[bambimunson]

ᰔ sweetheart!reader who has a big fat crush on eddie. you’ve mapped out your hallway schedule to get peeks at him in between classes, lingering by your locker just a minute too long if it means you can watch as he maneuvers through the crowd with jeff, those ridiculous rings glinting as he talks with his hands.

your attempts at convincing yourself it’s a silly, fleeting thing are futile because every time he actually notices you, your brain melts into something resembling warm pudding.

"thanks, sweetheart."

two words. he'd said them absentmindedly after you'd held the library door open for him last week. you've been living off them ever since.

you’re one of the students helping out with the upcoming bake sale; fitting for your sugar-coated personality. after a lot of pacing back and forth outside the cafeteria, you finally got the courage to make your way over to the boy.

approaching hellfire’s table had your stomach flipping— at least you were eased by the sight of mike, a boy you used to babysit courtesy of your friendship with nancy. eddie’s mid-laugh at something he had said and reaching for a pretzel when he spots you in all your feminine glory out of the corner of his eye. was that bile you felt in your throat?

you roll your shoulders, gathering two of the papers from the pile, “these are for next tuesday if any of you want to show.”

he looks at you, the orange and green flyers, then you again before carefully taking them from your grasp. there’s a brief pause as he scans the printed words. not his thing at all. not that he’d say that to your face.

he sticks his tongue in his cheek, “are you gonna be making anything for this?”

“…yeah. brownies.”

he meets your gaze then, big doe eyes blinking, “then i guess i have new plans.”

you flush at that. there’s an awkward pause that follows. with a nod, you finally spin on your heel, nearly tripping as you head to pass the rest of them out. you miss the smile that pulls at the metalhead’s lips.

[harringtonstar]

⋆˙⟡ thinking about girl dad!Eddie Munson

Girl-dad!Eddie who just adores the little baby that’s half him and half you. Who was so nervous at first when his baby girl was born that his hands trembled when he held her. But now he’s so confident he’ll hold her in one arm, toss her in the air and even flip her upside down just to hear her giggle, because it’s his favorite sound in the world. Even if he gets a stern “Careful, Eddie!” from you. Eddie who when she first got into her grabby phase would tie his curls back so her little fists wouldn’t get tangled in his curls. But now he just leaves them loose, pretending to eat her chubby little hands when she grabs at his hair. And of course he’d buy matching little hair ties when her hair starts growing out.

You’d wake up for a middle of the night at the sounds of fussing from the baby monitor and Eddie’s already in her nursery. Just singing softly to her under his breath, the bottle already empty as he rocks her back to sleep. Girl-dad!Eddie who lets her draw new tattoos on him in marker, and when she’s a little older tries to teach her how to play guitar. And of course he would use her little voice as an opener on one of his songs he wrote for her. Girl-dad!Eddie who proudly wears the friendship bracelets she makes and the messy, glittery pink nail polish she gets all over his fingers when she paints his nails. He would just absolutely adore her.

[warped-window]

Sunshine: Eddie Munson

After meeting at seven years old, two lonely children growing up in forgotten corners of Hawkins become best friends; as years pass, it’s something more. Eddie learns that sometimes home isn’t a place, but a person who’s been there all along. Series is set to span from the ages of 7-20

Part one of six

series warnings; very emotionally mature seven year olds? swearing, smut in later chapters, depictions of abuse, death of a parent, alcoholism, attempted sexual assault in later chapters, drug use/selling. i think that’s it?

*****************************************************

Hawkins, Indiana, Forest Hills Trailer Park, 1973

Eddie Munson would always remember the first time he saw her. She was seven and standing barefoot in the rain in the middle of July; Hawkins was supposed to be baked beneath the sun, instead the sky had turned a pale grey sometime after lunch. By three, thunder was rattling the windows in the trailer park. By four, rain had began hammering against corrugated roofs with enough force that the mud between each trailer had become a small river.

Eddie had already been ordered inside twice; the second time, Wayne had leaned halfway through the screen door and called, “Edward,” in a tone that meant he had approximately thirty seconds to make a sensible decision before one was made for him.

Eddie had retreated under the metal awning over the trailer; he was sat crossed legged with a comic book balanced carefully against his knees, sheltering the pages with his arms whenever the wind blew rain towards him. In his opinion, it definitely constituted as obedience.

At seven years old, Eddie had already decided that most rules were poorly conceived, and that adults rarely understood what they were talking about; being sent indoors because of a little rain was an insult to his intelligence.

Heroes fought in storms; they definitely didn’t sit quietly on ugly floral patterned couches and watch the evening news.

He was halfway through deciding whether or not he could make the leap from the railings over to the picnic table without touching the mud when a station wagon coughed and spluttered its way into the trailer park. It was miserable looking, even by Forest Hills standards; rust had eaten its way through the wheel arches, the right headlight was cracked, and the exhaust pipe dragged against the road whenever it hit a bump. There was a mattress tied to the roof in yellow rope, black rubbish bags bulged against the rear window.

Eddie lowered his comic as he watched the car rolled to a stop outside the empty trailer opposite to Wayne’s.

The drivers door opened first and a man stepped out, swearing as his boot sank immediately into the mud. He was tall with broad shoulders; red in the face, though Eddie couldn’t understand if it was from the heat, the drink in his hand or his apparent disposition towards the world around him. The man slammed the door shut with enough force to shake the entire car.

Next, Eddie watched a woman climb out of the passenger side door slowly. She was thin and brittle in the same way a cigarette looked if it’s left burning too long in an ashtray. Her hair was thin and clung damply around her face, eyes hidden behind enormous brown sunglasses, despite there being no sun to speak of.

Neither of them looked towards the back. Though the door opened anyway; a girl around Eddie’s age stepped out, she wore faded light blue denim shorts, with a t-shirt; a smiling yellow sun printed across the middle. Her shoes were tied together by the laces and slung over shoulders, leaving her barefoot in the mud. She smiled as her feet touched the mud, toes curling in the dirt. Both arms were wrapped around an old cardboard box; IMPORTANT THINGS. DO NOT THROW AWAY :) was written across the front in blue crayon.

Rain began to soak the box immediately, the blue writing beginning to bleed from the rain. She stood beside the car waiting, toes continuing to curl in the mud. The man walked up and unlocked the trailer door before he disappeared inside, the woman followed him immediately without looking back, then a moment later, their voices became sharp and muffled behind the thin walls.

The girl stood still where they’d left her. Eddie watched her fingers tighter beneath the damp cardboard as the bottom of the box began to sag.

There were several things Eddie could have done; he could have gone inside, he could have resumed reading without offering to help, he could have minded his own business, which Wayne frequently informed him was an underdeveloped skill of his.

Instead, he tucked his comic beneath his shirt and ran into the rain, “Hey!” he shouted.

The girl startled, her whole body jerked backwards, one foot slipping in the mud the box tilted dangerously in her arms.

Eddie stopped a few feet away; he knew that kind of flinch, the same flinch he used to get if his father moved too quickly, or a hand rose unexpectedly. He also knew the hot embarrassment that followed, when nothing had happened and everyone had seen him prepare for it anyway.

“What’s in the box?” He pointed.

The girl looked down at the box as though she had forgotten she was holding it, gripping it tighter again as she spoke, “It’s none of your business.”

Eddie nodded, “Top secret information, then.”

Before the girl could reply, the bottom of the box tore open; a paperback struck the mud first, followed by a battered stuffed rabbit, two cassette tapes landed in a shallow puddle, followed by a glass jar full of buttons that shattered against stone.

The girl dropped to her knees in a panic, “No—no, no, no!”

Eddie moved without thinking, dropping to kneel in the mud beside her to snatch up the tapes before the mud could swallow them. He watched as she tried to gather the buttons up with both hands, paying no mind to the shards of broken glass between them.

“Don’t.” Eddie caught her wrist.

She froze, her eyes flew towards his hand. Eddie noticed and released her immediately.

“There’s glass,” he explained, quieter now. “You’ll cut yourself.”

She looked down, a small jagged piece of glass lay less than an inch from her fingers, “thank you.”

Eddie pulled his comic from beneath his shirt; the corners curling in one corner, which Eddie decided was a miracle. He laid it flat beneath the awning of the neighbouring trailer and began placing her belongings on top of it. He took the rabbit that had once been white and rinsed it with the water falling from the trailers gutter. The girl watched him in contemplation before she spoke,

“You’re making it worse.”

Eddie frowned, confining to rinse the mud out of the stuffed toy, “No i’m not, i’m rescuing him.”

“It’s a girl.” She said pointedly

He turned the rabbit around and examined it more seriously then, “My apologies, ma’am.”

The girls mouth twitched; the faint outline of a smile tugging at her lips. Eddie grinned, there he thought, got ya.

He stood and tucked the rabbit beneath one arm. “Come on.”

The girl stood too, head tilted in question, “where?”

“My house, silly.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“That’s probably smart. Wayne’s always telling me not to talk to strangers.”

The girl tilted her head again in question, “Who’s Wayne?”

“My uncle.”

“I’m not allowed to go into strangers’ houses.”

A man shouted from somewhere within the trailer, the words indistinguishable, but the anger wasn’t; it travelled clearly through the rain as his voice continued to rise.

The girls shoulders rose as she looked cautiously towards the door. Eddie shifted the rabbit beneath his arm and nodded towards his home; warm yellow light spilled through the front window as Wayne’s shadow passed behind the curtains.

“Then don’t call me a stranger.” He said

“You’re silly. That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah it is.” Eddie held out one of the rescued cassettes. “I’m Eddie.”

The rain soaked the pile of curls on his head; rain ran from the end of his nose, she looked up to him from the tape, “You’re still a stranger.”

Eddie shook his head with a grin, “No, now i’m Eddie.”

Something changed in her face and for one dreadful moment, Eddie thought she might cry. Instead, she took the cassette from him, her fingers cold when they brushed his.

“Okay,” she whispered

Another shout sounded from the trailer and she went pale. Eddie looked at the yellow sun on her shirt, half-hidden beneath wet hair and streaked with mud,

“Come on then, sunshine.”

She frowned at him, “that’s not my name.”

“It is now.” Eddie grinned.

Wayne Munson was standing at the stove when Eddie entered the trailer with a strange girl, a dripping stuffed rabbit and enough mud on his clothes to bury a small car.

He looked towards Eddie, then to the girl, and then towards the muddy footprints trailing across his linoleum. He closed his eyes as he sighed, a hand rubbing against his temple in frustration, “Kid”

“Uncle Wayne, It’s an emergency.” Eddie implored

Wayne sighed again, “kid, I told you to stay out of the rain.”

“I did. I stayed under the awning-“

“Kid, you’re dripping mud on my floor-“

“This happened after!” Eddie interrupted

“After what, kid?”

“The emergency!”

Wayne lowered the spoon in his hand. “And what emergency was that, Eds?”

Eddie lifted the rabbit as evidence. Wayne stared at it and the rabbit stared back with dead eyes.

“Near drowning,” Eddie explained gravely.

Wayne let out a frustrated sigh, and the girl beside Eddie let out a sound that was soft and startled, more breath than laughter, but Eddie’s head whipped towards the sound with a grin.

she immediately tried to hide it by pressing her lips together: Wayne of course, noticed the movement. His eyes lingered softly on her for a moment before travelling down to her bare, mud-covered feet.

His face changed, not by much; it rarely did much of anything unless the Colts were playing badly, but the annoyance behind his eyes left as he spoke,

“You live across the way?” he asked.

She nodded tentatively.

“Your folks know you’re here?”

Her fingers tightened around the cassette; Eddie noticed and answered before she could, “They’re unpacking.”

Wayne looked through the window towards the trailer opposite, he noticed that the station wagon remained open despite the rain, one of the black rubbish bags had split across the back seat, and yet obody had moved to unload it.

