This Is A Public Call: Does Anyone Know Of Any Good George Harrison Fics?? I Have Read So Many But I

i hate when other people are funnier than me.

Golden Eighties (Chantal Akerman, 1986)

Like excuse me-did you not hear what I just said 🙄😒

- devil's advocate -

pairing: eddie munson x reader (no prns)

word count: 3.9k

content: spoiler free, sex but no smut (i'm struggling to commit to smut), tutor troupe, swearing, smoking, drinking, my rusty writing and horrible attempt to write from the r-r-r-readers perspective 🤢 also tw the reader is good at math

summary: after hooking up with eddie munson 3 seperate times in a month and never talking about it, you somehow get stuck tutoring him.

a/n: im alive i promise. are any of my followers alive? no. but i am.

Hooking up with Eddie Munson was a one time thing. 

Ok, maybe, a two time thing.

Well, if you were being honest with yourself, it was a three time thing. Three times in one month.  

It was supposed to happen once. 

Never once did you anticipate ever speaking to Eddie ever again after walking up to him at Vicki Carmicheal’s party. When he stepped closer, his alcohol-tainted breath fanning on you, you guessed he thought the same. You didn’t even think you would remember the night when you closed the gap.

—

“Eddie Munson, stay after class.” 

Thankful that you weren't in Eddie’s shoes, you gathered your stuff to leave school for the day with the rest of the class. 

“Oh,” your teacher’s eyes left his laptop to scan over the room, “And Y/n L/n.” 

—

At the bonfire, when your blurred vision picked up the brown curls of Eddie Munson, you attempted to ignore heat that surged across your body. You blamed it on the alcohol. You blamed the way his chest wavered as he locked his eyes with you on the alcohol. Alcohol is what guided your hands under his shirt and what pushed his body flush to yours. You would blame a lot of what you did that night on the alcohol.

—

A tense silence stuffed the classroom as you, Eddie, and your teacher sat awkwardly across from each other. Eddie was intensely avoiding eye contact and you tried to keep your leg from bouncing as you all waited for somebody to speak.

“Mr. Munson,” your teacher started, “You, my boy, have the lowest grade out of any student of Hawkens High enrolled in Algebra 2.” He let his statement linger in the air, allowing the both of you to absorb his words, then, he continued.

“But, since I really do believe in you, I’ve taken it upon myself to get you a tutor until your grade has improved.” 

You could practically see Eddie's face curl up in anguish. 

“Am I not allowed to pick my own?”

Your teacher shook his head slowly, “No. I have picked out the perfect candidate.” 

—

When you heard Eddie Munson was coming to Hagan’s new years party, you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that had danced around your chest. His being tainted your head as you got ready, your eyes trained to how he would see you. A flash of him interrupted every blink. His voice whispered in your ear. Ghosts of touch lingered on your skin. 

When you finally got to the party, your eyes dodged every other person there, since they were desperately darting around. Music pumped through your veins as you grabbed a cup of whatever was in the punch bowl, eyes still scanning the room. Downing it as fast as you could, you let the buzz of the booze wash over you and resumed your search. A glimpse of leather, a black and white baseball tee, a flash of red. Finally, he was in frame. 

Your breath caught as his eyes slowly moved over your form, shyly meeting your own. Multi-colored lights glided across his body, his white shirt so shear the ink of his tattoos could be seen through it. Music drowned out your heartbeat. You could feel the blush that crawled up your cheeks, Eddie's own color reflected back. Carefully, you let one foot float in front of the other and walked over to Eddie. Alcohol already fusing with your body, you let your hand casually hook around his belt loop. Using your new connection, you guided him out of the house, a smirk pulling on the corner of Eddie’s lip as he let you lead.  

“Not even gonna say hi first,” he scoffed, hands raised. 

“We can talk when I’m high,” you countered, sitting down behind Mr. Hagan’s shed, and desperately attempting to cover up your flustered expression from the adrenalin. 

Eddie dawned a faux-concerned expression. “I think this drug problem is getting really serious.” 

“Shut up Munson.” 

His smirk reformed as he pulled out that stupid rusty box, and rummaged through it until he found a pre and a lighter. After straightening it out a bit, he gently placed the joint between his teeth. Each satisfying swipe of the lighter dragged your eyes down to his lips. The flame that danced over the sides of the joint lured your gaze to stray from Eddie’s deep eyes to focus on his mouth as he exhaled a puff of smoke, letting some stream into his nose.

After a couple more hits, he held the joint out to you between two fingers, glazed eyes watching the stars. You gratefully accepted it, attempting to clear your mind of the vision of the moonlight cascading down his face, sculpting each dip and grove. You breathed deep when your lips were sealed around the filter, letting the smoke fill your lungs. Each hit brought you back to him. Back to how close you were seated, how his leg felt against yours, how he'd begun to slide his hand closer to you.

