#ch.eddie munson

[splinteredbone]

hallway crush

masterlist / navigation / @splinteredmercies

pairing: eddie munson x reader

contains: no spoilers for s4. modern au. reader is really into astrology and tarot. afab reader. an allusion to sex. not edited, we die like men.

wc: 1.73 k

author’s note: im not ashamed to say it: this is one of the most self-indulgent one-shots you’ll ever find because, quite literally, it’s a self-insert. i hereby announce my intentions of bringing forth the astrology!tarot!witch!reader x eddie munson—their aesthetics together, lord! although, we could just shorten it to spiritual!reader x eddie munson, can’t we? anyway, this might become my whole niche considering all the things i’m planning in my head right now… i’m a menace and all of you are now being dragged down with me.

Before you and Eddie Munson were in the same homeroom, he was your hallway crush.

You didn’t know his name, but what you did know was two things:

He was hot. Like extremely fucking hot. (The whole metalhead aesthetic really did things to you.)

You would give an arm and a leg to be able to run your fingers through his hair.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out his name, and his social media quickly followed.

His main Instagram account was public and filled with videos of him playing guitar—where you could see glimpses of a small, cluttered room and walls covered with band posters. You figured out that he ran the Hellfire Club’s Instagram, and that endeared you even more to him because you were sure he made the announcements himself and didn’t rely on Canva.

Then, you found his Twitter account, which was also public. (Twitter accounts were always telling of character, especially for men his age. You found out that he had a little over two hundred followers, published his band’s music on Bandcamp, and had a killer sense of humor.)

And that was how your life went for three years, occasionally stalking his social media and looking out for him in the hallways. Until you walked into Ms. Abernathy’s homeroom during your first day of senior year and found Eddie Munson talking to her animatedly. (You later found out that Ms. Abernathy was taking over as the sponsor of the Hellfire Club.)

Ms. Abernathy greeted you when you tried to walk past her unseen. “I’m so happy to see you! How was your summer break?”

You blinked owlishly and avoided staring at Eddie like an idiot. “It was great. Thanks for asking, Ms. A.”

You forced a bright smile at her and fled to your usual seat near the windows. Your friends would be here soon and they would help you avoid staring at the ridiculously hot two-timer senior.

.

It was late October; the weather was becoming chilly and you switched out your crop tops and shorts for jeans and zip-ups. (Your trusty Birkenstocks remained on your feet despite the changing weather.)

Homecoming week was taking place the week of Halloween this year. You and your group of friends were excited over the announced Spirit Days, coordinating who was matching with who for Character Day and when to go shopping for dresses. And you all had fallen back into old habits: doing natal charts and tarot readings instead of finishing homework and studying. (Ms. Abernathy didn’t mind though.)

“Strength!” It was one of your favorite tarot cards. On it, a woman was depicted calmly holding the jaws of a fully grown lion. It represented having control and discipline, especially during times of great adversities. In this case, you’d asked Spirit who was coming into your friend’s life—possible placements and the like. Placing the card with the others, you continued, “Whoever is reentering your life as a love interest before this year ends will have a Leo placement—sun, rising, moon, etcetera.”

“Reentering?” Leena asked, staring at the spread before her. “I really hope it’s not who I think it is.”

“Remember, tarot is based on current energy, and energies change as you make decisions.” You looked at Leena sternly. “If it is who we think it is: then, we rebuke his bad energy. You’ll redraw boundaries and tell him there’s no way in hell you’re getting back with his cheating ass.”

“The moment I saw Five of Swords come out I knew exactly who it was talking about.” To your left, Oneida cackled before taking a sip of her Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee. “He thought he was so sneaky. And now he’s coming back when he’s realized you’re the best he’ll ever have.”

Leena and Oneida continued speaking (i.e., arguing over Elena’s past decisions regarding your life) as you placed the cards back in the deck. Giving the deck a quick shuffle before putting them away in the box, you hadn’t realized your friends had fallen quiet, and someone was standing over you.

