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

Part 2 of this Eddie fic :)

Uh duh. Thanks to everyone who loved it so much!! Slow burn🤪

I never realized how boring my life is without Eddie constantly bugging me- and flirting with me- nearly every single day.

Since the minute we both hit puberty and had the “birds and the bees” talk- awkwardly- with his uncle, we’d always looked at each other in a different way and we’ve always been bashful and flirty. Always.

But weeks have passed since I've seen Eddie, since I've spoken to him in any way other than quick glances shared in the hallway. This wasn’t us being bashful and giddy around each other, this was genuine fear on both sides to talk about what had happened.

Maybe it was because I implied that I wanted to kiss him- to feel his lips against me in more ways than one- and maybe he got nervous after his uncle came home almost immediately after I openly commented about his talented mouth.

But this is possibly the longest we've gone without talking to one another, even in the midst of the rest of our friend group and at Hellfire.

The group has definitely picked up on the added tension between the two of us, realizing that something must've happened between us but I'm sure they don't realize the extent of what happened. That Eddie openly dirty talked me into a pool of submission and arousal- that he made me want to rip his clothes off then and there, to draw noises out of him that I’ve only dreamed about. I can only imagine that they would never understand the way Eddie spoke to me and how it made me feel- the words he said to me that had my mind turning to mush, the words that play on an instant repeat in my mind.

"I wonder how wet I can get you just by talking to you like this."

"Do you think about my fingers, my rings?"

"So needy, pining for your best friend."

I shiver and turn in my seat to look back at Eddie as he stares down at his history textbook, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He's been trying to do better in all of his classes lately, wanting nothing more than to graduate with me this year, but it's now me who struggles to pay attention in class. My mind is in the gutter and swimming with thoughts of talking to him- fucking him, to be frank.

Suddenly, he looks up and freezes, his lips parting in quiet shock at the sight of my eyes locked on him. I send him a small wave, pulling a soft smile out of him as he shifts in his seat, sending me back a tight lipped smile. I nod towards the door, watching his brows pull together in gentle, boyish confusion. Raising my hand without giving him another moment to ponder, the teacher sighs and she calls on me.

"May I go to the bathroom?"

By the time Eddie finally frees himself of the confines of class and stumbles out of the school, spotting me leaning against his van, he looks frustrated. His hands are shoved in his pocket and his breath reflects in the cold air.

"Are you kidding- get your ass in the van, you're gonna freeze your ass off, kid." He mutters unlocking the van and pushing me into the slightly warmer vehicle. I immediately crawl under the blankets that he has folded in the back, watching him shut the door tightly and relax against the wall. His eyes are demanding yet soft, his gaze trailing over me, almost asking 'well?'.

"I know we've been avoiding each other since, uh..." I trail off, flashbacks riddling my brain as his cheeks flush. He looks away from me quickly, clearing his throat and he pulls a blanket over his lap. "I miss you and I'm sorry if I ruined anything by being pesky." I huff, feeling better after apologizing but feeling even more confused when he looks physically pained at the thought of me feeling guilty for all of this.

"Fuck- you didn't ruin anything, babe- I just didn't know you felt that way about me." My heart leaps at the pet name, my tongue slipping out to wet my lips as they continue to dry. "I didn't know you wanted to know me like that." I crave you like that. There's a soft, bashful smile on his lips and I scoff, shaking my head incredulously.

"You genuinely didn't realize that I wanted you like that?" My question seems to take him off guard, his brows lifting in shock at my forwardness.

"Is that really how you feel?" He asks, moving towards me as he scoots to sit between my legs. His voice comes out breathless, as if he's been holding onto that question for years, a weight lifting from his shoulder as his hand reaches out to rest on my knee.

"I wouldn't have put myself out there if I didn't want you." I whisper, lowering my gaze from his. "I was just too embarrassed to make a move o-or ask you if you felt a similar way-"

"I do- fuck, I always have." He laughs, reaching out towards me to place a hand on my knee. "I've wanted to talk to you, the last few weeks, I mean. But I was terrified that you just closed up on me and would never want to look at me again." He huffs exasperatedly, with a shy smile, his brows twitching anxiously. I bite my tongue for a few moments, looking over his nervous frame wondering where my confident best friend went. Did I seriously turn him into an anxious, boyish bundle of stress?

"I've been looking at you." I whisper, my voice quivering as his eyes lift, gazing up at me through his dark lashes. He waits for a moment, waiting for me to go on and the comfortable silence he offers me only makes me want to go on. "Thinking about you."

"Thinking about what?" He asks, barely giving me a chance to add onto my statement. I just clear my throat and push the blanket off of me, stalking across the van to slide down into his lap. He doesn't argue, just wraps his arms around my waist. He looks up at me with a teasing look but there's a sense of sincerity behind his dark hues.

"Being close to you again." I let out a brief sigh of relief, playing with the ends of his curls.