His hand lingered above your exposed thigh, just grazing it with the skin of his palm. Chills swept down your legs as the cool metal of his rings brushed across your skin, and you could feel the curve of his satisfied smile at your reaction as he leaned into your shoulder. His hand carefully curled around your leg, slowly gliding its way up. 

“What are you doing Eddie,” you whispered. 

He replied lowly, so close you could feel each syllable against your skin as they left his lips, “Whatever you want me to.” 

—

The sound of yours and Eddie's shoes against the deserted linoleum of the school hallways was unnerving. Binders and spiral notebooks dug into your skin as you gripped them, hands white knuckled and clammy. You could just barely feel the denim of his jacket brush against your arm, and you half wished he would move further away as you walked. 

You had to tutor Eddie fucking Munson. Your teacher hadn’t spared either of you a moment before sending you off to the library, giving you just enough time to overthink the next hour. 

It wasn’t easy being near Eddie. You two had never interacted outside of sex, and it was difficult to interact normally, acting as if nothing had happened. But what were you supposed to say? How do you approach a conversation about that? Not even just that though, how do you approach any conversation with somebody you’ve never even spoken to outside of sex? You’ve never even had a conversation with him sober. Was he even going to listen to you teach? Would his whole view and respect for you be skewed? And how on earth were you supposed to talk to him when such a striking mix of weed and cologne permanently emanated from him. Your brain probably wouldn’t even work well enough to teach him math. 

He seemed fine. That familiar stupid smirk hung on his face as he held the library door open for you with a flourish.

The thank you said in return probably counted more as mouthing than speaking. 

Acutely aware of his intense gaze on you, you awkwardly led him to one of the old chipped tables in the corner of the library, far away from any remaining students. Your chair creaked as you pulled it out, breaking the silence you and Eddie had been drowned in since you left class. You finally unclamped your hands from around your notebooks and began to lay them out on the table busily while Eddie fished around in his pocket for something. 

Turns out it was a singular dull pencil without an eraser. 

“Alright,” you said uncertainly, sitting down and trying to organize your brain, “Um… where do you want to start?” 

“You’re the teacher here, where should we start?” 

Of course he was gonna make this difficult. 

“Ok. Fine.” You shuffled your papers around, not really for any reason, just to bide yourself some time. “Do you have any questions about today’s lesson?” 

His face instantly slipped into a deep troubled pondering expression. One that was much too dramatic for Eddie to be serious. “What did we learn?” 

“Matrices and transition graphs,” you almost deadpanned.

Gears began to visibly turn in his head, and he muttered, “Matrices and transition graphs… ahh…”

“You have no clue what those are, do you?” 

“Not one.” 

You sighed, not even shocked, not even angry. It was honestly sort of tough to conceal your smile. 

“I'm going to be your tutor for a while, aren't I." 

He shot you a grin, “Only if I have it my way.” 

—

Tutoring Eddie Munson was alright. 

That’s what you told to anybody who asked.

In reality, tutoring Eddie Munson was much more than alright. 

You had never really ever been around somebody like him. He exuded a disconcerting aire of cocky but comforting, cool but offbeat. At every moment when you thought that he would finally upset you, he would wheel in the exact opposite direction, driving your emotions through a startlingly enjoyable route. 

Shockingly, he was pretty easy to talk to. Never once did your past encounters get brought up, which you were endlessly grateful for, and he treated you just like any of his friends, with respect and kindness, which could not be said for some of your other past hookups. He said hi to you in the halls and smiled at you from across classes, he learned your favorite music and what food you hated, he made an effort to know you. Tutoring him barely felt like work. Most of the time that you spent teaching him math was overlaid with chatting mindlessly and giggling as he tried to secretly count on his fingers. Sometimes you could waste whole tutoring sessions listening to some grand dramatic story he told as he bounded around your table, morphing into different characters and voices, putting on a full one-man show before you. 

He was also, completely and utterly, gorgeous. 

The way his hair draped delicately over his shoulder, how his necklaces dangled from his skin as he leaned over the table, when he would tilt his head to the side as he listened, the glimpses of his tattoos. Every word you spoke and every syllable you uttered had his undivided attention as you talked, big brown eyes gazing at you, taking in every feature. 

On cloud-free days, the sun would beam down through the tall library windows onto the dark oak of the table you had both claimed and would reflect off of the silver of his rings. They would glint distractingly as Eddie wrote, catching your eye at every shift. It happened so often you had now memorized his usual jewelry selections. A great ugly boar rested on his middle finger, accompanied by one skull ring on either side. On his other hand, an ornate ring with patterns that curled up the side and cradled a deep blue stone in the center.

