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Eddie on the Internet Blurb

Imagine getting a computer for the first time in the ealy 2000s and Eddie going absolutely crazy for it, googling random shit and showing it to you every five minutes. There would be a lot of long nights, trying to fall asleep while Eddie calls out random facts he found on Google from the living room of your shared apartment, too excited to come to bed.  “Did you know that sharks are like dinosaurs? Like they’re a billion years old or something?”  “We can watch a whole Metallica show on here!! Come quick!”  “Did you know that cats sleep for like 15 hours a day?”  “Imagine all the homework I coulda breezed through if we had one of these babies in high school.”  “A baby hedgehog is called a hoglet… Huh. The more you know.” 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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[katsfandomcorner]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ rockstar!eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

eddie reassures you that you’re the only one for him

1.5k words - cw: mention of groupies and cheating (neither in detail)

You don’t usually travel with them. 

It’s not like you don’t want to, but being an adult is hard. You have bills to pay and a job to go to; you don’t have the time or funds to travel coast to coast with Eddie and the boys. Tonight is different. The tour has brought Corroded Coffin close to home, and Eddie had asked you to come with a wide smile and a kiss. It would’ve been hard to say no even if you wanted to. 

So here you are, tucked backstage while the boys finish their set, adrenaline pumping through the venue. You can hear the last song wrapping up Eddie’s guitar loud over the crowd. You’re wondering whether that's because he is loud or if your ears are just attuned to him when a girl comes up to your side.

She’s already looking at you when you turn. She's pretty. Tall and blonde. Looks like she could be a model if she wanted to, but she’s more likely one of the college students that stick with the band, hoping for one of the boys to notice her. 

“You with the band?” Her voice competes with the loud music as she perches on the arm of the chair beside yours.

You nod and smile politely. “Yeah. I’m Eddie’s girlfriend.”

She looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your clothes. Shifting uncomfortably, you watch the door, waiting for Eddie’s entrance to come and save you. 

“You go on tour with them?”

Your eyes are still on the door as you listen to the outro to their last song. Tonight’s crowd is loud and rowdy; you had seen as much when you peeked out to look. Shaking your head, you say, “No, I have a job.”

The girl lets out a low whistle, raising her brows in surprise. “That’s brave.”

Your own brows go up in confusion, turning your head to look back at her. “What do you mean?” 

She sips a beer that she must’ve grabbed from the cases stacked behind her. “It’s no offense, I just don’t see that many girlfriends letting their men go off on tour without them,” she says, twirling a long piece of her light hair. Her eyes roam around casually, as if what she’s saying isn’t causing beads of sweat to form on the back of your neck. “Y’know, the whole rockstars and groupies stuff. Can’t have one without the other.”

You’re saved from responding when cheers leak through the now open door, the band members coming in one by one. They all buzz with that post-performance energy, bounding across the room. Eddie is full of the same, eyes searching for something. You, if you had to guess. 

When his eyes do find you, he lights up like a damn match. You’re already standing when he makes his way over to you, wrapping his sweaty arms around you, pulling you against his lean body. 

“Did you hear the crowd?” He asks, astonished, against the warm skin of your neck. You feel and hear his smile rather than see it. His hands squeeze your hips, palms warm enough to seep through your shirt. 

His excitement is enough to rid your mind of the girl from before temporarily. Your fingers curl into the damp fabric of his shirt. 

“You were amazing,” you say, and you mean it. The crowd must agree with you, their energy still ringing through the walls and along your bones. 

Eddie comes out of your neck to look at you, eyes sparking with adrenaline and affection blended together. “I had to play my best, my girl is here.” He pushes your hair back as he says this, following it with a quick kiss to your lips. You hum, but the feeling starts to fade, the love swelling in your chest turning into dread when you think of her words. 

Rockstars and groupies. Can’t have one without the other.

You trust Eddie, you really do, but now the thought is there, lingering like the smoke from a blown-out candle. 

He hasn’t seemed to notice, though, too busy with saying goodnight to the boys. They peel off in different directions, some for a drink and others for their dressing rooms. Eddie comes back to your side, fingers loosely holding onto the back loop of your jean shorts. 

He kisses the side of your head. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”

You allow him to guide you to his dressing room. As you walk, he talks animatedly, most likely retelling something that happened on stage. You struggle to pay attention though, replaying every phone call and visit between you and Eddie the last few months. No way, you tell yourself. This is Eddie. 