"What else?" He asks, leaning down to gently press a kiss to my exposed collarbone, a shiver running down my spine but not from the cold- no, I couldn't be more warm.

"You kissing me." I grin, my head tipping back to allow his lips to venture further up the column of my throat. He chuckles against my skin and grips at my waist, my head spinning from arousal.

"Where?"

"Everywhere." I giggle, loving the laugh that rumbles in his chest. He pulls back to look up at me, brows pulled together, feigning confusion with a shit-eating grin.

"Is that an offer?" He gasps, pulling me even more flush against him with a wicked look in his eyes. I just groan, my hands gripping onto his shoulders as words escape me.

"Please."

"Oh so it's not an offer, it's you begging." He teases, his lips skimming against mine ever-so slightly with no intent of kissing me until I tell him what I want- which is him. So simple and so plain but I can't seem to vocalize it, the words getting stuck on the tip of my tongue. Instead, one word comes out.

"Eddie..." He shushes me mockingly, reaching up to takes my cheeks in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine.

"Patience, sweetheart. You know I'd never leave you hanging."

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“‘Forests have secrets,’ he said gently. ‘It’s practically what they’re for. To hide things. To separate one world from another.’”

— Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless (via natural-magics)

party favours

summary: your best friend robin is in a bit of a pickle, and who else to help her out is there, but you? did she forget to mention eddie munson?

word count: 2.6k

warnings: mentions of drugs, drug use, FLUFFFFFFFF

“seriously, robin. if i wanted to be arrested for drug possession, i could think of a million other ways to do it.”

“really? you?”

you closed the lid on your flute, sitting snug as a bug in a rug within its case. “really. me.”

robin scoffed as she threw her trumpet with little care into its case, shutting its locks with a click. “for some unknown reason,” she eyeballed, looking you up and down, “you make that very hard to believe. besides, you’d really be doing me a favour here. you owe me, remember?”

“remind me?”

“last month when you skipped band practice to go to the mall? i had to tell mrs. blancher you came down with the craziest case of diahorrea?”

your fellow bandmates were slowly filing out of the music room, the blanket of chatter slowly leaving with them. hoping to escape this ploy you were very obviously being dragged into, you threw a handle of your backpack over your shoulder and grabbed your instrument off your chair. “you sure that was a favour?”

hurriedly grabbing her things and following close on your heels into the hallway, robin was growing desperate. “okay, okay, okay. i know it might not have been the best excuse, but i did it out of the goodness of my own heart! doesn’t that count for something?”

“okay, whatever. why can’t you just go get it yourself? i don’t understand why i have to go for you.”

“because i just so happen to have a shift at the video store with steve and won’t have time to do much else before the party.”

you rolled your eyes.

“pretty please? please, please, please do this eensie weensie little thing for me?” robin clutched her hand’s together so tightly that her knuckles were almost white, eyes scrunched closed in prayer.

despite not being friends for a very long time, you had to admit that your soft spot for robin ran pretty deep, as much as you liked to hide it. “alright! okay,” you sighed in admission. “i’ll go see munson.”

lunch was a sort of organised chaos - one that you never really had to think about beyond getting your food and walking to your usual table near the windows. if you really focused and examined your peers’ seating arrangements, you might be able to find some sort of hierarchy, but admittedly you were more interested in the food in front of you.

robin came into your field of consciousness with the grace of a baby deer, slamming her lunch tray onto the clear space of table next to you and making herself comfortable on the bench seat. “ah, how we meet again!” she laughed, nudging your shoulder.

“very funny, rob.” you laughed in response, nudging her back. “study period got you on the ritz again?”

“you know it. but something else has been nagging me even more, believe it or not.” she sighed into her meatloaf before downing a heaped spoonful. oh no, you think, i was hoping she forgot about that.

“i have.. almost this sixth sense.. that you’re avoiding the the task i so graciously handed off to you yesterday.” she raised her spoon at you, eyes reduced to slits. “am i right?”

you shrugged, quietly picking at the mystery meat in front of you. “i haven’t forgotten, don’t worry. just.. waiting for the right time.”

as if thinking the same thing, you both turn your heads to peer at the table a few from your own.

eddie munson was quite the character. ever since you started at hawkins’ high as a freshman and first seen him in the flesh, you had held a sort of fascination with him. you’ve always preferred keeping your head down and keeping to yourself, it’s always been easier to handle the lack of drama when you’d always been sort of… forgettable. the main character in a filler episode type of personality. but this boy never seemed to care what others thought of him - the mischevious smile that never failed to reach his eyes, that playful glint in his eye; it was enough to piss people off, but you found yourself a little jealous of his reckless abandon. your memory of him doesn’t pale in comparison to how he appears in front of you now, it only created a clearer picture.