He knew you were staring at his hands, but you didn’t care.

His unflinching reaction towards your gaze gave you just enough of a push to one day ask, “Could I… try on one of your rings?” 

His eyebrows raised in shock, “You want to wear my jewelry? This is quite out of character…”  He flashed a toothy grin at you from across the table, “I love it.”

“Thanks for reminding me how much you love the real me,” you deadpanned, ignoring the excitement that was bubbling up your chest. 

“Forever and always,” another shining grin, “Now…” he said dramatically, face suddenly darkening, “Which one will you choose… your whole reputation depends on this one decision.” He waved his hands around with a flourish. “Will you still have your student’s respect after this? Will anybody ever talk to you again? We will see..” His hands stilled in front of you, and he held them out to give you a clear view of each band.

You put one hand up to your chin, miming contemplating the choice, and let your other hand drop down to his own, taking one finger and guiding it across his knuckles. His chest completely stilled.

“Hmmm…”

Your finger came to a halt over the intricate ring with the blue jewel. Eddie’s smile reformed and he faintly exhaled as your finger lost contact with his skin. 

“Good choice,” he said, not looking up at you. His eyes were trained at his own hand, slowly twisting the band off of his ring finger. They continued to avoid yours as, to your surprise, he didn’t give you the ring after he had freed it from his own finger. 

He took your right hand in his, his skin gently curving around your own, and brought his thumb beneath your ring finger, lifting it above the others. Your chest began to heat up at the delicacy with which he delivered this, and you urgently tried to blot out the earlier instances when Eddie had held you with the same touch. It felt like he was barely grazing your skin, and yet you could feel, with a searing intensity, each joint of each of his fingers shifting under your flesh, curling and stilling around you. 

Chills shot up your spine as the cool metal of the chosen ring finally met your skin, and at last, Eddie raised his eyes to meet your own. They remained riveted on yours as his fingers guided the band down your finger and, though the ring was fully fastened, his fingers remained resting against your skin. He let them stray up, delicately brushing against you as he cradled your hand.

The raw air chilled your skin when he drew away. 

You’re grateful he didn't say anything when you left that session with the ring still fixed around your finger, because you don’t think you could’ve gone through that again anytime soon. 

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s touch.

—

The issue with Eddie was, despite your best efforts, he would never leave your thoughts. Every sense was occupied non stop by his smell, his voice, his gaze. Intoxicatingly, you overdosed on every part of him, eventually giving up on blocking his presence and allowing him to consume each and every thought you produced.

He seemed to know that even after you left him, he remained a permanent fixture in your mind. It was written in his smug smile and his playful jabs, the knowing. 

His presence was so constant that it must’ve been on purpose. 

Each little thing. Him using your pencil casually during school, knowing you could see. Never mentioning the ring that still lay on your finger, allowing you the chance to keep it. The glances down your being as you passed, catching him staring across the class, touches that lasted far too long. He wanted you to be thinking of him.

There were nights when you, under the golden light of your desk lamp, would open your notebook to doodles dotted around the edges of your paper, snuck in while you were focused on something else. The pages of anything you brought to tutoring were lined with cartoonish devils and creatures with many legs and sharp teeth that lined their roaring mouths that Eddie had thought up. Vines curled around the lining of the page, and a little mix-matched group of elvis and wizards dashed across the top margin. In the very bottom corner, tucked between a crude drawing of a smiling clown and an ornate sword, was a drawing he seemed to have put a bit more time into. 

The more you examined it, the stronger that recognizable heat radiated across your chest. It was a bust's profile, with the head tilted slightly down and brows furrowed in concentration, pen carefully structuring the swooping bridge of a nose and curvature of lips. 

It wasn't flawless, but there was no mistaking that it was you.

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s thoughts. 

—

Eddie’s math grades had actually begun to improve, and in class you watched with pride as he started to listen to your teacher, sometimes even taking notes. He would show you his math tests with a huge smile, genuinely excited to see how you would react at his new shiny high score. 

Mid-way through April, he sauntered into the library, horribly concealing the giddy expression that was forming on his face and a hand behind his back. 

You inquired, your face beginning to reflect his smile, "Something terrible happen to you, Ed?"

“Oh it’s nothing,” he said, drifting around the table as if he was wandering through a lush garden, “just… this!” and the hand that had been hidden behind his back whipped out to reveal a paper with a great red “93%” scrawled on it. 

“Eddie!” you sprung out of your chair and ran over to where he was to snatch the paper out of his hand. “This is fucking g-” 

But before you could finish your sentence, he flung his arms around you and drew you into a hug. “I’m a genius now, thanks to you,” he whispered into your ear, as you brought your arms up to loop around his back. 

