#we stan Wayne Munson

[hellcheerficdatabase]

life after death and taxes

Author: elanor_gamgee

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience

Chapter Count: 18/19

Description: chrissy's student loans won't pay themselves, and she could really use a new roommate. the problem is, the only person available is the much-feared dungeon master from the d&d store down the street. and she's not too sure that she can trust him.

Tags: Alternate universe- no vecna, alternate universe- modern au, Chrissy is in college, mama Joyce Byers, marriage of convenience, slow-burn, we stan Wayne Munson, Henry Creel is a landlord, it fits, mutual pining, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, alternating POV multiple chapters, status: WIP

[skepsiss]

Tooth and Nail pt2

Part 2 of this mini-series. I guess I'm writing like 4 mini-series right now. This story is about Eddie being the one to question his sexuality after Steve comes out first. Read the first part to get the full details.

This part is pretty darn sad with a lot of introspection. I put up a mini-poll asking people what they wanted to read the most and Eddie being introspective was winning when I started writing this. I'm likely to write all the options on that poll still, so don't fret. I want to say clearly too that I do not agree with Eddie's thoughts. Sharing your emotions is never selfish and I think the fact that he feels like a burden is something he needs to work through. He is unwell. I'll admit I made myself cry writing this so if you're emotionally fragile like I am (lol) read at your own risk.

TW: Internalized homophobia (he's working through it), self-hatred, brief thoughts on death, mention of war (Vietnam and Korea).

PT1 PT2 PT3

---

"I kissed Steve."

"What?" Gareth said, startled as he stared at Eddie. 

Eddie was sitting on a beaten-up old armchair in Jeff’s garage; it was night and they’d opened the garage door to let in the summer air. The whole block was having a party and despite the time of night, the street was still alight with lamps and Christmas lights as people mingled in the street. Eddie had taken refuge in the garage (slightly paranoid that someone was going to touch the band equipment) after the first hour of forcing himself to be social. He had a beer in hand, even though he was underage, but it didn’t seem like any of the adults cared as long as they behaved. Hell, Eddie didn’t even live on this block but he was here enough that the neighbours didn’t seem to mind.

“A week and a half ago,” Eddie answered. He was slouching badly with one leg up on the seat, looking as if he was trying to lounge on a satee instead of a corduroy, La-Z-Boy from the 60s.

“Wait–sorry, what?” Gareth asked again, holding his own beer between his knees as he stared at Eddie. He had come to join him a few moments ago since Eddie had been moping by himself, and then they had proceeded to sit in silence until now.

Eddie flicked his gaze over to the younger boy before taking a long sip of his beer as if to say, yeah, you heard right without the willingness to repeat himself. He was quietly pissed, actually, but was chomping at the bit to talk to someone about it.

“So, are you like…” Gareth started, waving one of his hands as if that would fill in the blank.

“I’m fucking straight,” Eddie muttered, looking away and taking another long drink from his beer.

“Then why–” Gareth wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise and anyone who came to talk to Eddie when he was in a mood like this knew that coming in.

“I don’t fucking know!” Eddie grumbled, crossing his other arm over his chest and slouching all the way down in his seat so only his neck was being supported by the back of the chair.

Gareth frowned at him and looked away, no doubt wondering what he should say to all of that. It gave Eddie a moment to calm down and he eventually sat back up.

“I just…” he muttered, speaking into his drink, “I don’t know; it’d be easy if he was a girl. I just wish he was a girl.”

“Eddie…” Gareth mumbled a bit incredulously as he pinched his brows in. His expression was pitying and Eddie hated that it looked like he felt sorry for him. That was annoying and he scowled before looking away. 

Eddie’s logic was sound, it didn’t make sense why Gareth would be questioning it. Things would be easier if Steve was just a girl, that way if he had kissed him it wouldn’t be a big deal. Just an oops, sorry, that was uncool, well, anyways, and then they’d move on. He wouldn’t have to be dealing with this crisis of conscience and saying that he was just joking around wouldn’t have blown up in his face–maybe, he wasn’t sure. If Steve was a girl saying that he was joking actually might have blown up in his face more now that he was thinking about it… probably wasn’t cool to yank a girl’s chain like that.

“We were high and I don’t know, I wanted to talk to him about it being fine that he’s gay or whatever and I wasn’t thinking at all and I just…” Eddie sighed heavily and chugged the remainder of his beer. He twisted the pull-tab off and flicked it across the room, aiming for the bin and missing.

“You always want to kiss people when you’re high?” Gareth asked an edge of humour to his voice. He was teasing lightly, but Eddie didn’t have the patience for that kind of crap right now. 

“Fuck no,” Eddie grouched, crossing his arms and resuming his earlier position where one of his legs was up and he was slouched into the corner of the seat. “I wouldn’t kiss your ugly mug for money.”

Gareth snorted lightly and took a swig of his beer, letting the moment simmer.

“So…” he continued, glancing at Eddie before looking away sharply, “he get mad or something?”

Eddie groaned as he covered his eyes with the side of his hand, cupping his forehead as he tipped his head back. Why had he brought this up? He didn’t want to talk about this. It had been eating his insides alive, but he didn’t actually want to talk about it. What was Gareth going to do? Tell him the magic words to make Steve like him again?

“I told him I was joking,” Eddie mumbled, “and that I didn’t mean it–I even apologized, and I don’t fucking apologize to anyone.”

“Tell me about it,” Gareth muttered under his breath and Eddie hucked his empty beer can at his head, forcing Gareth to duck.

“Jesus–” he half laughed, the can knocking against him harmlessly and clattering to the ground, “just saying.”

Eddie flicked him off and motioned to get up. He didn’t need to be here for this, he didn’t want to be around people. This sucked. He could tell that Gareth was trying to be helpful–trying to be a friend–but he didn’t have the patience for it and he didn’t want to have another fight with another friend over something stupid.

Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled over to Gareth before picking up the empty can and chucking it into the garbage. He wasn’t about to leave trash in Jeff’s garage, his parents let them practice there and store their gear most of the time and Eddie wasn’t going to burn this location. 

“Say bye to Jeff for me,” Eddie muttered, grouching out of the garage, “and thanks for the food.”

“You going home?” Gareth asked, leaning over the side of his chair to watch Eddie.

“No, this is an illusion,” Eddie mocked, turning and waving his hand in front of his face and giving a manic smile, “the Eddie you know died a long time ago.”

Gareth half laughed, but his brows pinched in at the same time. Eddie didn’t stick around to see if that meant he wanted to say something. He just continued to walk away, turning and hunching his shoulders as he walked past energetic little kids chasing one another and people starting to pack up their dishware. He didn’t feel like unpacking what he had told Gareth or why stating that he had died twisted his guts up into knots. He also didn’t like that he could tell that his upset wasn’t due to the fact that he was lying, but rather that it felt too close to the truth. 

Eddie lit a cigarette and started the long walk home. He lost the last of the dusk light halfway through his walk, already two cigarettes down as he got closer to Cherry Street. He wanted to say he ended up there by accident, but that would have been a lie. He walked this way often, actually, and it had been convenient once upon a time. Steve lived on Cherry Street… and Cherry Street backed up onto the forest that connected to the trailer park. A funny coincidence, he had said once to Steve, makes it easier to bother you. That was all too true now though. He was more than a bother.

Eddie stood looming at the end of the street as he stared off towards Steve’s house, the large, stark white structure easy to spot even in the dark. The lawn was lit up by small pot lights and the street lamp across the road shone brightly down onto the sidewalk. Eddie was out of view of any of the windows from his vantage, but he could see the side of the garage and the front of Steve’s house still.

He grumbled miserably and flicked the butt of his cigarette, not bothering to stamp it out before rerouting and taking the long way home. He didn’t want to walk past Steve’s place and risk seeing him, he didn’t know what he’d say if he saw him… he still didn’t really know what had happened. The whole thing felt jumbled in his mind and then crystal clear all at once. He could remember everything so vividly, but it was as if they had been speaking a foreign language to each other: none of it made sense.

Why did he kiss Steve?

Why had that led to Steve getting so angry he nearly got hit?

Why was he such a jackass that seemed to ruin any good thing that happened to him?

It was pitch black by the time Eddie made it home, but he knew the route well enough. The trailer park didn’t have any lights other than the rinky-dink porch lights that some of the homesteads had. It wasn’t that late, but things got dark this far away from town. He came home late like this all the time though, so it wasn’t a surprise when the flyscreen slapped open and Wayne was lounging on the couch. Wayne wasn’t working right now, which was a problem, but they had a small nest egg from the government to live off of for at least a few more weeks. It was amazing how far you could stretch a dollar when you’d been doing it for 20 years. 

“That you, Eddie?” Wayne asked, sparing a glance towards the door as a commercial popped onto the screen.

“Yeah…” Eddie mumbled, standing by the front door with his hands in his pockets still. He was looking at the ground, and Eddie wasn’t sure why he felt paralyzed. He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to be standing there either… stuck in some kind of limbo.

“You’re home early,” Wayne commented, his tone sounding cautious as if he wasn’t sure if a conversation was going to come out of this, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answered, again, not really sure what he was expecting.

Silence drew out between them as Eddie shifted from foot to foot, just wanting to… be around someone. He wasn’t sure if that was right, but he wanted to be invited in or something. He selfishly wanted to be comforted even though he was the problem.

“What’re you watching?” He mumbled, still not looking at Wayne.

“Mash,” Wayne answered easily, “reruns.”

Eddie nodded and sniffed, feeling like a stranger in his own home. Though he supposed that wasn’t right, this was Wayne’s home, he was a guest. He was a guest that had worn out his invitation by years and years. The deal had been until he graduated, but he still hadn’t done that and it was starting to feel like an impossibility. He didn’t want to be a burden though and he knew that getting a job was the next best thing… but he hadn’t been able to force himself to do that yet either.

Slowly, Eddie shuffled over to the couch and sat down a cushion width away from his uncle, looking up at the TV. The commercials were ending and Eddie felt his throat tighten as he tried to push himself into small talk.

“Is it a good episode?” He asked, having seen most of MASH living here with Wayne. He liked the show, and Eddie could understand why. All the characters questioned why they were at war and the ethics of it all. Made sense for someone like Wayne to get some kind of catharsis from the show after coming home from ‘Nam all those years ago.

“It’s the one where Hawkeye tries to get ribs sent from Chicago to Korea,” Wayne explained, sipping the drink he had in his hand and looking back at the TV.

Eddie snorted slightly, remembering the episode. He toed his shoes off and tucked up onto the couch so he could rest his chin on his knees, the room falling into silence except for the murmur of the TV and the tell-tale M*A*S*H song in the background. It was easy to watch and Eddie stared at the grainy images on the screen as Wayne and him shared the living room. He always liked that he could be quiet with Wayne, but it felt a bit forced on his part tonight.

A commercial broke up the episode and Eddie sighed, not looking at Wayne as he tipped his head to the side before chewing his lip and finally speaking.

“You ever… had a fight with a friend?” Eddie asked quietly, not liking the sound of his own voice right now. It was quiet for a beat before Wayne responded, his tone calm.

“Sure,” he said easily, obviously waiting for Eddie to continue, “you… have a fight with the band?”

“Steve,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head no to Wayne’s assumption as he picked off the black polish on his nails.

