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pankowcrumbs · 3 months ago

Text

You Owe Me, Sweetheart X Eddie Munson

18+

Plot: Eddie helps you and now you owe him a favour of his choice.

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

I’d been standing at the edge of the car park for a good five minutes, clutching my books to my chest like they might somehow shield me from the situation I’d stupidly landed myself in.

The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across Hawkins High. Most people had cleared out already, the corridors quieting down to a dull hum.

And there he was Eddie Munson. Perched on the bonnet of his van like he didn’t have a care in the world, cigarette dangling from his lips, boots scuffed, a battered notebook balanced on his knee.

Everyone knew Eddie’s reputation. The Freak. The Dealer. The Outcast.

But that wasn’t what I saw.

I saw the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he played guitar with a kind of raw passion that made my heart stutter, the way he spoke like he meant every word, no matter how outrageous.

And God, I saw the way his rings glinted on his fingers big, strong hands, veined arms poking out of a torn Hellfire Club shirt.

I’d had a crush on Eddie Munson for longer than I cared to admit.

And now, thanks to a frankly horrific twist of fate involving a botched science project, a missing lab partner, and an unforgiving deadline, I needed him.

I shifted from foot to foot, anxiety gnawing at my gut.

He hadn’t noticed me yet or if he had, he was doing a bloody good job of pretending otherwise.

I could still back out. I could still turn around, figure something else out.

But then his head lifted, slow and deliberate, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.

A smirk tugged at his mouth, cocky and knowing.

Like he could read every panicked thought racing through my brain.

"Well, well," he drawled, flicking the cigarette away with a casual snap of his fingers. "If it isn't little Miss Good Girl herself."

I flushed, heat crawling up my neck.

"I..." I cleared my throat, hating how wobbly it sounded. "I need your help."

He leaned back on his hands, stretching out long legs, rings catching the last bit of sunlight. He looked so at ease it made me dizzy.

"If you need somethin’, darlin’," he said, voice slow and syrupy, "all you gotta do is ask."

My knees nearly gave out.

The way he said it rough, teasing, commanding like it wasn’t even a question but a foregone conclusion.

I squeezed my books tighter.

"It’s for the science fair," I rushed out, words tripping over themselves. "My partner bailed on me and I heard you’re good with electronics and I just..."

He raised an eyebrow, cutting off my nervous rambling with a lazy grin.

"You want me to help you build your project?"

I nodded, cheeks burning.

He tapped his chin, pretending to consider. "Hmm. What’s in it for me?"

I blinked, panic spiking. "I could pay you?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that did wicked things to my insides.

"Don’t want your money, sweetheart," he said. "Tell you what. You owe me a favour."

"A favour?"

"Yeah." His grin widened. "Could be anything. A ride somewhere. Help with homework. Carrying my gear. Whatever I feel like cashin' in."

The way he said it casual, almost lazy made my heart skip a traitorous beat.

I should have been wary. I should have said no.

But instead, I found myself nodding.

"Alright," I whispered. "A favour."

His eyes lit up, mischief and something darker flickering behind them.

"Deal," he said, hopping off the bonnet with a thud. He sauntered towards me, stopping way too close, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of smoke and leather clinging to him.

"Lead the way, princess," he murmured, voice curling around my brain like smoke. "Let’s get to work."

Eddie’s van was a mess papers, guitar picks, cassette tapes everywhere but somehow it suited him.

He insisted on blasting Black Sabbath as he soldered wires together, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, muscles flexing under his ratty T-shirt.

I sat on the floor, trying not to stare, trying not to let my mind wander.

It was hopeless.

Every time he made a snarky comment, every time he shot me a grin over his shoulder, every time he brushed past me, my heart threatened to break free of my ribs.

I was utterly, pathetically, hopelessly infatuated.

And he knew it.

I caught him smirking to himself more than once, like he could feel the tension crackling between us, like he was revelling in it.

At one point, he crouched down beside me to explain a connection, our knees bumping.