“Right,” he said, no agreement, but with a sad, subtle understanding.

Wayne turned off the stove and reached into the cupboard above the sink without looking back, “Bathroom’s down there. Towels under the basin. Eddie, get her something dry.”

Eddie looked confused, “but I don’t have any girls clothes?”

Wayne sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face, “You’ve got clothes, don’t ye kid?”

Eddie clutched his chest theatrically, “You would have me surrender my worldly garments?”

“Kid, would you quit being dramatic for ten seconds?”

“That’s an unreasonable restriction of my rights-“

“Eddie, we’ve spoken about this.” Wayne sighed again tiredly

“Fine.” Eddie huffed as he started walking down the small hallway. She only watched, unsure if she should follow or not; her eyes moved carefully over the room, the old couch patched with mismatched cloth, the ashtray beside Wayne’s chair, the baseball cap hanging from a hook, the stack of overdue bills tucked beneath a ceramic mug, she looked at everything as though memorising the route back out.

Eddie turned then, head tilted with a grin, “You coming?”

She stilled, “What if I make a mess.”

“Liiiiiitle late for that.” He teased

Her face fell and Eddie immediately regretted it, “No, I didn’t mean-“

Wayne interrupted his rambling then as he smiled at the girl, “Floor’ll clean,” he said. “You’ll catch cold.” It was spoken so plainly that there was nothing for her to argue with.

She nodded as she followed Eddie into his room; posters that had been torn from magazines covered the walls, comic books were stacked beside the mattress, small metal figurines stood in rows across the windowsill, each painted in varying degrees of completion.

She stopped in the doorway to take it all in, “You like monsters?”

“Monsters are cool.”

“They kill people,” she argued

“Only the evil ones do.”

“Aren’t all monsters evil?”

Eddie looked over his shoulder then from the chest of drawers he was rummaging in; she was studying the miniature figures, her hand hovered above a red dragon with one crooked wing, fingers lightly touching it without grabbing it.

“No,” he said. “Some of them just look scary.”

She glanced at him, Eddie smiled before looking back into the drawer; he pulled out a faded Black Sabbath shirt Wayne had bought from a yard sale and a pair of chequered shorts and held both towards her.

She stared at the shirt, reading the letters carefully, “My mom says that music’s for devil worshippers.”

“Your mom sounds fun.” Eddie replied, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Her face fell still.

“Mine doesn’t like it either,” he lied quickly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She looked around then, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, “Where is your mom?”

He looked down at the clothes in his hands, “Not here. Uncle Wayne says she’s somewhere better now.”

It was an answer with enough space inside it for both of them, she nodded, accepting the clothes with a quiet thank you.

Eddie backed into the hallway and pulled the door shut with a grin, “There’s no lock, but I’ll guard it.”

“Guard it from what?”

He leaned against the door. “Intruders, Monsters, Agents of darkness, the list is longggg.”

This time, her laugh was unmistakable.

Wayne made grilled cheese sandwiches after that, he cut hers diagonally and left Eddie’s whole, an act of favouritism so blatant that he raised an immediate objection.

“Uncle Wayne, how come hers has triangles?”

“Because she’s company, kid.”

“I live here.”

“That’s why yours don’t.”

“This is an outrage- .”

Wayne placed a bowl of tomato soup in front of him with a sigh, “Eat, kid.”

She sat at the table in the faded Black Sabbath t-shirt which was slowly beginning to swallow her, her damp hair had been combed away from her face and without the rain obscuring her, Eddie noticed a yellowing mark near her elbow and another turning green beneath her collarbone.

He looked at Wayne as soon as he saw them, only to see that Wayne had seen them too.

Wayne said nothing, shaking his head at Eddie whose mouth opened then closed immediately.

Wayne watched as she dipped one corner of her sandwich into the soup. He noticed how she ate slowly at first, taking small, careful bites. Then Wayne turned away to wash the pan, and she began eating faster. Eddie watched her finish half the sandwich in three bites before he slid his plate towards her, “You can have mine if you want. I’m not hungry.”

She looked towards Wayne’s back, then she picked up Eddie’s sandwich, a small smile tugging at her lips as she nodded at him in thanks. Wayne continued washing the same pan for longer than what was necessary.

After they’d finished eating, Eddie showed her his collection of miniatures; she sat cross-legged on the bedroom floor while he explained each one in intricate detail, she laughed as he gave every creature a voice. The dragon she noted, sounded suspiciously like Wayne. A tiny wizard spoke in a high, quavering accent and had an unfortunate habit of falling from cliffs.

She listened without question, and Eddie found himself more content than he had been with anyone else. Most adults told Eddie to lower his voice, slow down or get to the point, children looked at him as though he had begun speaking another language and laughed at him, she just watched the figures move across the carpet and asked what happened next.

And so, Eddie told her; he told her of kingdoms swallowed by forests and knights who were secretly cowards, he told her about a girl trapped in a tower who didn’t wait for anybody to rescue her because she had found a sword beneath the floorboards. He told her about monsters who guarded the roads and dragons who guarded children, and about the brave barbarians who fought against evil.

Outside, the storm began to weaken and the rain softened against the windows in a steady mist. At some point, she lay on her stomach with her chin propped on both hands, the stuffed rabbit rested beside her, clean but still damp.

“What’s her name?” Eddie asked.

She stroked the rabbit’s shortened ear absentmindedly before answering, “ She doesn’t have one.”

“Everything has a name, silly.” Eddie frowned

“She doesn’t.”

“Why not?”

Her fingers went still, “Because when you name things, you get attached and then they get taken away.”

Eddie frowned again, “That’s stupid.”

Her head snapped up, “My dad said it was true”

“Oh.” Eddie rolled the red dragon between his palms. “Well then he’s stupid.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I don’t have to know everybody to know when they’re stupid. That’d take, like, forever.”

“You shouldn’t say that.” She snapped

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because isn’t a reason.” he pressed

“It is in my house,” something in the way she said it drained the playfulness from the room.

Eddie looked back towards the window. The curtains were open just enough for them to see the trailer opposite. Her trailer. Light glowed behind one window, a man’s silhouette passed across it, large and unsteady. Pacing.

“I have to go.” she said suddenly

“Why? You just got here!”

She disappeared behind the bed, hiding before pulling off Eddie’s t-shirt and replacing it with her own. Eddie watched as she reemerged, folding his t-shirt carefully with shaking hands, then she tucked the unnamed rabbit beneath one arm again and began walking towards the bedroom door; Eddie followed her into the living room announcing to Wayne that she was leaving.

Wayne was sitting in his chair with the television turned low, reading a newspaper. He stole a quvk glance towards her before looking out at the darkening sky through the window; his eyes trailing over towards the trailer across the way, “You sure you don’t want to wait until the rain stops, kid?” he asked.

“I’m sure.” She said timidity

“You can stay for supper if you want?”

She shook her head politely with a smile, her hand had already closed around the door handle.

Wayne rose and Eddie expected him to insist that she stayed. Adults, he learned were always insisting, they’s ask questions after deciding which answers they were willing to accept.

Wayne only stepped past her and opened the screen door, “Well all right,” he said. “You’re welcome back whenever you like, kid.”

She started at him without speaking; eyes shining lightly, Wayne nodded towards the rabbit then, “Her too.”

She looked down at the rabbit, before speaking quietly, “Thank you for the food. And for the clothes,” she turned towards Eddie as she said it.

Eddie straightened, “You can borrow ’em again for a price.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What price?”

“You have to come back tomorrow,” he grinned

She didn’t answer, just looked out across the porch towards the rain that had thinned to a persistent mist outside, hovering above the trailer park in a pale veil. Water continued to drip steadily from the awning as She stepped onto the small metal porch without saying anything else,

“Hey,” Eddie said.

She turned slightly to look at him, the rabbit clutched tightly in her grip.

He held out the red dragon. It was his favourite, but he’d seen her looking at in his room. She stared at the figure in his palm, “What’s that for?” she asked

“Protection. It’s made of pewter,” Eddie said. “And it breathes fire.”

“No, it doesn’t.” she quipped

“It does when nobody’s looking.” Eddie insisted, placing it into her palm

“Bring it back tomorrow,” he told her.

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll have to come get it.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” she challenged, though there was something deeper to it, like she was waiting for him to turn angry at her defiance.

Eddie opened and closed his mouth in thought. He knew things about people leaving and about promises made too quickly and broken even faster. So he didn’t promise her that he would always be there, he didnt tell her he would keep her safe or protect her like one of the brave knights he’d read about in story books. He was seven, small for his age, frightened of the dark sometimes and still occasionally crawled into Wayne’s bed after nightmares. He couldnt fight the large shadow moving behind the curtains across the way, but he could make one promise and mean it.

“Then I’ll wait here,” Eddie said. “Till you do.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded solemnly as she crossed the muddy path between the trailers, the red dragon held tightly in her grip.

Eddie remained on the porch, watched as he reached her front door and placed one hand on the handle. Before opening it, she looked back, Eddie lifted both arms above his head and wiggled his fingers like the claws of a monster.

She rolled her eyes and smiled; then the door opened and a hand appeared from inside, closing around the top of her arm and jerking her over the threshold. Eddie watched as her smile faded and the door slammed shut with enough force to shake the trailer.

Eddie lowered his hands and stood very still. Behind him, the screen door creaked open and Wayne stepped onto the porch resting a heavy hand against Eddie’s shoulder. He didnt beckon him to come inside, he didn’t tell Eddie there was nothing they could do. Instead, he watched the trailer opposite.

Silence stretched for a few minutes before Eddie spoke, “Uncle Wayne?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can she come over again?”

Wayne’s thumb moved once against the back of Eddie’s head, “Anytime she needs, kid”

Eddie looked down at the mud between their homes and imagined dragons sleeping beneath it; not the cruel sort that burned villages or carried girls away, but the other kind; the kind that curled around castles at night, enormous and watchful, keeping everything wicked beyond the gates.

He decided he would tell her more about them tomorrow, because there would be a tomorrow. He knew there would be because she had his dragon, and Eddie Munson had never been good at letting go of anything he loved.

[glassbxttless]

Double the Trouble

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), gareth emerson, jeff, grant

word count: 600+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 29: “Double your pleasure, double your fun!” | The Corroded Coffin boys discover the reason why Eddie is acting so weird.

warnings: (spoiler) bats is pregnant again!

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! These commercial prompts were the absolute hardest. So double this, double that 😂 anything double worked for me LMao

The late afternoon bleeds into the evening, not that any of the boys could tell from this windowless studio. Gareth's in the booth, the sharp crack of a snare cuts through Eddie's headphones. 

He's not been feeling great all day, something's been off. If you didn't know him you probably wouldn't even notice, but Grant had clocked it before lunch and Jeff has been side-eyeing him for the last hour. Eddie's hunched over the mixing board now, strands of hair falling in his face.

When Gareth finishes, he sees his best friend off in his own world and pulls off his own headphones, waving at the glass. "You good out there?" 

Eddie blinks, the movement snapping him back to reality. "Yeah— yeah. That was good. You did good." 

Gareth doesnt move away from the kit quite yet, unsure of what to do, so he just watches Eddie through the glass. Eddie sighs, pushing himself back. "I need a smoke." He mumbles, pulling a crushed pack of camels from his back pocket. He tugs one out, letting it hang between his lips as he digs for a lighter. He looks over at the guys, "don't touch anything." He mumbles before stepping out. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." Jeff calls after him. The door swings shut behind Eddie and the second it clicks, Jeff sighs, turning immediately towards the booth, staring Gareth in the eye. "Okay. What the hell is going on with him?" 

Grant leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, he's being really weird today. And that's saying something considering who we're talking about." 

Gareth sighs as he hops off the drum stool. He opens the door to the booth and steps out, letting it shut behind him. "He's not being weird, cut him a break. He's just a little distracted."