“What did you do… to fix it?” Eddie asked, still not looking up.

“Apologized… talked, bought them a beer,” Wayne offered loosely, “depends on what the fight was about.”

Eddie nodded solemnly, not liking that there wasn’t some magic answer to his query. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he didn’t feel like elaborating his problem either. So he just nodded and picked at his nails, waffling for a long time before more words tumbled out of him.

“Do you think… people just… dislike me?” Eddie asked, his lip quivering a bit before he got control of it, swallowing hard to hide his emotions. Wayne didn’t say anything right away which forced a bitter laugh from Eddie’s lungs.

“Like, I’m difficult, I know it, people don’t like difficult but sometimes…” Eddie smiled sadly as he held back his emotions, hiding his face between his knees again, “something even when I’m around people that are… like me, I’m just… different.”

Eddie didn’t like the words that were slipping out of him, why he felt like this was related to what had happened with Steve, or why he was saying it to begin with. He didn’t want to talk about this and he didn’t want to put this on Wayne to think about, that wasn’t fair. Wayne dealt with enough of his bullshit, more than any Uncle should have to, but sometimes Eddie couldn’t help that his uncle felt like the only safe person to talk to.

“It feels like it’s just so easy for me to–” he laughed quietly again, having a harder time holding back the wavering tone of his voice, “--to just–fuck things up with people.”

His body betrayed him and Eddie felt tears slipping down his face and he rushed to push them away so they wouldn’t be seen, still shielded by his knees as he hunched like a gargoyle.

“Eddie–” Wayne started, too much sympathy in his voice.

“Sorry,” Eddie muttered, trying to put levity into his tone, “I know you don’t like it when I drop the f-bomb.”

That was partly true, but Eddie also knew that Wayne didn’t care that much. They swore all the time, he just didn’t like being sworn at.

Wayne went quiet for a moment and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of any lingering tears that might be holed up in there.

“What’s going on, boy?” Wayne asked, his voice incredibly gentle.

Eddie felt his bottom lip bunch up, hating that any time Wayne sounded like that Eddie was doomed to start breaking down. It was like a superpower or something–he didn’t know, but Wayne had made him cry dozens of times when he felt on the verge of tears. He always felt selfish seeking out comfort from his uncle when he had already saddled him with so many problems.

“I hate people–” Eddie blubbered, not sure if that was what he really wanted to say but that felt like the strongest phrasing he could find to describe how he felt. He felt so small and so selfish, reverting back to some kind of scared kid who didn’t know how to deal with his own emotions. 

Eddie finally looked up, his face wet and his chest tight, and he crawled across the seat cushioned and collapsed onto his side, pressing his face into Wayne’s thigh. He was so pathetic… he was twenty years old and he was crying into his uncle's lap? Eddie the demon, the freak, the devil, metal head, satanic worshipper – yeah right.

“Sometimes it feels like–people just–I’m just–-I’m made to be hated,” he blubbered, hiding his face and gasping through his words. He felt miserable and like he wasn’t really saying what he meant, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say or even why he was doing this right now. It was like hundreds of emotions were trying to fight their way out of his chest and he couldn’t do anything about it. He hated it.

Wayne touched the top of his head and Eddie felt himself choke.

Wayne’s touch was gentle and Eddie couldn’t help but sob as he started to stroke the back of his head. It was a subdued affection, but one that Eddie knew was genuine. Wayne wasn’t a man of many words, so sometimes a touch was the best he was going to get. There was a reason why Wayne sometimes felt like the only safe person–even if Eddie still felt like he was a burden to his uncle.

“Everything about me just—” Eddie sobbed, gritting his teeth as he just let his thoughts and feelings freefall from him. “Why am–I—I–why do I like everything people can–can just hate–about me? I don’t like anything normal—I’m just–nothing about me is normal.”

Usually, Eddie was the first one to proclaim that he was different and scream it loudly for people to hear. He’d shout and point and own it and draw all the other weirdos towards him. He was the king of all the freaks, but it felt like he was still an island amongst them. He was always somehow different. Like there was this wall he bumped up against far too easily that would crop up out of nowhere. How he’d say or do something and just fuck everything up in one fell swoop. 

Why did he keep giving people new reasons to call him a freak?

“I hate being like this–I hate–I hate that I can’t just–be normal for—for five minutes,” he gasped, feeling that swell of self-hatred rising in his chest, “it’s always my fault–it’s–I’m always… so… difficult. I just—I can’t—...I don’t know why–I don’t—I hate it, I hate it so much.”

He was feeling sorry for himself again and that felt unfair. It didn’t feel like this was something he got to be upset about or something that Wayne or anyone else cared about. It felt unfair to complain to a man who had probably watched dozens of friends die right in front of him during the war; to complain to a man who had taken him in when no one else would and had to bear this kind of responsibility when he hadn’t asked for it. To have a snot-nosed-brat sobbing in his lap because people didn’t like him. But Eddie was nothing if not selfish.

“I’m so tired of being different–I don’t… I don’t want it anymore–why does it matter so much to people? I just–I don’t want it anymore–It’s–like—I know, I know people hate me—everyone in this goddamn town–people–pe—everyone hates me. Wayne–” he was heaving now as he rambled, everything just spilling out of him in these waves of emotions as each ugly sound crashed into the next. “It’s not fair—I don’t—I don’t want to be the freak–I don’t what—I don’t want to be a loser–to be a drop out–I don’t want—I don’t want to like men–”

The last of his confessions slipped out and Eddie felt his body tighten; his throat felt like it was being ripped apart and his lungs couldn’t pull in enough breath to satiate him. It hurt so badly. It hurt and he hated it and he didn’t know why he said it.

Eddie felt Wayne’s pets pause briefly before picking back up again. That more than anything made Eddie feel ashamed. It made his jaw shake and his shoulders tighten. How fear and sorrow rattled around inside of him at the consequences of his words. He didn’t know what saying them would do–he didn’t mean them. He knew he didn’t mean them–he couldn’t have meant them. Those words were a death sentence.

“It’ll be alright,” Wayne mumbled, the words not sounding as hollow as Eddie thought they would, “I like you plenty.”

Eddie tucked in at the compliment, feeling weak and small as his sobs quieted a bit. His tears didn’t stop, but his chest heaves changed into fluttering gasps as he slowly regained his composure.

“Freaks run in the Munson blood,” Wayne continued and Eddie blubbered a small laugh shifting to press into Wayne’s hip. He was such a child, but he couldn’t help but soak in the comfort.

It was quiet again for some time as Eddie’s crying turned into hiccups and then sniffles, the TV quietly rambling in the background. It took a long while for Eddie to calm down, but Wayne never stopped stroking his hair. He felt wrung out and hollow now, his emotions dull and his body aching from how hard he had cried. Still, it did feel better than when he walked in here.

“I kissed him…” Eddie said quietly. He felt Wayne shift to look down at him, a question in his movement.

“Steve,” Eddie explained, mumbling, “I kissed Steve the other week.”

“I see,” Wayne answered back, obvious awkwardness in his delivery. He had never been good at talking about stuff like this–anything really–but it was obvious that he was trying. “And he doesn’t like that you’re a guy?”

Eddie shook his head, and closed his eyes, tucking in closer still as he pressed his forehead against Wayne’s stomach.

“Steve likes guys,” Eddie sighed, breathing heavily as he wrangled his emotions.

“Alright…” Wayne replied slowly, obviously puzzling through everything. Eddie frowned and tucked in again, hiding as he felt shame wash over him.

“I kissed him…” he explained, sniffing, “and then I told him it was a joke, that I didn’t mean it…”

“Ah…” Wayne answered, sighing a knowing breath. “Did you mean it?”

Eddie swallowed thickly, taking a long time to answer as he pressed hard into Wayne as if he could disappear this way.

“I don’t know…” Eddie replied, his voice muffled. Wayne stroked his head again and Eddie breathed deeply through his mouth, feeling bad for crying all over Wayne’s lap.

“Alright,” Wayne answered simply, not pushing the subject at all. He was good at listening and Eddie quietly appreciated that Wayne always seemed to have time to listen to him ramble. Slowly, Eddie sat back up, his back to Wayne as he hugged his knees and rallied.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, feeling like he had to apologize for the way he had acted. 

Wayne just patted his shoulder and Eddie felt a few tears slip down his cheek as if they had been knocked out of him by his uncle’s kindness. He sniffed hard again before getting off the couch and stumbling into the kitchen to splash water into his face and clean off the snot and tears. Eddie lifted the hem of his shirt to dry his face and then leaned against the kitchen counter, going quiet once more.

“Eddie?” Wayne spoke up and Eddie peered over at him through the cabinet shelf, “try telling your friend the truth.”

Eddie frowned at the suggestion, but he didn’t have it in him to be angry. Still, he didn’t think that was a great idea. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even sure if he knew what the truth was. How did he feel? Did he like Steve? That felt stupid and the idea made his stomach turn over. What good would a confession do anyway?

“And what’s that?” Eddie asked a bit flippantly, wiping wet strands of hair out of his face. 

“That you’re figuring it out and you want to stay friends,” Wayne offered, looking over at Eddie for a moment before turning to look at the TV again.

Eddie stared at the back of his uncle’s head, not sure what to say to that. Was it that simple? It felt like he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that he didn’t know how he felt about something. That he was unsure and vulnerable and scared—it didn’t feel like things were allowed to be that simple.

He didn’t answer Wayne as the TV flicked from image to image painting the dark little trailer in different colours each time. It felt comforting and Eddie appreciated that his Uncle wasn’t smothering him. He was more grateful that Wayne had just… accepted him. He had accepted him like he always did. He hadn’t said anything when Eddie started to grow his hair out or when he got a tattoo, when he flunked school, and now when he had said… he liked men. It had been a surprise to hear himself say those words and there was still deep-rooted shame attached to all of that, but that felt like something he had to unpack on his own. Still, Wayne’s reaction had been the same as it was for all of Eddie’s past transgressions. He’d quietly support him or sigh with worry, but it never seemed to change anything between them.

Eddie shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and went to the fridge. He pulled out a can of beer and walked it over to his uncle, touching the cold metal to Wayne’s forearm so he’d look up.

“Thanks,” he muttered gruffly, looking at Eddie briefly before redirecting his attention to the TV.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied quietly, wiping his nose and touching his uncle’s shoulder before stepping away, “thanks.”

PT3

[steviesbicrisis]

@unclewaynemunson Happy birthdaaaaay!! I saw your post about asking for Uncle Wayne related content for your bday and it inspired me to write this little thing! I didn't have a lot of time to work on it, please forgive any mistakes and I hope you like it!!

It's April of 1978 and, for the first time in his life, Wayne has to organize a birthday celebration for a kid.

Or better, "A teenager, I'm not a kid anymore" as Eddie would correct him every time.

It's been two months since he came knocking on his door, accompanied by social services, and things are... awkward at best.

The truth is, Wayne was never meant to be a father. He had come to accept it as he went through life and realized that the best way to not become like his old man was to not repeat the same mistakes he made. One being to have children when you can barely afford to feed them or have any love to give them.

Wayne had plenty of the latter, but lacked a stable relationship and a job that would pay him something bigger than his trailer.

So, being a father was not in his plans, but once he had realized Eddie couldn't have anything better than him, than his trailer park life, he welcomed him with open arms.