He tells you everything. He calls you every night. He sends you postcards from truck stops and brings you little trinkets from cities you’ve never even heard of. He writes songs about you. He cries over you. He carries a photo of you in his wallet like you’re some kind of lucky charm.

Inside his dressing room is quieter. Dim lighting hums overhead, casting a soft glow over the limited furniture and clothes spread sporadically throughout. You sink into the couch, ignoring the spring you feel beneath your thigh. 

“You okay?” He asks, grabbing a towel from its hanger to pat himself dry of sweat. 

You force a small smile. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Forgetting about the towel, he comes over to kneel in front of you, loose strands of his hair tickling your bare thighs. Reluctantly meeting his eyes, you read his face immediately. The look of concern mixed with I can read right through your lies, sweetheart. 

His hand finds your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You sure? You’re quiet.”

You hesitate, opening and then closing your mouth. You could tell him. Let it out, let it ruin nothing or everything. Would it be better to know, to rip the band-aid off and get it over with? 

“There was this girl…” you start slowly, watching as worried creases start to appear on his face: between his brows, at the corners of his lips as they tug downwards into a frown. “She just started talking to me about how rockstars and girlfriends don’t really mix well. Because of… well, groupies.”

Eddie’s expression turns cold and hard. “Who?” He asks, his voice low. “What girl?”

You shake your head quickly, letting out a small sigh as you cover his hand with yours. “It doesn’t matter. Really. It just stuck in my head.”

He doesn’t look mollified. He’s still staring at you, brows drawn, like he’s trying to read between every word you’re saying. Eventually, he exhales, shoulders relaxing. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, both hands now sliding up your thighs. “You know I’m yours, right?”

You don’t say anything yet, assuming that he isn’t done. You’re right.

He rises from the floor to sit beside you on the couch, facing you completely. “I know that I’ve been on tour for a couple months, and being away from you sucks ass, but it has always been just you.” He huffs out a breath, searching for the words. “And I’m not stupid. I know where I belong.”

You look down, eyes burning as you blink quickly. He leans over to kiss your brow softly. 

“I don’t care if hundreds of girls throw themselves at me after every show,” he continues. “Because none of them know me like you do. They don’t know how I like my coffee, or that I cry during that one Pink Floyd song you love. But you do, sweetheart. It’s only you.”

You inhale a shaky breath, raising your head to look at him. Reaching out to stroke his cheek, you say, “I know. I trust you Eddie. I really do. She just… got in my head.”

He holds onto your wrist so he can kiss the center of your palm. “I get it, baby,” he says softly. And it hits you now, how you get a version of Eddie that the rest of the world doesn’t. They get the loud guitarist, while you get the boy who paints your nails and kisses your tears away. 

You don’t say anything for a second. Just let your hands rest on his cheek as he kisses it again. 

“I missed you,” You whisper. 

He exhales like he’s been meaning to say the same thing. “Missed you so much that I was going crazy. Told Gareth I was gonna tattoo your name on my ass if I didn’t see you soon.”

A laugh sneaks out of your throat, watery but real. “Please don’t.”

His grin is boyish, all dimples and relief, nose brushing against yours. “Fine. I’ll just write more songs about you, then.”

You shake your head, smile pulling wider as you ask, “Don’t you have enough?”

His face looks like you’ve hit him and then said some outlandish statement. Before he can go on a rant about how you are forever his muse and that you inspire him everyday, you kiss him. To shut him up, yes, but also because he is yours. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

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Under no circumstances do I want stranger things to end with “and this is all part of their dnd game and none of it was real 😃”

HOWEVER

if the finale end credits play over the core four playing dnd in season 1 as little babies, I WILL be sobbing, crying, and never move on

[katsfandomcorner]

Hey, I was just curious if you would put all the chapters of "The Stray" together as an all-in-one, the way you did with "The Girl Next Door". Just for convenience's sake, you know? Because it's such a short story and all? If not, just ignore this message. I just thought I'd put the idea out there.

The Stray

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

This is a short 4-chapter story, written for and inspired by my good friend @justalotoffanfiction.

This story is already posted on my Tumblr and AO3; this is just all of them posted together as one chapter to fulfill the Anony request above.

The story idea is my friend's, I just ran with it (with her consent 😘). Her blurb that inspired this story:

Find me on AO3.

Find this story on AO3.

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

The Stray (Part 1)

Late Autumn, 1986

Eddie hadn’t meant to get involved. Not really. He just happened to be in the right place… no, the wrong place… at the right time. Outside the gas station just past Forest Hill, trying to coax his van into not dying completely, when he saw you.

