Does Anyones Else Have Those Shows That Theyve Never Watched But Are Invested In?

Does anyone’s else have those shows that they’ve never watched but are invested in?

For me it’s Doctor Who and How I Met Your Mother.

Anytime an edit of HIMYM comes up on my fyp I am LOCKED IN

And Doctor Who (especially anything about the Van Gogh episode)

I barely understand the premace of the show but I am extremely invested.

I feel like Eddie would secretly fuck with stardew valley so hard.

Robin would fuck with it openly.

Steve would play with Robin but act like he was too cool for it

Dustin would also play with Robin but he’s enjoying himself thoroughly

Poetry On Perspective

Eddie x EnglishMajor!reader

This is just something I wrote after consuming too much poetry (I tried okay?)

I think Eddie would like Bukowski.

Warnings and notes: she/her pronouns, some swearing, not proofread, not much of an ending, kind of open ended (might do another part, idk)

I hope y’all like it :)

<3•<3•<3•<3•<3•

“I’ve read bukowski,” she starts, up on the stage with her hair swept up behind her head, her bangs tickling her eyelashes as her eyes look downward to focus on the words she had previously written on the page, “and I’ve seen what Dickinson had to say. Two thoroughly different viewpoints, differing outlooks on love. With no more in agreement than that it exists. A man who talks of lovers and sparrows, and the whores and the pigeons. And a girl who speaks of death and men, and her garden and love.”

Jeff’s face was screwed up and gareth was shaking his head.

Eddie had read bukowski.

Eddie had referenced bukowski.

Hidden in the folds of a guitar riff and rock ballad were the stanzas to The Twins.

“Bukowski is an empty bar and a calloused hand and Dickinson is a robin at a bird bath and a carriage ride with an old friend. Perspective is a mistress who never appears the same for more than a month. She changes as the wind does, ebbs and flows depending on her mood.”

Eddie didn’t understand the entire point of the girl’s rambling.

Then again he wasn’t meant to be here. He was supposed to be an hour away in a hotel with a cigarette. Maybe a joint.

A flat tire had landed him on the side of the road, band members and equipment in tow. A bus of college students drove them into town, grant found a phone and called someone to help get the van but until they got it into town the guys were here.

They had watched the students go up one by one and read off nonsensical passages in their journals.

Eddie hadn’t been paying attention until the pretty girl came up on stage. Her sweaters hem a few inches above that of her skirt and her black nail polish chipped as she avoided the gaze of the crowd and flipped through her notebooks pages.

Her notebook was covered in doodles of different flowers and fish and post-it notes bloomed from the top of the thing until about halfway through where the pages were pristine and likely unused.

What had mainly caught his attention were the tattoos on her legs. Different patches of sharks and flowers adorned her skin. One in particular went from just above her knee and crept around the back of her thigh and up into her skirt.

He wanted to see what the rest of it looked like, what images the upper expanse of her thighs might be hiding and did her arms match?

“Perspective changes when she pleases. One day she can be the same as ever, grass is grass and flowers bloom and babies laugh, and the next maybe the grass weeds and flowers wilt and babies wail and fuss. A year is a week, a day is a decade. Your grandparents got married yesterday and you broke up with your ex a lifetime ago. Grass is grass, it’s meant to hold the dirt together, grass is weeds meant to invade your fathers yard so you never stop hearing about them. Babies laugh and babies cry but you don’t have to worry about that because you’re single and might die alone so you might never have babies. Your boyfriend was your everything and now your ex is the reason you smoke. Etc.”

She ends her rambling and closes her journal, looking to the rest of the small bar for critiques and hopefully some encouragement.

“It could use some clarity.” A boisterous voice pipes up and Eddie scans the crowd for the perpetrator.

A guy with thick rimmed glasses and patchy stubble stares up at her, his face the picture of audacity.

“I thought her point was perfectly clear.” Eddie shrugs and the guy looks over at Eddie before sighing.

“Her transitions weren’t clear, her sentences could be more concise. Her rambling could be poetry if it were only a bit more clear.” The guy offers.

“Or you could argue that adopting the style of bukowski and melding it with the imagery Dickinson was prone to using.” Eddie argues and the guy pauses thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line as he pulls together his thoughts.

Gareth and Jeff exchange a look of confusion at Eddie's knowledge of poetry and literature while Grant seems to be enthralled with the argument between the two boys.