He pointed to the circuit board, his hand brushing mine, slow and deliberate.

"You’re shaking, sweetheart," he murmured, voice practically sinful. "You nervous? I don’t bite."

Not unless you ask me to, I thought wildly, biting the inside of my cheek.

"I’m fine," I squeaked instead.

He chuckled, dark and delighted.

"Liar."

By the time we finished, it was nearly dark.

The project looked... incredible. Way better than anything I could have pulled off alone.

I stared at it in awe, hands trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline.

Eddie stood back, arms crossed, watching me.

"So," he said. "Was I worth the risk?"

I blinked up at him.

"What?"

He shrugged, casual. "You didn’t want to ask me, right? Thought I’d laugh in your face. Tell you to piss off."

I swallowed hard. "I never thought you were a freak."

His eyes softened, just a fraction, and my chest squeezed.

"Yeah?" he said, voice almost gentle.

I nodded. "Yeah."

For a moment, the air between us felt heavy, charged.

He took a step closer, eyes never leaving mine.

"You ever need anything again, darlin’," he murmured, voice low and rough, "you come to me. Understand?"

I nodded again, helpless.

"Good girl," he said, and the praise hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath.

Before I could recover, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering just a second too long.

Then he stepped back, smirking.

"I’ll be cashin’ in that favour soon, sweetheart," he said, backing towards his van. "Don’t you forget it."

I watched him drive away, heart hammering against my ribs, knees weak.

And I knew deep in my bones that whatever favour Eddie Munson wanted, I was absolutely, hopelessly doomed to say yes.

It had been three days since Eddie Munson helped me with my science project. Three days of me replaying every word, every smirk, every brush of his fingers through my hair like some hopeless sap.

And three days of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I thought, maybe stupidly, that he’d forget. Maybe he was just winding me up about that "favour."

But when I opened my locker Friday morning, a scrap of notebook paper fluttered out and landed at my feet.

‘You owe me, sweetheart. Meet me behind the gym after last bell. Don’t be late. -Eddie’

I stared at it, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Behind the gym? What the hell was he planning?

I spent all day jumping at shadows. By the time the final bell rang, my palms were sweaty, my stomach a mess of nerves.

He was already there when I arrived lounging against the brick wall, battered leather jacket slung over one shoulder, chain on his jeans catching the sunlight.

When he spotted me, his grin lit up his whole face.

"There she is," he said, voice warm and teasing. "Was startin’ to think you’d chickened out."

"As if," I muttered, crossing my arms to hide how bloody shaky I felt.

He pushed off the wall and sauntered towards me, lazy and loose-limbed.

"Ready to cash in that favour, princess?"

I swallowed. "What exactly does it involve?"

He pretended to think, tapping his chin. "Hmm. Let’s call it... a not-date."

"A what?"

He laughed, grabbing my wrist gentle, but firm enough that my breath hitched and tugging me after him.

"You’ll see," he said. "Come on. You’re burnin’ daylight."

Turned out, Eddie’s idea of a "not-date" was driving half an hour out of town in his rattling van, windows down, music blaring.

He didn’t say where we were going. Didn’t even give me a chance to protest.

He just kept throwing me these sideways glances, smirking every time he caught me sneaking a look at him.

Which, honestly, was often.

How could I not? The way the wind ruffled his curls, the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music it was like something out of a dream.

Eventually, he pulled off onto a dirt road, tires kicking up dust.

"You’re not gonna murder me and leave me in a ditch, are you?" I joked, only half teasing.

He shot me a wicked grin. "Depends. You scream a lot?"

I made a strangled sound, and he laughed like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

We finally stopped at a little clearing tall grass, wildflowers, the whole lot. At the edge was a battered old blanket spread out under a tree.

My mouth dropped open.

"You set this up?"

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Thought you deserved a break after all that sciencing."

He grabbed a cooler from the back of the van and sauntered over to the blanket, plonking himself down with a dramatic sigh.

