of ladies and Steve, if you know what I mean," at least he had the decency to answer.

"Bless them" you looked up at the cloudy sky for a moment.

" Why don’t you come with me? We were discussing something important anyway," Will offered kindly.

Oh, and bless you too, Will. Sweet, innocent Will, who was too focused on being a polite Brit to notice Eddie’s nostrils beginning to flare.

"Yeah, I bet," Eddie muttered under his breath and took a step closer to you. He gently removed the jacket but tossed it carelessly to Will, who managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

You looked at him apologetically. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t know why.

"She can’t, I need him here. When I write, I have cravings… coffee, for example." Eddie replied.

You turned to look at him in confusion. "You’re going to sing tonight; I’m not sure coffee is a good idea," you reminded him.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and closed his hands around your sweater, which was still somewhat damp from the light drizzle you had encountered earlier.

"You’re right, Fey. What would I do without you?"

You smiled with irony.

"I don’t know, Eddie, but you’re about to find out," you whispered between your teeth and then turned to Will. "I’m going to accompany Eddie. Thanks again for the jacket, Will. See you later, okay?"

He nodded.

" Yeah, I want to see Corroded Coffin tonight. I’ll be the one singing all your lyrics, mate," he said goodbye to Eddie and started walking toward the exit.

Once he was far enough away, you stopped smiling and looked at Eddie with a furrowed brow.

"Oh, He was too nice to you, and you didn’t need to be that rude” you started complaining “He is too sweet for you, idiot”

He looked at you, completely ignoring your comment. "What did he want to talk to you about anyway, Fey?"

You felt your face tighten. "Nothing important or concerning you."

Now he was the one frowning.

“It concerns me, Fey. I’ve told you, Freddie Walsh is so much worse than I am.”

You shook your head and laughed wearily. “And I told you I wouldn’t work for him! How many times do I have to repeat it? You don’t need to worry about me,” you reminded him. “And he wasn’t offering me an assistant job for his brother,” you added, your tone calmer. “I’m not leaving you, Munson,” you reminded him of the promise you made at Steve’s party, and his features began to soften.

“Then come inside the trailer and stay,” he requested. “Please, and I won’t bring up Will Walsh or his brotha' ” he mocked “again.”

You sighed slowly and finally nodded. “Alright.” You began to enter the trailer, taking off your boots and leaving them outside, sure that no one would be interested in stealing muddy boots.

“And take this,” he offered you an old sweater. You recognized it; it was one he always wore when he wasn’t preparing for a promotional event or a show—a knitted vest with holes he proudly collected over time. The reason he kept it when he could afford a hundred sweaters must be significant, and you weren’t going to question it. You looked at him with a question in your eyes.

“I don’t want you getting sick with the European tour just starting,” he explained, and it was enough persuasion for you. You went to the trailer’s bathroom and put on the oversized, old sweater without a word.

When you came out, you found him recording guitar chords on his recorder while mumbling nonsense that you knew would later become music. You’d never seen Eddie compose before; you’d seen him scrawl a few lyrics or ideas on his hand, napkin, paper, or someone’s hand if there wasn’t enough space. You’d seen him vomit countless times, seen him in his underwear, and you could even swear you’d seen his butt more than once (not voluntarily, at least). You have seen him with his friends, sad, vulnerable, and angry. However, seeing him compose, hearing raw melodies that weren’t even close to the final result, felt deeply intimate, as if you weren’t supposed to be there, sitting next to him, witnessing his process. You stretched the sleeves of the vest that smelled of Eddie, tobacco, and his conditioner, and looked at his hands—the veins you could notice and how the tendons tightened as his fingers changed position. He managed to keep the rings from touching the strings, a skill achieved through experience. His hair fell over his face, and occasionally he brushed it aside while humming sounds that, in time, would become words filling verses and stanzas. And remind everyone why he was loved, applauded, and adored at the end of the day.