At first, he didn’t even recognize you. You were hunched over near the payphone, arms wrapped tight around yourself despite the thin coat that clearly wasn’t yours. Too big, too worn, and not in a fashionable way. You looked small. Tired. Like you’d been crying for a long time but had run out of tears.

Then you looked up.

Recognition hit him like a jolt of electricity to the spine. “Shit.”

You were that sweet, pretty girl from his government class last year. Always polite, always with a smile when you passed him in the halls, even when no one else dared to. He remembered the boyfriend, too. Some golden boy from the track team with a temper that was anything but golden. Rumors swirled. Eddie always figured they were true, but never had proof.

Until now.

He didn’t even think before walking over, voice soft, eyes scanning for bruises. "Hey... you okay?"

You blinked at him, dazed, like you hadn’t even realized anyone was there. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Just a soft noise, half apology, half relief.

"Alright," Eddie said gently, already taking off his denim jacket, "that’s a no. C’mon, sweetheart. You’re freezing."

You didn't argue.

By the time he got you home… his home… you’d said maybe ten words total. But it didn’t matter. Uncle Wayne was working the night shift again, and Eddie knew how to play nursemaid better than most people would think. He gave you a blanket, some dry clothes, and a mug of cocoa so sweet it was more sugar than chocolate.

You sat curled up on the far end of the couch, looking like a kicked puppy, while Eddie paced. Fuming. Not at you. At the asshole who had clearly left marks you were trying to hide.

"You don’t have to tell me anything," he finally said, rubbing a hand over his face. "But... if you want to stay here tonight… hell, longer… I’m not gonna kick you out. Wayne won’t either. Man’s a sucker for sad doe eyes and broken souls."

You looked up at him, startled.

Eddie grinned faintly. "That’s how he ended up with me, after all."

Wayne came home just past three in the morning. Eddie had fallen asleep in the recliner, a book half-open on his chest. You were still on the couch, curled into the blanket like you were trying to disappear. The TV buzzed softly with static.

Wayne stood in the doorway for a second, taking it in. Then he sighed, loud and fond.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Another stray?”

You blinked awake, looking panicked, but he just gave you a small nod and trudged toward the kitchen for coffee. “S’alright, darlin’. You don’t gotta run. Just tell me you don’t eat like Eddie… boy puts ketchup on spaghetti.”

“One time!” Eddie groaned from the recliner, not even opening his eyes.

Wayne just chuckled, warm and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to find someone new asleep in their living room.

And maybe... maybe it was.

The Stray (Part 2)

(Morning After)

The sound of Wayne’s boots retreating down the porch steps faded into the hush of early morning. A thin thread of autumn light filtered through the kitchen curtains, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The smell of coffee lingered, comforting and faintly bitter.

You stood barefoot on the tile, Eddie’s borrowed flannel swallowing your frame. It smelled like him: campfire, motor oil, and something sharp and clean that made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite name.

Eddie was across the kitchen, hunched over the stove with his hair tied back in a low, messy bun. He wore a pair of threadbare sweats and a vintage Metallica tee with a hole near the collar. His concentration was fixed on the frying pan in front of him on the stove.

"Are you actually cooking?" you asked, your voice still rough with sleep but lighter than it had been in days.

He looked up, startled, but pleasantly so. "I cook more than you’d think. Wayne taught me. Told me a man should know how to feed himself in case no one else will."

You gave a soft smile. "Smart man."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, cracking an egg into the pan one-handed. He smirked at you over his shoulder. "Also thinks I’m a human raccoon who can survive off Pop-Tarts and rage alone, so… the jury’s still out."

You chuckled, and for the first time since yesterday, it wasn’t hollow.

Eddie turned the burner down and moved to pour you a cup of coffee. He held it out without a word. Your fingers brushed his when you took it, and neither of you pulled away for a second too long.

"Thanks," you murmured, curling your hands around the warmth of the mug.

Eddie leaned against the counter beside you, sipping his own coffee. The silence stretched between you, but not awkward, not tense, just soft. Like the whole trailer park was still waking up, and you were sharing the moment in quiet agreement.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked eventually, his voice low.

You shook your head slowly. "Not yet."

"Okay." He didn’t press. Just nodded like that was good enough. Like you were good enough, just as you were.

After a few sips of coffee, you nudged him gently with your elbow. "You didn’t have to let me stay, y’know."