although you couldn’t exactly tell what he and his friends were talking about, you could still hear the echoes of his voice travel across the cafeteria and see his arms wildly gesticulating something to the boys sitting around him. if you hadn’t known any better, from this angle he looked a bit like an excited kid (albeit, a kid two years older than you).

as if he could feel your gaze on him, he whipped his head around to look in your direction. he caught you staring long enough to throw you a questioning look. you continued to blankly stare at him before being ripped out of your reverie by a painful pinch from your neighbour. “eks-nay on the staring-ay, doofus.”

you quickly realised that you were basically staring all googly-eyed at eddie munson and were caught in the act by none other than the aforementioned party. “fuck. FUCK.” your hand flew to your brow to shield yourself from his view as you began to closely examine your meatloaf.

robin sounded exasperated, joining in on your stealth mission. “you better hope he doesn’t charge extra after that stunt you just pulled.”

“surely not? besides, its not like he’ll remember who i am.” you sneak a peek back at his table through your fingers to see if he was still looking your way. huh. “okay, coast is clear. he’s gone.” it seemed a bit strange that he had just disappeared, but you decided not to question it and count your blessings.

“i swear to god, it feels like the universe is throwing obstacle after obstacle at me in the revelation that i might have some fun tonight.” you let out a breathy laugh at robin’s epiphany, resting your head on her shoulder.

“god, you’re telling me. i never knew this would stress me out so much. i haven’t even asked munson to meet yet!” you let out another giggle, too slow to realise that your friend had gone stiff.

“what do you mean you haven’t asked munson to meet yet?” you lifted your head to meet robin’s raised eyebrow.

“well, i mean- i was going to do it later.. like at last period, or something? isn’t that how it works?” something tells you that no matter what you said here was the wrong answer.

“y/n…” robin shook her head. “at least give him some notice! i bet ten dollars we will not be his only customers today and his services will be in high demand. you have to ask him now. like as soon as possible.”

you found yourself at a loss for words. just as you were about retort back at robin for not giving you any sort of direction, an unfamiliar voice answered for you.

“ask me what?”

eddie was standing right behind you and robin. dear god.

robin was the first to turn around with a sheepish grin. “heeey, munson.. we were just talking about you.”

you gulped, hoping that the floor would just swallow you whole and you wouldn’t have to sit through this interaction any longer.

“yeah i figured. saw your friend checking me out all the way from my table,” he smirked, turning his attention toward you.

his indignance seemed to awaken a little fire within you, causing you to sit up straight and look at him dead in the eye. “i… was not.”

eddie let a small chuckle escape his lips. somehow your feigned confidence served as an invitation for him to make himself comfortable on the bench seat next you. turning his body toward you, he rested his chin in his hand and grinned maniacally at you. “so, what did you want to ask me?”

seeing the infamous troublemaker up close was a lot more pleasing to the eye than you originally thought. you didn’t exactly have the luxury of time to inspect his every feature, but you knew that roguish sparkle in his eye belonged to him. besides, his cocky act was enough to piss you off a little bit. “for weed, munson.” you decided to mimic his smile, resting your own chin in your hand. “were you hoping for something else?”

“honestly? yeah,” he moved closer, testing your resolve. your faces were nothing but a breath away from each other; it took everything in you not to shuffle backwards into the safety of robin. “but i can be patient.” his brown eyes flittled between your eyes and your lips so quickly you could have imagined it. he suddenly stood up and stepped away from the table to take a bow. “i shall be seeing you at the park bench in the woods at 4pm, m’lady.”

“oh.. okay.” you both sat there watching eddie, dumbfounded. it was as if what just happened was a hallucination - he shot you a wink over his shoulder as he left the cafeteria and disappeared into the hallway.

you turned to robin to get some look of reprieve, only to be met with a gaze that said i told you so. “could’ve been worse, right?”

there was a notable chill in the air; the leaves were yellow, orange and red and while some of them held on for dear life, most of their fellow leaves created a colourful palette on the forest floor.

counting the leaves one by one was the only thing holding you together right now. all that was running through your head - or rather, that you were trying to distract yourself from thinking about - was how you embarrassed yourself so collosally at lunch. what were you thinking? what was that whole thing? eddie is kinda weird.. isn’t he? well, it explains a lot of what you’ve heard and seen thus far.

oh man, who cares anyway? you think to yourself. it’s not i’m ever going to speak to him again. it’s not like he’ll remember me beyond whatever happened today.

you stretched your jumper sleeves over your hands and scrunched the material up in your palm, obscuring any lingering cold breeze that dared to slip through.

yeah, it’s fine. i’m so fine. i’m just going to do the deal, head to the party and forget any of this ever happened.

“hey-“

so enrapped in your own thoughts, you didn’t expect to hear a voice coming from behind you, sending you flying up from your seat with a yell.