But Eddie had some trouble getting used to it.

He would talk to him only if Wayne talked to him first and Wayne, being a quiet old man, didn't do much of the talking himself. He would eat by himself when Wayne wasn't around, go to school by himself, and never left anything of his around (Wayne caught him putting his clean clothes back in the bag he came home with, once).

Sometimes, Wayne would even forget that Eddie was living with him.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes around, Wayne has no clue what he's supposed to do.

He has been giving him food, clothes, a bed, and school supplies, but Eddie doesn't ask for anything else and Wayne doesn't know what he needs.

Does he have friends he would celebrate with? does he expect a birthday party? how much would that cost? is it supposed to be a surprise?

He tries to get some sort of explanation out of Eddie, by staring at him quietly during breakfast, but he only gets a furrowed brow before the kid jumps off of his chair and rushes out of the trailer.

The frustration leads him, a few days later, to Melvald's General Store in the party supplies section.

Melvald’s isn’t a big store by any means but the selections of party hats and cake toppers is enough to confuse him even more and give him an headache.

His salvation comes in the form of none other than Joyce Byers. She must’ve noticed his pained look and decided to save him from his misery.

“I don’t know your boy very well, but I see him when I go get my kids from school” she admits, “he reminds me of my youngest, you know? He has some troubles expressing what he wants but… usually he’s happy with the simplest things. Just ask Eddie what he wants, I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Maybe get a cake, just in case. Kids love cake!”

——

“What is that?” It’s the first thing Eddie says when he gets home, staring at the cake on the table.

Kids love cake my ass Wayne curses Joyce, mentally.

They stare at each other until Wayne grunts a “it’s your birthday”, looking everywhere in the room but Eddie.

It’s a small “oh” that makes him focus on his nephew’s face.

Eddie is staring at the cake, a mix of emotions in his face that Wayne isn’t able to read.

“I haven’t had a birthday cake in a while. Dad never remembered my birthday."

It's not only what he says, but also the way he says it, with no emotions, like it's a thing he shouldn't be upset about, that breaks Wayne's heart.

Eddie approaches the table, in a way that funnily resembles a wary cat, and sits down in front of the cake. He doesn't say anything but stares at Wayne expectantly until he understands he's supposed to light up the candle on top of the cake.

"Do I have to sing you the song?" Wayne wonders, out loud.

"Please don't" Eddie is horrified.

Wayne gives him one mischevulous look before he starts to sing "Happy birthday to youuu" while Eddie covers up his hears and pleads him to stop.

Wayne was never meant to be a father, but he became a great one nonetheless.

[shesinchargeareyoukidding]

how do u think wayne handled Eddie getting fevers? or his FIRST fever ever being with Wayne

Eddie's first fever ever being with Wayne was handled with PANIC (but like internal Wayne-panic )

Like, this was Wayne on the outside

And this was Wayne on the inside

I think it stresses Wayne out when Eddie gets sick because when Eddie gets sick he gets reeeeally sick and Wayne feels completely inadequate as a caretaker ( he feels all gruff and clumsy) even though he's soooo good with Eddie. Anyway, this ask inspired me and I might have written half a oneshot about Eddie's first fever. If I finish it I'll attach it to this post.

[superspookyjanelle]

FIC COVER: 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚

Fandoms: percy jackson and stranger things

shout to Richie (@MrFantastic4 over on Quotev )! They are very amazing and talented graphics maker. I high suggest checking out they’re graphic show over on Q. A link to it can be found here

TAGGING: @witchofinterest @fiercefray @sweetenemyfire @eddysocs @arrthurpendragon @waterloou @villanele @bookstorebunny @roseygirl203 @valdrinors

[elvendria]

Clean

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Final Part

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies. There was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big. You just dream of making it out of here alive.

\\enemies - lovers//

((Warning: I'm not from the US, so bear with me with states and such) )

18+ MINORS DNI 

Eddie starts as a dick, but I promise he gets better. There’s a slap, but it's low-key warranted? Mentions of blood

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

Every detail of the room felt etched into your consciousness—the rough texture of the wooden floor beneath your feet, the cold smoothness of the linoleum countertops, the mundanity of the generic painting hanging above Eddie's head. You'd stared at it for so long that it had lost its semblance of reality, blending into the background of your mind's eye. But as much as you preferred the silent refuge of these familiar surroundings to the looming conversation you needed to have, you knew you couldn't evade it permanently.

Eddie's voice cut through the thick silence, a reminder that avoidance was no longer an option. "You can’t stay silent forever. We still need to talk about this."

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on you. You wished for a way out, a reprieve from the inevitable confrontation. But deep down, you knew that delaying the conversation would only prolong the agony.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you forced yourself to speak, though you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. "I tried to talk about this. Five years and five months ago." The words tasted bitter on your tongue, a painful reminder of a past you'd rather forget.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to drift back to that fateful day—the memories flooding back with a visceral intensity that threatened to overwhelm you. It was the worst day of your life, a day etched into your soul with searing clarity.

The air was heavy with tension as you and Eddie sat across from each other, words caught in your throat like shards of broken glass. You'd rehearsed what you wanted to say a thousand times in your mind, but when the moment came, the words failed you.

You remembered the look of confusion and hurt in Eddie's eyes as you struggled to articulate the truth. You remembered the silence that followed, thick and suffocating, swallowing you whole.

In the years that followed, you buried the pain deep within, hoping that time would heal the wounds you couldn't bear to face. But now, with Eddie's patient insistence echoing in your ears, you knew that avoidance was no longer an option.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. But you knew that facing the truth was the only way forward, no matter how painful it might be.

5 years and 5 months ago

In the stillness of the room, time seemed to stand still, each passing moment stretching into eternity. The air felt heavy with emotions, suffocating in its intensity. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast elongated shadows across the walls, serving as a silent witness to the turmoil raging within.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the mattress now feeling foreign and distant, you couldn't shake the weight of the sealed envelope clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The words "Return To Sender" emblazoned on its surface seemed to mock you, a cruel reminder of rejection in its most brutal form.

With each passing second, the questions swirled in your mind, each one more haunting than the last. How could Eddie do this to you? How could he turn his back on the life growing within you, on the love you once shared so deeply?

As you traced the outline of each handwritten letter with shaky fingers, the sting of tears threatened to overwhelm you once more. The pain was palpable, a physical ache that radiated from your heart and settled deep within your bones. It was a pain born of betrayal and abandonment, a pain you never imagined you would have to endure.

Desperate for some semblance of connection, some shred of reassurance that you weren't alone in your anguish, you reached for your phone. But each call ended in silence, the void on the other end echoing the emptiness in your heart. It was a loneliness unlike anything you had ever known, a loneliness that consumed you from the inside out.

In the silence of the room, memories flooded your mind like a torrential downpour. You couldn't help but replay the moments leading up to this, each one a painful reminder of what once was and what could have been. The whispered promises, the shared dreams — they all felt like distant echoes of reality you could no longer grasp.

And yet, despite the overwhelming sorrow threatening to engulf you, a flicker of defiance ignited within your soul. You refused to let this moment define you, to let Eddie's betrayal rob you of your strength and resilience. You were stronger than this, stronger than the pain that threatened to break you.

As you sat there, enveloped in the solitude of the night, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. It was a future shrouded in uncertainty, fraught with challenges and obstacles yet to be overcome. But it was also a future filled with possibility, with the potential for growth and healing in ways you never thought possible.

And so, with a newfound sense of determination, you rose from the edge of the bed, the weight of the envelope still heavy in your hand. You knew that the road ahead would be difficult, filled with twists and turns you couldn't anticipate. But you also knew that you were not alone, that somewhere out there, amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope waiting to be discovered.

Present Day

The memories unfurled like delicate petals in the garden of your mind, each one a testament to the fragility of youth and the bittersweet symphony of love and loss. You transported yourself back to a time when innocence was your constant companion and the world seemed painted in hues of hope and possibility.

“You know, I used to draw a little design along the back of my letters so you could make sure they hadn’t been opened by the time they got to you. It was stupid. I mean, what kind of person would want to read a letter from a 16-year-old?” The simple act of drawing a squiggly line on the back of your letters emerged from the recesses of memory, a quaint ritual born from a desire to safeguard your innermost thoughts from prying eyes. At the tender age of sixteen, such gestures felt like feeble attempts to protect the sanctity of your words in a world fraught with uncertainty.

But uncertainty seemed a distant memory compared to the raw ache that now gnawed at your soul. Tears welled up unbidden, tracing silent rivers down cheeks once adorned with the flush of youth. You hadn’t even realized they were there until the telltale sting of saltwater against your skin brought your attention to their presence.

The weight of your emotions bore down upon you like a heavy shroud, suffocating and relentless. A sob escaped your lips, the sound foreign and raw in the stillness of the room. It was a sound wrought from the depths of your being, a primal cry for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain indifferent to your pain.

This is what happened when you thought back to that day. You felt your chest tighten like your whole body had shut itself down and stitched itself up, trapping any remnants of the life you once had inside.

 “But… that was just it. I thought you would. I thought after everything, everything, that you were that person, that you’d want to read each word, and keep them until I came home to you.” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper as you navigated the labyrinth of memories that threatened to consume you whole. It was a day etched in the annals of your existence, a pivotal moment that had irrevocably altered the course of your life.

Your chest tightened with each passing moment, a vice-like grip that threatened to crush the fragile remnants of your shattered heart. It was a physical manifestation of the agony that permeated your being, a tangible reminder of the scars that marred your soul.

The spark of happy memories flickered briefly before being engulfed by the suffocating darkness that loomed on the horizon. It was a cruel juxtaposition, the juxtaposition of light and shadow that seemed to define your existence in equal measure.

“But… that was just it,' you confessed, the words tumbling from your lips like fragile petals caught in a tempest. It was a confession borne from the depths of your despair, a desperate plea for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain deaf to your cries.

“I thought you would,” you continued, voice trembling with a vulnerability that left you feeling exposed and raw. It was a sentiment rooted in the belief that love, true love, could transcend the barriers of time and space, binding two souls together in a tapestry of shared experiences and whispered promises.

But his face remained impassive, a mask of stoicism that betrayed none of the tumultuous emotions swirling beneath the surface. It was a facade you had grown accustomed to, yet it still cut you to the quick, a reminder of the chasm that now yawned between you.

You watched in silence as he spoke, his words a litany of accusations and half-truths that cut through the fragile veneer of your composure. It was a barrage of verbal assaults, each one a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams.

The question he posed hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive in its silence. It was a question that pierced the very fabric of your being, laying bare the insecurities and doubts that had long plagued your tortured soul.

“Is she even mine?” he demanded, the words a cruel echo of the doubts that had long haunted your darkest nightmares. It was a question you had feared and dreaded, yet it still cut you to the quick, reminder of the fragile foundation upon which your fractured relationship now stood.

Any lingering traces of guilt dissolved in the face of his callous indifference, replaced by a seething anger that threatened to consume you whole. How dare he? How dare he question the paternity of the child you had borne alone, a testament to the strength and resilience of a mother’s love?

“Look, don’t give me that look,” he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt as he dismissed your pain with a casual wave of his hand. It was a dismissal you could ill afford, a reminder of the gulf that now stretched between you like an unbridgeable chasm.

