💌 Poems For The Month Of Love 💌

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The one day Eddie doesn’t have a hellfire meeting, or band practice, or a gig at the Hideout, or a deal to make, is Sunday. Because he dedicates Sundays to you. You both love Sundays because it is a 24 hour period of pure domestic bliss… unless one of the kids comes to Eddie’s trailer to hang out. But they soon learned that Sundays are for the “gross” couple.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k and growing (wip)

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: will be mostly fluff but check each part for specific warnings/contents

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: multi-part fic (but each part can be read as an individual oneshot)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

more to come…

did that elvis fic called tempt by the hour just completely disappear? i wanted to reread it and i can’t find it anywhere

Dolly Parton photographed by Ed Caraeff, 1979.

Our Year, Okay?

oh my god she's attempting a series.

I got a lot of nice feedback on this one shot, so I thought I just want to give a series a go!

Eddie Munson x female!reader Words: 2.3k+ Warnings: Other than the odd swear, none. It's a bit of a slowburner oops

Then

The curly haired boy who sat in front of you wasn’t in class today. He had been missing a lot of school recently, but that was okay. You would see him tomorrow, updating him with todays mathematics that you had drawn little stick figures over. You drew him little pictures to give him on his return, like usual, but this time they had started to pile up in your desk. You were just going to give them to him tomorrow.

Your eyebrows knitted together at the realisation that your friend hadn’t been at school for almost a week now, which was very unlike him. He would occasionally miss the odd day, not being allowed to tell you why - but a week was the longest he had been gone.

You missed him a lot. No one wanted to play with you at recess, and you were the last to be picked for teams. You also wanted to tell him of the gnarly scrape you got on your knee, but you were scared it would have healed by the time you finally got to show him. 

Your friendship had kindled almost the moment you met at Hawkins Elementary. A scrawny young boy donned in clothing that were far too big on him had run up to you on your first day, as you clutched on to your parents hand - the knees of his trousers were completely scuffed from a previous tumble. You had eyed him curiously as he grinned at you manically.

“Hi! Are you new? I’m Eddie!” 

You looked up at your parents for reassurance. 

“Say hi, honey,” they smiled at you. You nodded back at Eddie.

“Hi,” you whispered, mustering up the courage to give the excited boy a small smile. 

“I’ve not seen you around before! Where did you come from? Was it bigger than here? Did you fly here?!” His eyes lit up. “Did you turn in to a bat? My dad says that if I’m naughty, Ozzy Osbourne will turn in to a bat and come to get me in the night!” You looked at him confused. 

“…Ozzy?” Eddie nodded. 

“Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? My dad says they’re the best band ever!” Your parents had exchanged looks, slightly besides themselves that this small, scraggly six year old had even listened to a Black Sabbath song, let alone knowing the singers name. 

The bell went, releasing your parents grasp from your hand. 

“Good luck honey! We’ll pick you up after school okay? Have a good day!” You nervously looked around, seeing that Eddie was waving after your parents too. 

“Come on! You can sit next to me!” Eddie bounded off, and you instinctively followed after him. 

Eddie finally arrived back at school the following Monday, your excitement to see him did not seem reciprocated. The childlike wonder in his eyes had dulled, now replaced with dark circles under them. You soon came to learn that he had been taken to live with his uncle, his dad was never mentioned again. 

You invited him to your birthday outing to the park, which he originally declined. After weeks of begging ( “But seven is my lucky number! You have to come!”), his Uncle finally convinced him to go. He had bought you a present, but for the most part, he sulked under the slide, only coming out when you forced him to play pirates. 

His sparkle slowly came back in time, but as growing up became tougher and kids became meaner, he had built up his own wall. Wayne Munson had a lot on his hands raising a rebellious Eddie, who had decided that he was not going to conform to the ways of society.

This had also rubbed off on you, and the two of you became misfits together - your parents and Wayne at a loss for ideas on what to do with the pair of you. 

Despite everything, you had always stuck together. Through the school crushes to crashing the school dance (Eddie's idea), to playing your first gig at The Hideout with Eddies new friends. Eddie had encouraged you to pick up the bass when he was given his first guitar in middle school (“Imagine how metal it will be!”), and together, with Jeff and Gareth, you created Corroded Coffin. 

You had movie nights every Friday, alternating between whose place you stayed at - a tradition that had been going on for as long as you could remember.

Together, you had been called in to the principles office, and told you were going to be retaking senior year. 

September 1985

“We are not listening to this again, surely?” Eddie poked fun at The Cure’s new album 'The Head on the Door' playing in your car as he chucked his bag in the back seat. 