“Can I get a reading?”

You froze and looked up. Eddie Munson was in front of you. Beautiful brown eyes flickered between the deck in your hand and your face.

Leena and Oneida kicked your shin at the same time and you stumbled out a reply, “Sure!”

He grinned widely and sat down in front of you.

“I can give you a general reading, starting with three cards. Is that okay with you?” You held onto your deck like it was a lifeline as he seemingly stared right into your soul.

“Fine with me.”

You smiled and started shuffling after knocking three times on the deck. Spirit, a general reading for Eddie Munson.

The cards started popping out in quick succession. Knight of Wands, Seven of Wands, Six of Pentacles.

“I do my readings based on intuition—my gut feeling,” you explained, moving the cards so Eddie could see them. “I’m going to pull some more.”

Ten of Swords, the Hanged Man, Knight of Pentacles, the Empress, Nine of Swords, Two of Cups, Eight of Pentacles, Death, Justice.

You flipped over the deck, “Bottom of the deck: Four of Wands.”

You glanced at him; he was frowning, eyes focused on the Death card.

“The cards are scary if you take them literally,” you said. You started your interpretation, “You’ve been losing sleep, overthinking whether or not you should approach the person you’re interested in. And right now, you’re your own enemy, letting your anxieties rule you. You should approach them because it’s likely that your feelings are reciprocated. This connection has the potential to be life-changing, in a positive way.”

“That’s… a lot.”

You looked up from the cards; Eddie was already staring at you.

You shrugged sheepishly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know. But Spirit had a lot to say about whatever has been bothering you.”

As he was about to say something else, the bell rang and you fled after putting away your deck into the abyss of your backpack.

.

Eddie Munson (edd1emuns0n) started following you.

The scream that came out of your mouth was high-pitched and embarrassing. Immediately, you screenshotted the notification and sent it to the group chat with Leena and Oneida.

Oneida

No fucking shot

WAS THE TAROT READING ABOUT YOU???

Leena

It might be a coincidence

You watched as more text messages came, mostly Oneida telling you to slide into his DMs. You were mortified at the suggestion and decided to put your phone on Do Not Disturb for the rest of the night.

As Leena said, it could be a coincidence but your intuition was saying otherwise.

You slipped your phone under your pillow and turned to your TV. An episode of The Sopranos was playing quietly, and you chose to focus on it instead of whatever notifications were hidden under Do Not Disturb.

That only lasted ten minutes. You grabbed your phone, put in the passcode, and opened your notifications.

edd1emuns0n liked your post.

You froze. You hadn’t posted anything new in months except—

You quickly opened Instagram and saw which post he liked.

It was a post from July when you’d been celebrating Leena’s seventeenth birthday by having a Pinterest-worthy picnic. In the post, you were wearing a floral mini dress. The angels of both pictures showed off your breasts and thighs in flattering angles. You looked hot, even months later.

And Eddie Munson liked that post.

Another scream left your mouth as you threw your phone across your bedroom. You immediately regretted the action and got up to grab your phone.

A notification came in.

edd1emuns0n

Hey, about that tarot reading

Should I actually do something about it?

You stared at the messages for a moment, thinking about what you should say. Finally, you sent your response.

Yes.

He replied quickly.

Okay, see you tomorrow.

Sad at his dry response, you turned off your phone and went back to watching The Sopranos.

.

Homeroom, again. And this time, you were the one nursing a Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee instead of Oneida.

You scrolled aimlessly on Pinterest, saving the occasional Whisper repost that was amusing when Eddie Munson stood in front of you.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Oh, shit, did he get rejected? You thought but nodded anyway. You motioned for him to follow you out to the hallway. Ms. Abernathy barely looked at you two.

“What is it?” You questioned, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

“Are you today after school? I’d like to take you out, get to know you.”

You blinked. Then a large smile grew on your face. “So, the reading was about me?”