“You don't even need me anymore,” you whispered back, trying to fight the urge to bury your head into the crook of his neck. 

Eddie pulled away abruptly, looking at you as if you had just slid a knife into his chest. “Don’t you try and get rid of me.” His face was inches from yours, hands dropping to rest against your hips instead of fully pulling away. You let your head tilt to the side gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He shook his head with a faux-anxious aire, “I’m gonna have to start failing my tests again so that you can’t escape, aren’t I?” 

You could barely even focus on what he was saying because of how vividly you were aware of how his hands rested against your jeans, how you could smell the weed in his hair and the leather of his jacket, how he hadn’t broken eye contact since he pulled from the hug. 

His smile had finally returned to his face, he had gone off on some tangent and was animatedly talking, clearly still giddy from his test score. That smile had become a very important part in your life as of late. They weren’t rare or extreme, but they were somehow better every time. 

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s being. 

—

Liking Eddie Munson was hard. 

Eddie Munson sticks to what he knows. Eddie Munson gets bored easily. Eddie Munson won’t ask you out. 

You knew he was going to Steve Harington’s birthday party. You didn’t know how he even managed to get invited but you knew he was going. And he knew that you were going too. 

But when you got to Steve’s house, he was nowhere to be found. You had spent the first 30 minutes, walking around and making brief conversation with people as you half-searched for Eddie. As you made your way around the house, still unable to find him, you began asking people off-handedly if they had seen the freak (under the pretext of giving him his math homework back). The few answers that you received that weren’t weird looks got you nowhere, and eventually you found yourself finally just aimlessly roaming through the upper floors of the Harringtons' house. 

It was useless. The top level was completely empty, save for a rather awkward encounter with Nancy and Steve as they were leaving his bedroom, and you knew it was time to leave. At the very least, you needed some fresh air if you weren't going to entirely go, so you returned to the first floor and into the foyer.

You flung the front door open with a huff and your eyes landed on a figure that was standing on the porch of the house across the street. Cigarette haze clouded around him, catching the moonlight in its smoke and giving him an almost dreamlike glow as he let his head hang back. Despite yourself, you let his name fall from your lips, shouting across the empty street, “Eddie?” 

He casually swung himself around to face you, eyes foggily making their way to meet your own, lighting up as they cleared. A smile had begun to spread across his face and he lifted up his hand to beckon you to him. Slowly, you floated across the abandoned road and up the few stairs to the neighbors porch, leaning over the balcony railing and basking in the cool spring night that you both found yourself in. Eddie gently leaned his back against it, taking a drag from his half finished cigarette as he did so. 

“Do you wanna go on a walk with me?” 

You didn’t try to hide the grin that tugged at your lips. “Where to?” 

“Just around,” he said with a shrug and a smile, and he set off, one hand deep in his pocket and smoke billowing from his lips. Following behind him, you quickly caught up and paced beside Eddie, melting into the mix of collonge and cigarettes that exuded from him. 

The faint murmur of music could still be heard coming from the street, pumping adrenaline and impulse through your bones as if it was the cold itself. You, again, could feel the leather of Eddie's jacket brushing against your bare arm, static branching from the skin. Lonely street lamp’s glow glinted on the shining leather and in the brown of his averted eyes. 

Eddie broke the silence first, eyes trained at the stars.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” He let out some smoke with a puff. 

It took you a while to recover enough words to form a sentence in reply and, thankful for Eddie's avoidance of eye contact, you let yourself breath before giving an answer. 

“What… about me?” You tried to come off as nonchalant but you could tell he could hear the tenseness dripping off your voice. 

“About” and it was his turn to waver now, sucking in an uneven breath that you could only just hear, “your… whole being.”

He pushed his head into his hands and let out a laugh. An actual, honest, almost desperate, laugh. “Every waking moment I’ve ever spent with you,” he continued, “Every word you’ve ever spoken, every time you’ve ever looked in my direction.” With each word he spoke he seemed to be in less and less control of what he was saying, more and more frenzied.

You hadn’t moved. You stood stagnant, in the middle of the empty street, streetlights spotlighting you and him, blacking out the rest of the world into dark expanse, and stared at Eddie Munson as he said words you couldn’t dream of and looked at you like he never had before. 

As Eddie stood just inches before you, a lock of hair caught between his teeth, looking at you for a response with worry etched deep in his features. You knew what you wanted to say, and when you breathed in and readied to reply, you just hoped it would come out how you wanted it to. 

“Eddie,” you reached out and took his hand, “Would you go on a date with me?” 

The worry that had felt so ingrained in his face dropped at all at once, and he gazed at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. 

“Did you mean that?” he whispered, so softly it was barely audible.

You let your forehead meet his, “Of course.”