“woah, sorry. didn’t mean to scare you.” eddie stepped back with his hands up, one still being occupied holding a small metal box.

you took a second to gather yourself before sitting back down. “it’s fine. sorry about that.” you were trying to push out the thought that you have just embarrassed yourself for the second (or was it third?) time in front of this guy and you weren’t sure if you could handle another stint of this.

the table seemed like an awfully interesting subject of focus instead of the drug dealer who was now circling back to sit across from you. from the corner of your eye, you could see eddie trying to hold back a grin, his lips pursed into a thin line. just my fucking luck. ugh.

“so-“

“well-“

you lifted your head to look up at him to find a familiar pair of brown eyes looking straight back at you. you couldn’t help but mirror the grin eddie projected, and before you knew it, you both burst into laughter.

“god, sorry! i’m a bit of a nervous mess, aren’t i?” you giggle sheepishly, scratching the back of your ear.

“understatement of the year,” eddie chuckled, playing with the latch on the little box. “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. just say the word.”

the wall you created around yourself softened to clay at his comforting words. maybe he wasn’t so scary after all? or is that just what he wanted you to think?

“thanks, but i’m good.” you nodded to yourself. “how much does thirty dollars get me?”

“maybe enough for a small family of 4?” eddie answered back in disbelief. “didn’t peg you as the type.” he raised his eyebrows at his container, leisurely collecting the goods together.

you almost corrected him, but your curiousity got the best of you. “the type to what?”

“oh i don’t know,” he threw his hands up. “the type to buy a pound of weed out of the blue?”

“thought this was a ‘no questions asked’ kind of transaction?” you raised your brow, causing eddie to bite down his lip bashfully and continue to carefully scoop the leaves into a little bag for you. “but you’re right, munson. it’s not for me - it’s for robin and her other friends.”

“oh yeah?” he pressed the bag shut along the suction closure at the top. “big party tonight?”

“you haven’t heard? it’s at patrick’s house on cornwall.” eddie looked at you blankly. “patrick mckinney? on the basketball team?”

“ah, that explains it.” you and eddie exchange packages; three ten dollar bills for a medium sized ziploc bag filled with little balls of green. “you haven’t heard? those assholes are allergic to freaks. not that i care to get to know the monkey living in their empty skulls.” he looks down at the money in his hands for a beat, before shuffling it back into the box.

“well… i wouldn’t say you’re a freak.” you squeezed your lips together. as best as you tried to keep to yourself, it was definitely hard to ignore the bullying that went on. it wasn’t fair to the hellfire club to keep taking all the ignorant insults thrown their way. over a board game? and music? are you serious? you couldn’t believe people were so dense.

“really?” you had piqued eddie’s interest. maybe that moment in the cafeteria earlier wasn’t a one off occurence. “what would you call me?”

you looked at eddie. really looked at him. from his wild curly hair, brown eyes shimmering with curiousity, mischevious grin, all the way down to the chunky rings he adorned - he looked nothing like a freak. he was cute, you’d admit it to yourself, but never to him. “i would call you… interesting.”

“hm!” he smiled widely, nodding to himself. “well, you might be the only one who thinks so. thanks.”

without even touching them to check, you could tell your ears were burning bright red. “anytime, munson.”

sitting across from each other just smiling had you both fidgeting with nothing after a few minutes. “well, i guess i should be going.”

“oh. yeah. sure,” eddie seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts until you started getting up. following your lead, he awkwardly waited for you to gather your things before he joined you on the walk back down to the parking lot.

“is this not a violation of customer policy or something?” you joked, hiding a grin.

eddie looked over at you, metal box jingling in his arms as he walked beside you. “maybe,” he shrugged. “gotta say, our hr department sucks.”

you giggled, covering your mouth as you did. “i kinda wish you were coming tonight.”

“really?”

you have no idea where this sudden rush of confidence came from; it was a total 180 from earlier today. explaining this stir in your chest after such a brief interaction was bound to sound ridiculous once it left your mouth, so you decided against it. “really.”

eddie did little to hide the grin spreading across his face. “maybe i could make a quick stop on the way home.” he looked over at you, brown pools of hope clouding his eyes. “do you need a ride?”

60′s-80′s “Halloween Sale” newspaper typography (via: newspapers.com)

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

June 17, 1960:

Elvis wrote to the U.S. Army and requested that he be placed on standby rather than on active reserve, as his work required him to travel a lot.

Photo: Elvis in Germany, March 1960.

Holier Than Thou [E. Munson]

Summary: The preacher’s daughter has always been pure and unmistakably good, but meeting the leader of the Hellfire Club may change her ways.

Warnings: Swearing, religious manipulation

-

Y/n was unlike many of the girls her age. She didn’t fool around with guys or do anything so daring as cheat on a quiz. She had never been on a date with a guy due to her father watching her like a hawk and speaking against dating. Each time Y/n would ask her father about the dating rule, he would still insist she was too young, even at the age of seventeen. Despite how simple it may seem, being the preacher’s child was difficult. Church twice a week, nightly prayers, rants fueled by fire and brimstone, and daily bible reading made life exhausting. 

