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basketcaseeeeee · 21 hours ago

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dating eddie munson headcanons

i rewatched st again (and plan on watching part 4 again) and well. i love eddie so much. he's so great (read this as if you're both 18+) (also eddie lives in this shhhh)

his love language is touch and quality time imo. so eddie loves it when you two are spending time together and especially loves it when you two are touching somehow. like you two can be sitting at a table and he'll make sure he's touching you

eddie actually loves it when you play with his hair. you can give him a scalp massage and he's essentially melting at your touch

he loves to talk about his dnd campaign. especially if you're not a player, he'll tell you everything that he has planned. his eyes light up and he adores that you listen to all his ideas. he also loves when you help flesh out ideas with him

some of the best moments spent are when you two are just laying down, in his bed, music on, and high as a kite. he'll hold your hand and interlace your fingers together

making out in his van? yes please. he loves to be on top of you, kissing you heatedly, and grinding his hips into you. this instance happens usually out parked somewhere that no one can bother you. like they call it lover's lake for a reason

people consistently tell you he's a freak and you need to leave him but you don't because you love him. after he has a spiral of agreeing with these people and confessing to you that maybe they're right, you reassure him that you love him for who he is. nothing and no one will change that

eddie has invited you to his band's practice. and he loves putting on a show for you. the other members found it annoying until eddie played really good at the bar when you showed up. he loves it when you're in the small crowd at his shows

you wanted to introduce eddie to your parents because you loved and he meant the world to you. luckily when you brought up eddie and alleged to his d&d game, your parents were really cool with it and excited to meet the guy who stole your heart

bringing this idea up to eddie made him lose his mind. even though you told him many times that your parents were excited to meet him. eddie tried to convince you that he was nothing but trouble. you proceeded to remind him that you two have had this conversation before (and you won). so, he agreed to meet your parents and they loved him. your dad and eddie both loved metallica which was a surprise to you about your dad. but it made your heart soar

it was eddie's third time repeating senior year and metallica was touring over his spring break. so you got tickets and surprised him. he then promised that he would pass his midterms so you two could go. and he loved every second of the concert

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basketcaseeeeee · 4 days ago

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ROLL FOR REDEMPTION - E.M.

SUMMARY: in which Eddie cuts you of his life, under his girlfriend’s influence, discarding mementos of your friendship. As you withdraw, becoming a shadow of yourself, Eddie feels trapped, clinging to a small reminder of you.

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Female best friend

previous part - next part

TWO : The Weight of Absence

The library at Hawkins High smells like old paper and dust, a quiet sanctuary where the world’s noise can’t reach you. You’ve claimed a corner table near the back, hidden behind stacks of encyclopedias no one ever touches. It’s your fortress now, a place where you can bury yourself in books and pretend the ache in your chest isn’t growing sharper every day. Your backpack slumps against the chair, heavy with textbooks you don’t need but carry anyway, as if their weight can anchor you when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.

It’s been a month since that night at the quarry, since Eddie looked at you with those guilty eyes and chose Tara over you. The memory replays like a broken cassette tape, stuck on a loop you can’t eject—his voice, low and cracked, saying, I need to put her first. You haven’t spoken to him since, haven’t seen him except in fleeting glimpses in the hallways, his arm around Tara, his laughter muffled by the crowd. Each sighting is a fresh wound, a reminder that the boy who once knew every corner of your soul now treats you like a stranger.

You avoid the cafeteria, the parking lot, the arcade—anywhere you might run into the Hellfire Club or the rest of Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff, and Dustin used to be your people, your fellow outcasts who’d joke about your terrible dice rolls or beg you to come to their gigs to “keep Eddie’s ego in check.” But now, their faces are landmines. You can’t look at them without seeing Eddie, without hearing the questions they’d ask: Where’ve you been? Why aren’t you at Hellfire? What’s up with you and Eddie? You can’t face their pity or their confusion, so you retreat, pulling away like a tide receding from the shore.

In class, you’ve taken to sitting in the front row, right by the door. You keep your head down, your notebook open, scribbling notes you barely process. The moment the bell rings, you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as you make a beeline for the library or your car. You’ve perfected the art of disappearing, of making yourself small despite your body’s insistence on taking up space. Your curves, once a source of hard-won pride, feel like a burden now, a reason Tara saw you as a threat. You tug your oversized sweaters tighter, hiding yourself, as if you could shrink into someone who doesn’t hurt this much.

Your grades are slipping, not because you don’t understand the material, but because your mind is a fog of grief. You stare at equations in math class, but all you see is Eddie’s handwriting on the margins of your old D&D notes, doodling dragons and skulls next to your character stats. You read The Great Gatsby for English, but the words blur into memories of Eddie reading Tolkien aloud to you, his voice dramatic and teasing as he narrated Bilbo’s adventures. Everything reminds you of him, and it’s suffocating.

Your friends—well, the ones who aren’t tied to Eddie—notice the change. Robin tries to corner you after history class, her eyes soft with worry. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been, like, a ghost lately.” You force a smile, mumble something about being busy, and slip away before she can press further. Steve, who you used to joke with at the video store, catches you in the parking lot one day, his hands on his hips like he’s about to lecture you. “You’re dodging everyone, you know that, right? What’s going on?” You shrug, your throat tight, and mutter an excuse about needing to study. You can’t tell them the truth—that losing Eddie feels like losing a limb, that you’re terrified if you open your mouth, all that’ll come out is a scream.

