#sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my skull | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettyfrommars · 1 year

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I'm on Fire

Chapter 2: Edgy and Dull

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!reader

🚨18+ONLY, mature themes, eventual smut, mention of poverty, mention of hard times at home, alcohol consumption, smoking, some physical violence, cheating (not on reader), angsty situation, I'm not sure what else to put here, please let me know if I missed something. Word count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist Playlist

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“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and

cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull”

“You know that saying, ‘shit happens and then you die’?” You had your headphones around your neck, makeup done, but only your sweats and ratty t-shirt on as you walked through the kitchen. “Shouldn’t it be, ‘shit happens and then you live’? Cause that just feels more accurate.”

Your roommate Katie had the day off, and she was reading a book in the love seat by the window, but you had to be at work by 2 to get ready for the gallery opening.

“I think we should get the latter one tattooed on us,” Katie responded, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

It had just occurred to you, only moments earlier, that you were missing an earring. Not a big deal, they weren’t expensive or anything, but you didn’t want to step on it in your bare feet or find out that your cat Charlie ate it by accident. You tossed your bed and couldn’t find it, and later you were on your hands and knees going through the carpet with your fingers when Katie brought her book down so that just her eyes were showing over the top.

“You lose your dignity again?”

“Yes, but also,” you stood up with a sigh, brushing yourself off. “I lost the pair to those silver hoops I always wear. Oh well,” you were running late, per usual, and getting distracted with the chore of looking for an insignificant piece of your jewelry was not helping.

You just didn’t want to go into work, that was the problem. You got dressed listening to Supernova by Liz Phair, and then you had to go into the third bedroom you used as a studio to grab something, and the three works in progress sitting there glaring back at you made you pause. The irony of it was, you'd started working at the gallery to be closer to the art world, but you worked so much, you rarely had time to paint. It was the definition of madness.

“See you at 5:30,” you called to Katie as you walked out the door. You were both suckers for any event that offered free snacks and booze. “Oh and please check Charlie’s food dish before you leave. Okayloveyoubye.”

As you approached your car where it was parked at the curb, your eyes locked on the brand new, passenger side tire, and you couldn’t help but think about the hands that put it there. You had a flashback of his smile, the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way the back of his hand grazed your knee when he was reaching for the CB. You had experienced an instant familiarity that didn’t make any sense to you.

You know what else didn’t make sense? You forgetting your keys inside because you’d be shit out of luck trying to get your car started without them. Also, you still had your slippers on.

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The sign in the window of Moon River Gallery announced the showing of original paintings and sculpture by Anna Stavros and Beckett Miller, and you were setting up the beverage table when the owner of the gallery, Judith, showed up. She only came for the events, to mingle and show off to her friends, but she wasn’t one to lend a hand, and she was never available when you had questions. In some ways, it was nice, because you could take care of the space and the other employees without too much micro-managing, but when she did show up---it was always emotionally taxing.

“You’re not wearing that today, are you?” Judith asked you, the sides of her mouth jerking down, her brows clenching together.

What you had on was similar to what you always wore at the gallery; it was simple and classic so that the customers and clients could focus on the artwork and not on you. But, it wasn’t cashmere or Ralph Lauren, and Judith was an honest to god snob. If she knew that most of your clothes were bought second hand at thrift stores, she’d have a stroke right in the middle of the showroom floor.

You looked down at yourself. “Um, yes. Yes I am,” even though you knew what you had on was fine, her comment still made you self-conscious and you crossed your arms over your chest.

You walked the floor with Judith to show her how you set everything up, and to give her an idea of how many had already RSVP’d. You were looking down the list of confirmed clients when a name toward the bottom caught your eye.

...Charlene Gregson & guest….

A few guests arrived early and Judith went over so that they could sing their praises to her. You caught the eye of one of your helpers, Jeffery, and waved him over, mouthing for him to meet you around the back of the stairs.