Y/n set her book bag down by her chair, prepared to listen intently to the class lecture just like she listened to her father’s sermons every Sunday. Today; however, the teacher did not begin a lecture but instead began writing names on the board. Two by two, names were written next to each other. Students gossiped amongst each other about what the names meant. Perhaps they were in trouble? Or perhaps they were going to receive a new seating chart. 

Y/n was perfectly happy with where she sat; the left side of the classroom in the second row. Next to her sat Ramona Andrews, a girl with a mediocre personality but enough kindness to leave Y/n alone. Y/n didn’t want to sit next to someone who would make fun of her or try to cheat off her homework.

“These are your assigned partners for the upcoming project. I will hand out the rubric for the project at the end of class, but right now I want to explain it to you.” Mrs. Weatherall spoke, her hair done in a bun which was beginning to unravel. 

As the teacher droned on, Y/n scanned the board for her name, praying she would have a good partner. 

Darn it, She thought as she read the name next to hers.

Eddie Munson. 

Just then, a body plopped down in the seat next to hers. Eddie himself sat to face Y/n, a smug smirk on his face. 

“Looks like we’re partners.” He smiled mischievously. 

“Looks like it.” Y/n forced a small smile, trying to hide her despair.

“I had to take this class last year and I still have my project leftover from that, so we could take a look at it if you want. Use it for inspiration.” He suggested in a surprisingly helpful manner.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great. What did you get on it?” Y/n responded.

“I got an F, but it was a high F! Right on the cusp of being a D.” Eddie announced proudly.

“Yeah, we can look at it. Maybe use it as a guide for what not to do.” Y/n mumbled under her breath, eyes fixating on the rings he wore. 

“Was that sass? Coming from the preacher’s kid?” Eddie grinned, teasing her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just-” Y/n sputtered, afraid she had been unkind.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I was just teasing you. I thought it was funny.” 

“Okay.” Y/n said softly, still feeling guilty for being rude.

“Lighten up. I’m not gonna bite your head off.” Eddie twirled a pencil between his fingers, doodling a little smiley face on their rubric. 

Y/n decided to start working, and to her surprise, Eddie wanted to help. Their project required them to create a presentation on one of the scientists of the 17th century, and their contribution to the scientific community. After flipping through the textbook Y/n made the decision to present on Robert Boyle, as Eddie insisted he didn’t care who they presented on. 

Eddie would write facts and snippets of information then slide the notecards to Y/n, who would subtly correct them while he wasn’t looking. By the time the bell rang they had a stack of notecards with incorrect information on some which Y/n could not fix in time. 

“Wicked work. We make a great team.” Eddie commented as he handed her the stack of notecards.

“See you tomorrow, Eddie.” Y/n murmured as she exited the room. 

Y/n was still a bit scared of Eddie, or rather, she was scared of how enchanting he was. The little jokes he made throughout the class had her resting the urge to giggle. His hair framed his face perfectly, even if it was horrendously frizzy. His round eyes seemed to see her far better than even the eyes of god had, and she couldn’t tell if she loved it or hated it.

Eddie was quite entranced with Y/n. He had always seen her walking through the hallways, quiet as a mouse. He thought she was the most gorgeous girl he had set eyes on, but refrained from speaking to her all these years because of her father. Eddie knew the pastor disapproved of people like him; heavy metal listeners and DND players with long hair. He knew she would never go for him, but he still felt his heart beat a little faster when he thought of her.

-

Y/n shivered as she walked through the parking lot, the brisk air nipping at her skin. She got frustrated with herself for not bringing a warm jacket. Her house was a ten minute walk from the school, and she began to walk begrudgingly when a large van pulled up beside her. Loud music rang out from inside and in the driver’s seat sat the one and only Eddie Munson. 

“Do you need a ride?” He offered.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you. It’s only a ten minute walk.” Y/n replied, despite truly wanting to get in. The cold air still stirred around her, penetrating her cardigan.

“It’s not an inconvenience, and you’re shivering. Come on, I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hypothermia.”

Y/n contemplated her options for a few seconds, then opened the door and hopped into the passengers seat. It was warm in the van and Eddie turned down the music as she entered. 

“Thanks, Eddie.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re the one helping me get a good grade on this project.”

“You’re helping. You’re doing a good part of the work.” Y/n replied, admiring the way his rings glinted in the light.

“You’re the one correcting my work.” 

“You saw that?” Y/n cringed internally, wishing he hadn’t seen it.

“Yep. You write pretty fast, but you’re not as discreet as you think you are.” Eddie smirked.

“What’s this song?” Y/n asked after a moment of silence. 

“This song, my dear, is Highway to Hell by ACDC.” Eddie tapped the radio.