"Didn’t even think about it," he said honestly. "Saw you there, lookin’ like the whole damn world sat on your chest. Couldn’t just walk away."

You looked down at your mug, cheeks warm. “Well… thanks for being a soft place to land.”

Eddie smiled then, soft and a little crooked. “Guess we’re both strays, huh?”

"Wayne’s gonna need a bigger house," you teased.

That made Eddie laugh, like really laugh, and the sound of it made something shift in your chest. Something old and scared, that hadn’t believed anyone would care enough to make you breakfast or let you cry on their couch.

Eddie noticed the shift too, the quiet glimmer of something in your eyes. He ducked his head, bashful all of a sudden. "Weird thing for me to say, but... I’m kinda glad you’re here."

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. "Even if I eat all your cereal and hog your blankets?"

He grinned. "Especially then. It means you're staying long enough to get comfortable."

Your heart stuttered at that. Not because it was a declaration, but because it wasn’t. It was something quieter. Kinder. The way someone looks at a scared animal and holds out a hand, palm up.

And for the first time in a long while, you thought maybe you could reach back.

The Stray (Part 3)

(Confrontation)

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the driveway, painting the gravel gold. You were out front, hanging clothes on the line, Wayne insisted it saved money and made things smell better than any dryer sheet ever could. It was peaceful. Healing. Quiet in a way your life hadn’t been in a long time.

Until the engine of a too familiar car growled into the drive.

Eddie was in the back, wiping oil off his hands, humming along to Dio on the tiny beat-up radio when he heard it. The rumble of tires on gravel. The slam of a car door. Voices… a voice. His voice.

And then yours. Caught between startled and small.

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He tossed the rag, wiped his palms once on his jeans, and strode toward the sound, his jaw already set.

You were on the porch, arms crossed over your chest, trying to shrink into the wood as your ex stood a step below you, hands gesturing, voice raised, not enough to yell, but loud enough that Eddie heard every bitter word.

“You think running off and playing house with the town freak is gonna fix your shit?” he sneered. “You really think he even cares about you? C’mon, babe. You need me. Who else is gonna put up with all your—”

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice cracked across the yard like a whip.

Both heads turned. Your ex scoffed. “Great. Here comes the white knight act.”

Eddie didn’t rise to it. Not with words.

He stepped up onto the porch, slipped in beside you, not touching you, not yet, but his body radiated warmth and certainty. Safety. His eyes didn’t leave the other man for a second.

“She told you to leave,” Eddie said flatly. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he wanted him gone off his property.

“I’m not talking to you, freak.”

“Well, you’re on my porch,” Eddie snapped, his voice dropping into something dangerous. “In front of my house. Where she lives now. So yeah, you are.”

Your ex laughed, ugly and humorless. “What, you her boyfriend now?”

Eddie glanced at you for the briefest second, something unreadable in his eyes, but his answer came without hesitation.

“No. But I will be, if you keep giving her reasons to want better.”

Your ex stepped forward like he meant to puff himself up, but Eddie didn’t flinch. He smiled. A slow, sharp smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let me tell you something, man,” Eddie said, voice low and cold. “You ever show up here again… talk to her like that again… I won’t just ask you to leave. I will make you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Your ex looked between the two of you, realization dawning that whatever control he used to have over you was long gone. You weren’t flinching anymore. You were standing straighter now, eyes burning.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, turning toward the car.

Eddie watched him go. Watched the car kick up dust as it peeled down the road.

Only when the sound was gone did he look at you.

“You okay?” he asked, quiet now.

You nodded slowly, then looked at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie said. “Guy talks to you like that, he doesn’t deserve to know your name. Let alone think he still has a claim on you.”

You swallowed, blinking fast. The fight or flight had drained out of you all at once, leaving something tender and raw behind.

And then Eddie did touch you. Just a gentle brush of his fingers along your wrist. Nothing pushy. Nothing more than you could handle.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Eddie smiled at you, like really smiled, and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go inside. I think Wayne left us the last two cherry Pop-Tarts, and I feel like we’ve earned ’em.”

The Stray (Part 4)

(After the Storm)

Back inside the house, the silence felt like a warm blanket rather than an empty one. Eddie set the kettle on the stove, humming a tune under his breath as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and popped the last two cherry Pop-Tarts into the toaster.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms loosely wrapped around yourself, watching him. He looked so at home there, shirt rumpled, curls a little frizzy from the humidity, fingers still faintly stained with grease. And yet, he’d stood between you and the worst part of your past like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he’d always do it.