But you refused to be cowed by his indifference, refused to allow him to diminish the magnitude of your sacrifice with his callous words. You squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the storm that threatened to engulf you whole.

“And I don’t know you’d been telling me in your letters how you were getting close to this Jeb kid,” he continued, his words a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams. It was a betrayal of the highest order, a betrayal you could ill afford in the face of his relentless onslaught.

Sure, you had attempted to befriend Jeb, and had sought solace in the fleeting moments of companionship he offered. But it was a fleeting respite, a reprieve from the relentless storm that raged within your tortured soul.

“Look, I think we just need to do a paternity test-” he began, his words a death knell tolling in the depths of your despair. It was a proposition you could ill afford, a proposition that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of your fractured relationship.

But before he could utter another word, something inside you snapped. It was a primal instinct, a raw surge of emotion that propelled you forward with a force you could not resist. The crack of your hand meeting his cheek echoed in the stifling silence, a symphony of defiance and liberation.

“Get out,” you spat, the words a bitter indictment of the betrayal that now stained the fabric of your fractured relationship. He recoiled, a hand pressed to his stinging cheek, shock etched into every line of his face.

As he made his hasty exit, you remained rooted to the spot, grappling with the aftershocks of your outburst. Glass shattered against the door, a physical manifestation of the shattered fragments of your fractured relationship.

Alone amidst the debris, you collapsed to the floor, knees buckling beneath the weight of your anguish. Blood mingled with tears as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion, the cold embrace of exhaustion lulling you into an uneasy slumber.

And so you lay, battered and broken, the echoes of his accusations lingering in the recesses of your mind, a reminder of the fragile nature of trust and the devastating consequences of its betrayal. But amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, a flicker of hope remained a beacon of light in the darkest depths of despair. For in the crucible of adversity, you had discovered the strength to endure, the resilience to rise from the ashes of your shattered past and forge a future worthy of the love you so desperately sought.

Eddie seethed with a mixture of frustration and disbelief as he stepped into the familiar confines of his home in Hawkins. All he'd attempted was to apply logic, yet he was met with hostility. Perhaps "assault" was too strong a term, but it wasn't far from the truth. This marked the second occasion he'd been struck since returning home. Did he even still consider Hawkins home? The question gnawed at him as he pushed the door shut behind him, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily upon his shoulders.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Wayne sat at the worn wooden table, his hands folded neatly before him. The silence that enveloped the room hung heavier than usual, suffocating any hope of a casual greeting. Eddie's jaw tensed as he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, his mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.

"So... what went down between you two?" Wayne's voice cut through the oppressive silence like a knife, his gaze fixed intently on Eddie. Eddie couldn't help but admire his uncle's directness, even in moments like these.

"We argued, as we always do," Eddie began, his voice heavy with frustration. "She gave me the silent treatment for ages, and when she finally spoke, she blamed me for not knowing about the kid. So, I asked if the child was even mine, and she slapped me! Can you believe it?" His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white against the strain as he recounted the altercation.

Wayne sighed heavily, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "You're being dense, Eddie," he said, his tone laced with exasperation. He knew Eddie was smarter than this. Yet here he was, behaving like a petulant child. "Of course, Willow is yours. All the signs point to it."

Eddie shot Wayne a withering glare, his frustration boiling over. How could his uncle trust her over him? Surely the reasonable man Wayne was would understand why Eddie preferred to err on the side of caution, especially with matters of the heart.

"Edward, the kid has your eyes and your hair. She looks exactly like you did as a child. I knew she was yours the moment I saw her."

The words hit Eddie like a ton of bricks, a sudden realization dawning on him. "You knew? When did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to. Edward Munson, that kid is your spitting image. When she visits, all she wants to do is listen to your tapes and hear you talk about your Caves and Lizards game."

"It's Dungeons and Dragons," Eddie corrected automatically, his mind racing to process this new information. "She's mine... isn't she?"

"Of course she is. Did you think she'd choose anyone but you?" Wayne's voice softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his tone as he reached out to reassure his nephew. He had seen it the moment she entered their lives. She and Eddie had an infatuation with each other. They loved each other from day one, and it took a child to make them realize it if they ever did admit it.

"Yeah... about that..." Eddie's voice trailed off, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. How could he have doubted her, doubted them? He'd never forget the look in her eyes, like everything had fallen into place for her that night. He knew because he felt the same way. Even now, he felt like his entire existence revolved around her. "I kind of hinted that I thought she might be with someone else."

Wayne's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Eddie had always been quick to jump to conclusions, but his heart was in the right place. "You're something else," Wayne said, a hint of fondness tugging at the corners of his lips as he rose from his seat.

With that, Wayne pushed his chair back and headed to the bathroom, leaving Eddie to grapple with the weight of his own emotions. As he made his way to his room, a sense of unease settled over him. He had ruined everything he ever wanted, and the consequences of his actions weighed heavily on his mind.

To top it all off, he might have ruined any chance of seeing his daughter again. The thought hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of their newfound bond and the importance of trust in their relationship.

The echoes of the argument still reverberated in your mind, though two weeks had passed since the war within your… situation… erupted. Now, amidst the chaos of life, bigger things demand your attention. Today marked Willow's first day of school, a milestone overshadowed by the recent upheaval. Delaying it by a few days seemed necessary as she grappled with the revelation that the person she believed to be her sister was, in fact, her mother. It was a truth that unravelled a web of emotions, triggering one of the most monumental tantrums you had ever witnessed.

As you sat in the parking lot, the weight of recent events felt momentarily lifted by the simple joy of hearing Willow refer to you as her mom for the first time. The word, so longed for yet unexpected in its arrival, wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace. It was a validation of the bond you had worked tirelessly to forge, despite the obstacles and uncertainties that clouded your path.

"Mom... we should go." Willow's voice broke through the reverie, grounding you in the present moment. You couldn’t get past the significance of her words, even if she didn’t. Each syllable held a promise of newfound connection and acceptance for her and a promise that part of you was starting to slip away. It was a moment you had longed for, a moment that filled the void left by the turmoil of recent weeks.

With a sense of renewed purpose, you stepped out of the car, the cool breeze of the morning air brushing against your skin. Making your way around to Willow's side, you extended a hand to help her out, savouring the warmth of her small fingers intertwined with yours. The simple act of physical contact felt like a lifeline, a tangible reminder of the love that bound you together.

Pulling her into a tight embrace, you marvelled at how much she had grown in what felt like the blink of an eye. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, but in this moment, as you held your precious child close, everything else faded into insignificance. You couldn't help but lavish her with affection, doting on her every movement as if trying to make up for lost time.

"I know, I know. It's just you're so big now!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of pride and awe. Willow's smile mirrored your own, a reflection of the unconditional love that flowed between you. As you stood there, basking in the warmth of the morning sun, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as resilient as it was unbreakable.

As she skipped beside you, her sparkly pink trainers lighting up with every step, you held her hand tightly. With each bounce, she seemed to carry a piece of the sun's brightness, infusing the world around you with an infectious energy that made everything seem more vibrant and alive. You wished you could bottle it, like her own brand of lightning in a jar. You were certain a joy like that could cure all ailments.

As you stepped into the building, a wave of familiar scents enveloped you, triggering a strange sense of nostalgia. The hallways exuded a peculiar blend of bleach, plasticine, and an elusive aroma that seemed to linger in every school corridor. It was a scent that stirred up memories, perhaps of apprehension, or maybe of anticipation, but most likely a concoction of both.

High school memories flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but think of her. You wondered how time would mould her, shaping her perspective of the world. If she retained even a fraction of the effervescent spirit she possessed now, you could easily picture her as a beacon of joy, radiating positivity and warmth wherever she went.

As you approached Willow's classroom door, a mix of emotions swirled within. Each step felt like a journey, leading inexorably to a new phase of life. The door creak seemed to underscore the weight of the moment as it swung open, revealing a space alive with the energy of youth. But amidst the chatter and colourful decor, a bittersweet truth lingered: this marked the beginning of the end of an era. Standing in the hallway, holding her tiny little hand, the gravity of the occasion settled like a heavy cloak. It was a poignant reminder that time marches on, carrying precious moments with it, even as it ushers in new beginnings.

“You ready to go in, sweetie? You want me to come in and help you get set up?”

“Wait!” 

Your head snapped up, startled by the rapid tempo of shoes striking the linoleum floor. As you turned, your heart leapt at the sight of the one person you least expected yet secretly yearned for. It was a paradoxical moment, where surprise collided with a silent prayer answered. Time seemed to stand still as you processed the unexpected encounter, each heartbeat echoing the tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within.

“I drove here as fast as I could. I… I had to see her.” 

His dishevelled appearance, with hair hastily scraped back and clothes seemingly inside out, hinted that he rushed here, disoriented maybe. The last thing you wanted was for Willow's first day to be marred by tears or confusion, so you hurriedly guided her inside, a silent observer from the doorway.

As Willow bounded towards a girl in a bright blue sweater, effortlessly engaging in her natural talent for making friends, you couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. Yet, you remained silent, unable to meet his gaze without the weight of an unspoken intensity pressing against your chest.

It was a sensation that threatened to overwhelm you, leaving your eyes burning and your mouth dry. The urge to scream into the void, to release the pent-up emotions into the world, was almost palpable. But deep down, you knew that no amount of noise could articulate the complex feelings swirling within you.

“Why did you-” You couldn’t handle his questions, only holding up a hand to shut him up for a minute.

“You can see her from here. I can’t have her asking more questions just yet.” He didn’t have to deal with the fallout, he’s never had to deal with any of it. He just walked back in, fired around a bunch of accusations, and walked back out again. He’d never get to understand the pain that left you.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Please, just… just listen to me.”

“Will listening shut you up? Will it make everything go back to the way it was before you knew?” You choked on the end of your words, fighting back the tears that stung your eyes and threatened to fall.

“Just let me speak, and if after I'm finished, that's still what you want? Then we can try to go back to normal. But it’ll never be like it was before I knew, because I want to know her.”

You stood up and began walking away, hearing him follow close behind. You weren't in the mood to hear what he had to say, or how he felt he had some god-given right to see her after everything he had said and done. His presence grated on your nerves, each footstep amplifying your frustration.

“I want to know my daughter. Please.” 

His voice sounded almost like he was begging, pleading with you to change your mind, to hear him out. The desperation in his tone made you hesitate, hearing him call her his. It stirred something within you, and you stopped in your tracks. Turning around, you fixed him with a ferocious glare, your eyes burning with a mix of anger and pain. The intensity of your gaze was enough to make him falter, and for a moment, the hallway was filled with the heavy silence of unspoken emotions.

"So now you feel entitled to call her yours?" Now you get to believe me when I say that I’d never been with anyone but you? Why did you suddenly have a change of heart?

He continued walking towards you, slowing his pace as he noticed you stiffen when he got too close. It was as if he was handling a wounded bird, afraid that any sudden movement might cause you to flee and leave him behind once more. The only thing convincing him that you wouldn't run was the undeniable truth that your child was still here, and you would never leave her. The weight of this unspoken understanding hung heavily in the air, a silent tether binding you to the spot despite the turmoil within.