Jeff gives him a look, "come on, that's what being weird is." 

Gareth just shakes his head. "I talked to Bats before we left and I guess he didn't sleep much last night." 

Grant frowns then. "Why not? He okay?" 

Gareth rocks back on his heels, peeking towards the hallway where Eddie had disappeared. Once he's satisfied the coast is clear enough, he lets out a breath. "Because…" 

Jeff leans in a bit, raising his eyebrows. "Because…?"

Gareth exhales again, checking the door a final time. "She’s pregnant again." 

That is met with silence from the two other men in the room. Jeff blinks in surprise, Grant’s eyebrows furrow and he breaks the quiet, "Like, again again? Didn't she just have one?"

"Yeah, again again—" Gareth starts but then is quickly cut off by Jeff holding up his hand to about Alice's height. 

"They already have the tiny one, no?"

"Yeah, Tater— Alice. She's two now. Do you two just not keep up?" Gareth chuckles. 

Jeff nods as he processes. "They already have like… one whole kid." 

"I'm aware. I see that kid every Saturday night." Gareth chuckles softly. 

"So now there's gonna be two of them?" Jeff hums softly. 

"Jesus Christ, Jeff. Yes. That's how having kids works." Gareth sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Grant lets out a long whistle at that and chuckles, "damn." 

"He's freaking out about it. Okay?" Gareth says, a little softer.

"Is he, like… upset?" Grant asks after a few seconds. 

Gareth shakes his head. "No, I don't think so." He leans back against the console and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest loosely. "He's just a little in his head about it."

Jeff huffs, sitting back down on the couch. "How shocking. Eddie not communicating." 

Gareth shrugs. "I keep telling him he'll be fine. He literally adores Alice. The kid's got him wrapped around her finger so tight it's embarrassing. He's a good dad." 

The door creaks open again, and they fall quiet. Eddie walks back in with a fresh cup of coffee and the smell of about three cigarettes clinging to his clothes. The steam curls up around his face and he pauses when he sees three sets of eyes staring at him. "…What?" 

Jeff shrugs, "nothing."

Grant nods, putting on a big smile. "Yeah, man. You look… great." 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, "I look great?" 

Jeff nods, adding, "radiant."

"Glowing, even." Grant continues. 

Gareth unforutnately wants to hit them both over the head with the nearest guitar. 

Eddie gestures between them with the hand still holding the coffee cup as he sits back in his chair. "You two are being weird." 

[glassbxttless]

I Had a Pair of Those

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), gareth emerson, alice & roan munson, alyssa emerson

word count: 800+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 23: Acid Wash | the kids are going out to the movies while the adults talk and bats sees Alice’s outfit

warnings: a few beers, gareth does not like his ex-wife, alyssa is his kiddo

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! Alice thinks anything her mom did or had is uncool™️. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

You're resting against Eddie's side, his arm draped heavy around your shoulders. The TV in front of you is throwing streaks of colors in blurs on the screen as each car passes. The commentators drone on trying to pull your attention from the conversation happening between your husband and your husband's boyfriend. Eddie's fingers rub in slow soft circles against your arm, not even realizing he's doing it. 

Gareth's sunk into the armchair across from the couch. He's got his feet kicked up onto the coffee table next to the beer Eddie had brought him earlier. He sighs and tips his head back against the back of the chair. "I just don't get why it has to turn into a whole thing." His voice is annoyed, "Alyssa's finishing school here. That's it. That should be it."

Eddie shifts his hips below you, adjusting his chin over your head so he can see Gareth better. He drags his fingers up and down your arm again and chuckles a bit. "It's not about school." He says and shakes his head. "You know it's not."

Gareth sighs and kicks his legs down, leaning up to reach for his beer. "Yeah, well. I'm tired of everything being a fight."

You open your eyes, turning your head slightly to stop nuzzling against your husband, "Have you talked to Alyssa about it?" You ask softly.

He shakes his head, taking a sip before he laughs. "What am I supposed to say? 'Hey kid, sorry your mom and I can't stand each other, can you pick a side?'"

The three of you get quiet after that. Eddie's thumb presses into your skin a little more firmly, his thumb nail scratching against the hem of your sleeve. "She's eighteen, man. She's not in the dark as much about it anymore." He shrugs. "Penny is still Penny. Alyssa knows what's going on." 

Gareth rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair with his beer. "That's one way to put it." 

The sound of footsteps coming quickly down the stairs knocks the three of you out of conversation. Alice and Alyssa appear a second later intrenched in their own conversation. They slow a little when they see all of you. 

"We're heading out." Alice says, reaching for the door. 

You shift, lifting your head from Eddie's chest to twist at your waist and look over the back of the couch at your doorway. "Hey, hold on. Where's Ro?"

"She's coming." Alyssa smiles, ringlets the same color as her step-father's hanging around her face. "She said she needed to grab something." 

"Okay." You nod, pushing yourself to sit up more. "Then wait for her." 

They both nod, lingering by the door now. It's then that you get your first good look at your daughter in hours. You squint, looking a bit closer, tucking your hair back, "Are those acid wash?"

Alice glances down at her jeans and nods, raising her eyebrows at you. Brown eyes, cautious. "Yeah. Why?"

You can't help the way your lips tug up into a little smile. "I had a pair just like that." 

There's a split second where her face contorts. It's surprise that paints her first and then it fades into something you'd describe mildly as horror. "Oh my God." She breathes out and frowns, "please don't say that, I don't have time to change."

"I'm serious!" You laugh, "I probably still have them in one of the boxes out in the garage." 

Alyssa perks up, grinning, "really? Can I have them?"

Alice shoots her a look, "don't encourage this. She's like… old."

"Why not?" Alyssa shrugs. "It's kinda cool."

Alice shakes her head, exasperated, "It's not cool anymore if my mom had them first. It cancels out the cool, Lys."

"Hey!" Eddie finally breaks his silence with a little laugh, "your mom made everything look cooler than it had any right being."

Alice groans, "don't be gross now—"

Roan's voice cuts them off as she runs down the stairs, tugging a backpack up onto her back. "I found it!"

"Finally." Alice sighs, rolling her eyes before looking at you again. "Don't dig them out. Okay?"

You nod, simply throwing a soft smile her way. "I won't."

Alyssa smiles at you, before turning her attention to Gareth. "We won't be late."

Gareth leans his head back against the cushion, lolling it to the side to look at his daughter. "Yeah." He nods, tapping a finger against his beer can. "Just text me when you get there, alright?"

"I will." She nods, twisting her keys in her hand as they all file out in a small cluster. The door swings shut behind them, leaving the house finally quiet. 

Nobody says anything for a while, then Eddie tugs you back into him. His hand settles against your hip now instead of your shoulder and chuckles, resting his chin on the top of your head. "Acid wash, huh?"

You roll your eyes, letting out a huff, "don't start."

"Hey." He laughs, "just thinking I'd pay pretty good money to see you in those again."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

A Mirage

Prompt #23 - Acid Wash | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Some Friendly Stalking | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & Steve, Pre-Steddie If You Squint, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin | Tags: Post Series, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, But They Don't Know That, Witness Protection, Reuniting

Eddie watches from afar. Standing under a tree on campus. Cap pulled low.

They look good. Happy. Both of them. Even if Henderson is wearing some loud-ass shorts. Kid has never shied away from being himself. Weird Al shirt wearing freshman, to right now. 

Harrington's now wearing acid wash jeans, fashion always changing. He can picture his closet. Polos shoved to the back, making room for this stuff. For Guess and Z. Cavaricci. Pepe.

Eddie's been in the mall. He sees what they're selling at Brass Buckle, and Steve looks like one of those store mannequins right now. Eddie misses the Levi's. 

Eddie misses everything.

He knows he's not supposed to be here, not supposed to be stalking them. But Eddie has kept an eye out, and an ear to the ground. It's been harder than he imagined to let go of everything. He hated Hawkins, and only wanted out. And now that he is? All he wants is to go home. 

By following Henderson, he's inadvertently followed Harrington. And Steve stayed. It puts an ache in Eddie's chest. Everybody else scattered, but Steve stayed, and now Eddie is unfathomably jealous.

Henderson has tattoos, his tattoos. Eddie grips his own forearm, palm pressing hard.

He misses them.

But he can see the stark black proof on Henderson's arm that he's missed, too.

Eddie has made it a mission to check up on everybody in a loop. Wayne. Gareth, Jeff, Goodie. Henderson, Harrington. And then he starts all over again. He isn't living, because he's stuck in this holding pattern watching everyone else live without him.

Time is passing, and Eddie Munson is dead. A ghost.

Not literally, but he might as well be. He didn't realize how much it would hurt to take the shut up and disappear deal. Whoever he is right now is a mirage. Prone to disappearing if he, or anyone else, gets too close.

Henderson hops into Steve's pickup, and they're gone again. Pulling a travel trailer behind them.

Eddie is standing in front of the pre-packaged sandwiches. Looking at the dire options. He wonders what the risks are of eating tuna salad from a gas station. He gets bumped into, and he takes an unsteady step forward, his stupid fucking leg, getting ready to brace himself against the cooler door if he stumbles.

"Sorry, man. My bad," the voice says, and Eddie's whole body tenses.

Steve. That's Steve Harrington. No question about it.

"It's okay," he says, and doesn't turn to look. He can't. He just clutches the handle of the cooler door. He fucked up. Thought they were gone. Out of town. Off on some adventure together. Thought, well, fuck. Thought he was stealth enough, but he should have known he'd be dumb enough to get himself seen eventually.

He wants to be seen.

"Mind if I just grab something real quick?" Steve asks, patting Eddie on the shoulder. Friendly. 

Eddie nods, and steps aside as best he can. He can't really move laterally too well these days. He's not steady enough on his feet for that. But he gets out of the way, only stumbling a little, dragging that foot that doesn't always cooperate, and then limps straight for the bathroom, locking himself in the single stall.

Breathing hard and uncontrolled.

That was a close call. Too close.

Boat shoes. Pretentious, stupid boat shoes are standing in front of the stall.

"Uh, hey, man. I know this is weird. But. Here," Steve says, and his hand appears over the stall, a plastic bag dangling.

Eddie takes it. It's heavy.

Inside there are three different sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, some candy bars, and different cans of pop. 

"I didn't know what you wanted. And it seemed like you were having trouble deciding before I nearly knocked you down. Sorry about that. So. Here."

The tears burn Eddie's eyes. 

"Thanks," Eddie chokes out, and he reaches up and grasps the top of the metal door. Hanging on, like he's drowning.

Maybe he is.

"No problem," Steve says, and stands there a beat longer, waiting to see if Eddie is going to say anything else. When he doesn't, Steve turns to leave. Eddie watches his feet until he can't see them any longer.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Then, he loses the war. He's won the battles, but here? Now? This close and this tested? He fails, spectacularly.

"Steve."

Steve's footfalls stop.

And it's quiet, too quiet.

"Yeah? I'm Steve," Steve finally says. "How'd you…?"

Eddie flips the lock. The sound echoing in this enclosed space, where the tension is high. Steve is Steve Harrington. 

And Eddie is Eddie Munson. Once, now, and always.

But he can't make his feet move. 

Steve can, however. He walks back over to the stall and pulls the door open. Brave. Always so fucking brave. 

Eddie meets his eyes, and one of them makes a noise. Eddie thinks it was him, but maybe it was Steve. A wounded sound.

"What the fuck?" Steve says, but he doesn't wait for an answer. Doesn't hesitate. Not for a single second. Because Steve's a good dude. Arms wrap around him, hugging him tight, something Eddie hasn't felt in a long fucking time. Nearly five years.

It's like he's been brought home.

"What the fuck?" Steve says again, but he doesn't let go, and Eddie laughs wetly.