"Well?" he said, patting the space beside him. "You gonna stand there gawkin' all day, or you gonna come enjoy my five-star hospitality?"

I couldn’t help it I laughed. Really laughed.

And before I knew it, I was sinking down beside him, the late afternoon sun warm on my skin.

He’d packed sandwiches slightly squashed, but somehow charming and two cans of warm soft drink.

We talked about everything and nothing music, books, how shit Hawkins was and I found myself relaxing more with every passing minute.

Eddie was easy to talk to. Eddie was dangerous.

Because the more I laughed at his ridiculous jokes, the more I caught him looking at me like I hung the bloody moon, the deeper I sank.

And somewhere between arguing about the best Metallica album and watching the clouds drift lazily overhead, the air shifted.

I caught him watching me properly watching me and my stomach twisted itself into knots.

"What?" I said, half laughing, half terrified.

He shrugged, but there was something serious under the easy smile.

"You’re not what I expected," he said.

I blinked. "You expected me to be a bitch?"

He snorted. "Nah. Expected you to be... I dunno. Too good for the likes of me."

My heart cracked right down the middle.

"You’re not a freak, Eddie," I said, voice fierce.

He smiled, slow and soft, and God help me, I wanted to kiss him.

Maybe he saw it on my face. Maybe he was feeling the exact same thing.

Because a second later, he leaned in achingly slow, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to.

I didn’t.

His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

But when I sighed into him when I fisted my hands in the worn denim of his jacket he groaned low in his throat and kissed me properly.

Hot. Messy. Desperate.

It wasn’t neat or perfect, but it was real.

He cradled the back of my head in one hand, the other gripping my waist, pulling me against him like he couldn’t bear to leave even an inch of space.

When we finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against mine.

"Still not a date," he whispered, breathless.

I laughed, giddy and dizzy and completely lost.

"Definitely not a date," I agreed, voice shaking.

But we both knew we were lying.

The sun dipped lower, casting everything in gold.

We lay tangled together on the blanket, Eddie tracing lazy circles on my hip with calloused fingers, making my whole body shiver.

His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, skimming over bare skin light, teasing touches that left me aching.

I turned my head, catching his gaze.

He looked so wrecked hair wild, pupils blown wide, mouth swollen from kissing.

"Can I?" he started, voice rough.

I answered by tugging him down to me, desperate for more.

His hand slid higher, cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my bra, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

I gasped into his mouth, arching into him.

He kissed down my jaw, my throat, scattering rough, reverent kisses that made my toes curl.

"You’re so fuckin’ soft," he murmured against my skin, like he was drunk on it.

He kissed lower, pulling my shirt up to mouth at my stomach, each kiss making my muscles jump.

I buried my fingers in his hair, tugging gently, and he growled low in his throat.

He kissed along the waistband of my jeans, teeth scraping lightly, and I whimpered.

"Eddie," I whispered, desperate and shaking.

He lifted his head, eyes dark and burning.

"Tell me to stop," he said, voice a low rasp.

I shook my head, pulling him back up to kiss me again, harder this time.

Clothes were pushed aside, touches growing more frantic, and when he finally slid inside me, it wasn’t hurried or rough it was slow, deep, aching.

Like he was trying to memorise every second. Like he needed it as much as I did.

Afterwards, we lay tangled together, breathing hard, Eddie’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare back.

"You still think this wasn’t a date?" I mumbled against his chest, too blissed out to move.

He chuckled, low and smug.

"Nah, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to my hair. "This was definitely a date."

I smiled, tucking myself closer against him.

For once, I didn’t care about reputations or gossip or any of the bullshit waiting for us back in Hawkins.

All that mattered was Eddie warm, solid, real holding me like he never wanted to let go.

Keeping things quiet sounded easy in theory.

In reality?

It was bloody impossible.

Especially when Eddie Munson was involved.

It started small. Little things.

The way he'd find me in the corridors between classes, brushing his fingers over mine when nobody was looking.