“I was a fool before. Wayne showed me that. Hell, I was more than a fool. I was an outright fuck up.” He stood there, holding his breath. You could almost hear his heart battering against his ribs from where you stood. As you turned around and met his gaze, a flicker of softness crept into your heart. You wanted to dash to your car, to escape home and hide until it was time to pick her up. But you knew it was impossible. For Christ's sake, he lived across the street. Eventually, you'd run into him again. The thought of the inevitable encounters made your shoulders sag with the weight of resignation, yet you stood your ground, steeling yourself for the confrontation that you knew was coming.

“That doesn’t answer my question. It just proves I was right. Why do you feel the right to call her your child when I was the one who had to endure hell for years?” 

You felt the tears fall, but made no move to wipe them away. A part of you was glad you didn’t when you felt his warm hand on your cheek, gently brushing them away with his thumb. He looked at you with that familiar expression—the one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. It was a mix of tenderness and regret, a look that pierced through your defenses and made your heart ache. Despite everything, there was still a connection, a lingering trace of what once was, and it left you standing there, torn between the past and an uncertain future.

And it was goddamn working.

“I remembered it, just this morning.” 

He was staring through your soul with those eyes that could melt the ice-cold walls you’d built to keep yourself safe. He was the only person you had ever known who could make you feel secure, make you feel at home. In his gaze, you saw a depth of understanding and a silent plea for forgiveness, a reflection of the love that had once bound you together so tightly. Despite the pain and the years of separation, he still had the power to unravel your defenses, leaving you vulnerable yet inexplicably comforted in his presence.

“When I called you and the line went dead, I tried again and again to get through to you. Eventually, someone answered. It was your dad. He told me you didn’t want to talk to me ever again. Then I remembered something you said to me about a letter you wrote. I… I never got it.�� 

The realization hit you like a freight train, surging through every vein in your body like an unstoppable force. It felt as though the tracks had suddenly given way beneath you, sending you hurtling into chaos. Yet, amidst the chaos, everything began to fall into place, like pieces of a puzzle that had eluded fitting together until this moment.

Memories flooded back—your father's abrupt phone call, the slammed receiver, the whispered conversations behind closed doors. And then, the return of your letter, marked with "return to sender." It all made sense now. The pieces of the puzzle, disjointed and scattered for so long, finally clicked into place, revealing a picture you had never dared to imagine.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. Part of you wanted to cry and scream, to unleash the years of pent-up anger and frustration at the injustice of it all. You had wasted so much time hating him for what he did, resenting the world for the hand it had dealt you. But on the other hand, there was a profound sense of gratitude, a realization that despite the pain and heartache, his actions had led to the greatest gift you could have ever received.

In the midst of the turmoil, there was a glimmer of light—a beacon of love and joy that had emerged from the darkest corners of your past. Your child, the embodiment of a love you had never thought possible, had brought warmth and meaning into your life in ways you could never have imagined. And in that moment, as you grappled with the complexities of your emotions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of profound gratitude for the unexpected blessings that had emerged from the depths of your pain.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did when you told me that Willow was mine. I should’ve believed you. I always believe you.” He walked closer to you, till the tips of your shoes were touching, and you could feel his breath on your skin, the smell of nicotine engulfing you. “Maybe if I told you sooner that I…” You watched him catch his breath, watched him stop speaking for a moment. You had a blooming warm feeling in your chest, hoping what he was about to say was the same as what you’d been feeling for as long as you can remember.

“Say it, please. So that I can tell you the same thing.” 

You watched as a sparkle appeared behind his eyes, a joyous expression threatening to overtake his face. It made you want to grin against him too, want to smile stronger and wider than you’ve ever done before.

“Maybe if I told you sooner that I loved you, I could’ve made you stay. We could’ve raised her together. God, I love you, have loved you and will love you for my entire life. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything before now. I wish I had told you that night, the beautiful night that I have been obsessed with since you left.” His words were like poetry, music to your ears.

The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over the empty high school hallway, the distant hum of the lights barely audible. After five long years apart, you stood facing each other near the lockers where you had shared countless memories as children yourself.

"I never stopped loving you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "Not for a single moment."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I've always loved you."

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at each other, the weight of your mutual feelings hanging heavily in the air. Then, almost in unison, you took a step closer.

His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last stray tear. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the warmth and familiarity of his hand.

He tilted his head, closing the distance between the two of you. Your breaths mingled, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, your lips collided with his in a tender, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken words.

It was soft at first, a gentle exploration, as if you were both afraid the moment would shatter. But then, the intensity grew, the kiss deepening as you poured all your pent-up emotions into it. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his long, thick hair.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of love and passion. The cool metal of the lockers pressed against your back as they kissed, grounding you both in the reality of the moment. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch their breath.

"I've missed you so much," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath.

"And I you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But we're together now, and I'm never letting you go again."

You smiled, your heart full, and kissed him once more, sealing the promise with a tender touch, the echoes of your love resonating through the silent hallway.

This, this was the life you deserved, the love you deserved, all along. This was what true love felt like, what it felt like to be loved. He was an intoxicating drug, and you knew that you were hooked for life.

You sat in the car together, catching him up on everything he’d missed while you were apart. Soon it felt like no time had passed at all, and that you were back to your old ways. Best friends, and now lovers.

You hadn’t realised that hours had passed until you saw the cute little bundle of joy bounding her way over in her pink light up sneakers. You saw a look on Eddies face, a beaming sight of joy.

“What is it? Are you okay?” You got a little worried, thinking maybe something was wrong.

“She… she’s wearing my old hellfire shirt. It was the first one I’d ever made. I didn’t want to waste a shirt my size, so I tried it on a child's one. Wayne, well, he must have sold it on or something.” You could now see that what that look in his eyes was. It was pride. Pride that his little girl was showing an interest in something that was uniquely his.

The grin stayed on his face even as she climbed into the car, throwing her arms around the seat to hug him, squealing his name in delight. It made your heart soar, like fireworks lighting up your whole world.

“So sweetie, how was your first day?” 

“I got a boyfriend named Sam!” 

You watched Eddie almost choke on his own breath, meanwhile you couldn’t help but break into a belly laugh, clutching your sides breathlessly.

“Well, guess I better meet this boy.” He turned to you, whispering gently. “Is it too much to sit on the porch with a shotgun?”

“Eddie! The kids probably five years old!”

“Hey! She’s my little girl, I gotta protect her from the big bad kindergartners of the world.” 

And that was it, that was how you’d go onto spend the rest of your lives. With a beautiful sunny glow surrounding you like heavenly light. 

The look of love would stay on his face forever, on your wedding day, on the day you brought a brother into the world for Willow. It was there always, and you just knew.

You knew that this was what it meant to be clean.

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And there we go! The final chapter is done after so damn long. I've been writing this fic for over a year and im so glad to finally have it be over. The amount of WIPs I've come up with since then has been enormous, but I've commited and didn't want to give up on this baby. So here it is, I hope you all enjoyed!

next up.... BRIDGERTON EDDIE

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites @amberolivia666 @mystargirl-interlude

@elegantkoalapaper @eddiesguitarskills @hazydespair @rozxartaki @seatbacksandtraytables

[robinswise]

okayyyy unpopular opinion that will more then likely turn into a rant!

EDDIE 'THE FREAK' MUNSON IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

AAAAAA

ok.

I. Do. Not. Like. Eddie. Munson.

Just to get this out of the way, I don't hate Joseph Quinn at all, he's a great actor, but I hate Eddie.

OKAY I NEED TO ACTUALLY GET TO THE POINT-

Eddie is an asshole

Why couldn't he push the dnd campaign to a different day? Is there a reason? I don't think there was, I don't remember there being one and when I googled it, sure enough, there doesn't seem to be a reason.

Really couldn't his role have been given to pretty much any of the characters?

Mike.

Lucas.

Dustin.

Jonathan would've made the most sense (to me) if he wasn't in Cali (in season 1 we know some people thought Jonathan might've k!lled Will, so they could've thought he did the same to Chrissy)

Even Steve.

Honestly, even Max could've been given the role

Also, I don't dislike most people who like Eddie, alot of them are just really obsessed (like a scary level of obsession)

ALSO STEDDIE-

I posted about them positively one time a while ago but no I do not ship them.

The context for that post was that I didn't hate Steddie - at the time I even vaguely liked them (or more specifically, I liked the way that certain people wrote them) but I didn't ship them, they just made the most sense for that specific idea and I didn't hate them at the time.

I was reading something that was part of a longer series of posts and the person had hinted that Stonathan would be in it but then suddenly Eddie appeared and Steddie was heavily implied - which normally wouldn't be an issue but they didn't tag it with Eddie or Steddie.

Anyways, Argyle is in my opinion the better character added in season 4.

Another thing, it didn't bother me initially but Eddie stans acting like Eddie and Dustin's friendship is so unique is really annoying to me-

Because- no- like sure, he's close with Eddie, but the friendship is not unique whatsoever, in terms of older brother like friends he had Steve, in terms of outcast nerds who like dnd he had the party, and in terms of friends with attitude problems he had Mike and Max

Also, was his death really all that shocking? It fit the st formula perfectly! Introduce a new character just to k!ll them off

Benny

Barb

Bob

Billy

Even in search 4 we got Chrissy Fred and Patrick

About his crazy fans - not all are like this, I've met some genuinely nice Eddie fans who've written genuinely good Steddie ficlets - but was sending death threats necessary? Because I just don't get why that whole thing happened.

I think Eddie coming back in any form other then a flashback or Vecna vision would just maks me upset tbh, like actually, what would be the point? They already pulled "look he's actually alive!" Trick with Hopper (and to an extent, Will) so doing it a third time (even for such a fan favorite) would just feel lazy to me

Also, in my opinion, Will would dislike Eddie, so many people say that Will would love him but to me, I feel like it would be very out of character for him to like Eddie (knowing that Will doesn't like extra attention - at least not from people who might judge and/or ridicule him - and Eddie actively draws it)

I feel like the fact we only got a reaction to Eddie's death from Dustin and Wayne is really telling as to how little importance he actually had, because even Mike who was friends with Eddie didn't know about his death - or at least his reaction wasn't important enough to show.

I found Eddie's guitar solo to be very pointless and even rather boring.

Also, there are people who ship Eddie with Billy?? Ew.

Even as someone who does not like Eddie at all I can confidently say that he deserves better and would probably not fall for that walking piece of dog shit (once again, I don't hate Dacre Montgomery I just hate Billy)

Anyways, in short, I don't mind Joseph Quinn or Eddie's fans, I know there's definitely worse characters in the show, and at the end of the day I'm just a nerd on the internet who's been fixated on the same subject for probably way to long so it's fine to have a different opinion then me

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

So I finished Flight of Icarus.

I liked hearing more about Hellfire, learning about Eddie's dad and his mum and having more of Uncle Wayne ( I stan uncle Wayne)

Principal Higgins is a dickhead. Seriously had a lot of rage reading the parts with him in it.

I really liked Ronnie.

It's interesting to read this book as its two years before?? S4 in the Stranger Things timeline,

I think in that two years Eddie grows into the Eddie we all know and love in S4 ❤️ (obviously the way Joseph played Eddie is the main reason for that)

Oh and Al Munson is a shit stain of a human, seriously fuck that guy. 😑

Line that broke my heart is this one 👇

Breaks my heart that Eddie has such a tragic backstory and he dies a hero for a town that's always hated him. 😑 (no I don't think he will be back in S5 except maybe for flashbacks)

Because God forbid we fall in love with a new character who doesn't get killed off (obviously excluding Argyle and Robin)

Anyway that's all. Just my thoughts ♥️

[munson-blurbs]

TUI 10

He came to the funeral 🥺 Poor Ms. Sweetheart is in all the feels right now and she can’t express them.