"Surprise," Eddie says, hugging him back just as tight.

The bathroom door bangs open, "What the fuck, Steve? Did you fall in—are you hugging a stranger? In a bathroom?"

Henderson.

Eddie laughs.

"No fucking way," Henderson says as he squeezes around Steve, squishing through the open stall door, shoving them over as he forces his way into the hug. 

Eddie wraps a hand around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Laughing. Crying. Both at the same time.

"Is it really you?" Henderson asks, face pressed firmly into Eddie's chest.

It's really him. 

He's Eddie Munson.

And once upon a time, he had friends.

Correction: Has friends.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[hullomoon]

ccf 2026: day 22 - "clap on, clap off! the clapper!"

Prompt Day 22: "Clap on, clap off! The clapper!" | Word Count: 364 | Rating: G | CW: None | POV: Gareth | Pairing(s): None | Tags: Corroded Coffin being shitheads | Read on ao3

For @corrodedcoffinfest

Gareth didn't think his parents were serious when they brought the Clapper home. The commercial's jingle was constantly lodged in his brain and he knew as soon as the guys found out about it they would be relentless in their teasing. No matter how much he asked, he couldn't dissuade them and the Clapper was put in their living room for the standing lamps.

The first few times work pretty well. Gareth can admit it's nice to just clap to turn the lights off at night. He always hates walking back down the stairs to turn them off. It isn't until the end of the week, his family finds a flaw in the contraption. Sam, their great big shaggy dog they've had since Gareth was ten, sets off the Clapper with his barking.

Sam doesn't bark as much as he used to when he was younger, thank god. It is fucking annoying to be reading on the couch and having the light turn off because Sam decides he needs to bark at the mailman again.

—

Gareth and the guys are chilling in the living room after practice. Jeff and Les work on their English project, Eddie surreptitiously works on their next campaign, and Gareth plays Solitaire when Sam comes bounding in, barking at a clipped pace. The lights turn off and on twice as Sam makes his way to the window, snout pressed firmly on the glass.

"Uh, what was the about?" Eddie asks.

Oh, he does not want to explain this. "Nothing," Gareth replies.

"If the bulb is dying whatever. If it's wiring issues your parents are gonna hate it," Les supplies.

Gareth groans and puts his head in his hands. "It's the Clapper."

Jeff gets up from the couch and moves closer to Gareth. "What was that? Did you say Clapper?"

"Yes. My parents decided we needed it and when Sam barks it sets off the fucking thing," Gareth whines.

The guys stare at each other and clap twice in unison. The lights turn off, dimming the room. They all have shit-eating grins and laugh.

"You fuckheads are so annoying," Gareth grumbles.

"Just be glad we didn't sing the jingle," Eddie adds.

[glassbxttless]

The Clapper

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), alice & roan munson

word count: 700+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 22: “Clap on, Clap off, The Clapper!” | In a hotel somewhere in Iowa, the girls discover something that should’ve been left in the 80’s.

warnings: the girls being little shits, another bout of mrs. munson fawning over her husband.

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! Again, thank you to Lore for the idea on this one. Their road trip has quickly devolved into mind numbing torture for Bats here. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes.

You're standing in the bathroom in one of Eddie's old Metallica shirts and grey striped pajama bottoms, with a toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You swear this may be the brightest white light in the entire midwest and you've decided you hate every reflective surface in the damn room in spite of it. Through the cracked door, you can see a sliver of your husband bent over the air conditioning unit, "Why does this thing gotta sound like it's tryin' to land a fuckin' plane every time it kicks on?" 

You snort, turning to finish up brushing your teeth. While you were planning your annual trip back home to Hawkins to see your parents and Wayne, instead of getting on a plane and renting a car from the airport, Eddie had decided to rent an SUV and load his family up to see the good old American West while he could. You're only four states in and your husband and daughters have experienced seeing Bison for the first time, and food poisoning from the gas station sushi you told them not to get. 

You rinse your mouth out and step out of the bathroom to find him tugging off his jeans beside the bed. His boxers are faded and that Dio shirt has seen better days, but he catches you looking at him almost immediately and grins. "What? You wanna climb me like a tree?" 

You roll your eyes as you climb onto the mattress, "Go to bed." You tease. He immediately climbs in, sprawling towards you the best he can. One arm hooking around your waist before you can even lie down. He settles in with a groan.

"Oh my God," he sighs, "This mattress sucks. I can feel every vertebra individually." He mumbles, his face nuzzling against your shoulder. 

"You are every old man in a sitcom." You hum, kissing the top of his head. 

The girls are in the other bed, still awake and whispering to one another about something. You swear you hear a giggle, and then Roan snorts out a laugh that she tries to contain. Key word, tries. Because all of a sudden, she claps, and the hotel room lights shut off instantly. Roan loses her damn mind. 

"What the fuck?" Eddie mumbles, confused, against your skin. 

The girls clap again and the lights come on. Alice is wheezing, folded in half as her sister claps again and again. "No way!" 

Eddie groans, rolling his eyes as he holds you closer. "Jesus Christ, why is this entertaining?" 

The girls dissolve, immediately. Clap, the lights come on. Clap clap, the lights turn off. Clap again, lights again. 

Eddie finally pushes himself up on his elbow, looking over at the girls for the mere moments the lights are back on. His long curls out of their daily ponytail, "Absolutely not. It's bedtime. I mean it." 

Clap. They're off again and the Munson's settle into darkness. 

"You little shits!" Eddie laughs. You start laughing too. You're all laughing as the girls clap again. The lights flash back on just in time to catch Eddie lunging off your bed towards theirs. Alice shrieks, claps, and then it's dark again. "Oh come on!" He huffs. 

You're laughing so hard your stomach has started to hurt. Then you hear a hard smack and a pause. 

"Ow." Eddie says quietly. 

The lights come back on after a final hesitant clap from Alice. Eddie is crouched between the beds, holding his shoulder. You push yourself up on your elbow, looking over the side at him. "What happened?" You ask softly.

He glances at the side table, “That little bastard jumped me." 

Roan is laughing so hard she's crying, even now, "Dad fully ate shit in the dark." 

Eddie climbs back into bed grumbling under his breath. The mattress dips under his weight and he slides his body right up next to yours.

"Roan." You scold the language, shaking your head as you smooth your hand over your husband's shoulder. "You okay?" You ask softly.

"Mhm." He nods as you brush curls back from his forehead. You lean over and hit the actual switch for the lamps next to the bed, turning them off. 

Across the room, the girls seem to have finally collapsed into exhaustion from spending sixteen hours together cramped into the SUV, every now and again you'll hear a whisper of a conversation and a burst of laughter. Things die down for almost ten minutes, before there's a tiny clap that turns all of the rest of the lights in the room back on. 

Eddie groans into your hair, whispering sleepily, "Bats… I'm gonna leave them both in a cornfield tomorrow." 

[glassbxttless]

McNuggets

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), gareth emerson, alice & roan munson

word count: 1k

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 20: McNuggets | Gareth is babysitting and takes the girls out for dinner.

warnings: gareth meets a lady

notes: Submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! This is set in 2000 and Gareth has had awful luck on the woman front— so let’s just wish him the best lmao. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes.

"I've got this." Gareth is standing in the entryway with Eddie while you're crouched down in front of Alice. You fix the collar of her black dress again and squeeze her hand. "I babysit all of the time."

Eddie chuckles softly, grabbing your coat from the hook, “They’re fine, Bats. Gare’s got it. Worst case scenario, he loses one, we make another.”

You frown, smacking his leg without ever looking away from Alice. "You are not being helpful at all." 

Alice is standing there in front of them, watching the whole exchange, her eyes bouncing back and forth between her mom and dad. Then her eyes settle on Gareth, "are we going to McDonald's or not?" 

McDonald's is a tradition for Uncle Gare sleepovers. By the time Eddie gets you out the door, Roan is chanting, "Nuggets! Nuggets! Nuggets!" over and over and over again. Gareth digs the keys to his hummer out of his pocket. "Alright!" He grins, clapping once. "Shoes on, little cryptids. Let's go."

And at the McDonald's play place, they end up at one of those little bolted down tables, even if Roan begged to sit in the burger chairs. He's got the tray placed down in front of him while Alice and Roan tear into their Happy Meals.

"You have to eat something that's not fries." Gareth says softly, hands clasped together under his chin as he watches her ignore her apple slices. 

"I am!" She says with her mouth full. "I'm eating nuggets!"

"That's not what I meant Al." 

Roan dips her bitten off of nugget into ketchup and then holds it out to Alice, who just glares at her sister, "I don't want your nugget, Roan. That's gross." 

Both Happy Meals come with those cheap little plastic toys and within about two minutes, Alice is trying her hardest to get hers apart while Roan keeps pressing the sound button over and over and over again. "Okay." Gareth looks between them, already wound up from the noise of about thirty children and that stupid little piece of plastic. "Here's the deal. You eat, you play, we go home and go to bed. Got it?"

Alice nods and shoves two more nuggets into her mouth, grabbing Roan's hand. Roan barely has time to grab her toy again before Alice is pulling her over to the play structure. 

Gareth leans back, stretching his arms. "Jesus Christ." He chuckles softly. 

He keeps an eye on them the entire time they're playing, but it does feel nice just to sit down for a moment. The noise around him— kids shouting, that weird little echo from inside plastic tunnels, the thud of bodies hitting the padded floor a little too hard— starts to fade into background static. He spots Alice halfway up the structure, climbing quickly. Roan is a little slower, sticking to the bottom. She waves when she sees him looking. 

He lifts his hand, a smile on his face. They may not be his, but God does he love those kids.

"Hey— Sorry— Do you mind?"

He's pulled from his thoughts by a kind voice and he looks up. There's a woman standing there. She looks a little tired around the eyes, her curly dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She's got her own tray in her hands and a kid hovering beside her. 

For half a second, his brain struggles. Do I know her? Does she know me? Is this about the band? 

She then gestures to the empty chairs beside him. "Everywhere else is kind of taken."

Oh. 

"Yeah. No. Go ahead." He says, pulling his tray out of the way, "sorry, yeah."

"Thanks." She says softly, giving him a quick but kind smile. They sit and the kid, who must be barely older than Alice, hardly waits a second before asking. "Can I go play?" 

"Shoes off first." The woman responds.

The girl groans but kicks them off before darting towards the play place. 

Gareth watches her go and then glances at the woman beside him. 

"You've got one in there too?" She asks softly, lifting her sandwich from it's box.

"Two, yeah." He nods. "I'm Gareth, by the way."

"Penny." She smiles again as they both just watch the kids and finish their respective food. 

The conversation comes easy then. They talk about the kids, mostly. Even a little about the band. He doesn't even realize how much time has passed until the play place starts thinning out and getting quieter. 

Her kid comes back first, then Alice and Roan not too long after. All three girls are sweaty and talking over each other, Gareth and Penny cannot make out a word. They start gathering their things and toss their trash. This is the moment. Gareth could leave it at this, a nice conversation. But instead, he hears himself start to speak, "Hey."

Penny looks up from where she'd been searching for her keys in her purse. 

He scratches at the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of himself. "Do you um… I mean, if you ever—" Jesus Christ. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Do you wanna grab a coffee sometime?"

She's quiet and there's a split second where he thinks he completely fumbled this. Then she smiles. "Yeah." She nods. "I'd like that."

"Cool." He says softly, trying to sound casual and not like his brain short-circuited.

They exchange numbers. Penny writes hers on the back of his receipt. And by the time they get back to the car, both girls start crashing hard, quiet for the first time all night as they slump into their car seats. Gareth climbs into the drivers seat and leans back, staring out at the glowing McDonald's sign. Then he looks down at the receipt in his hand. 

From the backseat, Alice yawns, "Uncle Gare, did you get a girlfriend?"