When he spoke again his voice came out almost strained, as if he was trying to stay calm, "Then yes, yes, yes-" and, finally, he closed the gap between your lips, cupping your face and pressing against you like it was the last thing he would ever do.

And in that glorious moment it became very clear to you, hooking up with Eddie Munson was definitely not a one time thing.

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

where did all the time go

1991 Anglo American Eyewear Frog Sunglasses (via: Pinterest/archive.org)

mutuals im manifesting the softest and most tender august for all of you

EIGHTEEN, CRAZY (Part IV/?)

"Corroded Coffin"

Summary: With her highschool experience coming to an end, Y/n finally grows tired of her parents' long lasting effort to make her the perfect girl; if they refuse to let her live her best life, she'll make them live their worst— and what can possibly be worse than having your lovely daughter mingling with Eddie Munson?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Genre: mostly fluff/fake dating

Tags:

Eighteen, crazy: @greetings-and-salutations @ozdramaqueen

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: probably just language? Damn

A/N: this one's a little bit longer but it's fine bc we get a glimpse of corroded coffin and we love that. I saw someone name Unnamed Freak #1 Grant bc of the actor, so we're sticking with that. Enjoy<3

Prologue Part I Part II Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"—and when I tell you she was ruthless... Ugh." Lizzy's eyes rolled back in annoyance, fingers carding throw her hair to move it out of the way as we walked the halls in her locker's direction. "Anyway, my point is, you made the right choice by not coming to Tina's yesterday."

"Not much of a choice there, was it?" I corrected her, keeping my eyes front. "I had to tutor Eddie."

A single amused laugh left my friend's mouth. "He's a bit of a nightmare, isn't he?" Before I could agree with her, Lizzy pointed at four punk boys idling near Ms. O'Donnell's classroom. "Speaking of the devil."

To the blonde's surprise —and mine—, I jogtrotted to the group until I was at arm's reach and tapped Eddie's back, until then turned to us.

"Hey!" He seemed taken aback by my cheerful demeanor and took him a painfully long instant to snap out of the confusion and jump into character, a toothy grin tugging on the corners of his mouth as he turned his body to face me.

"Well good morning, m'lady." Stealing a quick look at his friends, I wondered how much they knew about our arrangement. Taking in consideration their distrustful visages, probably not a lot. "Hey, Lizzy."

My head spun to see my friend, who had caught up with my quick pace, and was now subtly waving her hand at the metalhead.

"How was the test?" I inquired, returning my attention to Eddie.

"Oh?" He shifted awkwardly in place, clearly not expecting my question. "It was good, I... think? Dunno, I don't wanna jinx it." He grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll get the grade next week."

"I'm sure it'll be a good grade." I reassured him with a genuine smile. "Next time we should start studying earlier, though. Not just, you know," I vaguely gestured with my hand. "The day before."

"Yes, ma'am." He teased, leaning forward for a second, only to retreat back fast as lightning, undecipherable brown irises staring straight into my own. "Is that it or...?"

"Uh, yeah." I gave him a short nod with pursed lips. "Yes, that's it."

After a second of awkward silence, I cleared my throat and excused both me and Lizzy before waving the boys goodbye.

"There was absolutely no need to make it that awkward." Lizzy commented in a whisper.

"Shut up, okay?" I mumbled mortified, fighting the urge to run into the nearest bathroom and die because what the fuck was that.

We didn't get far before my name was called from the history classroom's door, loud enough to be heard above the usual hubbub caused by the seniors and underclassmen.

"Y/n! Hey!" In a couple of strides, Eddie was once again in front of me, looking as fidgety as I had ever seen him. "Hi. Again." With a nervous titter, his bravado demeanor was completely gone, so much that he averted his gaze from mine. "Uhm... You know, I'm— I'm in a band?" He questioned more than stated, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, Liz told me." I credited my friend, pointing my thumb at her.

"Nice, so" He shot a silent cry for help to what I figured were his friends. "We gig at The Hideout on Tuesdays, at 10pm."

"Really? That's really cool."

"Yeah, pretty cool," he finally gathered the courage to make eye contact. "we actually got a crowd of five... Drunks." After tearing a laugh out of me, his shoulders began to relax. "You should come see us. If you want."

"Oh." Oh. My face tightened, sympathy getting in the way of rejection. "Actually," Already knowing the answer, Eddie's shoulders slumped. "We got a Calc test tomorrow and I kinda suck at it so—"

"That's okay." He gave me an understanding nod, shoving his hands on his back pockets. "I was—"

"You said you play every Tuesday?" I cut him off, brewing what I knew to be a crazy idea in my mind.

"Yeah, every Tuesday. Unless it gets cancelled."