“Yeah, it was.”

You laughed and beamed up at him. “Well, I am free after school today then. I’ll meet you in the parking lot?”

“Sounds good.”

.

Before you and Eddie Munson were in the same homeroom, he was your hallway crush. Now, he was your boyfriend, and you could boast that you had manifested it.

It was May, and the date of graduation and prom was coming up. You and Eddie were graduating, but Eddie had skipped so many periods that he wasn’t allowed to attend the ceremony.

You didn’t mind that Eddie wasn’t walking the stage. You understood that Eddie would prefer being in the audience, cheering for you as your name was called and you accepted your diploma from the principal. (It was a shame, though, because you were sure his uncle would have liked seeing Eddie walk the stage with you.)

It had taken you two months to convince Eddie it would be worth it to attend prom together. (You’d told him that you would spend the night with him—just him—instead of lugging him to attend the after party.)

So, now, you were pinning Eddie’s only pair of dress pants because it was too long. (You were sure that Eddie bought these hoping you would forget to make sure they fit them right.)

“Stop fidgeting,” you muttered, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He stopped moving. He said your name softly. “Don’t do that.”

You smirked and looked away. “Stay still, and maybe I will give you what you want.”

And he listened. He stayed still as you finished pinning the dress pants (and you did give him what he wanted).

[splinteredbone]

baker’s choice

masterlist / navigation / @splinteredmercies

pairing: eddie munson x reader

contains: no spoilers for s4. mentions of drug consumption, edible production, and profanity. not edited, we die like men.

wc: 1.13 k

author’s note: inspired by that one episode of derry girls where michelle makes edibles but they’re scones. anyway, please enjoy girlboss!reader ‘cause sis is literally running an edible empire in the sleepy town of hawkins all by themselves!! lmk if i should continue this. i might because i think the ending is lacking but i literally wrote this while at my graduation ceremony lol. (p.s., all my reader inserts are gender neutral, poc friendly, and very vague with the physical characteristics unless stated otherwise.)

Daylight had ceased from entering your kitchen hours ago, your counter was littered with baking utensils, and you fought the urge to lick the double chocolate brownie batter off the whisk.

Under any other circumstances, you would lick some of it off before throwing it in the sink to be washed, food safety be damned. But you knew better. The thick batter on the whisk wasn’t the usual. Your recipe had been altered to include one more ingredient: weed.

You didn’t like how weed made you feel while high—anxious, paranoid, and grogginess. The side effects never changed whether you smoked it or ate it. But, fuck, did edibles bring in money.

Not that you really needed it. Both of your parents worked good jobs, but it sent them miles away from Hawkins for months at a time and they sent a hefty check every two weeks. It left you alone with nothing to do, so baking—cooking in general, really—became a mechanism to avoid the reality of your house being way too big for one teenager in high school.

You set your timer to twenty-five minutes and placed it back on the counter. It’d be enough time to clean up before sitting down to cut up brownies and individually wrap them with plastic wrap and your labels.

You paused when you realized Jenny’s cookies were still sitting on the dining room table. Christ, I forgot to call her. She’ll have my head, it’s for her fucking birthday party.

Shaking your head, you went to your telephone to call her about the cookies. Meanwhile, you thought about how you had to go to Eddie Munson’s trailer to get more weed. Ugh.

.

It was nearing midnight when you pulled up to Munson’s trailer. You didn’t want to be here, not so late and on a Friday night, but you needed to replenish your weed stock. You had a large order to be prepped for Saturday night. (Or was it for tonight?)

You exited your car and were about to knock when Munson’s door swung open.

The lanky man leaned on the doorway, watching as you squinted at the sudden amount of light. “You look like shit.”

“It’s midnight and I’ve been awake since five. I think I can allow myself to look like shit, Munson.” You pushed past him and entered the trailer. “I’m here for the usual.”