Eddie glanced back and caught you looking.

“What?” he asked, grinning. “Do I have Pop-Tart crumbs on my face already?”

You let out a soft laugh and shook your head. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teased. “What kind of thoughts?”

You hesitated for a beat, then stepped closer, sliding onto the stool across from him at the counter.

“I’ve never… had anyone stand up for me like that,” you admitted quietly. “Not my family. Not anyone I dated. It always felt like I had to deal with things alone.”

Eddie’s playful expression softened, his smile fading into something more serious.

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” he said, voice gentle. “Not here. Not with me.”

The kettle started to whistle lowly, but neither of you moved. You just watched each other, the moment stretching, deepening.

“You always bring strays home?” you asked, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile.

Eddie chuckled, his eyes flickering with affection. “Only the ones worth keeping.”

The Pop-Tarts popped up, and he finally turned to grab them, sliding one onto a napkin and handing it to you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, fingers brushing his.

The touch lingered, just a moment too long to be casual.

You looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “What if… what if I want to stay?” Your voice was quiet but steady… sure. “Not just for now. Not just until I get on my feet. What if I want to be here… with you?”

Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, surprised, but the kind of surprised that comes with hope blooming behind his eyes.

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “A lot.”

You both stood there for a breathless second, that space between friendship and something more narrowing, pulling tighter around you.

And then… slowly, like he didn’t want to spook you… Eddie leaned in. His hand came to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He paused a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Okay?” he asked, voice barely audible.

You nodded.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or hurried. It was sweet, careful, like a promise: You’re safe here. You’re wanted. You matter.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and both of you smiled.

The kettle screamed louder behind him.

“Guess we forgot the tea,” you whispered.

“Later,” Eddie said, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “We’ve got time.”

Outside, the storm clouds had passed. Sunlight began filtering through the window, casting golden rays across the table, the walls, and the two of you standing in the middle of this quiet, imperfect house.

Home.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000

Masterlist

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people can never prove they're friends with dustin normally, it's always 'let me jump off a cliff for you dustin,' 'let me throw a car at the evil russians trying to shoot you dustin,' 'let me bike eight miles for you dustin,' 'let me hear your voice from an alternate dimension dustin,' 'let me die in your arms dustin.' leave him ALONE why does he make everyone CRAZY

[katsfandomcorner]

This is peak literature

SUNSHINE— Eddie Munson

A Summer Slowburn

SYNOPSIS— July 2000.She’s twenty, stuck behind the counter of a liquor store with shorter hair and a sharper edge.Then Eddie Munson returns—older, quieter, free but still haunted by a town that never forgave him.He doesn’t plan to stay.She was never part of the plan.But July doesn’t last forever. And Eddie has a one-way ticket out.What do you do when the first person who really sees you is the one already halfway gone?

CONTENT WARNINGS— age gap (eddies in his mid-30s), emotionally tense dynamics / slow burn tension, references to past wrongful imprisonment, mentions of death (Chrissy Cunningham, offscreen), small town gossip / trauma / social isolation, cursing, smoking (cigarettes), brief mentions of family conflict (reader + mom), angst / themes of leaving / abandonment, bittersweet romance + emotional intimacy, perhaps sexual tension + implied intimacy (later chapters) Will be updated as new chapters release.

AUTHORS NOTE— Started this because summer always feels a little bit like nostalgia and heartbreak. I wanted to write something slow, a little hazy, full of heat, cigarettes, and glances that linger too long. Eddie deserves a second chance. This fic is soft, tense, and a little bit sad.

CHAPTER ONE: Marlboro Reds and a Glance

A mother’s sharp words. A summer night soaked in heat and a long shift at the liquor store. Familiar aisles. Creepy regulars. The kind of summer heat that made everything feel heavier than it needed to. And then—Eddie Munson. A man who never meant to stay long—but didn’t leave right away. Isn’t that how everything starts? With almost nothing?

CHAPTER TWO coming soon…

CHAPTER THREE coming soon…

[katsfandomcorner]

Defending Byler against toxic milevens could genuinely be a full-time job. There is so so much ignorance to fight against it's actually wild.

tumblr makes me feel safe <3 so much friendly Byler all around.. milevens on YouTube are frightening

[katsfandomcorner]

something something the way jonathan immediately clocks will's internal struggle during the van monologue with mike and making sure that the second he gets alone time with will, he's already up and reassuring him that no matter what, he will always love him, because he couldn't stand the thought of his brother thinking he was unworthy of love and support just because he was 'different'.