“This hair,” he murmured with a furrowed brow, not stopping his guitar playing or recording, “I think it might be time for a haircut, don’t you think?” he asked. “All mature singers do it at some point.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You said it… mature.”

He stopped his fingers mid-chord and looked at you with a faux grumpy face. “Ha-ha.”

You smiled, approaching him and removing the hair tie from your wrist, and began to take his hair between your fingers. It was silky, probably the thing he took most care of after his guitar, so you weren’t surprised when it flowed through your hands. He let you style it like a lost child or a large wild cat being tamed. Your fingers gently scratched his scalp as you combed through the stray strands and gathered them into a bun. The silence was too much, too intimate, too domestic for you. So you broke it.

“Brian May hasn’t cut his hair,” you reminded him. “Besides, it’s not a good idea—Metallica, Load single press pictures, remember?” you reminded him of the haircuts the members of that band had undergone, and Eddie grunted. You finished making the bun of hair on his head and smiled, returning to your safe place on the couch where you had been sitting. “Hair is a superpower. It’s not just about image,” you declared.

Eddie smiled at you and glanced at his recorder. “See? You have your notebook, and I have my recorder. I guess we’re always prepared, right?” he said, returning to playing the guitar.

“I guess so,” you murmured. “What are you working on now?”

“Next album, babe, it’s going to be the best.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s always the best.”

He looked into your eyes as if he were giving you a lesson without speaking. “Trust me, Fey, this one is the best,” he said, suddenly standing up and making you jump, catching you off guard. He held his fist in front of his mouth, tapping it with his index finger from the other hand, as if checking if a microphone was on.

“What are you doing, crazy?”

He didn’t seem to notice, instead clearing his throat and speaking in a serious voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt this muddy festival to bring you Eddie Munson’s new songs, though we can’t promise they’ll be free from a bit of wetness” he added with a mischievous tone.

You let out a laugh that Eddie happily captured with his recorder. You looked at him with bright eyes and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous, Mun. Now sit back down and keep playing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded and sat back down, taking the guitar. “Alright, I’ve been working on this…” he started playing some very familiar chords.

“Seriously, Munson? Wonderwall?”

He looked at you with feigned surprise. “What? Never heard of it. Just something I came up with on the spot.”

“Sure you did,” you laughed, watching him with dancing amusement in your eyes. He smoothly transitioned into “Time of Your Life” by Green Day, glancing at you as if waiting for a reaction. You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress your laughter. “You’re really pulling out all the stops today, huh?”

Eddie shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Just another random tune, Fey. Total coincidence.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he strummed the familiar chords, his voice teasingly off-key as he sang a line or two. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m just trying to entertain you. I’m a man of many talents.”

He then switched to “Creep” by Radiohead, his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings. He threw in a dramatic pause, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes. “This one sound familiar too?”

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “Munson, that’s ‘Creep,’ come on! You’re not fooling anyone.”

Eddie finally broke, his own laughter filling the trailer. “Okay, okay, you caught me. But you have to admit, I had you going for a second.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Not even for a second, Munson.”

He grinned, setting the guitar aside and leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, at least I got you to laugh.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “Yeah, you did.”

For a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the earlier tension completely melted away. Eddie’s playful antics had worked—you were back to your usual rhythm, a little closer, a little more in sync.

Eddie tapped the guitar and gave you a knowing look. “Next time, I’ll make sure to play something you really don’t know.”

You smirked. “Good luck with that.”

Yeah, and good luck to you. The beating of your heart cannot be ignored anymore, lady.

The backstage of the Glastonbury festival is a hive of activity and excitement. The cables of the equipment intertwine on the ground, creating a chaotic web that the technicians try to manage with skill. The air is filled with a mix of aromas: damp earth, beer, and Scotch whisky. The distant crowd makes the ground vibrate slightly, adding an extra layer of nerves and anticipation to the atmosphere.