“That’s a good take. I just mean that the initial examples of Dickinson and Bukowski could be better transitioned into her next points about perspective.”

Eddie nods, “I could see why you would make that argument but I kinda like the rambling. She’s writing how she thinks. Thoughts don’t always transition seamlessly, I think it’s pretty cool to just hear someone’s thoughts on a subject and I like that she gets you to think about it yourself.”

“I guess that’s just perspective for you.” The guy shrugs and Eddie grins, silently agreeing with him.

Eddie turns his attention to the girl in front of the class, “the personal touches were nice. Your writing was relatable. My uncle is probably outside our house fighting with the weeds right now.”

The girl smiles, “thank you, Eddie.”

Eddies eyebrows raise at his name. He didn’t know how she knew it but fuck did it sound nice when she said it. She smiled and stared at him through her bangs, pulling her notebook to her chest to discreetly reveal the doodle of corroded coffins' first album cover.

She stands up and goes back to her seat. The next person comes up but Eddie isn’t paying any attention to whatever they have to say.

He’s too stuck on her. Too obsessed with never letting his eyes leave her to even consider whatever the fuck the asshole on stage has to say.

He wants to try and talk tk her after all of the readings are through but as the students file onto the bus grant blocks his view of her, letting him and the guys know that the van is in the shop at the moment getting the tire changed and they should able to get back on the road in an hour or two.

By the time Eddie looks up from grant the bus doors are closing the girl is gone.

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: I Love it when it Rains

Modern!rockstar!Eddie X Fem!Singer!Reader

Pt 1 … pt 3

This is the second chapter in a series but can be read as a stand alone

Please be kind and enjoy!

<3•<3•<3•<3•

You didn’t expect any kind of response. You didn’t even know he kept up with you still

You knew about everything going on with him, not always by choice. His face was plastered on every magazine in every grocery store, his music played from the speakers in the mall, there was a big billboard just a few miles before you entered Hawkins that had his face plastered on it: Hometown of the rock and roll sensation Corroded Coffin! Written across the front.

You had to look for anything about your life though.

Or at least you used to.

One of your songs had gotten somewhat popular on the internet. The buzz was nice, it was short lived of course but your following had still grown from it.

You did what you did, you wrote songs and directed your own music videos and spent sleepless nights editing and writing some more.

You were lying on your couch flipping through tv channels and chewing on your thumb nail when you stopped on a channel.

It was a late night talk show of sorts and Eddie and the guys were squished together on a couch that was far too small for all four of them.

The host was talking to the guys and asking questions and then an album cover was being held up in front of the camera, “so this is your new single, and it’s uh, it’s called I love it when it rains. What is this song about, if you don’t mind telling me and the viewers at home?”

The album cover is familiar, two teens standing in front of a beat up van, their faces scratched out of view.

You recognized it because it was a picture you had, tucked somewhere in a box in the back of your closet. He probably got the other copy from Wayne.

The guys all look at Eddie expectantly and Eddie grins, his hands folded and held still between his knees, “um, this is a song from a really long time ago,” fuck, he looks good, as good as ever, “it was written with the help of a friend of ours who was a brilliant fucking song writer and still is from what I can tell.”

The crowd hums as the focus centers on him, “and um, it’s a really good song and I’d been meaning to put it out for a while but I wanted to wait until she had more of a name for herself just because I wouldn’t want her success to be credited to me or anything, but she’s doing pretty well so I thought now was as good a time as any. It’s basically just a song about loving someone enough to stick around even when they’re going through it.”

“And is she credited on the album, do we get to know her name or…?” The host asks and Eddie shrugs.

“I mean, in a way she is but I didn’t use her actual name because I couldn’t get in touch with her to ask if she wanted her actual name.” Eddie shrugs.

You know he means you.

You’re unreachable really, in the same town you’ve lived in since middle school, your social media handled by Robin who has largely taken up a role as your manager.

“So what can we call her?”

“Uh, she’s the writer.”

“Well we know that but what is she called in the credits of the song?” The host laughs and eddies grin grows slightly nervous.

“The credits say The Writer and Eddie the banished.”

You scoff lightly at the writing credit.

You didn’t care if he put the song out or not.

What’s in his book is his and what’s in yours belongs to you.

You turn the tv off after that, not too interested in whatever he had to say next.

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.