"Well, don't cancel the next one." The ghost of a coy smile appeared on my face at his wide eyed expression.

"Alright, we gotta go." Lizzy announced, situating herself behind me to push me forward. "Bye Ed."

"See you, ladies."

One Week Later

"Y/nnnn!" I barely had time to close my locker and turn at the singsong sound of my name before two ring clad hands spun me around, making me squeal in the process. "Y/n, my beloved, my sweet darling, my saving grace." He listed the titles with unnecessary dramatism and a lot of gesticulation with both of our hands, as he held my palms on his own.

A confused giggle escaped my lips, unknowingly returning Eddie's touch by rubbing the back of his hand with my thumbs. "Okay, what's going on?"

He halted his movements, letting go of me to dig in his backpack. After shuffling through it, he pulled out a piece of paper with a cocky grin. "I got a C+ in Ms. O'Donnell's." He announced, chin tilted up while he handed out proof of his words.

Effectively, a big 'C+' had been written and circled in red ink on the top corner of the sheet. "WHAT? OH MY GOD!" My chest unreasonably swelled at the grade, wide eyes ping-ponging between the test and Eddie's toothy smile. "That's great, that's actually great. Well done Eddie!" Without thinking twice, I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick, euphoric hug.

Even though he was quick to hide it, I didn't fail to notice the initial sheepishness taking over Eddie once I pulled away. "Gotta give you some credit for putting up with me, huh?" He pointed out in a joking manner.

"We should go celebrate." I suggested, spinning to shut the locker, which had been left open behind me.

"No can do." Eddie let his shoulder fall on the row of lockers in order to re-enter my visual field. "Got band practice and then—"

"The gig at The Hideout, yeah."

"You remembered." The boy seemed somewhat surprised. "You coming?"

"I'm thinking about it." I tried my best to play contemplative and hold back the suggestive smile. It's supposed to be a surprise, I reminded myself, mirroring Eddie's posture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jesus Christ!" I could see my best friend's grimace reflected on her vanity mirror, in front of which she sat retouching her eyeshadow. "Gag me with a spoon."

"Don't be mean, Linda." I chastised her from the heavily cushioned bed, helping Lizzy pick up her Calc notes that, with any luck, would get me from a D- to a B.

"Is this, like, important to you?" George questioned from the rug without looking at us, eyebrows furrowed at his notebook.

"It's part of the deal." I lied. Why did I lie?

"Oh, spare me." Liz snorted, inquisitive eyes digging holes into my elusive frame. "You're dragging that excuse now."

"Okay, it's not a part of the deal! So what?!" I glared at my friends in vexation, slamming the notes on the mattress. "He's putting up with so much shit lately, so forgive me if I wanna do something nice for him."

A tense silence flooded Linda's bedroom, which was broken as soon as a swift exchange of glances took place among my friends.

"I'll phone Steve." Linda began. "See if he can help."

"I can call Tina." Lizzy followed.

"Someone's gotta make sure none of Tommy H's friends show up so," George sighed, finally rising from the floor. "I guess that's me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why?"

"Oh, I just wanna know if I have to practice extra hard later." I tilted my head at his playful tone, unable to tell if he was joking or not.

"Well I—"

"Eddie, c'mon! We gotta get going, dude!" A passerby's hand yanked the long-haired boy's sleve, making him roll his eyes.

"Alright, sweetheart, duty calls." He took a step forward and planted a soft kiss on my temple before taking off while I stayed helplessly frozen in place. "see you around!"

It took a good minute for my body to start functioning again, and when it did, my face felt burning hot. God, I hated it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

"EDDIE!!"

I seethed at Gareth's voice, pausing my motions when I heard his quick steps coming my way from the inside of the bar.

I had used the establishment's back door —as per usual before every gig— to go out, tune my guitar and have a smoke. It was my little ritual, a brief but effective alone time moment before the show. Apparently, not even that was allowed.

"What." I spat at the youngest bandmate, throwing the cigarette to the concrete and stepping on it.

"It's— they're— there's—" I frowned at his stuttering and the way he frantically motioned into the bar with his drumsticks. "Jeez, just— you gotta see it. C'mon!" He urged, gesturing me to follow him back in, which I reluctantly did.

I was about to tell him off for interrupting my routine for something stupid, but then we turned the corner to get to the poor excuse of a stage we played on and I froze.

There was, objectively, a lot of people —and I mean a lot—, most of them around our age; considering we usually played for five to seven middle aged men... Well, the current situation was a bit overwhelming at the very least.

"I think your girlfriend brought them." Gareth whispered, trailing after me while I climbed up to where Jeff and Grant stood confused.

I couldn't find it in myself to face the crowd just yet, so instead of skimming our incoming audience, I asked, "Y/n's here?"