SWEETHEART NO! WHY ARE YOU BEING MEAN TO OUR BOY!? (Knowing damn well she can’t control her emotions right now.)

Harris “The Absolute Sweetest” Munson, “we can share grandpa Wayne.” 🥺��

Lisa, BACK THE FUCK UP.

“I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…” YEAH BITCH, SO JUST WALK AWAY.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.” MY MAN! 🫡

Reconciliation with Jeff 😭👏🏼 Finally!! Good ol’ Jeff. This scene has me missing the Hellfire boys.

Our man’s with the break up starter kit. Ice Cream.

‘He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.’ *clears throat* AHHHHHHHHHHHH

‘But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.’

BUG (know know that I’m not a beggar, BUT,) PLEASE I NEED MORE 😂 I need to know what happens next. I’m so excited to find out how/if she comes back. Baby Harris needs her. Big dumb Eddie needs her! 🥺

B, your commentary is always the highlight of my day.

It's nice being able to write Eddie doing the right thing for once, especially after the first few chapters of pure douchebaggery.

We love Jeff. We stan Jeff in this house. Him, Baby Harris, and Mac Daddy Wayne.

Chapter 11 is almost finished! And I promise it will heal everything, cure depression, and bring world peace.

(Also, your gif game is on point as usual)

[tea-time-with-london]

Some Eddie stans forget that the vast majority of the side/background characters don't have the same knowledge that we, the viewers, have. They don't know anything about the Upside Down, so they won't be making reaches. They'll be looking for the human answer that makes sense.

It's completely understandable that Eddie was the prime suspect for the police.

He was a known drug dealer, and canonically had trouble with the police (Max's mom- "It looks like that Munson boy's in trouble again." that heavily implies that they'd seen the police in the trailer park for Eddie before.). Chrissy was found brutally murdered in his trailer, and he went missing without an alibi. Wayne, the only other person who had access to the trailer, had a solid alibi of being at work.

For the police, and the people of Hawkins who don't know about the Upside Down, it would be pretty solid evidence for Eddie being guilty. It wouldn't be a stretch for people to assume that it was a drug deal gone wrong.

(The show writers are also guilty of this "Hunt the freak, right?" No! He wasn't being hunted for being a freak, or for dnd, or for metal. He was being hunted because of the dead cheerleader found in his living room!)

Confession #66

I go back and forth on this because honestly, I think it's both. And I think we're supposed to have complicated feelings on this because both the cops' perspective and Eddie's perspective make sense.

On one hand, I don't think we can necessarily blame the police for considering Eddie as the prime suspect because Chrissy's mangled body was found in his trailer...and he was the very last person to see her...and then he himself was nowhere to be found. In the real world, those three factors point to the possibility of a guilty person. Fans have to understand this point of view.

And then on the other hand, we know that Eddie wasn't liked due to his interests, behavior, and personality. He was most likely bullied before for these things and that's not right. Prior to Chrissy's death, there was never any proof that Eddie was capable of harm. Fans also have to understand this point of view.

You also have to consider more: The Satanic Panic was a real thing in the 80s, and the way Chrissy's body was found would absolutely look like a ritual gone wrong to the average human. You have to consider he's a drug dealer, and some of them are not trustworthy. But also, a person's interests/job doesn't make them a murderer, either.

All in all, we're supposed to have complex feelings about this because it is a complex situation. Both perspectives can make sense.

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Author: @ashleyfanfic

Rating/Warning: Mature, referenced Laura is a C*nt, referenced ED

Chapter Count: 1/5

Description: After a disastrous morning with her mother, Eddie finds Chrissy and makes it his mission to give her the best Christmas ever.

Tags: Alternate universe- no vecna, found family, Chrissy needs a damn hug, we stan Wayne Munson, we stan Karen Wheeler, found family, we hate Phillip, hurt/comfort, Chrissy POV, multiple chapters, Status: WIP

[shinydixon]

"As for the “she ruined his life,” please. His life was already ruined. Motherfucker was a grown ass man living in a dirty 1 bedroom trailer with his uncle (because he has no parents), making speeches about how much high school sucks but he can’t get his grown ass out of there. He plays games with 14 year olds instead of getting a job. Statistically, he was gonna go to jail at some point for carrying a lunch box full of drugs around a high school and selling drugs to minors."

so, you resort to classism? who says his life was ruined? sure it seems he hasnt had the best childhood, but that doesnt mean his life is ruined. theres nothing wrong with being "grown" and living with a relative(s), especially when you have money struggles. and saying that he and the trailer is dirty is pushing gross stereotypes about poor people/people who live in trailers (bc not all of them are poor).

eddie being stuck in high school can be a multitude of reasons, maybe he has a hard time focusing/understanding subjects. maybe he missed a lot of school picking up jobs to help wayne out, and hes just a bad student! who knows! its not like he purposefully held himself back. (sometimes there are teachers who fail you on purpose, happened to my brother.)

and whats wrong with him playing a GAME with younger kids for a CLUB? if thats the case, you should be angry with the 18 yr old basketball players playing with lucas, whos 14/15.

and yes, indirectly, chrissy killed him. bc if it wasnt for her wanting something stronger, eddie wouldnt have went to his trailer to find and sell it to her. if she had taken the weed from the first deal, eddie wouldve most likely still been alive.

AND, we dont know how steve felt about eddies death, with dont know how any of them besides dustin felt bc of the stupid "2 days later". but if i were to say "chrissy doesnt care about eddie" (pre + post deal" and "eddie never cared about chrissy", I would be the bad guy.

also, you guys say every. single. time. "dont generalize all hc!! we arent ALL bad" yet its ok for you say "You Eddie munson / steddie fans all have worms for brains" ? if you get to say that all the time, then we should get to generalize too, its only fair.

stop being hypocrites

That person is doing what people in hawkins were doing ; judging Eddie without knowing him.

There are so many reasons why people fail schools and it's not because they are stupid, it's because school is not for them(mind you that Eddie is a DM, which means that he must have been good at math and also, since he creates the campaigns, he has a good imagination and an excellent ability in writing and narrating).

It's like that example "if you have a monkey and a fish and you ask them to climb a tree, obviously the fish can't do that, but he definitely can swim better than a monkey" (I don't know if that makes sense).

Also, I get so mad when people judge adults that lives with relatives.

I'm 27, I have a job and yet I still live with my parents, do you wanna know why?

Because HAVING A PLACE NOW IS FUCKING EXPENSIVE, I CAN'T AFFORD TO LIVE ALONE.

However I've bought a car and once I finish paying for that I'll be able to look for a place on my own, hoping that there's something I can afford.

About Steve, we don't know how he reacted to Eddie's death so, what point are you trying to make?

Do you know that Eddie wasn't crying because it was chrissy that died but because he was traumatized by seeing someone dying like that? As I said he did the same with Patrick and I assure you that he wasn't his friend at all.

Finally, about what you say, why should I be like them? If you want to generalize every hellcheer, then be my guest, I won't be like that(even though this person is clearly a chrissy Stan, not an hellcheer considering how they talk about Eddie).

[elvendria]

Clean (Formerly Love is a Battlefield)

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part Two

Summary:

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies, in fact, there was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big, you just dream of making it out of here alive.

\\enemies - lovers//

((Warning I'm not from the US, so bare with me when it comes to states and such))

tw: 18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on lower torso.

Word Count: 3,744K

part one part two part three part four

"Stupid... fucking... Car!!" You kicked the rims on the wheels of your car, screaming at it after you had tried for over 30 minutes to get it to work. But nothing, it just spluttered and coughed, before finally letting out a puff of black smoke from the back that made you want to sit back and cry.

You were due for work and couldn't afford to be late. After all, it was only your second week. It wouldn't make a good impression if you suddenly called and said you couldn't make it due to something stupid like your car not starting.

After what must have been your 7th attempt at beating the car into submission, you heard a few raps on the hood of the car, looking up to see Wayne there. He'd been coming around every so often, almost like he was trying to cram the missed years into a few afternoons.

Willow loved it when he came around, mainly because Wayne would spend most of his time sitting on the floor playing dolls with her, while you complained that he was going to hurt his back or something.

"Christ darlin', I'm sure they could hear you all the way into town." He chuckled as he stood beside you, thumb through his belt loop while another smoked a cigarette. "I'd ask you if you want one to calm your nerves, but I'm not about to condone smoking." He says, taking a drag from it, being a massive fucking hypocrite and knowing it too.

"I just don't know what I'm gonna do, I don't have the money to get her repaired, I only just started work!" You sank to the porch step defeatedly, head in your hands while the heels of your palms dug into your eyes.

Wayne would never admit this, never betray his nephew's trust like this, but it wasn't his idea to come over here to you.

Eddie was woken up by the sound of an engine backfiring. He had his arm draped around Chrissys' shoulders in a rather uncomfortable way, and it had caused a creak in his neck. She had told him he'd get used to it, and that she could only sleep with him if they slept like this, and so he endured it.

She figured he owed it to her anyways, due to the fact that while he was rutting into her last night, she moaned loudly and high pitched, expecting Eddie to be putty in her hands like he always is, but was met with his hand over her mouth while he repeatedly just said the words "Shut Up". He wasn't sure why, it hadn't happened for so long, and he thought once he started fucking Chrissy maybe those thoughts could go away.

And yet still thoughts of you, sitting on the floor beside him, telling him that his hair was growing back in fine, that he looked handsome, swam back into his mind. Then they turned to images of you on your back, pillow clutched to your chest as he bent your knees back to meet your chest, absolutely ravaging you. It was all he could think of last night

And so when she moaned in her irritatingly squeaky voice, it wasn't the one he wanted to hear. It was yours, all he could think of was you. Normally he'd open his eyes and watch whatever slut was under him squirm and writhe in pleasure, and that was enough. But last night, nothing but the thought of you was going to get him to finish.

He'd never let Chrissy know that she wasn't the only girl he was sleeping with. Not that she didn't know, but he knew that she could get a bit… crazy, demand that he only fuck her, that he stay hers forever. He didn't want that, he didn't want to be tied down to her. And yet that's all she wanted to do to him.

Climbing out of bed, he untangled his arm from Chrissy and looked out the window to see you standing beside your car like you were on the verge of setting the whole car on fire. You began kicking the rims, taking all your anger and frustration out on the hubcaps

It made him smile slightly, to see that you hadn't lose that spark inside of you. That raging fire that made you sometimes get a little mad at the slightest inconvenience, usually when you'd already been having a shit day.

But then he stopped and thought to himself, he shouldn't be smiling, he shouldn't find this endearing or cute, not after everything that happened. He quickly dropped his smile, walking out into the kitchenette to see Wayne awake and eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. The man never really did learn how to eat like an adult.

"Someone should go over there and tell her to shut the fuck up." He grumbled as he sat down to eat the cereal with Wayne. They didn't have a lot of money, so they always just stuck with one brand of cereal for both of them. Not that Eddie minded eating marshmallows for breakfast. "She's going to wake the whole park up."