You scanned your surroundings and realized it was… neater. Frowning briefly, you turned back to Munson, only to see his eyes snap back to your face.

No wonder he was quiet, you mused, not at all bothered that he was checking you out.

You were wearing shorts—ones you had made yourself from an old pair of Levi’s that had become too stained from mud and grass to be salvaged—and a band t-shirt from middle school that somehow still fit you.

“Nice shirt.”

You stared at Munson for a moment and then looked down. The painted faces of KISS stared up at you. “Thanks. I think it’s a real shame they stopped painting their faces. It’s what really brought that mysterious appeal to them, you know?”

You looked back up at Munson. A beat of silence ensued. You became worried and leaned toward him. “Hey, are you okay? I just want my weed, I can always come back in the morning.”

He blinked, seemingly coming out of a daze. He didn’t seem high though. You watched as he turned away, mumbling something to himself that you could not decipher.

“What do you even do with all this?” Munson questioned as he brought you what you wanted.

“Why are you asking?”

“I doubt you can smoke it all, not with how frequently you’re here.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “And I asked around too. No vices of any kind. So, what do you do with all that weed?”

You fought back a shiver at hearing Munson say your name—softly, intimately, downright reverently—at the end of his question.

“My only vice is sex.” The statement fell out of your mouth faster than your brain could stop it. Horrified, you sputtered, “That’s a joke—just a really, really dumb joke—”

Munson laughed, harder than you’d ever seen him laugh. Something about his laugh made you feel better. You laughed with him and felt your shoulders relax.

“I make edibles,” you answered his question from earlier. “I sell to the people who don't like smoking it, don’t want their parents finding any buds laying around, or too lazy to make it themselves.”

“And people actually buy it?”

You scoffed. “I always come back to buy more weed, don’t I?”

You grabbed the bag out of Munson’s hand with a little more heat than necessary. Throwing the money down on the nearest flat surface, you started walking out. “See you around, Munson.”

“Wait—! I didn’t mean—” You turned around with raised eyebrows. Munson continued sputtering, “I just think that it’s… cool. That’s all.”

He leaned on the doorway to the trailer, and you could tell he was trying to look nonchalant.

An idea popped up in your head. Debating with yourself, you looked between Munson and your car.

You motioned toward your car. “Want to try one?”

He jumped away from the doorway and made a beeline to the passenger seat. “Thought you’d never ask.”

.

You felt odd brining Eddie Munson into your home. It was one thing to enter his trailer—most people with an illegal vice in Hawkins went inside of his trailer. But no one had been in your house before, you always made deliveries and drop-offs to avoid so many people entering your space.

You toed off your shoes and Munson followed; your sock clad feet made no noise compared to his boots thudding behind you.

“What are you craving? I have double chocolate brownies and M&M cookies.” You asked as you entered the kitchen and turned your head to look at him. You didn’t why, but he seemed very attractive all of a sudden.

“Baker’s choice”

Rolling your eyes, you hummed in confirmation and pushed away your earlier thoughts. Grabbing one of the many individually wrapped brownies from earlier, you chucked at him and he caught it flawlessly.

How can someone look good catching a pot brownie? You thought, frustrated with yourself.

You watched, like a fucking creep, as he ate the brownie.

“This is really good,” Munson said in between bites.

“Thanks.” You looked away sheepishly, leaning against the counter. Feeling emboldened, you added, “If you think that’s good, you should try my lasagna. I’ve perfected my recipe over the years.”

You dared a glance at Munson.

“Is that an invitation?”

You shrugged. Now, it was your turn to look nonchalant. “Maybe.”

He beamed at you. “It’s a date then.”

[splinteredbone]

heatwave

masterlist / navigation / @splinteredmercies

pairing: eddie munson x reader

contains: no spoilers for s4. plus size!afab!reader. pure fluff. profanity. not edited, we die like men!

wc: 0.7 k

author's note: inspired by how my room is always five/six degrees hotter than the rest of my house. i wrote this plus size!reader one shot kinda for me but I GUESS y'all can read it. jk i love y'all please enjoy this becaus4e i had too much fun writing this.

