A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song Wings by Birdy and is set a few years after the end of the series, when both Reader and Eddie are mid-late 20s. I hope you all enjoy it.
You were still grinning as the lights went down on the stage, plunging you and the rest of the band into darkness, your heart still pounding, sweat running down the back of your neck, adrenaline pumping. Honestly, it was the best sensation in the world, getting to do this day in, day out with your favourite people in the world, even if the crowds weren't exactly huge.
You felt your goosebumps simmering along your skin as Eddie's hand found your hip on the way off the stage, his fingers brushing against the bare skin there. "You," he started, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the side of your head. "Are a fucking rockstar, you know that?" he added, drawing a chuckle out of you as he manoeuvred you towards your dressing room. It was a ritual the two of you knew like the backs of your hands. Come offstage, make out a little, shower if the venue had one, and head back to whatever shitty motel you were staying at that night.
"A rockstar that's sweating her ass off," you countered, turning to face him at the door, grinning up at him. "A rockstar with the hottest boyfriend in the world," you added, watching as his smile twisted into a small smirk, backing you against the door to press a proper kiss to your lips.
You fumbled with the door handle behind you, just about managing to shimmy it open, the two of you stumbling into the room, a peel of laughter falling from your lips when he immediately shifted his lips to your throat, pressing wet kisses to the skin, until someone had cleared their throat.
"Holy shit," you yelped, jumping away from Eddie like you were a teenager caught doing something they weren't supposed to, rather than a grown woman with her long-term boyfriend.
When you finally set eyes on the man sitting on the dingy little couch in the corner, you'd frozen.
"Who the fuck are you?" Eddie started, shifting to pull you closer, putting himself between you and the stranger on instinct.
"Rick Rubin," the man started, pushing up from the couch and holding out his hand in your direction, and you had tensed, your hands gripping Eddie's arm as the name registered.
"He's the guy from Def American," you started, shifting around him to shake Rick's hand. "Your label is iconic," you pressed.
Rick chuckled. "That's very kind of you, Miss Y/L/N," he hummed.
"Please, just call me Y/N," you started again. "And this is Eddie," you pressed on, immediately attempting to tidy up the clothes you'd left littering the floor when you'd changed before the gig. "Can we get you anything-"
"How'd you get in here?" Eddie interjected, still watching Rick with a furrowed brow, clearly not as mesmerised as you were by his mere presence.
Rick hummed softly. "Asked the guy on the door nicely," he told him. "I was actually coming to talk to Y/N about a business endeavour, so if you could give us a minute-"
You froze, the room temperature bottle of water you'd been about to offer him slipping from your grip and clattering to the ground, and Eddie glanced in your direction, waiting for your permission to stay.
"Eddie and I make all our business decisions together," you started softly. "Have done since we were 15," you added.
Rick nodded, clearing his throat. "Right, well, I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Sweetheart. I'm in the business of making money, and what I saw out there was a potential money-making machine." He hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering over to Eddie, still hovering protectively at your side. "But I'll be honest, I don't think you're putting your best foot forward at the moment. The band are good, but I'm not exactly seeing star potential, and you, in the right hands, could be a household name."
"I'm sorry, I must be misunderstanding, because it sounds to me like you're telling me to leave Corroded Coffin," you murmured, blinking at him for a moment. "Which is crazy, because these guys are my family."