Gareth laughs and shakes his head. "Go to sleep, Alice." 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Riding On This One

Prompt #25 - Smoking Section | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & His Dad, Eddie & Wayne | Tags: Hustling Pool, Young Eddie, Al Being a Shitty Dad, Wayne Being a Good Uncle, Time Hop

1977

"I'm tired," Eddie says, slumped in the corner booth. "My eyes burn."

"We'll move out of the smoking section," his dad says, and Eddie knows that won't do any good. It's a bar. The whole thing is filled with smoke, and he's tired, and just wants to go home.

He has school tomorrow.

But his dad just presses the pool cue into his hand, "One more game, okay? I got some good money riding on this one."

And Eddie nods.

This table has a lean. Eddie has known that since he needed a wooden crate to stand on just to reach the felt, and he can use that information to his advantage.

His daddy used to be able to do this himself, but ever since that knife fight, well, his hand don't work so good anymore. At least not good enough to hustle pool, so it falls on Eddie's shoulders to get it done.

And betting is good money, especially when strangers underestimate him.

Especially when they're hustled first. Eddie shooting average pool, trying to hook somebody stupid enough to fall for thinking he's just some kid.

It helps that he's slight. He's twelve, sure, but could pass for younger, and nobody ever assumes he's got what it takes.

Eddie racks them up, the one ball at the top, and the nine in the middle. The rest can go wherever. Honestly, Eddie prefers eight-ball. He wants to play stripes and solids, but for some reason the betting is mostly done on nine-ball, so nine-ball Eddie's learned to play.

He chalks up his cue, and waits for the guy his daddy has bet against to break. The guy scratches on the break, taking the seven ball with it, and it's a gift. If Eddie plays it right, he can run out from here. Never even give the guy a chance to shoot anything. Ball in hand, he looks for the one ball to set up his shot. It's not likely to go in, but that's okay. He just has to hit it first, and then he can send the six ball in. Slop counts, and he doesn't have to call shit as long as he hits the one ball first. And that's doable. He thinks. He hopes. There's a lot of pressure to get it right, to make sure his dad doesn't lose money tonight. They need to win. Eddie needs to win. For rent. For food. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, studies it, and then lines up. The purple four ball is just slightly in the way, sitting on the felt, the white background of the ball yellowed with age and smoke. He doesn't have a straight shot, so he's gotta get around it. He does the math. Lines up the edge of his cue with the bottom right portion of the cue ball, and puts just enough spin on it that when it strikes he should have a straight shot. He pulls back, and sure enough, the ball swerves around the four ball, hits the one, which knocks the six ball into the corner pocket.

And from there, just runs the table until he's sinking the nine ball.

He can't hustle, not now. But he has drawn a crowd. Playing a kid is a novelty, and his dad is willing to keep at it, over and over, until his dad ushers him out of the bar after last call, when Eddie can barely keep his eyes open as they pull out of the bar parking lot.

"Al, it's almost three," Wayne says, and Eddie stirs at his uncle's voice. His feet are dangling and he's too old to be carried, but he doesn't fight it, and rests his head on his dad's shoulder. 

"He's alright, aren't ya, Ed?" 

Eddie nods, and unwinds his arms around his daddy's neck, letting himself get sprawled out on Wayne's couch. 

"Can you take him to school in the morning? I got something to do," his dad says, and Eddie rolls over onto his side, just in time to hear Uncle Wayne agree. Plastering his face to the cushion, Eddie's soon covered up with a blanket as the trailer door is rattling closed.

"Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

His dad doesn't come home the next day, or the one after. The next time Eddie sees his dad, he's in an orange jumpsuit, and Wayne has his hand on Eddie's shoulder, grip firm.

1983

Eddie hates to do this, but, well. He wants that guitar. He needs money. Fast. And he knows exactly how he can make some quick cash.

He's sure he's rusty. He hasn't hustled a game of pool in years. Not since his dad got locked up the last time. 

At least this is on his own terms. 

He leans against his stick, and watches as the other guy breaks. They're playing stripes and solids tonight, and Eddie watches the ten ball roll into the pocket.

Solids it is. Fine by him.

He is rusty. It takes him a minute to get in the groove, but he makes a comeback. 

Just like the old days.

The wad of cash is in his pocket, and he tries to be quiet as he sneaks back into the house. Wayne's sitting up, waiting. So much for that.

"It's late, Ed," Wayne says, and Eddie nods. It is. But he's eighteen, and Wayne can't really do a whole lot to him. Just complain and give him grief. 

Wayne nods towards the pool cue strapped to his shoulder, "You been hustlin'?"

Eddie nods, "Just tonight. There's a cool guitar up at Miller's. Figured, what the hell. I know how to make money."

And he does. Sure, usually he just sells weed to his classmates, but well, this works, too. 

"I don't want you getting hurt," Wayne says, and Eddie knows what he really means: I don't want you to end up like him.

And Eddie has no intention of doing that. No way. He ain't his old man.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Inspired by Nine Ball by Zach Bryan, which felt incredibly Eddie and his dad coded.

[glassbxttless]

You Sweet Stupid Bastard

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader), gareth emerson, alice & roan munson

word count: 900+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 26: Mohawk | Gareth invites the girls over for a sleepover.

warnings: nothing that I can think of!

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! I hope you enjoy this! Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

Eddie's making a grilled cheese when the phone starts to ring. He moves to answer it and then stretches the cord halfway across his kitchen to continue cooking. "Munson residence," he answers, wedging the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he flips the sandwich. "State your business or forever hold your—" Then he's abruptly cut off by a voice cracking through static.

"Eddie, it's me." 

He pauses, "Gareth? You good, man?You sound like you're calling from a bunker."

Eddie can feel the two sets of little eyes that zero in on him at the mention of the name.

"I'm fine." Gareth says, his voice leaking with a thread of exhaustion that makes Eddie grin. "I just… Listen, okay. Alyssa has been asking nonstop, for like threeweeks if the girls can come over." 

Eddie raises his brows and drags the pan off the burner before he fully incinerates the contents. "Yeah?"

"She's worn me down, man." Gareth continues, "So, sleepover tonight. If that works?"

Eddie leans against the counter, crossing one arm over his chest and resting his hand against the bicep of his other arm. "You sure you're ready for that? That's a whole lot of girl."

"I live with two already, how much worse could it—"

Eddie bursts out laughing before Gareth can even finish that sentence. "Oh, you sweet, stupid bastard." 

"Eddie—"

Eddie cuts him off, still grinning, "We'll drop 'em off in an hour. Godspeed, soldier." When he hangs up, he glances down at two small, wide-eyed faces staring at him. "What?" He asks them, handing Roan a paper plate with the grilled cheese. 

You make it down the stairs just in time to watch this all unfold. You chuckle and smile at him, “Who called?"

Eddie shrugs, “Oh, Gareth. He just casually invited our children over to destroy his home." 

Both girls cheer instantly, scrambling over one another to their bedrooms to pack.

And about an hour later, when Gareth opens the door to his apartment, he smiles. "Hey," he says softly, stepping back to let you all in. 

Penny's sitting on the couch with the remote in her hand as she watches TV. Alyssa practically launches herself forward the second she sees the girls standing in the doorway. She grabs Alice's hand and immediately starts pulling her back towards her room. Roan trails behind like a little eight-year-old shadow. Suddenly, the apartment lights up with noise. There's footsteps up and down the hall, giggles, a door slams, and music starts up in Alyssa's room too loud for comfort. 

Gareth sighs, "this will be fun."

Eddie claps him on the shoulder, "famous last words." He chuckles.

You and Eddie hang around for a little while, helping the girls get settled. You go over the usual rules for staying at Uncle Gareth's until Penny waves you off, smiling. "We've got it handled, go enjoy a quiet house while you can."

Eddie doesn't even pretend to hesitate when wraps an arm around your shoulder's and leads you to the door. 

And the next morning, when you drop in to pick the girls up— it's a little too quiet. Eddie lets you in using his key, and you hear little giggles the second you step in. 

Gareth is sitting on a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room, a towel draped around his shoulders like a cape. His hair is spiked up in a mohawk. The sides are slicked down flat with what looks and smells like half a bottle of gel.

"Oh my God." You breathe out, laughing. 

Eddie makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a cackle, "Holy shit." 

Gareth sighs and turns his head. His eyes are rimmed in smudged black eyeliner, there's glitter on his cheeks. "…don't start." 

Behind him, the girls are absolutely losing their minds. "He looks so cool!" Alyssa grins.

"I gave him the spikes." Alice nods proudly, her hands settling on her hips. 

"I did the sparkle, daddy. Did you see?!"

Penny is in the kitchen, leaning against the island and laughing into her hand. 

"You let this happen?" You laugh softly, delighted. 

"Oh, I didn't let anything happen." She grins and shakes her head. 

Eddie lets go of your hand to walk a circle around his best friend, inspecting him like he's a piece of art in a gallery. "Man." He chuckles, giving a shake of his head as he wipes his eyes. 

Gareth glares at him. "They said it would wash out."

"It will!” Penny calls.

Roan steps closer to him, a little hand patting his shoulder reassuringly. "You look handsome, Uncle Gare." 

He glances at her, some of the tension in him finally starting to ease. "Thanks, kid." He says softly. 

Alice turns towards you grinning, "can we do daddy next?"

Eddie takes a step back and shakes his head. "Absolutely not."

"Coward." Gareth huffs.

You snort out your own laugh, turning your face away so your husband cant see just how hard you're grinning. "Oh, I'd like to see that." You tease.

Eddie looks at the girls and sighs, knowing he's already lost this fight. "Fine." He says softly just as the girls erupt into cheers again. They swarm Eddie this time, abandoning Gareth in his chair to retrieve another from the kitchen. They drag Eddie down while they all laugh.

You catch Penny's eye as you lean against the island yourself, both of you shaking your heads, smiling wide and in love. "Sleepover went well then?" You ask.

Penny looks at Eddie, and then at Gareth. She scans the glitter, the eyeliner, and that ridiculous, glorious mohawk, and then she looks back to you. "Yeah, I think it went great."

[munsonsmixtapes]

Let Me See

dad!eddie x mom!reader

summary: You're wearing a new pair of shorts and Eddie just can't seem to get his hands off you.

word count: 662

cw: MDNI (18+) fingering, oral (f receiving)

Eddie knows that he's done for as soon as you walk out of the bathroom. You're all getting ready to go to the pool with Vicky, Robin, and Scarlet and he doesn't even hear you ask where the sunscreen is because he's so focused on your shorts. You're packing the pool bag as he gets a better look, shamelessly staring. He knows that they're new. They have to be because he definitely would have remembered them.

He's too busy admiring the way that they hug your ass to hear you speaking to him, calling his name over and over. His eyes are laser focused on it, the way the shorts look like they're made for you. God, he really is a lucky man, isn't he?

"Honey?" You ask and Eddie snaps out of it, shaking his head as he looks you in the eyes.

"Hm?" He's been caught but you don't say anything about it, just giving him a pointed look as you hold your hand out.

"Sunscreen?"

"Right." He reaches for the bottle that's sitting on the bed and passes it to you. When you turn, bending over the bed to put the sunscreen in the bag, Eddie can't help but get a handful. He stands behind you, hands cupping each cheek as he gives it a squeeze. When you let out a squeal, he chuckles as he sticks his hands into your back pockets and spins you around.

"Edward Alan Munson!" He should be afraid of the glare you're shooting at him, but today, he's not. Because today, he's un-phased, wanting to see what you've got going on underneath even though he's very well aware.

"C'mon, sweetheart. You know you can't wear those and expect me to not cop a feel. I'm only human."

"You are shameless."

"And you love it." He leans in for a kiss and you can't help but melt into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. You know that neither of you have time for this since you're already supposed to be leaving, but what's ten more minutes?