"Uh... Yeah." Grant bobbed his head at where the bar counter was, prompting me to look. I peeked over my shoulder and instantly met Y/n's gaze. She gave me a timid wave, which I returned with a snort because why on earth did she look nervous? It was us performing in front of classmates that called us freaks in the high school halls.

"Okay. Listen up." I leaned into my bandmates, hanging the strap of the guitar across my chest so I could clench and unclench my fists in an attempt to rid myself off the anxiety. "This may be new, but a crowd is a crowd; doesn't matter if it's five people or fifty, alright? We're performers. We perform. Got it?" They all gave me a swift, resolved nod. "Don't get nervous and don't fuck it up. We got this."

There was a wave of murmured agreement preceding our retreat to our respective spots on the stage, which left me at the very front, exposed to all those eyes.

"Alright, guys." I spoke into the mic. I refused to sound somewhat shy or unsure, and therefore overcompensated by raising my voice as much as I could without screaming. "This is Corroded Coffin. I hope you're ready to rock, 'cause we sure as hell are." I shot a look over my shoulder at my three friends, who gave me their unanimous approval.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Y/n!" The girl shot me a panic-stricken look, eyes going comically wide when I turned all the attention to her. "This one's for you."

I couldn't help the amused grin tugging up the corner of my lips when I heard the nosey, unintelligible whispers that followed my shameless wink at the blushing mess of a girl Y/n had turned into.

Oddly enough, that granted me the confidence I needed to shred my guitar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

Only good things had come out of the gig, I thought to myself as everyone began to exit the place in order to return to their respective cars.

Eddie got his big crowd —who enjoyed the music more than they'll ever admit—, I had the privilege to see him play guitar, and people had approached me at least five times to ask me to congratulate my 'boyfriend' for his guitar solo, which I was gladly going to do.

The bar was still reasonably crowded when I approached the stage. While two of the band members helped the drummer dismantle his instrument, Eddie picked up the amplifiers and sends at the edge, which situated him just in the right spot to see me walk towards them.

"Hey there, sweetheart." He greeted me, crouching for us to be eye to eye.

"That was amazing."

Eddie motioned at the wide open front door, through which the multitude of classmates could still be seen by the cars. "You brought them all?"

I shook my head no, a smile escaping my lips are Eddie's raised brows. "I just... spread the word. Live music at The Hideout every Tuesday."

The boy before me observed my form with a mildly squinted, undecipherable gaze that made me both want to hide and get lost in his dark eyes.

"Are you gonna go home now?"

"I mean," I tittered nervously, toying with the hem of my short skirt. "I wasn't supposed to be out at all."

Eddie visibly pondered something, his lost irises landing on his black combat boots. "Okay hold on." Placing the wires and amps on the side, he climbed off the stage, adjusting his belt before letting his hand dig into every single one of his jeans' pockets until he found the keys to his van. He whistled at his bandmates until he drew the attention of one of them. After throwing him the keys, Eddie's focus returned to me. "Can't leave them stranded."

"Stranded?"

"I'm walking you home." He clarified, intertwining his fingers with mine in order to pull me close to his side and drape an arm over my shoulders. "C'mon, m'lady. Got a long walk ahead of us."

And just like that, we walked out of The Hideout, waving my friends goodbye and trying not to snicker at the looks everyone gave us while we crossed the parking lot.

Only when he considered we were completely out of sight, Eddie put some distance between us, making me miss the warmth of his body.

We walked in silence for a good while until sneaking glances at each other and flashing smiles wouldn't cut it anymore.

"So," Eddie began, eyes glued on the pavement and hands on his pockets while his foot kicked a rolling stone. "What'd you think? Did you like it?"

It took me a second to understand he meant the music. "Oh! Yeah, I think it was awesome! Weird, but awesome." He echoed my sentence in low, amused voice, the ghost of a smile making his dimples show. "You know? You looked a bit like uh..." I'm snapped my fingers repeatedly with a focused frown. "What's his name? Ugh!"

"I'm kinda scared of the comparison you're about to make." Eddie quipped.

"Why? I'm sure you know him." I groaned, pulling on the strings of my memory in hopes of remembering his name. "Lizzy has a crush on him. This one guitarist—" I clapped my hands, doing a little jump on the spot. "Eddie Van Halen!"

"Oh." Eddie's eyes went wide. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Oh my God, are you blushing?"

"Pfft no I'm not." He unconvincingly stated, his voice going up an octave. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." I breathed out an amused laugh, raising my hands in surrender.

"You don't have to, I hear your thoughts." He whispered, pulling a caricaturseque scary face whilst bending in my direction.

"Creep." I playfully shoved his arm, earning a cackle from him.