Eddie and you are on the edge of the stage, surrounded by the bustle of preparations, while you watch the huge crowd waiting anxiously. The distant roar of the people feels like a wave threatening to engulf everything in its path. Your stomach churns with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You turned your gaze to the stage entrance, where the sound of the crowd is almost deafening. “Oh Mun, have you ever seen such a crowd?”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Each one is unique, Fey,” he said, not preventing the excitement from seeping into his voice. “Glastonbury is something else. But hey, Corroded Coffin has faced enough monsters, right?”

You laugh, feeling the tension in your chest ease a little. “True. Just, you know... this time there are no real monsters”

Eddie laughs and then looks at you with a mixture of seriousness and excitement. “Just a sea of people, waiting to have their minds blown. No pressure.”

You laughed. But before you could respond, Robin approached you. As Eddie adjusted his guitar like an extension of his body, she came closer with her usual ease.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, noticing his absence. You had barely seen the guys today; you had been running errands in the morning, and in the afternoon, you had locked yourself with Eddie not composing, as you had just laughed in a bubble that you had found difficult to break when the guys came back to the trailer to get ready for the show.

Unconsciously, you stroked the fabric of Eddie’s sweater that was still on you, as a reminder of that afternoon.

Robin rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, he’s out there in the crowd. Met a girl, and didn’t want to mention Eddie, so he’s flying under the radar tonight. Can’t blame him. Last time a girl tried to seduce Eddie on his birthday, it was the date Steve had brought.”

You would have laughed, but you imagined how cruel it could have been and how Steve’s morale might be after that. “That’s tragic, poor Steve.”

Robin’s eyes suddenly lit up with mischief as she leaned in closer. “Speaking of tragedy... I heard Will Walsh was doing his best knight in shining armor impression a while ago. Something about you and the mud, Fey?”

You tensed your face.

“Shutup,"

The muttered words left your mouth between clenched teeth, only for her to hear. But it was too late.

Eddie’s ears had caught that unfortunate choice of words, and his mind had already started recalling the whole Will Walsh situation.

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds. I just got stuck, and Will was there.”

Robin let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Honestly, I think even I would faint if Will Walsh carried me in his arms.”

You wanted to kill her. Oh, Robin was dead.

You let out an awkward laugh and glanced sideways at Eddie. His eyes slightly narrowed as he listened to the conversation while adjusting the strap of his guitar.

You finally smiled, trying to downplay the situation. “It was just an embarrassing situation, Robin. Nothing more.”

Robin smiled, giving you a knowing look, but didn’t press further. “Sure, sure. Well, I’m just saying, if you ever need a rescue from an ‘embarrassing situation’ again, let me know. Or, you know, maybe I’ll just stay close, waiting to be rescued myself.”

“You don’t even like Will Walsh,” Garreth raised his voice from across the room, trying to save you from the conversation. “Hell, he’s not even your type.”

Robin flipped him the bird while the rest laughed.

Thank God.

Eddie intervened, approaching you with his casual tone but with a hint of something more. “What’s up with Will Walsh? He’s not causing trouble, is he?”

You spoke too quickly.

You crossed your arms, meeting Eddie’s gaze, trying to gauge his mood. “No trouble. He just helped me. That’s it.”

Robin looked between you and Eddie, then opened her mouth, slightly surprised, as if she had just discovered something she shouldn’t have. She began to back away a little then.

“Well, I think I’ll go look for Steve. Good luck out there, guys. And Eddie, don’t let the crowd devour you.”

Eddie smiled, but his eyes remained fixed on you, and yours on him. “I’ll handle it. Thanks, Robin.”

He stepped closer to you, suddenly the noise and staff instructions seemed to fade away as if you were inside a fish tank, and Eddie’s voice became lower, more intimate. “Remember what you told me about finding adrenaline in less risky ways?”

You nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

Without warning, Eddie took a step closer, crossing the line of your personal space, his hand gently holding your arm as he pulled you toward him. And before you could react, his lips were on yours: firm, intense, filled with something that made your heart race. It ended as quickly as it began, leaving you breathless and stunned.

And wanting more.

Wanting so much more.

You’re no longer as scared as you were the first time.