“Oh.” Y/n was clearly taken aback by the name, not expecting to hear a song with such a name.

“Why do you ask?” Eddie wondered.

“I don’t know. Kinda catchy I guess.” Y/n mumbled the last part, ashamed to admit that she enjoyed the song. Songs like that were never allowed in her house. When they did play music, it was gospel music and light-hearted tunes from years ago. 

“What was that last part?” Eddie questioned.

“I said it was kinda catchy.” Y/n repeated, her head hung abashedly.

“No way. No fucking way! The preacher’s kid likes Highway to Hell?” Eddie laughed in disbelief.

“I never said I liked it.” Y/n protested, but Eddie wouldn’t have it.

“You didn’t have to say that. You said it was catchy, which means you like it.” Eddie smiled widely. 

“Please don’t tell anyone, Eddie.” Y/n pleaded, horrified that her father would find out.

“Oh, I’m gonna tell everyone, princess.” Eddie leaned closer to her as he smirked evilly. He noticed her eyes getting wide with anxiety, her eyebrows furrowed in distress at his words. “I’m kidding, Y/n. No one will know. Our secret, okay?” Eddie soothed Y/n, holding out his pinky to her.

“Promise?” Y/n looked up at him with big doe eyes, still rattled from the image of her father finding out that she liked such a vulgar song.

“Promise.” Eddie spoke. With that, Y/n took his pinky in hers, holding it there for a few seconds before releasing it. 

“Thanks again for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/n said as she got out of the van which was parked haphazardly in front of her house.

“If I decide to come to class tomorrow.” Eddie spoke, making Y/n give him a slightly agitated look. “I’ll be there tomorrow, Y/n.” Eddie sighed, detesting the idea of going to school. 

-

Y/n quietly shut the door to her house, setting her book bag down by the coat rack which stood next to the door. 

“Who drove you home?” Her father asked harshly as he rounded the corner.

“Just someone from school.” Y/n murmured, eyes looking at the floor to avoid her father’s iron gaze. 

“Who from school? I want a name.”

“Melissa. Melissa Hart.” Y/n felt bad for lying, but she knew he would never approve of someone like Eddie driving her home. “She’s in my English class.”

“Very well then. I’ve heard she’s a kind girl. Her mother comes in to pray on Sundays.” He commented, his eyes still boring into her.

“She is very nice.” Y/n desperately tried to end the conversation, wanting nothing more than to escape upstairs. At last, her father left the room and she darted to her bedroom. Y/n slumped down on her bed, her conscience beginning to gnaw at her for lying to her father. She had to, she told herself. She had to or her father would have gone berserk for no reason. Still, despite her guilt she could not shake the interest that she had in Eddie Munson. 

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy #1

Hey! I'm fully committing to the Eddie Munson sin bin. Read chapter 1 right here or on Ao3!!

Chapter One: Killer Queen

Summary:

Eddie just wants some new damn strings for his Fender.

You just want a relaxing shift at Greene's Bookstore.

Looks like no one is getting what they want today.

Eddie was having a shit day. First, he had used up the last of his stash without even realising (and his next drop wasn’t until next Wednesday), then he’d managed to snap his D string while practicing some fucking solo for Corroded Coffin, and then the damn guitar shop had been shut when he’d got there. At 2pm. On a Saturday.

What the fuck kind of guitar shop is shut on a Saturday??

Sure, usually he isn’t even awake at 2pm on a Saturday – and if he is, he sure as shit isn’t functional. But he’d promised the Hellfire kids that he’d have tonight’s session planned and ready to go and – though he knew exactly where he wanted to get them to – he sure as shit didn’t have any of it written down. Not to mention needing to plan backup plans B through Z just in case the little shits decided to go off on a frolic of their own instead of the very neatly laid out and obvious plot in front of them. There was really no telling how any given session would go.

What was he doing again?

Right. Music shop shut. What now? His feet just seemed to keep going, despite having no real destination. The chains on his denim jacket clink aesthetically as he saunters down the busy high-street. It’s really too hot to be wearing the jacket, but he’d be damned if he gave it up. Fuck it. Cold six pack from the corner shop and he’d go back home and knuckle down on planning this damn session. He had big plans for this campaign. His last quest before graduating (or getting kicked out).

His swaggered walk is interrupted rather abruptly when a young woman in a light chequered dress suddenly hops from a doorway in front of him. She stops and blushes profusely, a small stack of dime novels clutched to her chest. She manages to eek out an apology while he sweeps his arm out in an exaggerated motion to let her past. He catches the names Linda Howard and Jude Deveraux on the spine of the books she carries as she scurries away.

