Our Year, Okay?

oh my god she's attempting a series.

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

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

Then

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

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

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

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

“Hi! Are you new? I’m Eddie!”

You looked up at your parents for reassurance.

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

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

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

“…Ozzy?” Eddie nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

September 1985

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

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

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

“You, are unbelievable Munson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie grinned.

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re at Hellfire until…7?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled.

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

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

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

With you by his side, Eddie Munson felt invincible.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy #1

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

Chapter One: Killer Queen

Summary:

Eddie just wants some new damn strings for his Fender.

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

Looks like no one is getting what they want today.

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

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

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

What was he doing again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“Eddie.”

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

He-

He’s even wearing the dumb fucking shirt.

He… looks puzzled.

“Have we… met?”

Lord help you not commit murder in this bookstore today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You been stalking me, pretty girl?”

This time it’s your turn to choke.

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

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

“… Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You regard him dubiously.

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

You arch your eyebrow.

“Donuts?”

Your lips begin to quirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

...Shit.

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juggernort

2 years ago

𝗧𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗘𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 ✿ 𝗲. 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻

(creds to original gif owner. thank you!) ▸ sum. you and eddie were childhood sweethearts from the ages of 5, broken apart as you moved away at 12 years old. now back in hawkins, eddie is thrilled to have you back. ▸ cw. fluff, hair pulling (mild), swearing, jason being jason ▸ wc. 2.1k ▸ a/n. eddie is 19 in this imagine, his presumed age in season 4. based on the song ‘total eclipse of the heart’ - bonnie tyler. might write a potential part 2 to this who knows.

“i missed you too.”

Eddie Munson surely would not still be going to Hawkins High to this day, right? It had been 7 years since you moved away, right after moving into 6th grade together and seemingly having an inseperable bond at the time. You had known eachother from the ages of 5, all starting when Eddie had knocked over the tower of dominos you were precariously stacking and had then helped you build an even bigger and better tower to make up for it. From that moment onwards, you were both described by your parents as, “moths to a flame for eachother.”

Eddie, as your memory aided you, was a big bright eyed kid with so much kindness in his heart and equally as many knots in his hair. You recall on sleepovers, late at night, dragging hairbrushes through the matts in his hair as he’d yelp and whine, “Heyyy, watch it!”

You’d always playfully roll your eyes, “Stop being such a baby, Ed.”

Particularly coming into 6th grade together, you were deemed ‘popular’ within the middle school hierarchy. Eddie even said one night to you, “I mean, you fit all the criteria, y/n. Pretty, funny, smart. If you want to sit with them at lunch instead of me that’s fine I get it, I dont wan’t to drag your reputation down.” His usual bright, brown eyes were downcasted into his lap, his words a jumbled mess of mumbling with a tone of hurt laced into them.

You nudged him, a silent order for him to look at you, and he did. “I don’t care about the popular kids, they’re total losers anyway. You’re much funner to hang out with than them. All they talk about is sports and their crushes,” You smiled and elbowed him slightly, “Besides, who else would I play D&D with and kick monster ass with?”

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juggernort

2 years ago

if you tag me in a chain post and i don't do it it's not because i hate you it's because i am very lazy. i love you thank you for tagging me.

201K notes View Post

juggernort

2 years ago