Eddie pulled away, his gaze steady as he observed your reaction. “That’s all the adrenaline I need. Thanks for the suggestion, Fey,” he added with a smile.

You stood there, trying to catch your breath as he walked toward the stage with the guys who had pretended not to see anything, and that scared you because it would be a ticking time bomb. You hugged yourself, feeling a sudden chill. The roar of the crowd grew as Corroded Coffin prepared to give the performance they were all waiting for, but all you could think about was the feel of Eddie’s lips and the unspoken promise in his eyes.

Tag list: @sapphire4082 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @darknesseddiem @kikiandbella @moonisu @idkatee @daisy-munson @amandahobblepot @loves0phelia @eddieslooneymoonie @black-kitten-imagines @oscarisaacsleftknee @dreamerjj @clown420cunt

Bad Omens

Rockstar! Eddie Munson x Rockstar! reader are band mates, their shows are famous for how they flirt on stage and how fans ship them. But it's different off stage, she's dating a famous actor, Hollywood's sweetheart, as Eddie calls him. She thinks this sexual tension with Eddie is an act, but if it was she shouldn't be jealous when she sees Eddie with his groupies, or they shouldn't write love songs about each other and having to preform them.

warnings: cheating, jealousy, groupies, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, fighting, angst (happy ending), there's a part where reader has a little anxiety attack before going on stage but it's really brief and not very ditailed.

words: 4.1k

a/n: I use 5sos songs as if they are from Corroded Coffin, so imagine them more metal.

It’s the four year anniversary of ‘Corroded Coffin’, the band you joined in your senior year of high school when you best friend Gareth invited you since he knew how much you liked singing —and how great he thought you actually were, he was right apparently — you proudly took the place of lead singer, next to Eddie. At first, the idea was that you’d be the lead singer and Eddie the lead guitarist. But one night in the hideout, you made a cover of a duet, and the way your voices sounded so romantic together, all the chemistry you had on stage, made the changes into Eddie and you being the lead singers. Luckily for you, that night was also the night Richard, your current manager, was in the crowd. And the rest was history.

That night was four years ago tonight. The band is celebrating by presenting a special show in LA. Sold-out within 24 hours.

“How are we feeling tonight, Los Angeles?!” you asked to the crowd in front of you and they all started screaming as you finished the question. “You know, this is a very special night for us, it’s our four-year anniversary!” people shout again. “And we thought: what better way to celebrate it than with you? The ones that made all of this possible?”

“You know, thanks to you, we’re not remembering that night four years ago as just the band that we were in when we were teenagers. Thanks to you, we remember that night as the night everything started, this absolute craziness!” Eddie thanked the crowd as he began playing softly on his guitar the next track on the set-list. “So, to show you our appreciation for you, we’re gonna play one of your favourites: this is ‘No Shame.’ I wanna see you all jumping!”

 “Angel, with the gun in your hand. Pointing my direction, giving me affection” You started singing. The crowd went wild as they jumped and sang along with you. Until you reached to one of your favourite parts of this song. “I love the way you're screaming my name. Alright, I wanna hear you all scream for Jeff!” You said as the boys played the instrumental before the bridge. The crowd started screaming, just like you asked them. “Now scream for Luke!” you pointed the mic to their direction and they began screaming again. “For Gareth?!” The same reaction. “I wanna hear you scream for Eddie!” you said with a smirk and somehow people were screaming even more. Eddie smirked too. “Now scream for me” you finally said in a sweet voice and people shouted just as hard.

“Go on and light me like a cigarette. Even if it might be something you regret.” Eddie continued singing his part as he walked towards you. “You got me now, now, now. Swallow me down, down, down, down.” He sang facing you and actually going down himself until he ended kneeling in front of you. You laughed at this and he gave you a smirk. You continued singing your part shaking you head.

You could see one of the signs the fans had brought that said: “Eddie, just kiss her already.” The girl putting the sign up every time you sang together onto the same mic, or when he came behind you dancing to you while you sang.