One of his hands presses against your back while the other fiddles with button of your shorts. He's able to get them unbuttoned and he's mentally cheering himself on because after all these years, he's still got it. He slowly unzips it, smiling against your lips as you whine because of how long he's taking.

"Gotta be patient, sweetheart," he sing-songs. "Can't rush a good thing like this. I want you to enjoy it."

"You've got five minutes."

"Fine."

"But tonight, you can take however long you want." He grins at the promise before his lips find yours again, more hungry this time. He's so needy for you right now even though it's the worst timing, but did you really think this wouldn't happen when you put those shorts on today?

"You know exactly how to drive me crazy, don't you?"

"Yes!" The last word comes out in a breathy moan as his fingers sink inside, your hands grabbing hold of his shoulders as you push yourself against him. "Fuck, Eddie, more."

He gets deeper, curling his fingers so they hit the right spot and you're already so close, screaming out his name as he sinks to his knees as your bikini bottoms come down, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. You're having trouble standing when his lips wrap around your clit, your fingers threading into his hair.

"I don't know what you're doing, but if you could stop and get in the car, that'd be great!" You hear Gigi's voice on the other side of the door and you both freeze, bodies running cold. For a second, you both forgot where you were and what you were doing beforehand. Eddie pulls away from you and helps you get dressed. And In record speed, you both throw your belongings into your bag and head out into the hall, both giggling, suddenly feeling like teenagers again.

You can find the rest of the "I think I Like This Little Life" universe here!

taglist: @kinokomoonshine @seedlingghost @misshale21 @glassbxttless @imnotevenhereatall @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @enchantedmoonlight13 @littlemissholy @n0t-even-try1ng-2 @emxxblog @crybabyddl @spider-starry @micheledawn1975 @strangerthingsmamareblogs @the-witty-pen-name @gwenlinthegremlin @bad-wolf1991 @dreamerjj @ietss @exploding-bonbon @roostersgirl-001 @alicemarie730 @kaitieskidmore97 @your-nightmaredoll @pastelpoppies @demongamerkitty @thebiggestcrybaby3 @raeyas-ghost @leovaldez0924

If you’d like to be added to this taglist or any of my others, feel free to fill out the form pinned on my blog! (for 21+ only and teens/ageless blogs will be blocked!!)

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest 2026 - Day 24 - Cassette Tape

Summary: Eddie thinks he has better taste in music than you and damn if he's gonna let you know all about it...

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Violinist!Reader (aka Strings from Strings)

Word Count: 1000

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, No Upside Down AU, Community College AU, Slight Angst, Slight Fluff, Bickering

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3 Thanks @thisapplepielife for organizing another great month of events!

You guys it has been an uphill battle this week to get anything done for my personal life because work has been unforgiving. (Fucking story of my life.) I was really excited for a lot of this week's prompts and I feel like I let myself down by not having the energy to write when I got home every night...but I'm making up for it (by ignoring work so I can type this up right now.) Because I was really excited for this prompt.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Eddie only had 90 minutes of recording time to prove that you were an absolute idiot.

And he felt like an evil genius, mentally filtering through his collection of tapes, putting together the most epic, metal smackdown of all time. Correction, so he could make a mixtape of the most epic metal smackdown of all time.

He was hunched over his notebook, nose practically touching the paper as he crossed out Motörhead's Ace of Spades in favor of Iron Maiden's Caught Somewhere in Time.

"Uh, Eddie?" Jeff leaned over to look at Eddie's chicken scratch handwriting and almost got hit as he snapped upright. "You're supposed to make mixtapes for people you like, not people who hate your guts."

Eddie threw his back in the most maniacal laughter, and then pointed, right in Jeff's face. "That's what they all want you to think."

"No," Dave hummed from across the lunch table. "I'm pretty sure that's exactly it. It's in every tv show and movie."

"You sure you don't have a crush on Strings?" Gareth asked, boredly picking at his sandwich.

Eddie bristled at the thought.

No, that would be ridiculous. You were an acquaintance; a fellow musician and a classmate at best. If he let all of your previous insults and slanders go, and that was a big if. At worst, you and your string quartet were a pain in the ass as you haunted the halls of the Tri-County Community College, taunting his love of metal with your...orchestral music.

He wasn't even gonna think about what happened at the Mancini-Smith Wedding.

The only times he thought of you were to curse your name.

Day...or night...

"No!" Eddie's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. All of the other boys gave him skeptical looks. "No, I don't have a crush on Strings. She just needs a proper musical education. And for me to flip the bird right in her face when she finally admits that thrash is the superior sound."

The cassette burned a hole in his pocket for days.

He was starting to get antsy about it too, as he waited near all your usual haunts for the opportunity to catch you. You were always around the campus, going from class to class, one rehearsal to another; why, now, when he was itching to find you, were you nowhere to be found?

In his minds eye, he would see you walking down the hall from the performing arts center to the main building and he would throw the tape right at you.

"No, that's too mean," he muttered.

He knew what car you drove, and he knew you forgot to lock it sometimes. He could go and put it into the cassette player, crank your volume up. You;'d be blasted into oblivion as you started the car.

"A-and..." He paused and thought about it. "And I'll rip a giant fart, leave a stink cloud."

"Why am I not surprised that you talk to yourself, it's about farts, Munson?" You voice chimed behind him and he jumped to his feet.

"Hey, ha!" He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his vest, embarrassed. "How did you sneak up on me?"

"I didn't," you deadpanned. "I've been calling your name."

Eddie's jaw dropped. Damn it, he wanted the element of surprise to be on his side.

"It looked like you were busy rubbing what few brain cells you have to try and come up with a coherent thought," you continued smugly. "Again, I shouldn't have been surprised when I overheard you mumbling about farts."

He wanted to throttle you, but you suddenly became somewhat bashful, as you turned from him and started to dig through your messenger bag.

"Actually, I'm here because I have something for you."

He blinked and then shoved his hand into his pocket.

"What a coincidence," he said. "I have something for you too."

And imagine both of your shocks when you presented practically identical cassette tapes for each other.

"What is that?" both of you asked simultaneously, eyes wide and round as you stared at each other's offerings in shock.

"Nuh-uh," Eddie shook his head. "You first. What the hell is that, Strings?"

"It's...a tape. You said you wouldn't be caught dead listening to my music. I figured...maybe you just hadn't heard enough of it." You pursed your lips and scrunched your nose. "I started with something easy. The Boston Pops did a medley of the Star Wars Score a few years ago; I recorded it off the radio."

You held the tape out a little further.

"Plus a few of my other favorites."

He blinked, almost afraid to reach out and take your offering. There was no malice in your voice. In fact, you sounded a bit thoughtful, to include something more pop-culture adjacent than your typical snooty concertos. His heart beat a little faster as he grabbed the tape and exchanged it with his own, fingers brushing against yours.

Swallowing the venom he had been preparing to spit at you, he shot you a cocky, crooked grin.

"I, uh, had the same idea. I'm sure that your delicate ears will need some adjustment before get past the noise. But, maybe you'll have some kind of epiphany. Actually be able to appreciate the kind of music Corroded Coffin plays."

"I'll give it a shot." you muttered as you examined the insert. "Precious Metals from the Depths of Erebor."

"It's from The Hobbit," he explained. You gave him a withering glance.

"I know what Erebor is."

How many times could he be shocked in one day?

You shot him a tentative smile and tucked the tape carefully into your bag. "Thanks Eddie."

"Don't mention it, Strings," he returned the smile, then straightened his shoulders and quickly let the sarcasm coat his voice. "I'll try not to fall asleep."

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, onto your next class.

"Smell you later, Munson!" You called over your shoulder.

"Not if I smell you first."

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest 2026 - Day 20 - McNuggets

Summary: The boys plan a heist. Badly.

Word Count: 1000

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, Humor, ACAB but I do love using Hop as a plot device

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

The whole situation started with Gareth. Which was a bit of a shock, because he was the least likely to come up with a shenanigan of the four of them.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jeff scoffed.

"Listen," Gareth held up a hand innocently, before pulling a spiral notepad from his jacket. "I've been keeping a tally over the years. Eddie's almost gotten us arrested twice, you and Dave once. I think I'm owed one."

"Ok but you've landed us in more detentions than anyone else!" Dave argued.

"Shut up!" Eddie shouted as he rifled through Wayne's toolbox. "It doesn't matter who the evil mastermind is. Are we doing this or not?"

What started as a late night run through the McDonalds Drive Thru to get burgers after a show at the hideout, turned into a weeks-long campaign to collect them all.

"McNugget buddies," Eddie had scoffed as he pulled the van into the line of cars. The promotional image was dingy in the low light of the parking lot, cartoonish and silly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

10 different characters all with different jobs; how was a chicken nugget supposed to have a career?

"They should've made them look like they were all dressed with the different dipping sauces," Jeff pointed out.

"Yeah that would've made sense," Dave agreed.

But Gareth? Gareth stared at the display with a childish desire that he was almost too embarrassed to voice when it was finally time to place their order.

An assortment of burgers and fries and sodas. One filet-o-fish for Eddie to bring home to Wayne. And finally...

"onehamburgerhappymeal," Gareth grumbled when Eddie looked at him expectantly.

There was a pause.

"Sorry, say that again?" Eddie cupped his ear and leaned backwards.

Gareth took a breath and repeated himself, much clearer this time.

"One Hamburger Happy Meal. With an orange soda. And if they have the Drummer McNugget for the toy, I want that one."

He expected his friends to laugh at him, call him a baby, anything.

Imagine his surprise when Dave finally whined, "ok I wanna change my order, I want a happy meal too. With Sarge McNugget."

And Jeff and Eddie both followed suit shortly after.

It was silly, four practically-grown-men eating from tiny little boxes with portions meant for kids. But they were silly. They played games of make-believe for fun, why wouldn't this be something they'd do.

It was silly and a novelty as they made their McNugget buddies fight and act out stories.

Then the next week rolled around. They all sat in the same drive thru, hesitantly glancing at one another. Once again, all too afraid to voice their desire for another happy meal.

"Fuck it," Eddie finally broke the silence. "I'm getting two this time. And a large fry. I was still so hungry, I ate all of Wayne Sour Cream and Onion ruffles when I got home last week. You know I hate ruffles."

"You just want two toys!" Jeff accused him.

"I want two toys. Sue me."

Once again, all of them were in agreement.

Week after week, they found themselves in that drive thru line, collecting their toys, one character at a time.

Of course, the inevitably began to happen: they got duplicates of their buddies.

"What if..." Eddie munched on his french fries thoughtfully. "We do a campaign set in McDonaldland. And all of the kobolds are actually just McNuggets."

They certainly had enough.

But there was one figurine that eluded them all.

Boomerang McNugget.

They even drove down the highway to the McDonalds out by the truckstop in Marion. No luck.

"We just need one!" Jeff whined. "We can share it."

"It can live in the van," Eddie grinned.

"Or in the Garage," Dave suggested. "Like it's a part of the band."

Gareth had an idea, though, after watching late night rat pack movies with his dad.

"What if..." he started, "we stage a heist."

Unlike the cardboard display out by the drivethru, there was a real display inside the restaurant that proudly showcased every toy there was to offer.

"We get in, cause a scene. And get out with Boomerang before anyone notices."

The plan was simple: one person clogs a toilet in the bathroom-- "No problem" Jeff grinned --while someone else pretended to choke on an actual McNugget. And while that was all going on, the other two would break Boomerang from his plastic prison.

Fate was just...never on their side.

Because, they literally ran face first into one Sheriff Hopper.

It was chaos. French fries and ketchup spilled all over the floor. Along with the tools they brought for the heist. Hop sighed tiredly as he stared down at the mess, and then looked up at the boys with an unimpressed expression.