"Well you're the mechanic, why don't you go over and fix it up for her." Wayne was probing, and not very discreetly. He wasn't entirely sure what happened all those years ago, just before she left, but if it was big enough to stop the two from being friends, then it must've been really bad.

"I'm not going over and asking her directly!" Eddie spoke like it was something obvious, something that Wayne should have known already. He could hardly go over and talk to her as if they hadn't killed each other emotionally 4 years ago. Like she hadn't taken his heart and crushed it on the ground when she left. "Look, just... go over for me and tell her to drop it to the shop, she doesn't need to know I'm the one working on it for her."

Wayne nodded his head, suppressing a knowing smirk. Standing up, he went to the door, about ready to swing it open when Eddie called after him.

"Can you..." The words felt heavy and swollen on his tongue. He wanted to speak but it was like his throat didn't want him to make any sound. He pushed passed it, determined to not be rendered mute just because she'd shown up one day and hadn't even made the effort to contact him. "Can you check to see if she's okay?"

Wayne just looked at him, disappearing out the door.

So that's how Wayne ended up convincing you to let him tow it to the nearest auto shop. Apparently, he knew someone down there that would fix it free of charge. You weren't about to turn down a free car service, so of course you nearly bit his hand off saying yes. It was free after all.

The main issue however still lay at your feet in a Willow shaped mess.

"Oh well, I'm free all afternoon, I'm sure I could look after her at mine for a while?" Wayne offered when you told him your dilemma. You were hesitant at first, you knew Eddie lived with him still, on more than one occasion he'd woken Willow up with the sound of his radio as his van sped into the trailer park. But you hadn't seen him, just saw the headlights and the giggle of some girl.

But once again, the offer of free stuff was just too tempting to refuse. You agreed, grabbing her favourite toy, a pink stuffed elephant she'd named bunny and her blanket. She'd undoubtedly take a nap around 3pm, sleeping wherever she fell, but she wouldn't sleep well without it.

You didn't go into the trailer, you didn't even step onto the porch. You saw the blinds move, you knew he was there, you didn't need to speak to him.

He's the one that gave up on you, he's the one that cut all contact.

He's the one who never wrote back.

You packed her lunch into a brown bag, knowing for a fact that unless Wayne knew how to cut a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into the shape of a dinosaur, then there was no way he was getting her to eat. Willow wasn't a picky eater, she'd eat whatever you gave her. She's just a bit happier if they're cut up all fun.

"I'll be home soon, real soon. But you're gonna have fun with Wayne right? And be the best girl for me?" You pushed a piece of her hair back as she spun on her toes swinging her arms in front of her. You had to dodge just to avoid being hit by her little ballerina act.

"I promise!" She held the edges of her little skirt and began to soon in a circle, being the playful and adorable child she was. "Can we have dino nuggies?"

"If you behave... then maybe, I'll see what I can do." You smiled as she let out a little cheer, knowing too well that you'd have dino nuggies for dinner. You could hardly ever say no to the kid. You kissed her on the head, another million thank you's to Wayne before you ran down the dirt road to the bus stop.

Thankfully there was one just down the road, and the bus was just pulling up as you got there, slightly ashamed at how out of breath you were. You fished out a few dollars from your pocket, climbing up the steps of the bus.

The driver was a bulky man, bald and very clearly sweaty. Like, a sweat patch in a V down his back sweaty. His winter beard was glistening and matted together in places around his chubby face. Handing him the $2, he gave you a smile, friendly and welcoming. He reminded you of the old guy you used to see sitting on a park bench near the casino your dad frequented.

"I don't normally see you on this route, are you from around here?" He spoke as he pulled away from the stop, the rickety bus bouncing along every curve and pothole on the road.

"Just moved from Nevada, well, moved back." You chuckled, introducing yourself as you took a seat near the front. Everywhere else was full.

"Well I'm Simon." He smiled as he carried on down the road with a faint smile on his face. "Simon the bus driver."

Admittedly, Hawkins was pretty in the summer. The flowers on the roadside were in full colour, the heat waves radiating off the ground and causing a slightly distorted view in the bottom half of your vision. You were walking the from where you got off the bus to your job, the faint smell of sunscreen and sweat in the air.

Girls walked around smelling of Salon Selectives, carrying gym bags on their way home from jazzercise or aqua aerobics at the pool. Guys were shirtless, or almost shirtless, smelling of Drakkar Noir and ego.

Everyone was preppy and perky and perfect, intent on having the summers you only see in movies, the kind where teenage dreams are more than dreams for those few precious months. The kind of story where the protagonist grows up, finds themselves, and gets their crush to finally notice them.

In other words, their dreams were bullshit. In the real world, these so-called protagonists won't find themselves until a bad acid trip in college and likely won't grow up till their mid-30s, and as for getting their crush to notice them? Well, they had a better chance of selling out The Garden with their one-man accordion band.

You walked into the store, throwing your bag behind the counter into a little shelf, tucked away for later. You stocked the till, readying for the day, beads of sweat gathering on the nape of her neck due to the lack of AC. There was a small breeze though, thanks to the door being open.

The record store was fine, you were fitting in well enough. The work was easy, the customers weren't awful, the music was good and the people you worked with were friendly. But that was the only issue.

Greg, your colleague, was a little too friendly. And sure, you'd worked with guys before who got a bit flirty and creepy, but you could handle that.

Greg was handsy, always touching you, hands on the shoulders and waist, occasionally brushing against your ass when he passed by you as you stocked shelves. Sure he made the occasional comments, but you were new, you couldn't afford to lose this job, and you didn't want to rock the boat.

"Hey there beautiful, looking fine as always." He sauntered up behind you, leaning on the shelf behind the till. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into you, as you served some girl buying the latest Madonna tape. Her eyes were on him, and in a way, you could understand why.

Greg was tall, lean, and muscular. When he crossed his arms his shirt bulged at the seams. He was buff and bulky. He was so stereotypically good-looking that it irritated you, like an itch under the skin that just wouldn't go away. Girls looked past his actions and the way he spoke to people all because he was the kind of guy you'd see on the football team.

"Morning Greg." You kept pleasantries, what else could you do? Greg wasn't your type, not by a long shot, and you'd tried your best in the last week to make that known, but the guy just could not take a hint.

He began rambling on again about something or nothing, definitely nothing that would hold your attention. You went off to restock the shelves and like a fucking shadow, there he was.

"I was thinking about catching a movie later, you wanna come with?" He leaned up beside you, resting his arm by his head. "We could go see that new-"

"I can't, I've got to get home straight after my shift. Sorry." You finished up, walking back over to the till to help with some customers while he sulked off in silence.

The shift went by quickly enough, the heat in the sun dying down to a warm humidity. You left the store, leaving the manager to lock up for the night as you headed back home, the promise of a cool shower and dino nuggets sounding more and more enticing with every step on the sidewalk.

The bus ride was quiet, resting your head on the glass as you looked at the town you once knew and how much it had changed. There was a mall now, which would have been much more convenient when you lived here before. Underneath it all however, when you looked past the fresh coat of paint, it was the same old Hawkins.

Walking the dirt path through the trailer park, you reached yours and noticed the lights were still out. Opening the door, you didn't see her there and figured she was still over in Wayne's.

Where he was.

It didn't give you much of a choice, either go and get her and risk facing him or have him show up at your door with her and face him. It was bound to happen at some stage what with you living across the road from each other. It would be an accident, spotting each other as you left the park, locking eyes for a split second before carrying on, ignoring the ache it left you with.

The same ache that both eased and worsened with every step towards the trailer, your heart banging away in your ribcage in time with your knuckles knocking on the door. You took a deep breath in, stepping back and waiting for it to open.

It must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours, and when the door finally opened it wasn't the ageing man you had hoped it to be.

"Oh... you're here."

You wish you hated him in this moment. You wished your heart didn't loudly shatter on the ground, the last moments between you replaying over and over in your head.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He looked at you, his brown eyes piercing into yours. His calloused hands brushed your arms, the blood thundering behind your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him and nodded, never more sure of anything in your life. "Yes Eddie, I am."

"Willa needs her dinner, so..." Suddenly your shoes were very interesting. You weren't sure what to say to him, you wanted to scream and yell and ask him why he never wrote back, to tell him that for weeks and weeks, you ran to the mailbox to see if there was a letter, only to have your hopes dashed each time.

By the time you had found out, you were too hopeless to tell him, despite how much you wanted to.

The small thundering steps came before he could respond, and small arms wrapped around your legs, clutching tightly. "Sissy!"

"Heya pumpkin, you have fun with Wayne today?" You picked her up and balanced her on your hip. "Can you tell him I said thanks?" You looked at Eddie, your chest thumping and thundering away. Something flickered in his eyes as you picked Willow up, something you didn't recognise.

"Uh... sure, yeah no I'll tell him." He reached up and scratched his neck, his shirt riding up and a sliver of skin catches your eye. You feel like you can't breathe, like the world has stopped spinning.

Remember what he did to you. Remember how hurt you were when you realised how alone you truly were. Remember that girl you keep seeing leave.

You kept telling yourself this, over and over. He wasn't there when you needed him most. You weren't sure if he was even aware of how much you needed him then. But he had to be right? He got the letter. He had to have known.

Silence filled the air between you, and you were left with nothing to say. You nodded to him, grabbing Willow's bag and turning to leave.

You had reached your own door, talking with Willow playfully about her day on the way over. You had pushed the door open, setting her down and letting her run off into the trailer when you heard someone call your name. Turning, there he was, striding over to you purposefully, almost as if he had something lingering on his mind.

Before you could respond, he was there before you. "Eddie what are you-" And before you could finish your sentence, his lips were upon yours.

It was hungry, frantic almost, and yet somehow soft and gentle almost like he was afraid you were about to break. To say he took you by surprise was an understatement. It was like he had transported you back to a shy 16-year-old. Back to the beginning of the end.

You found yourself kissing him back for a brief second, body relaxing and letting him in before you were reminded of everything, of all the reasons you were not to let him in. You couldn't let your guard down around him. Not again.

Pulling back, you looked at him with wide eyes, your body reacting before you knew what to do. Quickly, you delivered a harsh slap to his cheek, the crack burning your palm.

"Eddie what the fuck!? You can't just come up and kiss me out of the blue!" You were yelling, angry as hell. You clenched your fists by your side, jaw clenched and set as you watched his face falter and fall, his ebony eyes full of something you couldn't quite place.

"Bunny please." He reached out, one hand cradling his face while the other came towards your arm to touch you, but you backed up before he could reach you. The nickname stung, given to you on account of the way you twitch your nose sometimes. "I have to tal-''

"You don't get to call me that anymore, you don't get to walk back in and pretend like the last four years didn't happen because they did Eddie. You don't get to say 'We need to talk,' because you never wrote back, you never answered me, you didn't talk to me. You weren't there when I needed you the most." And with that, you slammed the door in his face, sulking back into the trailer.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Between washing and feeding Willa, and doing the same for yourself, the only thing you could think of was that stupid fucking kiss and how it made your throat close up, your chest burn and your entire body buzz. You stood before your mirror that night, thinking about it as you towel-dried your hair.

You reached for just above the waistline of your panties, finding purchase in repeating the one small action you always found yourself doing when you were alone and stressed.