Curiosity piqued, he leans forward to see into the mystery doorway. The door is painted an emerald green, peeling at the edges, and is held open by a stack of ancient-looking hardback books. The equally ancient-looking wooden shelves that line the walls of the store are nearly bowing under the weight of stacks upon stacks of books. What wall space is not covered by the truly obscene number of books this store contains is plastered with framed pictures – portraits, landscapes, a taxidermied butterfly or two. There’s a heavy-looking, round table in the middle of the room, stacked high with dozens of paperbacks and hardcovers alike. The windows at the front of the store are partially covered by heavy swathes of a dark fabric. The store is cool, but warmly lit, and smells strongly of incense.  A few thick carpets cushion his trademark white sneakers as he walks in. There’s a beanbag in the corner.

Behind an almost comically large and antiquated cash register sits a woman. She sits with her legs crossed on a bar stool, her floating foot bouncing rhythmically to a Queen song playing on a turntable in the corner. Killer queen, he thinks.

Eventually she looks up at him with a polite smile, “Can I help you, sir?”

You eye the guy who’s walked into your quaint little store. He looks thoroughly out of place. The dude is probably wearing more chains than fabric. He doesn’t say anything – yet – just stands and looks around with wide eyes. You collect the small stack of dime novels the young lady (Tanya, her name was. Lovely girl.) hadn’t bought from the front desk, and busy yourself with slipping them onto one of the higher shelves – away from any young kids’ prying eyes.

He eventually tilts his head towards you from where he’s scanning one of your bookshelves, scruffy long hair following his movement like a paid actor, “Yeah. You sell any real books or is it just the uh… smut?” Oh, you already don’t like him. He looks far too pleased with himself. Stupid smug look pulling his lips into a lopsided grin. It’s almost familiar – that smile, and those eyes.

“We cater to all tastes and interests here at Greene’s, sir,” you respond dryly, slotting the last of the paperbacks into the, frankly, stuffed shelf and turn to face your new customer with your best customer service grin, “Are you looking for something more romantic, perhaps? Or will the smut do?”

Your goading only serves to broaden that boyish grin, it meets his round eyes and—

Oh.

You totally knew this guy. This royal pain in your ass. This motherfucker. With his stupid brown eyes and, honestly, ridiculous band shirts.

“Eddie.”

It’s not a question – it doesn’t need to be. You definitely know him. This dick would beg you for answers in English and science, then – then!! – have the sheer audacity to commandeer whatever classroom, drama studio or back office you had booked for your writing club just to move his god damn Dungeons and Dragons game in.

He-

He’s even wearing the dumb fucking shirt.

He… looks puzzled.

“Have we… met?”

Lord help you not commit murder in this bookstore today.

You stare at him blankly, half expecting this to be some joke. Nope? Great. Fine. You turn back to your shelves and pretend to be busy organising the mess of paperbacks, “Something like that.”

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans (how he has the space to even fit them in there with the way the denim clings to his legs like a second skin – you have no idea) and takes a few slow, meandering steps towards you, “So I don’t even get a name? A hint maybe?”

“A… hint.” You try not to sound slightly pissed. You fail. You blame it on this book that simply refuses to go in its place.

“Sure. You clearly know who I am - yet I have no idea who you are. A tragedy if I may say so. One that I would very much like to rectify.” He leans one shoulder against the shelf to your right, hands still wedged into his pockets, all charm and wit. When had he gotten so confident?

And is… is he trying to flirt with you? Hell no. Hell. No. Absolutely not – not Eddie fucking Munson. The guy who once nearly choked on a fucking plectrum after carrying it around in the corner of his mouth all day to try and seem all cool and metal in eighth grade. You spent near a goddamn hour with him at the damn nurse’s office and missed a whole class on tectonic plates.

“Clearly not tragic enough for you to remember my damn name the first time around, Munson,” you snip back, “Shouldn’t you be playing knights and monsters somewhere?”

He almost rises to the bait. Almost. It was always a sure-fire way to derail him – misquote some lore or spout some nonsense about his fantasy game and he’d sit and prattle away at you, spilling facts and anecdotes like a broken faucet. Instead, he watches you walk stiffly back to your high stool behind the cash register and leans his elbows on some books stacked precariously high on the centre table. He leans his chin on one hand, continuing to watch you in that infuriating way.

“No. No I’d definitely remember you, so how…” he squints, deep in thought for a second, then something seems to click:

“You been stalking me, pretty girl?”

This time it’s your turn to choke.

You splutter at his jab – you’re not sure which you’re more offended by, the stalking accusation, his use of ‘pretty girl’, or the fact he still can’t remember your damn name. He’s got that glint in his eye. That one where he’s pulled off some clown act just for laughs – you saw it often in middle school.

“I- Of course not, Munson,” you glare back at him. God, you hope you aren’t red right now. Your face sure feels hot enough for it, “If you aren’t going to buy something, then leave.”

“Hey now, hey. I’m sorry, was that too far?” He backtracks softly, hands raised in front of him placatingly. The asshole even seems sincere about it. Weirdo.