"I take it you boys haven't suddenly become amateur handymen since the last shenanigan you pulled," he hummed judgmentally.

"You never know!" Dave held his hands out innocently. "We could've."

"You can't take our weed and firecrackers this time, Hop," Eddie said smugly. "We don't have any...probably."

"Either way, we're not here to cause trouble."

"Really? Then please tell me why there seems to be a free hammer with my Big Mac Meal," Hop crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the boys expectantly.

It didn't take long for them to fidget under his intense gaze.

"It's not our fault, it was Gareth."

"We just wanted Boomerang McNugget."

"Please don't call our parents, Hop!"

Hopper sighed, looked at all of their pathetic faces, then turned on his heel to head back to the counter, muttering something about avoiding paperwork as he did.

"Can I get another Big Mac meal?" He asked the cashier, then gestured over his shoulder. "And a mop for these boys to clean up this mess. And..." He pointed to the Happy Meal display. "The...booming mcnugget, if it's no trouble."

All four boys stared in disbelief.

"You can just buy the toys?"

[thevoidsilence]

~~~ Focusing on the light and shadow for this piece—wanted to capture a quiet, warm moment in Eddie's space. I worked mostly with high-contrast brushwork to give the hair and features that soft rim light ~~~

[rebelfell]

hold your peace in pieces┃e.m.

engaged!rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

All your life, all you’ve ever wanted is for your best friend to be happy. For all of his wildest dreams to come true. Now that they have, you should be happy too…right?

3.8k┃18+, MDNI

cw: we’ve got an angsty one, cap’n. childhood friends to ??? modern-ish au, no upside down, alcohol, drinking to excess, semi self-destructive behavior, feelings denial.

cliffhanger? I hardly know her!

The Save the Dates had definitely gone out. 

Hardly anyone who received one could talk about anything else—making plans to take off of work, securing sitters for pets and babies months in advance, joking about selling organs on the black market to be able to afford the trip.

It was huge news, after all. Like, the biggest news to hit Hawkins since…ever.

Eddie Munson was getting married.

Hometown zero turned mega-rockstar, Dungeon Master turned guitar god, formerly ridiculed and believed-to-be-devil-worshipping town pariah Edward Phillip Munson was getting married.

TMZ had broken news of the engagement long before Eddie had gotten the chance to make any of the long-distance calls required to tell anybody himself. Which wasn’t terribly surprising, truth be told. It had been months, close to a year in some cases, since anyone from your small hometown had been in regular contact with Eddie.

The cost of fame, you all supposed.

But no one seemed to mind it so much once they had that envelope in their hands.

Robin had called immediately upon opening the one that was delivered to her and Nancy’s place, talking rapid fire as usual, asking if you wanted to fly out early with them to sightsee, if you wanted to go in on the AirBnb with them, if you thought rock stars still registered at Bed, Bath & Beyond or was there some other super-exclusive place they got their linens and dishware?

You forced out a laugh, trying to sound as good-natured as you could when you said you’d have to let her know. Normally, you probably would have accepted without a second thought. 

Normally, you might have been joking with her about how celebrities slept on sheets with thread counts higher than your income. Normally, you’d be over the moon to see a Save the Date for the wedding of your oldest and closest friend.

Except you had yet to receive yours.

It was surprising, to say the least, to come home on the day everyone had been showing theirs off, waving them in the faces of anyone who had eyes to see, to find your mailbox barren—not so much as a catalog or a predatory credit card offer.

Still, you told yourself to keep calm. And actually managed to do so, for the most part.

There were a million and a half possibilities for why it hadn’t arrived. Maybe they had been sent out in batches. Maybe the ink smudged and it had to be returned when the post office couldn’t decipher your address. Maybe Eddie had forgot to put your new address and sent it to the trailer park where you no longer lived instead of your apartment on the other side of town.

You told yourself all these things and more, over and over again like a bedtime story. Trying to reassure yourself that nothing was amiss.

Because why would it be?

And yet your mailbox remained empty. Cluttered with the typical assortment of drab bills and junk mail, with no sign of the weighted, cream-colored cardstock bearing Eddie’s full government name written in a script so elegant you’d think he was a Duke or an Earl of some sprawling English estate rather than a gangly metalhead who hailed from the humble beginnings of Forest Hills.

Anyone you mentioned it to tried to soothe you in the same ways you tried to soothe yourself.

It has to be a mistake, they all said. Lost in the mail, delivered to the wrong address, insufficient postage—they gave endless explanations for the inexplicable. Of course you’re invited. You have to be. He wouldn’t dream of getting married without having his best friend there!

Eventually you resolved to just call him, knowing it would likely go straight to voicemail; knowing it would take a few days for him to get back to you as it always did. But just as you sat down in your living room to dial, your phone buzzed in your hand as a call from him came through.

“Hey!” you said brightly, all the hurt you had been plagued by the past few weeks having evaporated the second his name flashed on your caller ID. “That’s so weird, I was about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

His voice was rougher than expected, raspy and haggard. It sounded the way it did when he’d just gotten off stage, after he’d finished screaming his own lyrics to thousands. Except there was no joy behind his exhaustion, no exhilaration or elation cracking through the way it always had whether he was singing for a sold-out crowd at MSG or the same five drunks at the Hideout.

“You okay?” you asked. “You sound funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, just ahhhh…we were in the studio all day. I’m really beat.”

It wasn’t a lie—he was a shit liar, you could always tell when he was—but there was most definitely something he wasn’t telling you.

Your spine instantly went rigid, panic spiking with a sharp pinch to your nose, and you tried to sound as normal as possible while you picked at a piece of loose skin hanging around your thumbnail.

“So…what’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure?” The teasing edge to your voice came out hollow and phony, lacking all the natural ease that normally came along with talking to him.

It had been years now since he moved out to Los Angeles but you never really felt the distance until his music career took off. When he first got there, he still called you nearly every night. And as you laid in your bed with the phone pressed to your ear, it was easy to imagine he was just a few trailers down stretched on his own lumpy mattress instead of 2000 miles away.

Secretly, you sort of longed for those days—for the nights he poured himself into bed after a shift bartending or caterwaiting or whatever other odd job he had fallen into that week. And still the one call he always made, even if he was bordering on passing out from pure exhaustion, was to you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained solemnly. “About the wedding.”

“Um…me too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

There it was again—that crack, that fissure, that slight waver in his voice so unfamiliar it made him sound like a stranger. Too serious. Too stoic. Too unlike the boisterous boy you’d always known.

“Yeah, uh…this is kind of awkward,” you chuckled again, the sound of it riddled with nerves, and you wondered if he could tell how much you hated to ask, how long you’d waited, trying to put it all off. “But I was wondering about your Save the Dates? Because everyone else got theirs and I—”

“I didn’t send yours.”

The words are maudlin. Almost pained, like he’d just told you someone died. And your reaction is more or less the same as if he had.

“…Oh.”

“I’m—I’m looking at it right now.”

You tried to imagine him in California, sitting in his fancy penthouse the record label had helped him secure just as the paparazzi began to swarm his humble fourth floor walk-up. You’d only seen it in pictures, and not even ones he had sent you—Architectural Digest had done a piece on it that came out around the same time the news broke that he had started dating Carli West.

Was he stretched out on his massive leather sofa looking out those floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling metropolis laid out at his feet?

Holding the phone to his ear with one hand while the other clutched an envelope with your name and address stamped on the front? 

Or maybe he wasn’t even there. 

Maybe he had finally moved into his girlfriend’s—fiancée’s—mansion in Westlake Village.

“She, um…” his voice cracked again. “She asked me not to invite you.”

The ancient springs in your plaid recliner squeaked in protest as you sank into it, wobbly legs threatening to give out underneath you. Your mind was a blank, eyes staring unfocused at the walls, totally dumbfounded. A low buzz began to drone in your ears, steadily getting louder until it was all you could hear, like a deafening static drowning out every sound in existence.

“I’m so sorry. I swear, I tried. We’ve been having it out for weeks and she won’t budge.”

“B-but…why? I’ve never even met her! What could I have possibly done to—”

“It’s not you,” he insisted firmly. “Seriously, it has nothing to do with you. She just thinks—”

Whatever explanation he was about to sputter, you didn’t hear. The simple press of a button with a red icon is not nearly satisfying enough, though. You desperately miss the harsh clang of a landline being slammed back into its cradle, its metallic reverb echoing in the emptiness and silence.

As it is, all you can do is toss your phone away and blink back tears as it bounces off the couch cushion and thumps to the floor. You opt to leave it there, reaching instead for your keys where they sit in the middle of the coffee table.

You’re not even sure where you’re headed as you follow the same roads you’ve driven most of your life, tires swerving on asphalt that’s still wet with melted snow from the barrage of winter storms you’ve had over the past couple weeks. The night is pitch black in front of you, the air stinging and harsh, threatening yet another cold snap.

It’s not until you’re halfway downtown that you realize you left your wallet at home and have to head for The Hideout. You certainly would prefer not to spend an evening surrounded by countless memories of listening to Eddie’s band play, sitting at the end of the bar watching him bob and weave in and around stumbling patrons to clear empties and wipe down tables—all while razzing Peg with his ineffable, nigh insufferable, Munson charm.

But its the only place you know will serve you with nothing more than lint in your pocket.

You posted up at the near-deserted bar, downing two beers in half as many hours, staring into the middle distance contemplating the impossible.

A movie star hated you. A movie star you’d never met, who had sucked face with half of Hollywood—professionally or otherwise—and who lived in a mansion with nine bedrooms, and who pulled in millions of dollars at the box office…hated you.

That was the only conclusion you could draw from this information, right? It couldn't possibly be an issue of space. They were inviting the entire goddamn universe as far as you could tell. 

So it had to be you. Unless…

Distantly, you register the song on the jukebox changing and the opening chords of melancholy piano playing over Bonnie Tyler’s gritty voice, making you reach for your beer and chug.

“Hey there, Bright Eyes.”

The voice of Steve Harrington might have been the last one you wanted to hear right now, and yet it’s exactly what filled in your ears. You rolled your eyes purely out of instinct as he walked over, and it caused a single traitorous tear to roll down your cheek. You swiped at it, praying he didn’t see.

“Whoa, whoa. What’s with the water works?”

He slotted into the stool next to you and a wave of his scent washed over you, the aroma made up of something gourmand and surely expensive. A few stray pieces of chestnut hair fall forward into his shining eyes as he leans his elbows on the bar and tilts his head to get a look at you.

“Just allergic to your cheap cologne,” you sniffed, the bitterness of your insult undercut by the creak of your voice. Steve’s lips quirked in a small smile. 

You knew well as he did, he never wore anything cheap.

With an overdramatic sigh, he clutched his hand to his heart and wobbled in his seat as he leaned far back like he’d been struck there. It made your chest pang, thinking how that was one of Eddie’s bits—except he probably would have fallen right to the sticky floor just to make you smile.

“She wounds me, Peg,” Steve lamented when he caught the bartender’s eye. “Can we get another round over here, please? And a couple shots?”

Steve might have been the only person on the planet who could charm a smile out of ever-surly Peg. It was a small one, barely eking out, but it was there. She retrieved another beer for each of you and then placed down two shot glasses, which she filled with brown liquor that sloshed over their rims as she slid them over. Pretending not to be pleased when Steve winked at her.

“Alright. Come on, now. Out with it,” he said, pushing one of the shots in front of you.

Reluctantly, you picked up the glass and stared down it for a second like it was the barrel of a gun before knocking it back. The liquor burned down the center of your chest, like a knife slicing you down the middle. It made your throat spasm with the need to cough, but you forced it back.

“It’s not a mistake,” you said gravely after a long pause. Steve’s lips automatically pursed.

“What’s not?” he asked.