[katsfandomcorner]

when st5 comes out i will be afraid of my phone. what if i accidentally tap an app and i see byler kiss in 4k HD before getting to that episode.

[katsfandomcorner]

Never let anyone tell you that AI writing is more valuable than your original Byler fics, even if you are still a beginner. For shits and giggles, I told Chat GPT to write a Byler kiss scene, and I kid you not, it made Mike tell Will, “You were always here for me even when everything was turned upside down.” 💀💀💀 Ain’t no way any of us in the fandom could be capable of coming up with this shit. A computer can’t understand human love and emotion, let alone a relationship as complex and nuanced and layered as Byler’s. WE NEED YOU, FIC WRITERS!!! ❤️

[katsfandomcorner]

who needs season 5 when you can make your own season 5

anyway this is what they were looking up at trust me

[katsfandomcorner]

this is sooooo cuteeeee

[katsfandomcorner]

Mike couldn't hug Will property because the last time he hugged Will, he couldn't stop thinking about it and he didn't want to feel that again, no he was scared to feel it again so he couldn't hug Will, even though that was all he wanted to do. God, he wanted to hold him so bad. (He literally was about to full on embrace him in a hug, but stopped himself.)

[katsfandomcorner]

MY SHAYLA🥹

he’s so cute i’m going to cry

[katsfandomcorner]

both byler and jancy having complimentary career goals (photographer x journalist, illustrator x author) is so special to me in a way that nobody understands

[katsfandomcorner]

The Princess and the Freak | Ch. 1

masterlist | moodboard | playlist

read the next chapter here

summary: Y/N has a rough day at work and is overwhelmed by thoughts about her past, cute Eddie fluff follows

warnings: 18+, (somewhat) dark themes, shitty abusive parents (alluded to, but not directly mentioned), nicknames, reader has a panic attack

a/n: this chapter is a bit slow and short, and not really much of the plot yet. it’s mainly just the reader’s backstory and cute little eddie fluff at the end to get the ball rolling. the next couple chapters will go more into depth about their dynamic and backstory with each other before the plot of season 4 really gets going. i do acknowledge (and will in later chapters as well) characters and some of eddie’s backstory from the flight of icarus book. if you haven’t read it and have any questions about anyone or if you want more context to any of eddie’s background i mention feel free to ask! get ready for a long haul- this series has a lot of parts coming your way!! also one last thing i pinky promise- if anyone wants to be on the taglist for when i post new chapters just comment or message me!

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Hawkins Indiana is officially the fucking worst. The weather sucks, the people suck, everything here just sucks. This is especially apparent eleven hours into my twelve hour shift at one of the grimiest dive bars in town. Admittedly, I kind of love the place. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck either. The hours are grueling for a place that barely gets any business from people that aren’t the town drunks, and most of my days consist of being the bartender, waitress, and dishwasher- all at the same time. For the most part it’s bearable, but on days like today, when I would much rather be curled up in my bed hiding away from the world specifically this town, it makes me miserable. On days like these I tend to zone out at the bar, make myself look busy, and pray that none other than Eddie Munson comes in for his shift sooner rather than later so I can go hide out back and get a breather. Unfortunately the owner of the bar, Bev, knows me really at this point and typically calls me out as soon as she notices. Today is not any different.

“Harrington! Quit messing around at the bar and get back to work, we actually have more than five customers for once,” Bev snaps at me from across the open room, albeit with concern, throwing a rag over her shoulder. She walks over to the counter and sits down at the bar stool in front of me. “What’s your deal? You seem kinda off your ass.”

I hate when she checks in on me. I know she really does mean well, but I honestly don’t have a single clue about what to say when she asks. I can’t exactly look at my boss and tell her that my deal is that I’m fine, but I’m also not, because three years ago I watched my brother’s ex-girlfriend’s best-friend get eaten by a man with no face in my parent’s pool, the same week the little boy I babysat got abducted the night I was supposed to be watching him. The same little boy who was later proven to be dead, and then came back to life. Not to mention the fact that what happened to him destroyed my relationship with his mom, who was arguably the only mother figure I’ve ever had in my life, and my friendship with his older brother Jonathan. On top of everything else, my ex-friend with some benefits Billy and my best-friend Heather were killed in the Starcourt Mall fire, and Billy’s little sister, that I swore to Billy I would protect from his dad if anything happened to him to make him not able to, won’t speak to me anymore or come anywhere near me. Oh- and the fact that my parents fucking despise me. Not to mention the fact that Steve and I don’t speak to eachother anymore. We used to be attached the hip, but ever since what happened to Will, and his relationship with Nancy, he can barely look at me. I still don’t know why, and at this point I don’t think I ever will. Some days I think I’ve finally began to process things and move on. Other days everything feels like a brick, weighing on my chest that’s slowly and most definitely suffocating me. Unfortunately today is the latter, but I can’t exactly explain all that to Bev.