The way I'd catch him staring at me during lunch, this soft, stupid smile on his face, like he couldn't help himself.

The way he'd mouth something utterly filthy across the room something that turned my face scarlet and made me nearly choke on my sandwich then wink like the cocky bastard he was.

We were awful at hiding it.

Like, truly pathetic.

It didn’t help that Eddie was absolutely no help whatsoever. If anything, he enjoyed the risk of getting caught.

He’d catch me in the library, brush past just a bit too close, then smirk when I dropped my pen.

He’d mouth "Later, sweetheart" as he sauntered past my desk in science, leaving me a flustered, stammering mess.

And he always looked so bloody pleased with himself afterwards.

The rumours started before the week was out.

I heard snippets in the girls' toilets.

"Did you see the way Munson looked at her?" "Swear I saw them sneaking off together behind the gym." "She could do better, surely?"

It should've made me nervous.

Instead, every whisper made me feel a little giddy, a little more reckless.

Because for once, I didn't care what people thought.

I liked Eddie Munson. And he somehow, unbelievably liked me right back.

I should've known he wouldn't let it lie.

It was a Tuesday, halfway through lunch, when he did it.

I was sitting with some of my friends, pretending not to watch Eddie across the room even though he was making it impossible by looking over every thirty bloody seconds.

I was mid-sip of my drink when suddenly, bang the screech of a chair dragging across the floor made me jump.

Everyone turned to look.

And there was Eddie standing on the lunch table like a man possessed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

I nearly died on the spot.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, loud enough to shake the rafters:

"Alright, Hawkins High! Since you’re all so bloody nosy" (I buried my face in my hands.) "let me clear a few things up, yeah?"

A few people laughed. Others were just gawping, forks halfway to their mouths.

"I am head over heels for Y/N," Eddie declared, voice ringing out, proud and utterly shameless. "Completely, stupidly, hopelessly in love with her."

The cafeteria exploded.

Cheers, whistles, people banging on tables.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

But then he looked at me properly looked all soft eyes and secret smiles, and something in my chest just melted.

"Y/N," he said, over the noise. "Come up here, sweetheart."

I shook my head furiously, laughing.

"No way!"

"C’mon," he coaxed, reaching out a hand. "Don’t leave me hangin’."

People started chanting.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Before I could lose my nerve, I scrambled up not very gracefully onto the table, gripping his hand tight.

He pulled me close, grinning like a lunatic.

"You ready to really give ‘em somethin’ to talk about?" he whispered.

And then he kissed me.

Right there, in front of everyone.

It wasn’t a quick peck, either. It was full-on, dizzy, toe-curling, I never want to stop kissing.

The cafeteria went mental.

Wolf-whistles, clapping, someone actually started banging a tray like a drum.

When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, Eddie was beaming.

"We’re so bloody busted," I panted, half laughing, half terrified.

And right on cue

"MR MUNSON! MISS Y/L/N!" A furious shout from across the room.

Mr. Clarke, the science teacher, red-faced and charging towards us.

Eddie grabbed my hand, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief.

"Run!"

We leapt down from the table nearly sending the lunches on it flying and tore out of the cafeteria, hand in hand, both of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

"GET BACK HERE!" Clarke bellowed behind us.

"Not a chance!" Eddie yelled back, cackling like a madman.

We sprinted down the corridor, past the lockers, past the stunned faces of other students peeking out of classrooms.

My heart was pounding, adrenaline singing through my veins.

We finally burst through the side doors into the sunlight, collapsing against the wall, gasping for air.

Eddie looked at me, flushed and breathless and utterly beautiful.

"You’re mad," I wheezed, still laughing.

He grinned, wide and wicked. "Yeah, but you love it."

And bloody hell, I really, really did.

I grabbed his jacket, pulled him down, and kissed him again fierce and giddy and completely, utterly in love.

From inside, we could still hear Clarke shouting.

"Think he’s gonna kill us?" I murmured against his lips.