“Hey,” you brushed a piece of hair off of your face. “First of all, you’re doing great. The artist statements look amazing. But also, are you the one who took the confirmation for Charlene Gregson? I don’t remember her being on the original list.”

At first, Jeffery looked worried, like maybe had done something wrong, but then he softened and got a little flustered. “It’s one of Judith’s friends, they know each other from the country club.”

Judith was supposed to run all of the invites by you, so that you could be prepared, but she usually just expected you to read her mind.

“Do you know who the guest she’s bringing is?” You ask, thinking it would be her husband, and how you were curious to get a good look at both of them.

At the front of the gallery, Judith had her arms wide, taking bold credit for how everything was set up.

Jeff inched closer and whispered. “You’re going to love this. Apparently, she has a bodyguard that she takes with her to events.”

You turned to Jeff with your mouth open, assuming it was a joke, a permanent look of surprise frozen on your face, and it made him stifle a laugh.

The two of you stepped further to the side, behind one of the dividers. “A bodyguard?” You repeated what he just said, thinking maybe you got it wrong. “Is she running for president of the United States or something?”

“It’s so strange, right?” Jeff looked to see where Judith was and then kept talking. “The rumor is, she was robbed at gun point a few months ago, and ever since then, she’s been paying a member of the Coffin Kings to be her driver and her bodyguard whenever her husband is away.”

You held your breath at Coffin Kings. Wasn’t that the motorcycle gang rumored to have a clubhouse at Munson’s Garage?

“Did you get the name for this body guard by chance?” You had a weird feeling, but passed it off as sampling too much of the pre-packaged deli cheese.

“No, I’m sorry,” Jeffery looked so sad, like he had just let you down in the biggest way.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, “ you patted his arm, and then noticed that Judith was beckoning for you. “We’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

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Soon enough came exactly 42 minutes later.

You were in the middle of explaining the nuances and inspirations for a large mixed media piece by the artist Anna Stavros for a handful of people when Jeffery scooted up to your side and took your arm, whispering, “she’s here,” into your ear and, rightfully so, you completely lost your train of thought.

You excused yourself from the group, and asked one of the other employees to refill their wine glasses---because drunk people buy more art.

The gallery floor was packed. There was an art walk happening on the entire street, so some of them came and went, but a few were lifers who only bought art from Judith because of her family name.

You followed Jeffery around so that you could have a clear view of the front door and, there she was: tall, blonde, and tan. She was probably in her late thirties; she had a face like Bridget Fonda with the body and style of Sharon Stone.

You gulped.

But you choked on your own saliva and started to cough when you saw Eddie out on the sidewalk waiting for her, smoking a cigarette. Turns out, your gut had been right; it hadn’t been the cheese after all.

He looked...really good. He had on a black leather jacket, heavy with buckles and zippers, on over a button down dress shirt that was undone all the way to the middle of his chest, allowing the hint of several tattoos to peak out. He wore black jeans with boots, and his hair was down, long passed his shoulders. It was kinda messy and curly and you wanted to touch it.

“10 out of 10 would let the bodyguard bend me over in a dark alley,” Jeff said in your ear, and you silently agreed.

You turned to say something else to Jeff, but just then a guest touched his arm and engaged him in conversation.

You made a beeline through the crowd to introduce yourself to Charlene, but Katie intercepted you breathlessly. “I know I’m late, I’m so sorry, I took a nap and I didn’t set the alarm and---”

“It’s okay,” you tell her. You’re not looking at her though, your eyes are on Charlene who has now gone over to talk with Judith. “I’m glad you made it. Here, have my wine. Eat all of the shrimp you want. I’ll be right back.”

You watched through the front windows as Eddie sucked on his cigarette, hooked one thumb into his front belt loop, and leaned back against the lamp post at the edge of the sidewalk. You took another look around you, and then grabbed a beer from the ice bucket at the beverage table and headed out.

“Did you come to take my tire back?” You called out to him as you stepped from the threshold and started to close the distance between the two of you.