Your shows were known for all the flirting you and Eddie did on stage. The chemistry, the sexual tension palpable even for the crowd. Things like those — or when you sing a love-song looking directly at each other; or like the times that when the show ends, Eddie grabs you over his shoulder or bride-style and runs off stage with the rest of the band — are what made your shows so famous.

As you walk backstage tonight, sweaty and agitated thanks to the great show, you find your boyfriend, Rudy, waiting for you to finish. You run to him with a smile and hug him as you arrive.

“That was a great show, sweetheart! You look so hot tonight” he complements you.

“Even now that I’m all sweaty?” you joke.

“Especially now that you’re all sweaty” he responds. “Got me thinking I could join you for you bath tonight, right babe?” he whispers into your ear only for you to hear. But your giggles make it kind of obvious.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he walks pass you, but you don’t notice.

Rudy is a famous actor, he’s in a well-known sitcom that is now on its third season. He was also in a few rom-coms that were secretly your favourite. You met six months ago on an award show where he came up to you and told you he was a big fan of the band and proceeded to flirt with you the entire night. And you were internally fangirling a bit.

Your relationship with Eddie was more difficult to define. You had kissed him a few — lots — of times. But mostly on the starts of the band, and mostly drunk or high at some party you were in, never public. The flirting on stage happened mostly because at first, you were always flirting. On and off stage. There's still flirty comments now and then to make you feel better, or just to make each other a little nervous. Obviously the making out stopped now that you have Rudy, but the flirting hasn't, especially on stage. And it wasn't something very pleasing for Rudy.

He didn't consider himself as a jealous guy. But if you have to watch the news about what your girlfriend and his band-mate did on the last show of Corroded Coffin, or actually going to one of the concerts only to stare at how your girlfriend is practically grinding on Eddie while they dance and sing together to one of their songs. It definitely makes you feel it's too much.

You've had countless of talks explaining it's just for show, it's what made your concerts so famous and why people go to them. That makes him feel better for a little bit, but then he feels the insecurities rising back the next concert he attends.

The thing is, you really did believe it was all for show, no actual feelings. That was until Eddie started to pay more attention to the groupies. A thing that he didn’t use to do just a few month before, usually Gareth or Luke were the ones who always had a groupie waiting for them backstage, or at every party you went to. But as Eddie began to constantly have a different girl on his lap, making out with them instead of dancing with you, flirting with them instead of you. You began to feel an uncomfortable sensation in your chest.

“Hey, sorry I’m late” Jeff enters the studio. “Where’s Eddie?” he asks once he sits down and notices there’s still one missing.

“Not here yet” Gareth answers him. You could insinuate why he was so late but didn’t want to think much about it, it would only make you angry.

But your insinuations end up being true, giving that thirty-five minutes later you see the missing member of the band entering the studio. “Sorry, my bad, I forgot we were meeting today”

“Yeah, either way, we called your house several times with no response” you complained.

“Wasn’t at mine’s, I heard the messages you left me when I got home and came running”

“What kept you busy all afternoon if it wasn’t work?” you asked showing how angry you were at his irresponsibility. You weren’t expecting him to answer, you weren’t expecting what the answer was, or the smug smirk on his face while he said it.

“I think the actual question should be: who kept me busy”

“You’re gross” you said cringing and ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in your chest again.

“Hey, you don’t hear me complain every time I see you making out with your little boyfriend: Hollywood’s sweetheart”

“Yeah, because I don’t do that when I have to be at the studio making a new album, I do that on my own free time!”

Eddie was about to say something back but Jeff interrupted.

“Okay! We could be here the rest of the afternoon fighting or we could take the time we have left and actually work on something!”

And the rest of the afternoon was in fact spent on writing and recording with some angry stares between Eddie and you from time to time.

“Who wrote this?” Eddie asked you reading one of the papers with some random lyrics on them. Luke and Jeff went to get some coffee for everyone and while Gareth worked on revising what you had just recorded, you and Eddie stayed working on more lyrics.