Dress-coded. A-fucking-gain.

A heatwave was upon Hawkins. The hotter weather made you crave popsicles and their sugary taste, and you donned fewer layers. Everyone was wearing fewer layers, yet you were the one dress-coded for excessive amounts of cleavage.

What were you supposed to do with your breasts? Fucking remove them? I wish…

This happened every year without fail, but this time you had enough. You refused to put on sweatpants and a hoodie because this was your fucking body, and there was nothing the stupid Hawkins High School faculty could do about it except send you home. Which you gladly did. But it didn’t stop you from storming down the hallways of the building, and nearly knocking someone down in your haste.

“Woah there, sweetheart. Are you skipping?”

You paused and turned toward the recognizable voice. You sighed, trying to calm yourself down before addressing Eddie Munson. It wouldn't be fair if you took it out on him. He wasn’t responsible for dress-coding you. Plus, you barely knew him except for the midnight trips to buy weed with your friends. (That didn’t stop you from thinking he was attractive.)

“Sorry, Eddie.” You inclined your head in greeting and smiled apologetically. You shifted your backpack to your other shoulder. “And, no, I’m not skipping. I got dress-coded, I’m leaving instead of changing into a hoodie or whatever the fuck. It’s too hot for that shit.”

“Dress-coded? For what?” Eddie’s voice held the same indignation as yours.

“Excessive amounts of cleavage!” You huffed and crossed your arms. “Can you believe it?”

You caught how Eddie’s eyes followed the movement and his gaze fell upon your boobs—perfectly showcased in the tank top you were wearing. Not that it was your intention, but now, you were internally praising God for bringing the heatwave, letting you get dress-coded, and putting Eddie Munson on your warpath.

You cleared your throat. “Eyes up here, Munson.”

He flushed, and it made you laugh the slightest bit. With your mood lightened up, you continued walking.

Eddie followed you. “Do you still walk home?”

“Yeah, still do.” Your brain registered how he phrased the question, and you glanced at him, bewildered. “Wait—still? How did you know I walk home?”

He sputtered, and you heard something about sometimes seeing you crossing the parking lot. Finally, he seemed to regain his ability to speak. “Well, do you want a ride or what?”

“Yes! You’re a lifesaver, Eddie Munson.” Your declaration was followed by the inane urge to kiss him on his pretty mouth. You felt your hand twitch as you followed him out to his van.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be seen with me?” Eddie sounded like he was joking, but there was an undertone that made you think otherwise.

“I couldn't care less what anybody says. Everybody at this hellhole takes high school so seriously. Sure, it’s four years of your life. But compared to the average life expectancy? That’s, like, seventy-five years.” You faltered, recognizing you were about to go on a tangent. “Sorry, I’m talking too much. All these people—it just seems so… frivolous.”

“Frivolous?” Eddie echoed as he pealed out of the parking lot.

“I pay attention in English, Munson!”

He chuckled and then said. “Don’t apologize for talking too much. I like listening to you talk.”

“You’re going to regret saying that, Munson.” You looked out the window, trying to smother the large grin on your face. Emboldened, you turned toward him. “Wanna go out? You can hear me talk all you want.”

“Like a date?” Eddie’s eyes flickered between you and the road ahead.

“Yes, silly!” You fought back a giggle. “How does right now sound?”

“Right now?”

“You don’t have to,” you assured Eddie. “We can get burgers or something. It’s right about lunchtime anyway. I’ll pay?”

“No! You don’t have to pay, I’ll pay,” Eddie rushed to say.

“So, that’s a yes?”

At Eddie’s formal confirmation, you squealed. From the looks of it, getting dress-coded was becoming one of the best things that ever happened to you, especially when you noticed Eddie was blushing.

(Now, what do I have to do to find out how far down that blush goes?)