He threw you a dirty look at first, but then recollection dawned, and he offered not a smile so much as little quotations appearing on each side of his mouth. He straightened, sliding his back up the lamp post and flicked his cigarette.

“Well, well, well,” he jerked his chin at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You’re on my turf now, buddy,” you said, spreading your arms wide after glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one could see you from the window. “Thirsty?” You asked, extending the beer to him.

“How did you know what kind of beer I drink?” He asked with a few creases in his forehead, appraising the can as you handed it to him.

You shrugged. “It’s the beer I like, so, I guess that means you have good taste.”

Eddie looked tired. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes right away, and even though he put on a good, tough front, you could tell that he hadn’t slept well in days, maybe weeks. He dropped the butt of his cigarette to the sidewalk and crushed it with the toe of his boot as he cracked the can and took a swig.

The sidewalk was narrow and you pressed your back against the brick wall of the building across from him, allowing other art walk people to pass by as you talked.

He waited for a few pedestrians to pass by before he spoke to you again. “So, you’re gonna make me drink alone?”

“I’m on the clock,” you tilted your head, placing your hands behind your lower back so that your fingers grazed the brick behind you. “One of those beers and I won’t be able to stop.”

“I’d like to see that,” he said under his breath, putting his lips against the rim of his beer for another drink, trying is best to contain another grin.

“Wait,” he seemed to catch something a bit later than you gave it. “You work here? At this gallery?”

You could see that his face was a genuine mix of being shocked and impressed. His eyes shifted to the door a few times, and you wondered---was there also a hint of worry there? Fear that Charlene would come out and see him talking to you?

“I suppose you could call what I do work,” you returned, flippantly. “I can’t change a tire or do what you do, that’s for sure.”

“You don’t even own a tire,” he teased.

“Hey, that’s not true, I have the required number now, thank you very much.”

“You need to carry a spare in your trunk, just in case,” he wiped his mouth and put his chin to his chest, and then looked up at you from under his lashes. “Come by the shop some day, I have a few to spare. I won’t charge you.”

You were touched by the generous offer and it was a challenge to think of a new sarcastic thing to say.

“Do you want to come inside?” You knew deep in your soul that he wouldn’t; it was absolutely not his scene. Hell, it wasn’t even yours, to be honest. “There’s a lot of free food in there. Pounds of it, actually.”

His stomach grumbled and he worried for a beat that maybe you had heard it. He’d be able to grab a bite after he dropped Charlene off and she paid him. Every time he thought about her paying him, it made him cringe internally, like he was some kind of fuckboy escort service. But ever since Wayne got sick, he let her stick a couple hundred dollar bills in his pocket every now and then, because every dime helped.

“No thanks,” he shook his head, waiting again for another handful of pedestrians. “I don’t want the cops to get called on your party.”

You wondered why he said that. Was it because of how he looked? Or was there another reason? You wanted to ask, but then Jeffery came scrambling out onto the sidewalk, arms flailing.

“Hey, I need you!” He was in panic mode, but when he saw that you were talking to someone, he bashfully locked his fingers together in front of him. “Pardon me. I mean, I am in need of your assistance madame, posthaste.”

You pushed off from the wall and said, “duty calls.”

But then, Eddie pushed off of the lamp post and suddenly you were both close together in the middle of the sidewalk. You looked up at him, waiting, watching the way his lips parted as if he were about to say something.

“You should...if you’re not...if you have time later,” God he cursed himself for how he was babbling. Fuck, Munson, spit it out for godsake. She already thinks you’re a pimp and a loser, what else could go wrong?

“I mean,” Eddie cleared his throat. “If you’re free after this, my band is playing at The Hideout tonight. It’s a total dump, but the beer is cold.” He ended it with a little self-deprecating laugh that you recognized because you used it often.

You waved Jeff back inside and turned back to Eddie. “Um,” the answer you wanted to shout at him was YES, but you had a few things to consider.