I don't wanna get older without your head on my shoulder.

Lost in the day to day you kiss away the pain.

It's not worth it if I lose my one-way ticket for two. Just me, just you.

“I did” you answer. It wasn’t more than three sentences that came to you while waiting for Eddie.

“Inspired by the actor?” he asked sarcastically.

“What?”                                                      

“Your boyfriend, I mean. It’s really romantic” he explained.

“No, ‘s just something I thought of, no one in mind”

“Mmh, that’s weird. Are you not inspired by him?” he insisted.

“What? Eddie, I can write something that it’s just on my mind. I don’t need to be in love to write love songs. Or do you write romantic songs about your groupies?” he was really getting on your nerves today.

“No,” he laughs at that comment. “but why do you act so defensively? Don’t want me to know that the song is actually for me?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely”

“Do you have a crush on my boyfriend or something? Cause you can’t seem to stop bringing him up randomly” you ask ignoring his previous response.

“On him? No. On you maybe” he jokes…I think.

“So you’re jealous” you point out.

“That depends if this song is for him or for me” he says expecting you to tell him the truth. You blush a little.

“None” you lie, he notices. “Nothing Shakespearean about it”

“I like that”

“What?”

“Not the way you just lied to me, definitely” he says, “’nothing Shakespearean’” he thinks for a few seconds and you just stare at him waiting, admiring a little. “No tragedy at the end, no nothing Shakespearean. It all comes flooding back again” he sings slowly.

“My dear devoted delicate” you sing too, finishing that line. He smiles and writes it down. You keep working on that song forgetting about the previous conversation.

That same weekend, a party thrown by a singer that was friends with the band. So you decided to go for a little while. You went only with the boys, your boyfriend was working late this weekend. Despite both being on the same city, fortunately. That didn’t mean that you would always have lots of time together, unfortunately.

You did some shots with the boys, danced with them for a while, really having a good time. Eddie surprisingly rejected the girls who came looking to steal him away. So you could actually enjoy a night out with him. And you really did.

“Hey, here you are!” Gareth says when he finds you.

“Here I am” you say with a smile.

“And here she stays, don’t come stealing her away” Eddie warns him.

“I just come to give her a message from her dear boyfriend, he called on Jeff’s phone, and he said he’s off work early and if you want, he’ll come to pick you up” he said rising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, seriously? Yeah, okay. Tell him to come”

“Sure thing” he leaves and you turn to grab your coat.

“Seriously? You’re just gonna leave?” Eddie asks you.

“Well, we haven’t have much time together lately, that’s all” you explain.

“I can’t believe it” he mumbles to himself, but you manage to hear him.

“What’s your problem?”

“It’s just that we were having a really good time together, and now you’re leaving me for him at the first chance you get” he complains.

“Don’t get mad, it’s just that he’s my boyfr-“ you try to explain again, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Yeah, your boyfriend, I don’t need a reminder”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I don’t know if you noticed but I’ve been rejecting every girl who came here asking for me because I wanted to spend time with you, I was actually having a good time. But its fine, I guess you always prefer him over me” he says angrily.

“What the fuck are you talking about ‘him over you’? And I didn’t ask you to reject any of them, go and fuck them in the bathroom for all I care, don’t let me stop you!” you meet his tone.

“You don’t have to stop me because I’m not the one leaving you to go fuck”

“He’s my boyfriend and these are just one night stands that you don’t even care enough to learn their names!” you can’t believe the comparison.

“I know he’s your fucking boyfriend! I don’t need you to remind me that every minute”

“So what do you want from me?!” you shout. Patience already lost when he started arguing again.

“To stay with me for once! To pick me over him for once! Even if it’s just to talk and drink together!”

“To pick…? Eddie I can’t do this right now, he’s probably at the door already” you say and leave. He watches as you were closing the door, if he ran he could probably stop you and apologize for his ways, maybe even convince you to stay. But he didn’t, just as you didn’t stay with him. You left. Picking Rudy over him once again.