Hellfire Club used to be your refuge, the one place where you could be yourself, rolling dice and laughing until your sides hurt. You were the cleric, the group’s healer, always saving their asses when Eddie’s campaigns got too brutal. Now, the thought of walking into that drama room, seeing Eddie at the head of the table with his DM screen and his wild grin, makes your stomach churn. You stopped showing up, letting your character fade into the background of their story, just like you’re fading from their lives.

On the other side of Hawkins High, Eddie’s dodging questions like he’s dodging arrows in one of his campaigns. You don’t see it, but you hear whispers of it through the grapevine—classmates who pass by the Hellfire table at lunch, friends of friends who catch snippets of conversation. Dustin’s the first to ask, his voice loud and earnest during a Hellfire session. “Where’s she at, Eddie? She hasn’t been to a meeting in weeks. Is she okay?” Eddie freezes, his dice clattering to the table. “She’s fine,” he says, too quick, his eyes fixed on his notes. “Just busy, you know. Let’s move on—Gareth, what’s your next move?” The group exchanges glances, but they don’t push. They know Eddie well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers fidget with his rings when he’s uncomfortable.

At band practice, it’s the same story. Jeff strums a chord, then pauses, looking at Eddie as he tunes his guitar. “You talk to her lately? She’s not coming to the gig at the Hideout, is she?” Eddie’s strumming falters, a sour note ringing out. “Nah, man,” he says, his voice clipped. “She’s got stuff going on. Can we focus?” Gareth raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, and the rehearsal stumbles on, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Tara’s always there now, perched on an amp during practice, her legs crossed, her eyes scanning Eddie like she’s making sure he doesn’t slip. She’s sweet to the band, all smiles and compliments, but there’s an edge to her, a possessiveness that lingers in the way she loops her arm through Eddie’s or leans into him when someone mentions your name. The band notices, but they don’t say it out loud. They miss you—the way you’d heckle Eddie from the crowd, the way you’d bring snacks and cheer louder than anyone—but they don’t know how to bridge the gap Eddie’s built.

You, meanwhile, are sinking deeper into yourself. You spend lunch periods in the library, your nose buried in a book you’re not reading, your Walkman blasting Joy Division so loud it drowns out your thoughts. The music is a poor substitute for Eddie’s voice, but it’s all you have. You avoid mirrors, avoid your own reflection in the library windows, because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, you hear Tara’s unspoken accusation: You’re too much. You’re in the way. Your body, your laughter, your years with Eddie—it’s all too much for her, and now it feels like too much for you too.

One day, you’re in the front row of chemistry, scribbling nonsense in your notebook, when you hear his laugh from the hallway. It’s unmistakable, loud and unapologetic, the kind that used to make you smile no matter how bad your day was. Your pen freezes, and you strain to listen, catching Tara’s voice too, high and sharp. They’re close, probably by the lockers, and for a moment, you imagine running out there, grabbing his arm, and begging him to talk to you, to fix this. But the bell rings, and you’re out the door before anyone can stop you, your heart pounding as you duck into the library.

That night, you’re in your room, the lights off, the Polaroid of you and Eddie at the arcade pinned to your corkboard like a wound you can’t stop picking at. You’re curled up on your bed, your knees drawn to your chest, when the phone rings. Your heart leaps, but it’s not him. It’s Dustin, his voice hesitant. “Hey, um, we miss you at Hellfire. Eddie’s being weird about it, but… you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice barely steady. “Just… busy.”

“Bullshit,” Dustin says, blunt as ever. “Something’s up. You and Eddie have a fight or something?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I just need… space.”

He sighs, and you can picture him pushing his cap back, frustrated. “Okay, but you know you can talk to me, right? We’re worried.”

“I know,” you whisper, and you hang up before the tears come. You don’t call back.

The next Corroded Coffin gig is at the Hideout, and you don’t go. You used to be their biggest fan, screaming lyrics from the front row, your voice hoarse by the end of the night. Now, you sit in your car in the school parking lot, the engine off, staring at the flyer someone left on the bulletin board. Corroded Coffin, Friday, 9 PM. You imagine Eddie on stage, his hair flying, his guitar screaming, Tara watching from the sidelines like she owns him. The thought makes you feel sick, so you drive home, the radio silent.

Eddie, meanwhile, feels the weight of your absence. He doesn’t admit it, not to Tara, not to the band, not even to himself. But it’s there in the way he scans the crowd at the Hideout, hoping to see your face, only to find Tara’s instead. It’s there in the way he fumbles lyrics he’s sung a hundred times, because you’re not there to mouth them back at him, your grin a beacon in the dim light. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, that Tara’s worth it, that love means sacrifice. But every time he sees your empty chair at Hellfire, every time Dustin or Gareth brings you up, he feels a crack in his resolve, a whisper that he’s made a terrible mistake.

You don’t see any of this. You’re too busy hiding, shutting down, letting the silence consume you. Your world is smaller now, confined to library corners and front-row seats, to nights alone with music that can’t fill the hole Eddie left. You wonder if this is what it means to disappear, to become a ghost in your own life. And somewhere, deep down, you wonder if Eddie even notices you’re gone.

Taglist : @whisperingwillowxox @robinsbuckleys @iyskgd @hereforshmut @poshpinklace @kissmyacdc @nubedeoctubreval @hellhoundvv

(did I do this taglist thing correctly ?)

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