You shrugged. “I’m nothing if not consistent! Plus, it's only been out a couple of weeks, I need to give it a really good listen.” 

“For the 100th time?" he jested, as you nodded intently. "Well, lucky for you, I’ve bought Sabbath along for the ride,” he grinned, holding the tape up to his face. While the two of you had always experimented with various styles, Eddie’s contagious smile was a staple. It was one of his most charming features, as it crinkled in the corner of his large brown eyes. You sighed, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“You, are unbelievable Munson.”

“I’m nothing if not consistent,” he quoted, swapping the cassettes over. Rolling your eyes, you turned out of the driveway from the trailer park and headed towards Hawkins High. You had sworn to yourself that this was the year you were finally going to graduate, and you’d be damned if you didn’t drag Eddie up on that stage alongside with you. 

You had both agreed on carpooling this year, using it as a strategy to plan out the nights you were going to study in between the evenings where you had band practice, gigs, and Eddie’s D&D campaigns. He had enthusiastically expressed how this year, he wanted to encourage some of the new freshman to play, acting out in exact detail how he was going to entice them to join Hellfire Club. 

“We need some fresh blood” he had joked, but deep down you knew he was nervous that Hellfire would be no more once he graduated. 

Eddie found it incredibly difficult to find people who wanted to play, due to people’s fear of the game. Media had spread propaganda that it led to cult like antics, and with Hawkins being a small (and cursed) town, the citizens had clung on to every word. The only people that remained in Hellfire now were Eddie, Gareth, Jared, and the odd person who would decide to see what it was about, before never being seen again. 

You had played a couple of games, having read through Eddie’s rulebooks when he first took an interest. The stories that he came up with fascinated you, his creative side really shone through as he tactically laid out his next big twist - his mind not faltering for even a second. No one would see what the boy had planned, and sometimes he’d even keep it from you, so you could join in on the groups loud reactions, even if you didn’t play. The passion that Eddie had for creating the perfect campaign was the glue that kept his club together.

If only he had that passion when it came to creative writing at school. 

“So,” you started. “Did you manage to find any new recruits for Hellfire this week?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Oh yeah!” You raised your eyebrows at his response. 

“Yeah?”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to them properly yet. I invited them to lunch yesterday while you were at the library, to see if they clicked with the group. One of them was wearing a Weird Al shirt on his first day! Pretty bold, right?”

You nodded, as Eddie rolled down the window, the breeze picking up in the vehicle instantly.

“As bold as you jumping out at Jason last year and scaring the living daylights out of him for, oh yeah, no reason?” 

“The shit deserved it,” he muttered, examining the end of the lock of hair he had wrapped round his finger.

“‘The shit’ ended up almost breaking your arm,” you reminded him, the flashback of Jasons cronies having to force Jason off of Eddie as you, Gareth and Jeff tried to get him up. It had earned him detention for two weeks. 

“But he didn’t,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. Clicking his tongue, he continued. “Anyway, the kids - they’re great, but I just think they need a bit more encouragement. They’re obviously well trained in the game, I just need to see that spark.” His hands began to drum against his legs. 

“Oh! Talking of sparks, Steve mentioned that I can swing by Family Video later and pick from one of the newest releases for movie night tonight!” A tradition you’d both had since you were younger. 

Having recently befriended Robin Buckley, you had realised that Steve Harrington came as part of a package deal type thing, much to Eddie’s disgust. 

He snorted. “Good old Steve Harrington hey? Definitely not the type to do whatever a pretty girl says without any intention.” The spite in his voice suggested he wasn’t joking.

“And what, exactly, do you mean by that then?” Eddie would spurt out anything that was on his mind without thinking, a trait he shared with his Uncle. He raised his hands in defence. 

“Woah, hey, nothing. I just think you should be careful with him, you know?” He turned back to sit fully in his seat. “He goes through a girl a week, I’m pretty sure.”

You chuckled. “Eds, he graduated last year. I think he’s moved on from that now, don’t you?” 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you when we go in there to pick a film.”

“Are you sure he’s not just watching to make sure we don’t steal anything?” 

“Jesus H Christ that was one time and it was a complete accident! I forgot it was under my arm!” You rolled your eyes, remembering how you’d had to beg Steve and Robin to not ban you both from the shop. Thankfully for you, they didn’t want to admit they messed up to their boss - so you were let off pretty easily. You let out a small laugh at the memory, but Eddie didn’t find it as amusing.

“Okay but look, you can’t just judge the guy on his love life through high school! He may be a changed man,” you shrugged. 