You try to ignore Eddie as much as you can ignore someone who’s in a band with you. Which was obviously not much. You had to see him in some talks you had with your manager this week about the new album. You avoided his eyes that so badly wanted to meet yours. Made sure that you arrived somewhat late so you didn’t risk being just the two of you waiting for everyone else to arrive. Talk about the things you needed to discuss, and then leave with Jeff so he could drive you home. So yeah, not more than hi’s and bye’s between you two.

Except on Friday.

“Okay, if that’s all for today, I should get going” Jeff announced. “You coming with me?” he asked you and you nod, getting up with him.

“Bye guys, see you next week” you finally say and walk out of the studio. But when you get outside, you hear someone calling your name just to turn around and meet Eddie.

“Hey, wait. Can we umm, talk for just a second?”

You turn around hesitantly to meet Jeff’s gaze and he nods to then walk to his car to give you two some privacy.

“Listen, what I said the other night, umm. I’m not gonna lie now and tell you that it wasn’t true or that I was just drunk. I want to apologize for how I said everything” he confesses.

“Eddie… I said it the other night already. I can’t do this, whether you like him or not, I’m with Rudy and I love him” you say looking down or anywhere else but him. You couldn’t do it, you can’t believe he was making you do this, this will change everything between you two. Your whole dynamic.

If he notices how uncomfortable you are, he doesn’t say anything and lets you walk away to Jeff’s car.

That weekend you don’t see the boys at all. Just stayed home working on some more songs. On Monday you are decided to go to the studio confidently, not really wanting the dynamic between you and Eddie change since that would affect the whole band.

You show the guys two new songs that needed some changes but had some potential. Eddie shows one of his songs too, but as he says it’s finished, you work on yours.

After a few hours of working on finishing the lyrics to your songs, you move to Eddie’s which was apparently ready and approved by the guys. You didn’t have much time to read it all when they were telling you to get inside the booth and listen to the demo.

You get in the booth, the instrumental starts from your headphones and you listen to Eddie’s demo on the song while reading the lyrics.

So this is where we are. I should've seen it coming. Every time we say goodbye, I say hello again […]

I cried in your dark brown eyes for the thousandth time 'Cause you love somebody. I died when you left that night for the thousandth time 'Cause you love somebody else

I tried to stop the door as it was closing, it was closing

Can't help the way I keep ignoring every omen, every omen

Heaven knows I should let go. It's nothing that I don't already know […]

We go 'round again, we jump back in bed. That's what you do when you love somebody. These bad omens, I look right through them. That's what you do when you love somebody

Your mouth was opened in surprise. Your mind going ten miles per hour. Your heart stopped. This couldn’t be about you. He wouldn’t. But how can you be sure?

“Jeff, give me five minutes, I need to ask Eddie something first” You get out of the booth and you see his scared eyes as if he was caught. You walk to another room and he follows you.

“Eddie? What is this new song?” you ask without thinking much. That was definitely not the best way. You notice your thoughts were true the moment you see his face and he stands there quiet. “Is this about me?”

“I can explain-“

“No, I think this explains it very well already” you refer to the paper in your hand.

“I just wrote what I was feeling and thinking this weekend. I just let it all out” he tries to excuse himself.

“And were you really expecting us to put it in the album?!”

“It’s a good song! It’s emotional and-“

“And it screams our name!” You don’t let him finish. “What do you think it’s going to be the reaction when Rudy hears this?! Do you think he’s not gonna notice?!”

“Do want my honest opinion? I don’t care!” he freaks out too. “I hated him ever since he started flirting with you that night, and I kept hating him every time he would kiss you, or complement you telling you how hot you look or how amazing your voice is, because I want to do those things! You can hate me all you want, but that song is how I feel and it’s the truth”

“And do you really expect me to sing this song about me?! Are you really gonna make me record it and then sing it in front of thousands of people as if the lyrics are not about me?!” you really cannot believe him right now.

“How about ‘Older’?” he asks out of nowhere.