Then, something clicks again – you can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind – and he cuts you off before you even get a chance to respond.

“Oh! Oh, shit, it’s you! The uh- the um… the book club girl!”

Great.

He has one hand pressed to his forehead, the other outstretched, alternating between frantic clicking and pointing as he desperately tries to remember your damn name. It’s almost painful to watch. He struggles for another few seconds, even starting to bounce on his heels amidst all the hmm’s and uh’s. You decide to put him out of his misery, biting your own name out from behind clenched teeth and crossed arms.

He throws both hands up dramatically, “Of course! God! How could I forget. Y’know, I think you single-handedly got me through ninth grade by letting me copy off you in all of Ms Davis’ quizzes.”

You arch a brow at him, “No shit Eddie. I don’t think I ever saw you write anything down. Ever.”

He laughs boisterously, “Yeah! I still don’t.” His laugh simmers down to that ever-present grin, “So hey, what are you doing here? I thought you’d have gone out of state for college the second you graduated.”

You fight off a wince, “Well. Plans change.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

“Very cryptic! I like it!” He carries on grinning, unperturbed by your loaded response, “So hey, got any recommendations? I’m thinking fantasy, but nothing too heavy or, y’know, smutty, can’t be blushing like a fair maiden in chemistry.”

Damn. Damn. Your one weakness. You love giving book recommendations – and he even seems sincere about wanting your opinion – even if he is making a joke out of it.

Fuck it. “Wasn’t aware that you could even read, Munson.”

He looks giddy as you get to your feet – despite your jab at his ability.

“Well, I thought you could teach me Beauty-and-the-Beast-style sometime. Until then at least I can look at the pictures.” He quips back, undeterred. He even throws in a wink at you (which you steadfastly roll your eyes at) when you make eye contact with him.

“Didn’t know you’d become a wit either.” You snipe dryly – though there’s no real venom behind it anymore. You’re tracing the shelves, looking for a familiar spine.

“You know me, pretty girl. Always full of surprises.”

You shoot him another withering stare before you crouch down to check the lower shelves – you swear that book was around here somewhere - “Use my damn name, Munson.”

“Only when you use mine, pretty girl.” You can see him rocking from his heels to his toes out of the corner of your eye. Oh he’s enjoying himself far too much.

“Ha! Found it,” you spring back to your feet, dusting your knees off and wielding a small but thick paperback in Eddie’s direction, “The first instalment of one Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series: The Colour of Magic.”

“Terry… Pratchett?” He takes the book from your hands gently, turning it over after inspecting the front cover.

“Yep. Wrote Strata? Dark Side of the Sun? God, Munson, you been living under a rock? Fantastic Sci-fi books, if that’s your thing. This one is more fantasy-comic. I think you’ll enjoy it.” He nods slowly while you talk at him, appraising the blurb on the back.

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

If you’re being totally honest, you expected him to put up at least some kind of complaint. Maybe a jab or two at your expense. But no, he’s already rifling through his pockets for his beat-up leather wallet.

“… Really?”

“Yeah. You sold me,” He slaps a crumpled note into your hand, “You read a lot of fantasy, pretty girl?”

You’re still reeling as you round the cash register again, enough to not comment on the ‘pretty girl’ thing, “Yeah- yes, I do. I loved the Silmarillion – really, all of Tolkien’s work.”

You’re so busy with the rusty old register that you miss the way his eyes practically glow. He sidles up to the other side of the front desk, smoothly sliding his hands onto the weathered wood.

“You know…” you pause, midway through digging his change from the register. That was a very dangerous tone he just picked up. He continues, a sly drawl to his delivery; “D&D is like a fantasy book that you get to be in—"

“I’m not joining your damn goon squad, Munson.”

“Come on, you’d love it! It’s totally fantasy, you can be whoever- whatever you want, there’s romance, and action – and magic!” He’s leaning towards you now, hands still planted on the worktop, voice equal parts enthusiastic and whining.

You regard him dubiously.

He begins to try and sweeten the deal, “I’ll buy the beer?”

You arch your eyebrow.

“Donuts?”

Your lips begin to quirk.

“Fine. I’ll throw a joint in too. You’re really taking me for all I’m worth here.”

You continue your silence. You tell yourself you just want to see how far he’ll go just to get you to join his little game.

He tilts his head down, looking up at you with warm, doey eyes and dark lashes, “C’mon, pretty girl. I’m begging here.”

Oh no. You really don’t like the way that look made your stomach drop, like someone pulled that gaudy, patterned rug from the shop floor from right under your feet.

You consider it hard, “Just one session? And you’ll stop being weird about it?”

He breaks out into the most dazzling smile, “Fuck yeah. You busy tonight?”

...Shit.

Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.

March 6, 1974:

Elvis performing at Garrett Coliseum in Montgomery, Alabama.