You’re such an idiot, Munson. His internal monologue continued. Why would a woman like her ever be caught dead in a place like that with a guy like you?

“I’ll be here cleaning up until after 10. Will you still be there?”

It took him a few blinks to realize that you were accepting his invitation. “No, I mean yeah, that’s---we won’t even go on until after 10.”

“Okay, then, maybe I’ll see you later.” you started walking and smiled at him over your shoulder.

“Oh, wait,” Eddie called to you, remembering the earring he’d been carrying around in the pocket of his jacket, but you were already inside.

Just as you entered the gallery, Charlene Gregson was hugging Judith goodbye, and she brushed by you on her way out the door, smelling like suntan oil and Chanel No. 5. You waited, and then turned to see her go up to Eddie and kiss him on the cheek, before he went around to open the passenger side door of her black Porsche for her. She kissed him on the cheek? Why did this feel so… off? They weren’t dating and he wasn't just her driver/bodyguard. Something was fishy about it and you had the right might to find out.

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“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Katie whispered as the two of you made it on foot around the block from where you parked to The Hideout entrance. The venue was situated in a part of down with very few street lights, and so the only illumination as you approached were two neon beer signs in each window and a soft green fluorescent glow coming from inside the door. You could hear the music clear as day from outside, the beat thudding in your chest. It was coming from a jukebox: Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.

You passed by a long row of motorcycles parked out front and you thought about the biker bar scene in Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure when he accidentally knocked all of the bikes over and it made you laugh and bite your lip.

“Make up your mind,

and I’ll promise you

I will treat you well,

my sweet angel…”

Once the cloud of cigarette smoke cleared, you could see the stage in the back was empty, and you didn’t see Eddie.

To the right was a bar with a bunch of pull tabs in plastic boxes on the wall and three guys with beards wearing leather biker cuts, sat nursing their drinks.

“Do you see him?” Katie had her arm interlocked with yours now and she elbowed your ribs. She knew what he looked like from the few times she bought weed from him, but that felt like a bazillion years ago.

You shook your head, looking for a place to sit.

“Give it up to me

do you want to

be my angel?

So help me..”

That was when you felt a warm body come up behind you, breaching the wall of your invisible bubble, and you were about to kick whoever it was in the shin when you heard his voice in your ear:

“Now, you’re on my turf,” Eddie said. He took two long strides until he was in front of the two of you, and then he cocked one eyebrow up.

“This whole turf thing is getting serious,” you made eye contact with him and tilted your head. “We probably need to have some kind of dance off to settle it.”

He just licked his lips and made those familiar quotations show up on either side of his mouth, as if to announce that his lips were a statement in themselves.

Turns out, Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin wasn’t able to perform that night because their drummer broke his foot in a motorcycle accident.

“He’s loaded up on pain pills, he’ll be fine,” Eddie assured you after seeing the horrified look on your face. “We have someone who usually fills in, but he wasn’t available either.”

“So it’s just been me and my buddy Steve here hanging out,” Eddie finished. “I didn’t have you number, so I thought I’d just wait and see.”

Eddie was starting to make you feel a certain type of way, like when you put a chocolate chip cookie in the microwave for the perfect amount of time and it melts in your mouth.

“What do we have here?” A guy came up next to Eddie, and he had a thick head of dark hair with eyes all brown and pretty just like Eddie's. When he smiled, you could see that his right incisor was a gold tooth. He also had a leather biker kutte, or cut, on like the guys at the bar, there was a big tattoo on the side of his neck.

You felt Katie stiffen at your side. You had already made the introductions between her and Eddie, and they remembered each other, but now this guy was staring over at her with a certain level of elevated interest.

“Ladies,” Eddie gestured to the guy with the tattooed neck. “This is my buddy Steve. Steve, this is Y/N and her roommate Christie.”

“Katie,” she corrected. "Gosh, Munson, my feelings are hurt. How many times did we get stoned together back in the day?"

“Right, Katie, that’s what I meant.”