“What?” you ask angrily.

“Tell me that song is not about me and we forget about my song” he challenges you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tell me that song is about him and I’ll forget about this one”

You stay quiet. You could just lie to him but you fear he’s gonna see right through you. Apparently you take too much time debating whether to lie to him or not, that he’s already been confirmed.

He walks over to you and tries something that his mind was screaming him to do, praying that you don’t slap him in the face. He walks to you, grabs your face in his hands and kisses you like he’s been waiting to. Like he wanted to do every time you sing together on stage, when you sing into the same mic, when you sing the lyrics to each other, when you get out of stage feeling all that adrenaline but he can’t because you go running to your boyfriend.

He thanks all of the Gods he’s never believed in when you slowly put your hands on his hair and melt into the kiss. He’s never liked when people touch his hair, but with you he’ll even let you shave it off if you want.

The kiss slowly brakes but you stay as close to each other, still holding each other for the next few minutes until he can’t take it anymore and asks what’s on his mind.

 “Why did you write it?” he whispers. “You lied to me when you said you loved him?”

“No, I do love him… but, it’s different than the love I feel for you” his heart brakes a little.

“Who do you love more?”

“I don’t know” you finally respond.

You decide to record the song. It was still painful, but when your manager heard it he told you that it should also be a single, it was going to be a hit. You thought that maybe it was for a reason.

When you could get a hold of your boyfriend, you asked him to meet you at your house. You came clear, told him about the kiss and your mixed feelings. You can’t even start to explain the pain it caused you to be the one breaking his heart like this. But you couldn’t love him the way it was needed, not while you still had Eddie. He obviously broke up with you, very sad and angry. You cried for weeks.

Things with Eddie weren’t better. You did love him more, you knew that. But you needed time to forget about Rudy before even deciding what to do with Eddie. There were still a lot of cons that made you doubt about your relationship, like being in the same band as him, for starters.

He helped you through your break up and held you when you cried for Rudy. He even helped you write a song for him. It wasn’t a song asking for a second chance or anything like that. Just saying sorry and hoping that he would ever be able to forgive you for this. You did love him in the end, just not enough.

When the album was finished months later, it was a success. Luckily though, could you imagine going through all of this just for the album to suck?

After that you announced a world tour.

“Just breath, here, have some water” your manager tried to help your nerves before going on stage for the opening show of the tour.

“I need Eddie, call him!” you managed to say.

“Okay! Okay!” he ran looking for him and then you saw someone running back to you.

“I’m here, sweetheart” now it was your turn to run to him, hugging him thigh around his waist, he wrapped his arms around your neck and back protecting you. You could breathe again.

After a few minutes he made sure you were calmed and then asked you what happened.

“Just… It’s an important album for me, I don’t know if I can sing all those songs as if they didn’t have meaning, I don’t know if I’m ready yet” you explained with your breaking voice, tears in your eyes waiting to fall down.

“Listen, you’re gonna be amazing just like you always are, a fucking rockstar if I ever saw one. I know how meaningful these songs are, but remember I’m right there next to you singing too, just come grab my hand if it gets too much. But we’ve rehearsed, and you did fucking great as ever!”

“But he’s probably gonna see this, or, or people are gonna see if it gets too much and I start crying or have a fucking breakdown”

“You’re not gonna have a breakdown, sweetheart. I’ll be right there next to you, if it gets too much just make a sign and I’ll finish the song, it’s not gonna be as great cause I don’t have the amazing voice that you do, but I’ll manage” he jokes.

“Yes, you do! I’m so in love with your voice!” you correct him.

“You are?” you nod. “Then just listen to me, if it starts getting too much, just focus on my voice, on my face, on me, only on me”

You nod again, feeling better. “I love you so much” you say.

“I love you more” and before you tell him that’s not true, he kisses you, a kiss that makes you forget about everything, even that you have to out on stage in two minutes.

“Hey, lovebirds! You have to go out and play now, continue the flirting up there!” your manager yells.