There, just above your underwear, lay a small horizontal scar about four to eight inches long. It was old, faded and healed, with a slight white colouring to it. You stared at it for a while, feeling along the slightly raised skin of it, relieving that day over and over again in your mind before you pulled on your shirt and hid it from view, climbing into bed and turning the lights off.

The sounds of crickets could be heard throughout the park, along with the occasional dog howl. You should be tired, you worked hard in the sweltering heat and were bound to be exhausted. Rolling over, you looked out a window into the night sky, the fateful kiss still lingering on your lips as your lids eventually drew heavy, causing you to slip into a sleep that was far from dreamless.

Across the way, Eddie was the same. He was on his side looking out the window, looking at the dark sky and asking himself the same question over and over again.

"What does she mean I never wrote back? She's the one that stopped the letters to me first."

part one part two part three

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse

@ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts

shoutout to @emotionaldreamer and @thecomfortgoth they were a huge motivation for me to finish this chapter!

[glitchinginhyperfixis]

shut up about eddie. you’re sleeping on the real mvp here. WAYNE MUNSON.

[bowiebond]

“Maybe Eddie owns that porno mag because Wayne gave it to him to try and convert—“

[inknopewetrust]

Like a Rolling Stone

summary: Eddie gets interviewed by Rolling Stone magazine. [wc: 2k] warnings: giving Eddie the interview of his dreams, very slight eddie x reader but its brief (no use of y/n or you, gender neutral terms), language. quick links: Masterlist

Turning the World Upside Down: Fame, Metal, and Roots with Eddie Munson.

Article written by: Stan Carmichael

Photos taken by: Lisa Erickson-James

The record that Eddie Munson has precedes him.

On a cold Wednesday morning in New York City, I sat across from the man who helped make Corroded Coffin become a household name. Metal retaking its place as a genre of substance—both in lyricism and musicality—and transcending the boundaries of what music has been. In the corner of the room his agent [Bill Philips, WMD] sat talking on the phone booking venues in Spain as the band prepared for their second European Tour.

At first, I observed the guitarist with a cautious eye. His nervousness unmasked; a production assistant fumbled with the microphone in their own anxious haze. After a few seconds, the assistant nearly clipped the skin underneath Munson's dress shirt and grew as red as a tomato, yet the guitarist brushed it aside. He gave them a kind smile and I knew then and there that the image of “Eddie Munson” was different from the man.

Born in Hawkins, Indiana in 1966 to parents Helen and Paul, Munson’s childhood was far from average. Prior to the town becoming infamous with the Four Paths Earthquake of ‘86, Munson’s mother passed when he was seven and his father was funneled in and out of prison after that. He moved in with his uncle, Wayne Munson, who helped raise a budding musician with an interest in fantasy and automobiles [Wayne noted in a letter he sent Rolling Stone that he was certain Eddie would have become a mechanic if he had a bit of practice, but he could never get him off the guitar]. Munson ran a Dungeons and Dragons Club during his high school years which labeled him an outcast—a lable which he now wears proudly with the members of his band.

When he finally graduated from high school [after three failed attempts], Corroded Coffin fled for the west in an attempt to find work as an up-and-coming metal band and with a stroke of luck, their first gig performing before Whitesnake led them to meet their band manager who signed them with Warner Music in 1988. Since that year, the band has only grown and with that, Eddie Munson has become an enigma. Millions of people swoon over his dark eyes and hair, scream the lyrics of their songs until their vocal cords go silent, and question why they don’t know more about the man who shreds their favorite solos?

The enigma of Eddie perplexed me. He had a record—breaking and entering, theft, and one instance of grand theft auto—but talking with him made me realize that any normal person would not know such a thing had it not been exposed in a salacious article four years ago. Munson was timid, a bit shy when I asked about his origins in Hawkins and the legacy that it’s had on adulthood; joyous when I recalled the infamous ‘89 World Tour; and reflective on the friendships and relationships he’s maintained over the years. As he prepares to turn thirty this coming year, I asked Munson about the future of Corroded Coffin, his personal life, and the wishes he hopes to have achieved by the time he is ninety [an age seven year old Eddie never had fathomed could be reached].

Take me to 1988. Corroded Coffin had just been signed their first record deal, a tour was already planned, and radio stations across the country were playing your first single, ‘Mistress of Ghosts.’ What was that like for a couple of kids from the Midwest?

It was strange [Eddie laughed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck]. Fame is a complicated monster in its own right, so for us, these… nobodies from Hawkins to be thrust into the spotlight and respected in a community that we loved so much was really special. I remember Bill [Philips] said that we would never be prepared for what was going to happen. He was right. I’m not entirely sure we’ve ever grown accustomed to it.

Fame is a monster.

A scary one. It made our hometown like us when at one time, they called the cops every weekend when we’d practice at Gareth’s [Miller, drums]. Now our songs play on the radio and when we visit, they smile and ask for handshakes. When I was sixteen all the mother’s would rather burn their hands then shake mine.

Hawkins wasn’t the best town for an emerging metal band to start in?

Oh, hell no. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

In previous interviews you’ve mentioned the close group of friends that supported you living your dream. Are they the ones running the Corroded Coffin fan club in Hawkins?

[This is where I knew Munson had become comfortable. His smile lit up at the mention of the people he considered close enough to be family] No, they’re not but in the states that they do live, they have all of our records. The whole lot of them have given us more support and faith than anyone else. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t have made it.

Were any of them members of your Dungeons and Dragons Club?

Some and they're very proud about that. We still play when we’re not touring. Every Christmas we get together and hold a massive one-shot that fulfills the void while there is no campaign. I think this Christmas we’ll be in Seattle with a pair of newlyweds—so it should be interesting adding a new player.

No time for anything else when your touring?

Just the menial things in life. Keeping in touch with people, doing press, deals and endorsements. I went to the MET Gala this year and I was so out of my league that I don’t think I’ll ever go back. A bit too fancy for my taste.

[Munson attended the Gala as part of Gianni Versace’s invited guests. He wore a three piece suit that had the only flare of metal in the entire museum]

But we try to make time for what is important. It’s what keeps us sane and willing to write more. You can’t write music if you don’t experience life.

Experience is what drives music.

Something I’m a firm believer in, yeah. I write what I know. If I didn’t, everything would be artificial and no one would connect with it. Even with all the noise, we’re still storytellers that want good stories to come across in our music and, dare I say it, it’s what sells people on our records, albums.

Your album ‘Saga Nether’ led you to win a Grammy in 1993. It is not often that a metal band wins major categories but Corroded Coffin did. How?

It’s anyone’s guess, man… all I know is that I have a Grammy sitting on a bookshelf in my house and it’s a great paperweight.

Hawkins is not the town you call home anymore. You settled into a house outside of Los Angeles a couple years ago so, asking as a native Californian, how do you like it? Is it better, worse?

Better. A million times better.

No raging anti-music police banging at your door?

Hasn’t happened yet. If it did, I think my dog would chase them away. She likes the music.

Arwen.

She's the perfect dog, Stan.

Named after The Lord of the Rings character.

Does it show how much of a nerd I am? She doesn’t care that I’m famous. I’m her dad and if I don’t feed her at a specific time everyday, she’ll sit on the floor and stare at me, no matter what I am doing, until I look at her. She knows she’s spoiled.

The fans of Corroded Coffin are always looking to know more about you, about all of you. What is something you can tell me about Jeff [Daniels, Electric Guitar]?

Jeff? Oh, man… [Munson thought long and hard about this question] He had braces twice. And I think he’ll need them again.

And what about you? What is something that no one knows about Eddie Munson?

There’s a lot of things they don’t know.

Favorite song? We’ll start easy.

Master of Puppets. Is that a cliché now? I know it’s popular.

Favorite color?

Black. No, blue! Maybe red? I like them all.

Madonna or Blondie?

One, do you want me to end my career early? And two, how can a man choose?

Favorite movie?

It would be untruthful to say it wasn’t Rocky Horror… but I have a soft spot for Aliens.

Aliens?

Sentimental value.

First love?

Absolutely connected to that movie [Munson blushed like a school boy. His dating life is one subject of curiosity among fans]

Is it difficult to maintain a love life when touring and obligation keep you away from home?

Not if you have a partner who is willing to understand the circumstances of the job. They don’t have to be part of the industry to get the gist of things but if they can at least pretend to walk a minute in my shoes, it works out just fine.

So, do you want to give fans hope?

Hope that they can walk a mile in my shoes?

That Eddie Munson is looking for love?

Love never left the summer I saw Aliens at my local theater. I’ve been very lucky. It’s not been easy—especially in those early years of financial and success uncertainty but I got very lucky.

They’re not in the spotlight?

No. We keep things simple. When I’m home, it’s as though nothing is out of the ordinary. I talk about my day like any other man does and they tell me about theirs. We have a dog, a fish now too actually. There is nothing I like more than remembering I’m not the image I put on when I’m on stage. It’s still me but also not me, does that make sense.

Yeah. Like an alter-ego of sorts.

Exactly. When I walk through the door, they humble me real quick. All of them, my friends, family… sometimes I don’t think they care I ever won a Grammy or that I’m being interviewed by Rolling Stone [that was a joke. Munson mentioned after the cameras rolled that his friends were very excited about this].

What’s next for Eddie Munson? You have a dog, a fish too. A partner, a house, a band that is growing every year and rumors of a biopic being conceived by filmmaker Steven Spielberg. Where is life taking you?

All of what you said sounds absolutely nuts. Could you imagine having a movie made about your life and someone like Tom Cruise or whoever could play you!? I don’t know if it’s still in the works, but I want to be a part of it if it happens.

Noted. I’ll let Mr. Spielberg know.

We’re working on a new album that will be out next year. I won’t give anything away but I’m very proud of it and think people will like it. As for everything else, I don’t know… I’ll take what life gives.

Kids? Marriage?

If those are in my cards, I wouldn’t say no to them.

If you could tell ten year old Eddie one piece of advice, what would it be?

Just fucking go for it, kid. None of it matters in the end. If you do what makes you happy, that’s the best reward.

Keep playing D&D, blaring music from a stereo?

Absolutely. If it keeps you sane, keep on with it. You're a child for less time than you are an adult, so there shouldn't be this stigma that enjoying games or rocking out to music in your living room is a ridiculous thing.

What about ten years ago? What would you say to Eddie at twenty?

There's a lot I would say to Eddie at twenty.

Be prepared?

Probably everything will be okay. Twenty was a difficult year and it was hard to see the other side of it sometimes, but I had these little sheep that looked up to me and knew that everything would be fine in the end. Two years later my life moved in a much different direction so without those years of struggle, I don't think my resolve would be as strong.

In hindsight, struggle is not always as bad as it seems.

In the moment, it feels awful. But if anyone can get through it, the resolution is rewarding–especially when you have a good, loving circle around you.

And if you could ask ninety year old Eddie one question, what would it be?

Ninety? I don’t know if all the drugs I used to do would like to hear that I’m going to live that long but if I do, shit…

I guess I’d ask if he was happy with the life he chose? And I’d hope that answer was a resounding, unwavering yes.

This interview was conducted on 14 November 1995 at the Rolling Stone Headquarters in New York City. Corroded Coffin’s new album ‘Sins of My Father’ releases on 21 March 1986 with preorders beginning 1 March 1986. A special thanks to Eddie Munson, Bill Philips, and the team at Warner Music for organizing this interview.