“My Save the Date isn’t lost,” you sighed heavily and pushed your empty glass away. “They didn’t send one, because I’m not invited. Because he doesn’t want me there.”

For once in his life, Steve was silent. Speechless. He stared at the side of your face until he made a sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth.

“Nope. There’s no way that’s true.” He shook his head. “He actually said that?”

“Not in so many words,” you muttered.

Steve’s strong brow pinched, his handsome features furrowed, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek and then slipping out past his lips as he tussled with that bit of information.

“I don’t buy it,” he said, shaking his head again. You rolled your eyes.

“He said she doesn’t want me there. Except I’ve never even met her, so clearly it must be him.”

Your words started to wobble the longer you spoke, and you had to swallow the rest before they came spewing out of you like that shot nearly did. Steve picked up his beer and stared at it, his lips still pursed as he thought. It was the most pensive you’d ever seen him.

“Well…maybe she’s intimidated,” he offered after a long pause, punctuated by a swig of beer.

“She’s got a fucking Oscar, Steve,” you snapped. “In what universe would I intimidate her?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you and he were like conjoined twins your entire lives? If he’s told her anything about his life before California, you can be damn sure your name came up.”

You scoffed, rapidly blinking your eyes as more tears stung behind them, threatening to spill over. Most of the town, much like Steve, thought if they ever saw a Save the Date with Eddie’s name on it, yours would be the one written alongside it. 

But you and Eddie were just friends.

Nothing more.

“He’s not—”

“Right, right,” Steve sighed, waving his beer back and forth, his eyes rolling back, “he’s not, you’re not, there’s nothing going on, yadda yadda.”

“Well, there’s not,” you snarled sourly. Never had been, never would be. “We’re just friends.”

Steve’s brow arched. “You and I are friends, and you wouldn’t be sitting here cutting your whiskey with tears if you weren’t invited to my wedding.”

“Like anyone would ever marry you,” you sniped.

The skin around Steve’s hazel eyes crinkled with a smile, seemingly pleased he managed to draw out that little attitude you always saved just for him.

“Well, then it sounds to me like there’s only one thing left to do,” Steve said.

You turned your head with a questioning glance and watched as he pushed his own shot in front of you. With a resigned sigh, you wrapped your hand around it and knocked it back. 

Another slice right down the middle.

“C’mon, champ. Time to get you home,” Steve said, lifting one of your limp arms and draping it over his stupid broad shoulder to help you to your feet, bracing you against him as you swayed.

Last call had long since come and gone. And between Steve’s credit card and Peg’s soft spot for you, you had most definitely been over served. The formerly near-empty bar was now completely deserted—tabs all closed, stools all placed on top of tables, drunks all carted away for the night.

With one notable exception.

“No,” you whined weakly against Steve’s chest as he hoisted you up. “Don’wannagohome.”

“Well, you can’t stay here,” he said, shooting Peg a grateful smile en route to the door.

You grumbled some more as you tried to get your feet to cooperate in spite of your brain’s decision to abandon them. “Steve, really—please, not home. Anywhere else. Anywhere.”

Even in your current state, you knew you couldn’t be trusted within dialing distance of your phone. You would almost certainly say something you regretted, and maybe even moreso, you were terrified to see whether or not Eddie called.

Honestly, it was tough to say which would be worse—returning home to a slew of missed calls and texts you didn’t trust yourself to answer; or the just as unbearable absence of them.

Steve helped you walk across the gravel parking lot to his car and opened up the rear door. With what little control you had left of your limbs, you climbed into the backseat and tried not to think too much about how many girls he’d had back here in much more compromising positions. 

The world went horizontal as you slumped over on your side and you pinched your eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop it from spinning like a merry-go-round. The car jostled as Steve climbed into the driver’s seat up front and cranked the engine, revving it to get heat flowing through the vents.

“Steve?”

Your voice is tiny. Quiet as a pin dropping in the dark as snow began to fall outside the windows. Steve’s head swiveled to look back at you and his jaw clenched at the sight. Your head hung off the edge of his backseat, your neck barely able to hold it up. Your face was lit only by the lone streetlight overhead that reflected off the wet trails of tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You inhaled a stilted breath, bottom lip quivering. It’s the smallest you’ve ever felt. 

Smaller even than when you were a little kid and fell off of the shoddily constructed “treehouse” you and Eddie made together, thinking it was the worst pain you’d ever feel in your whole life.

More tears leaked out of your eyes, dripping off your chin. With a shaky exhale, you finally asked the question that had been running rampant around the inside of your head all night.

Longer, actually. If you were really being honest with yourself.

“Is he really gonna marry her?”

Steve made as little noise as possible as he shuffled down the hallway, passing the guest room after stopping at the door to listen for the sound of your gentle snoring on the other side. 

You’d agreed to sleep at his house without nearly as much cajoling Steve anticipated, even going so far as to whisper a quiet thank you to him as you pulled the comforter up to your neck.

To say you were in a rare state last night would be putting it lightly.

He had never seen you so upset in all the time he’d known you and he could count the number of times he’d seen you cry on one hand, with four fingers left over. If there was a list of people you would have chosen to confide in about all this, Steve wouldn’t have made the alternates.

And yet it was his shoulder you cried on as he helped you inside his parent’s house. His was the name you gurgled out as you tried desperately not to vomit up everything you had drunk on an empty stomach. His was the hand that rubbed your back when you finally curled up in bed.

How things would go this morning, though, Steve didn’t have the faintest idea.

He’d just put the coffee on to brew when his parent’s landline started to ring and he sprinted into the living room to snatch up the receiver. No one ever called that number anymore except for a few former clients and colleagues of his father’s who hadn’t got the memo the Harringtons had       long since relocated to the city, leaving both Hawkins and their son in the rearview.

“Harrington residence,” Steve chirped.

“Hey, man. It’s Eddie.”

“Oh. Hey. How, um…how are you?”

“I’m, uh…I’m okay. Listen,” he sighed, “I have kind of a weird favor.”

Eddie promptly launched into his rendition of what happened, giving Steve an abridged version of the events he had heard your side of last night. Eddie hit most of the same points as you, but he didn’t give much more than a vague explanation of what exactly had upset you to begin with.

And he ended it all with a heavy, labored sigh.

“I’ve been calling all night trying to reach her, but she isn’t picking up. I just need to know she’s ok. Can you…I mean, would you mind going over there and checking on her?”

Steve’s tongue pushed against his teeth. “Ahhh…so, here’s the thing. She’s actually here.”

“Here?” Eddie echoed. “Here where?”

“At my place. With me.”

The line crackled as Eddie fell silent on the other end. Like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. Like Steve had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

“She’s with you?” he said finally. “She’s there?”

Before Steve could answer, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He zeroed in on your form as you shuffled down the hallway into the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You actually looked a lot more cognizant than he expected. There was still some mascara smudged beneath your eyes, but the black trails left on your cheeks had been washed away. A curious look on your face, you held up the coffee pot and raised a brow, wordlessly asking if he wanted a cup.

Steve’s thumb came up to his lip and he took the nail between his teeth, gnawing on it.

He was positive you had no idea who was currently on the phone. You would have run over and yanked the receiver out of the wall if you did. As it is, you just stared back at Steve blankly.

The plan forms rapidly in his head—not really a plan, per se, more like a nebulous outline of one. And before he knows it, or before he can think better of it, he’s inhaling sharply into the phone.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, eyes still locked on yours. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

letting this one out of the vault because a) I like it and I can do what I want, and b) idk, I guess it’s sort of my goodbye. I don’t feel particularly inspired to write anything new, and I haven’t in quite some time. I originally saw this as a series, but I’m going to say there won’t be any more of this coming.

i'm not leaving leaving, i'll still be scrolling and reading when I can, but I feel like it would be disingenuous to act like any day now I'm gonna be cranking out a new series or updates.

I truly love everything i’ve got to make on here, and I'll never forget the feeling of creating them, the words flying out of my fingers, scenes taking shape in my head faster than I could get it down on the page. I'll never not miss it, I think. And I'm so grateful for all the people I've gotten to know through our writing and all the stupid, silly fun we've had <3

Again, I'm not going anywhere, I just felt like it was something I needed to say. Love-love-love-love you, mean it.

[glassbxttless]

Hypercolor

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader)

word count: 700+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 16: Hypercolor | You and Eddie are starving and your brother makes a very unfortunate discovery.

warnings: mentions boobies and reader having them

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

You feel his warmth everywhere, along your back, your ribs, your stomach. Eddie's wrapped around you so tightly, somebody looking in wouldn't be able to tell where he ends and you begin. He's got one leg hooked over yours, his arm is tucked tight around your middle, his hand resting against your breast. He's so comfy you don’t want to move. Your face is half-buried in your pillow and his breath is warm against the back of your neck. 

You lie there, listening to him breathe. Then his thumb shifts, rubbing a slow stroke over your chest. It's a sleepy little drag against the fabric. He kisses the back of your neck and yawns. "You awake?" He mumbles softly. 

"Mm," you hum, nodding. 

"Don't wanna get up." He mumbles, his voice rough. 

You smile against your pillow, "We have to eventually."

He presses his face further against your neck and groans quietly, shifting himself just a little closer. "Just five more minutes." You roll your eyes and let your fingers run up and down his forearm until your stomach betrays you with a low, obnoxious growl. He chuckles against your neck. "That wasn't me." 

You huff out a laugh and push at his arm. "I'm starving. Come on." 

He rolls over onto his back, yawning. "Swear to God," he mumbles as he pulls the duvet back to climb out of bed. "If your brother's down there, I'm coming back to bed." 

"He lives here, Ed." 

"And? Doesn't mean I gotta see him before noon." 

You toss him a look as you slide out of bed, grabbing your crumpled pajama pants from the floor to cover the underwear you had slept in. You pull them on, tying the pull string after adjusting them on your hips. Eddie drags himself up too, stretching. His shirt rides up just enough to show a strip of manflesh before he yanks it back down. His hair's a mess, but you're sure that won't be tamed before noon either. 

And wouldn't you know it, your brother is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, wide awake, when you step into the kitchen. He glances up when he hears your footsteps, his eyes landing on you. He suddenly laughs, "Oh, that is disgusting." He's got a grin on his face that has you rolling your eyes.

"What?" You ask, sighing as you move towards the cabinet to get to the Eddie & Bats Breakfast Stash basket. 

"Your shirt." He points.

You glance down and your stomach drops. That random powdery blue t-shirt you had thrown on from the floor of your closet hangs from your frame, but a very white shadow of an arm spreads across your middle and curves up with a handprint unmistakeably settled over your chest. "Oh my God." You whisper.

Your brother lets out a full laugh now. "No way! No way you walked down here like that—"

"Shut up." You snap at him, glaring.

Eddie scratches at his forehead, yawning. One hand rests on your lower back and the other reaches into the cabinet to grab your snack basket and pull it down. "Relax." He says softly, "it's just a shirt, not a crime scene.”

"It sure looks like one." Your brother shoots back, bringing a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. 

Eddie snorts, "Yeah? Then just stop staring at it like you're the one solving the crime, man. It’s kinda weird." He mumbles and tears open a granola bar wrapper. 

That remark knocks your brother off his rhythm for a moment, "I'm not—"

"You are." He shrugs, leaning against you, which pushes you into the island counter. "You've been looking at her chest for like, thirty seconds straight. It's weird and I'm starting to feel like I should charge you."

You choke on a laugh. 

Your brother's face twists in a way you've never seen it before. "Oh my God, that's not what I'm doing—"

"Mm." Eddie nods, humming. He sounds as unconvinced as ever. "Sure you're not." 

You elbow him lightly, the embarrassment starting to ease just as much as the white coloring on the shirt. You sigh as your brother's eyes flick back down to his cereal bowl, grumbling, "I'm never eating in here again."