“Bev, I’m fine, honestly.” She just stares at me, unconvinced. I sigh, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the bar in front me, dropping my chin down into my hands. “I promise, I’m just really tired and out of it today. I didn’t sleep well last night.” This isn’t a total lie, more often than not I’m woken up from sleep-screaming after reliving the murder of Barb Holland over and over until I finally wake up. Sometimes I get especially lucky and Will makes an appearance, begging me to tell him why I wasn’t waiting at his house for him to make sure he got home safe. And with how lucky I was last night, I may as well have found fifty four leaf fucking clovers. She just shakes her head, clearly not believing my totally bullshitted answer, and stands up from her stool.

“Look kid, I know I can’t make you talk to me. But if you need help with anything- anything at all- just let me know, and I’ll try to help as best I can.” She hesitated to say her next sentence, which had me wishing for immediate death. If Bev hesitates speaking something she thinks out loud, you know you’re in for a statement that’s going to knock you on your ass. “I know you know that it’s no secret you don’t have the best relationship with your mom and pops. And I know that most of this town puts that blame on you and judges you for it- but I ain’t most of this town. Alright?” Damn. Bev really knows how to read people like a fucking book.

“Thanks Bev, I know.” She shakes her head and goes back to cleaning the table she was at on the other side of the room. That’s my cue to go hide in the kitchen and maybe knock out some dishes. Hopefully, if I stay out of sight, Bev will keep me out of mind for the rest of my shift. Lord help me if Eddie doesn’t get here on time to switch me out for the night shift. It’s a Friday night so I know he’s going to be a little later because of Hellfire, but I really hope he’s going to have mercy on me since I can’t leave until he gets here. Eddie and I have gotten closer in the past year since I started working at the Hideout. He’s worked here as a dishwasher and bartender since his freshman year of high school in exchange for Bev letting his band, Corroded Coffin, play on Tuesday nights. He showed me the ropes, and we’ve been friends ever since. The rest of the band, and honestly Eddie too, were a bit hesitant to get close to me at first because of how popular I was in high school. While Steve gained the title of ‘King Steve,’ I acquired the title of ‘Princess Y/N.’ Thankfully, after spending a couple weeks working at the bar with Eddie, and even more weeks watching them play on Tuesday’s, their hesitation faded and we became a close little group- even consistently hanging out outside of the bar. But no matter how different I’ve clearly become since high school, Eddie keeps my nickname alive by calling me princess anytime he deems appropriate. At first, I knew he was doing it as an insult- because he wasn’t exactly me and my brother’s biggest fan when we were in school- even though he swears up and down he wasn’t, but now I think it’s kind of endearing and miss it when he doesn’t call me that, to be honest. I try not to think about what that means.

Forty-five minutes later, and Eddie is officially an hour late. And I am officially pissed. Hiding in the kitchen doing the dishes proved to be an unsuccessful plan, as almost immediately after I went in there, the group of the most misogynistic drunks in all of Hawkins showed up- outside of their regular times. Typically, they normally only come late at night after I get off- making them any of my other co-workers’ problem. Something about me takes them from resigned assholes to raging douchebags, so much so that all my other coworkers are aware of it without even needing to be told. Therefore, I had spent the past forty-five minutes getting drinks thrown back at me, insults screamed at me for the whole bar to hear, and being sexualized six ways to Sunday. Eddie was going to die when he finally decided to show up. Which just so happened to be when I was officially considering just walking out and leaving Bev to the wolves.

The back door leading into the kitchen slams open as Eddie rushes in, his apron half-hanging off of him from where he clearly just threw it on. He hurriedly tugs his long hair back into a low bun- leaving his bangs falling out in the front of his face. I throw the towel that I was using to wipe the beer I had thrown at me out of my apron and into the sink beside me, cross my arms, and cock my eyebrow at him. I don’t even need to say anything before he realizes he owes me an apology.