"Lizzy has a crush on Eddie Van Halen?" I hummed affirmatively and he clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side. "The lady's got taste."

"I think she might have a crush on you too."

"You think so?"

"I mean... You look a bit like him. And you play guitar." I pointed out, motioning at his fit and guitar, strapped to his back. "Liz loooves guitarists." I shrugged, putting my hands behind my back. "If you want, when this is over, I can set you guys up."

"Nah." Eddie shook his head no, eyes falling back down from me to his boots. "Lizzy's cool and all, but I don't mingle with the popular crowds. Oil and water."

"You mingle with me."

"Yeah, 'cause we got a deal."

"Uhm Y/n?" Eddie spoke again refusing to walk in silence for another couple of minutes. "tell me something about you."

Ouch.

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just stayed quiet, forcing myself to ignore Eddie's inquisitive irises on me and choosing to observe the poorly lit suburban street instead. Luckily, we were close to my house.

"Something like what?"

"Dunno, favorite book?" I quirked a brow at the metalhead and he sighed, overtaking me to walk backwards before me. "We're supposed to be 'dating', and if someone asked me what you like, I wouldn't know how to reply."

"Fair point." I agreed, deciding to indulge him. "Alright, favorite book... Probably Jane Eyre."

"Jane Eyre?"

"Yeah."

He snorted. "You're weird."

"What's yours— if you even read."

"Ouch!" He mockingly stabbed himself on the heart, throwing his head back.

"I'm kidding, I swear!" I assured him with a surprised laugh, my hands reaching out to stop him from tripping.

"Okay, mine's Lord Of The Rings."

"Oh! Which part?"

"You've read it?" My eyes followed his movements while he retreated to his original position to walk by my side. "Obviously not, 'cause your favorite book is Jane Eyre." The side of my fist bumped his arm in feigned outrage.

"I tried, but I never got past the Ents."

"What?!" Eddie nearly jumped at my statement.

"The Ents" I groaned dramatically. "They're sooo annoying!"

"How dare you!"

"They're insufferable."

"You're insufferable." I slapped away Eddie's accusing index finger with a smile.

"Oh," I halted my steps, eyes fixed on my house. 'this is perfect."

"What's perfect?"

"My mom's by the window."

"D'you want me to put on a bit of a show?" Eddie's tone was dangerous; he had 'trouble' written all over his face.

"Yes."

With a wink, he took my hand in his and led me to the front sidewalk of the house, only stopping when he was sure my mother had an acceptable view of us.

"Is making out still off the table?"

"Eddie." I warned him, seeing the grin dancing on his lips as he turned to face me, readjusting the strap of his guitar so the instrument wouldn't come in the way.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. C'mere."

My eyes went wide when Eddie's ringed fingers found the right side my waist, slowly drawing me in. "What are you doing?" I muttered, trying not to panic when he more hesitantly placed his free hand on my left hip.

"Put your arms around my neck." I did as I was told, feeling his breathed whisper fan on my skin due to the lack of distance between us. "Is your dear mother looking?"

I peeked over Eddie's shoulder to see my mother standing by the window with a folded arms. "Yeah." I barely had time to return my attention to Eddie before he dove in, body arching into mine while our noses bumped.

But that's all he did.

"woah."

"Don't laugh now." He chastised me, anticipating I would most likely burst into nervous giggles due to the situation.

"I'm trying my best." I assured him, gnawing on my lower lip to try and comply, which almost led Eddie himself into a fit of laughter.

His lashes fluttered close as he forced himself to stay in character instead of pulling away to chuckle. Taking a deep breath, his lids opened once more and he leaned a but further, planting a kiss on the corner of my lips.

My racing heart was nearly put under cardiac arrest when my front door bursted open. "Y/n! What in God's name are you doing?!"

Eddie hissed, pulling away just enough to meet my eyes. "She's religious?"

"Mhm." I confirmed, finally allowing my shoulders to shake due to my chuckling. "Devoted."

"Get inside!"

"Coming, mother!" I shouted, letting my hands slide down from Eddie's neck until they rested atop his chest.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He announced, squeezing my side before letting me go.

"Eddie? You got my phone number right?" He gave me a quick nod while I took a step back and circled him. "Call me when you get home, okay?"

"As you wish. Hey, Y/n," his digits brushed mine, stopping me from taking another step further in my mother's direction. "Thanks for tonight."

As a response, I briefly took his hand in mine, rubbing the back of it with my thumb before resuming my walk.

Due to my back being turned to Eddie, I missed his puzzled half smile, and the way he almost tripped when he began to undo our path.

NO girl dont ruin your early 20s by staying home every saturday and lamenting the death of your childhood while also being afraid to even act like a 20 something year old bc you still feel so young yet so old and lost all at once haha you’re so sexy!