I Just Saw A Picture Of Shelley Duvall In Like High School

I just saw a picture of Shelley Duvall in like high school

And

Do we think Eddie perhaps had a crush on Shelley Duvall

Cuz grace van dein/Chrissy looks a lot like her

Idk

I mean I see it

And she seems like the kind of actress Eddie would have a crush on

Just a thought

Someone please give me a request or idea or prompt or something-

I want to write but I have no idea what about 😭

Does anyone else ever get the comma and period keys on your phone keyboards mixed up cuz your astigmatism makes the period look like a comma?

Great Big Stars:Renegades

Rockstar!Eddie Munson X singer!fem!reader

Warnings: not proofread, not fully fleshed out, angst, cursing, alcohol

Pt 2 Pt 3

This part of the story includes

(Idk how to link other chapters once I start adding parts to this so let me know how to do that if you please)

<3•<3•<3•<3•<3

Eddie was proud of her success.

It was everything he had wanted for her long before he himself rose to fame.

Unfortunately for him, he knew a lot of the songs she had written, especially the ones about him. And her. Him and her.

And even if they were written about him later he could tell.

He kept up with her work.

He knew every song she sang, every writing and producing credit she had, every music video she directed. He kept tabs on her.

He was on a plane ride with the rest of the band, he was sitting in the back with his headphones in so as to not give away what he was doing.

…get your shit together

So I can love you…

This was a new music video.

She was facing a guy, he was a regular in her music videos. She was a film school graduate with a proclivity for drawing and stretching stories until they just don’t have any space to move anymore.

This story, however, seemingly would never end and she was way behind.

This was a song she had written years ago. He knew because he had gotten a snippet of it from Chrissy once. He had been hanging out with Chrissy when he was home from tour and she had gotten a call and answered without thinking anything of it.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just-“ a small hiccup echoed through the phone speaker, “just listen.”

Eddie heard light tapping on what he was assuming was a bar counter and then her voice spilled through the phone, he was unwilling to admit to himself at the time that he had missed it.

That was until the words started

…you fire off missiles cause you hate yourself

But do you know, you’re demolishing me?

A lump found its way into his throat then.

God he felt like shit hearing that. He supposed it was deserved though.

“Yeah hon, it’s really good.” Chrissy had said, eyes Eddie, “are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

Chrissy had walked away for the rest of the conversation and when she got back she quickly changed the subject.

By the time the music video ended the girl was sitting in the bar, her phone on the counter as she tapped and tapped to herself.

He looked at the numbers at the bottom of the video and they were higher than they had ever been before.

As if on cue he saw the guys all looking back at him, their phones in hand.

They all exchanged a look before Eddie piped up, “what?”

why is there so little eddie munson fluff fics out there ☹️, ive read them all

I’m about to vomit

Oh my god I love this series

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Robin said you graduated from NYU.”

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

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

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

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

You smiled, amused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie freaking Munson.

Dressed as a nun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made you laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was he angry?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That reply earned several impatient and tired sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened, Mun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t think it was important.”

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

“It is important, Fey,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I’m a pain in the ass.”

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

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

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

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

You frowned.

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

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

Friends? You and Eddie were friends?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope; he was talking about you as his assistant.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t leave, Fey.”

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

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

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

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

He stepped back and vomited into the toilet.

Oh, you were so, so screwed.