“Hey Princess, sorry I’m late. I swear I won’t do this again.” He totally will do this again- we both know that’s a lie. “The campaign took way longer than I thought, and Gareth took literally forever to decide what to do at one point, and then Jeff-”

“Eddie, shut up.” The use of his government name shut him up real quick. He wasn’t the only one out of the two of us that frequently uses a nickname to refer to the other. “I have literally been busting my ass for the past forty-five minutes waiting for you to show up. Dealing with the three little fucking piggies out there by myself because you know Bev goes up to the office to work the books at 5:45. And yeah I get that they normally don’t show up at 6pm on a Friday, but just because you didn’t know this shift has fucking sucked for me, doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you for leaving me to attend to those douchebags every need by myself when you were technically supposed to be here.” Out of the corner of my eye I see the cook at the grill-top on the other end of the kitchen shake his head and turn back around to finish up a burger. Nosy asshole. I sigh, leaning back against the wall. The ache that’s been on the back-burner of my head the last three hours of my shift comes through in full force with the release of a little bit of my frustration. The floodgates open, and the brick that had been weighing down on my chest all day breaks down full force. My chest starts tightening, and my head starts to get heavier. Eddie takes my moment of silence as an invitation to walk up to me and pull me into a hug, resting his chin on top of my head and murmuring his apology. I wasn’t actually that mad at him, and I know he knew that, but I needed to get out of here now, before I thoroughly embarrass myself in front of one of our random coworkers. I mumble as much into Eddie’s chest.

“Eddie… I need some air.” I quickly pull back and start to bolt toward the door. He reaches down and keeps a gentle hold on my right hand.

“Okay, okay. I’ll come with you, just hold on a sec.” Not listening to a single thing he said, as much as I’m trying to, I continue my rushed exit, leading to him stumbling and falling over- dropping my hand- as he tries to get his apron off. The second I get out of the building, tears start to fall, and the shaking starts. I sat down on the ground, leaning up against the back wall of the bar, trying to calm my breathing. Once Eddie regains his balance, he follows me out, and sits next to me against the wall. He wastes no time pulling me back into his arms and beginning to rub my back. As much as Eddie genuinely does help me in moments of panic like this, with everything weighing on me today, it’s only getting worse. Nausea washes over me, and my sobs grow louder. Eddie’s hold never wavered.

This is what Eddie and I do. We comfort each other in moments of panic, whether it’s me upset or Eddie. I’ve never told him exactly what’s caused my issues, and he’s only told me bits and pieces of what causes his- like what happened with his dad in ‘83. Sometimes we talk more in depth about things after, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances to each other, but more often than not we just go curl up in his bed together, until the feelings fade or we have no choice but to get up and go deal with one of our respective obligations. We’ve never talked about what it means, but we both know the bond between us is something we don’t share with anyone else.

After about twenty minutes, my breathing begins to calm, and I feel myself starting to come back into my body- regaining some of my senses. I can feel Eddie’s hold around me, rubbing my back, and placing soft gentle kisses on the top of my head. I let myself relax into his hold for a couple more minutes before I force myself to stand. Eddie immediately follows, but I gently push him back as I step away. He puts his hands in his pockets, shifting back on his feet awkwardly. I decide one more hug won’t hurt and step forward- wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. I step back from him for the final time tonight. He reaches a hand up and swipes leftover tears off of my face. I clear my throat.

“Thanks rockstar.” His lips perk up into a soft smirk, and he brushes hair that fell lose out of my ponytail behind my ear.

“Anytime princess.” I clear my throat again and start the short walk towards my car.

“Alright, I’m finally out of here.”

“See you tomorrow?” he asks gently, as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and goes to light it in true Eddie fashion.

“Yeah Eds, see you tomorrow,” I respond, just as gently. I get into my car and sit there for a second, just taking deep breaths and watching Eddie finish his cigarette before he goes back into work- and inevitably gets yelled at by Bev for being so late. It’s now that I start to think about what the relationship I have with Eddie means. It’s not defined as anything other than friendship, and honestly, I couldn’t explain it to anyone if they asked, but I genuinely don’t know if that’s all I feel for him at this point. But I can’t let myself feel that way. Everything I care about this town chews up and spits back out at my feet. I can’t let myself get close to him. This shit has to stop, we need to just be friends. Because so help me god if anything happens to that boy, I would never forgive myself.

edited by: @applebeecat