“Like he didn’t judge us for being freaks?” Eddie spat back, making you recoil slightly at the venom in his tone. You threw him a quick look, and he knew he’d gone too far.

An awkward silence fell between you, as you turned in to the school parking lot, as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel.

You’d learned to pick your battles when it came to arguments with Eddie, and this was not one of the ones you wanted to continue.

“So you’re at Hellfire until…7?”

He nodded, turning to grab his bag. It was never big enough to fit his books in, but big enough to store todays lunch and whatever stash he had to sell without arousing suspicion. 

“Don’t scare the freshman out of their wits, okay? And please, don’t be late,” you added softly, and he smiled. 

“When, my lady, am I ever late?” Rolling your eyes in response, you parked up and grabbed your own backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. 

“I can count multiple times in our friendship…” You were silenced by Eddie waving his hands in your face with a multitude of shushes as you playfully swatted his hands away, sending you both in to a fit of laughter. 

“Okay okay okay, right. I won’t scare the freshman, I promise. Recap the plan for tonight for me?”

Falling in to a slow walk towards the science block, you began to recite how the evening was going to work. 

“I’ll leave here after school, head to Family Video. Pick up the movie for tonight…”

“Fright Night.” He interrupted, not missing a beat. 

“Right. Grab some snacks, hang out with Robin for as long as I can before Keith comes and kicks me out. That then gives me an hour to quickly drive home, grab my over night bag for yours, and I’ll be in the parking lot bang on 7pm!” 

Eddie had always enjoyed listening to you - whether it was about the things you were passionate about, or even as something as mundane as the route you were taking to the video shop. You could ramble on for eternity, bringing in about five different stories before going back to the original point of the conversation, and he was always willing to listen. 

He was snapped out of his daydream of you when he realised you were clicking your fingers in his face. 

“Earth to Munson? Does that sound okay to you?”

“Yep! Parking lot by 7, got it.” He was confused when you threw your head back and laughed.

“I actually asked if I should bring my bass to yours so we can have a bit of a practice before we see the guys on Monday? We could do it tomorrow!”

Yes, 100 times yes. I don’t think I could say yes any more times to that question, his mind raced, as he managed to blurt out a “Oh, yeah no that sounds great!”

You smiled. 

“Great, then I’ll make sure to grab that too then!” Stopping outside your classroom, you reached out to put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I know it’s the end of the week, and I know Mrs. Click is a hag…but I want this to be our year, okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s our year.” A small smile appeared on his lips, as you patted him on the shoulder before turning off. 

“And don’t be late!” Your voice rang out before disappearing in to the crowd towards your class. He scanned the hallway, but you were already gone.

With you by his side, Eddie Munson felt invincible. 

This is a public call: does anyone know of any good George Harrison fics?? I have read so many but I need more!! Can be any type of George; teddy, beatle, dilf, gardener, au, ANYTHING😭 any recommendations are appreciated

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

- 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.

safe - e.m.

summary: you and eddie see eachother for the first time after you broke the friendship to protect him from the upside down

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

word count: 4.7k

tags: mentions of drugs, strong language, no s4 spoilers, friends to enemies to lovers-ish, angst

a/n: fellas! i have written about 6 eddie fics bc nothing could satisfy me n im still iffy abt it so u gotta tell me if this sucks, alright? we’re cousins here, its ur duty. BUT I HOPE ITS ENJOYABLE ITS ANGSTY BUT THATS HOW I COPE <3

Eddie Munson sat on a lounge chair by the pool, unlit cigarette hanging by the corner of his mouth. His metal lunchbox stood by his boots, on the stoned ground. His right leg bounced up and down with quickness, his fingers fiddled with the rings on his right hand.

Keep reading

July 1967 Interview between Paul, George and two American Schoolgirls

Found out about this interview when reading a comment section. The interview itself is adorable all-round with both Paul and George being very sweet and open to the girls (Paul even shows them his kittens!). The girls too are so obviously teenagers and so sweet and earnest in their excitement.

Lots of interesting little insights in this one like George’s uncomfortable relationship with fame and Paul not thinking that the Beatles could ever stop being the Beatles. Quite tellingly, he also goes on a brief tangent about parents giving children liberties when one of the girls tells him that her mother is going to be angry at her sneaking off. His tangent ends up with him saying he wanted to present a ‘’view of the people that don’t want to be spanked anymore, thank you, Daddy.’’ The girls fathers had not been mentioned. 😬

Sabrina (1954) dir. Billy Wilder