“Katie.” Steve Harrington repeated her name, blinking his big doe eyes, seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the room. He had a natural charisma and magnetism about him that was undeniable.

You could feel Katie’s skin getting hot. She was naturally funny and talkative, but she was suddenly retreating into her mute phase.

The boys invited you over to their table, and Katie made wide eyes at you as you went, wordlessly announcing that she thought Steve was hot. The next song on the jukebox started: You Could Be Mine by Guns n’ Roses, and that was when all hell broke loose.

Steve was about to reach the table when a big guy coming in the other direction shoulder checked him, knocking his arm back. You grabbed onto Katie and the two of you froze as Steve and the guy exchanged a few intense words. Eddie stepped in between with his back to you, acting as a shield for both of you in case it escalated.

“Get over it, man, that was fucking years ago,” Steve spat, standing his ground as the two had a bit of a stare-off.

The guy confronting Steve was maybe the same age, but he had more of a “clean cut” look so to speak, like he still clung to his glory days of being the captain of the football team in high school and tried to make it his whole personality. He was clearly wasted and stumbling on his feet a bit. You couldn’t understand what the whole thing was about, but it sounded like Steve might’ve had sex with the other guy’s girl at one point.

“Wrap it up, kids,” Eddie stepped forward. “We’ve got ladies present.”

The guy confronting Steve snapped a look at Eddie, and then his eyes landed on you and Katie, and he snorted.

“If they’re with you two, they’re not ladies. They’re nothing but cock sucking whores.”

Both you and Katie opened your mouths, shocked at the vitriol directed at the two of you for absolutely no reason, but as you were trying to understand why he said it, you noticed Eddies hands turn to fists at his sides.

“Someone needs to shut your mouth, it might as well be me,” and then Eddie swung at him, connecting his metal rings to the side of the guy’s face with a crunch of cartilage and bone. Katie yelped and stumbled back, taking you with her.

The guy Eddie punched recovered, his face already bleeding, and he lurched forward with an animalistic yowl, a long arm punch connecting with Eddie’s chin. Steve pushed the guy back, tackling him to the ground, wailing on his face with his fists as he went and people scattered. A wooden chair broke their fall and the arm rest splintered off.

The clean cut guy had two other friends, and they were both headed over to join in.

Eddie turned to you, his lip bleeding, piece of hair sticking to his cheek, his eyes wild. “Run! Get out of here!”

You didn’t want to leave him in that mess, but Katie was shouting your name and pulling at your arm, and the last thing you saw over your shoulder was one of the other friends try to swing on Eddie, but Eddie grabbed the guy and threw him to the ground.

“I’m too old for this, I’m too old for this!” Katie was repeating as you both raced to her car. She fumbled her keys twice. Just as she unlocked your door from the inside, you heard the sirens closing in: the cops were on their way.

You couldn’t let Eddie and Steve go to jail for defending you.

“Go around front,” you shouted as you slammed your door. “We need to get pick them up.”

“We need to WHAT?” Katie blanched, muttering to herself as she shifted into reverse. “I knew I should’ve never woken up from that nap.”

Her tires squealed as she rounded the corner, adrenaline rushing though both of you, your hearts racing. You rolled down the window as she screeched to a stop in front of the entrance. You couldn’t see Eddie, but you screamed for him, and you told Katie to honk the horn.

The sirens were getting closer.

That was when Eddie and Steve stumbled out of the door with a few other patrons, both with bloody lips and hands. You could tell by their faces that they hadn’t expected to see you there, but they were grateful. Speeding away on a motorcycle was not ideal in that moment, because two cop cars were already fishtailing around the corner, headed in that direction.

“GET IN!” You yelled, and the two of them realized in a split second they had no choice but to obey. Steve dove into the back seat first, followed by Eddie, and then you were shouting, “Gogogogogogo,” to Katie as she floored the gas and cursed you, saying she’d never go anywhere with you ever again.

Part 2.5

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #90s au #1990s music #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #I want to go back #to the 90s

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