#eddie reader

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Summary: After wasting years of your life working at Hawkins Bowl, watching new hire after new hire move onto bigger and better things, an intriguing new employee named Eddie feels like they could be a new beginning for you.

Warnings: none really, mentions of drugs and alcohol. Slow burn. Eddie and reader are in their early 20s. No Vecna. Reader is a bit of an outsider, not shy but not from Hawkins, and just usually keeps to herself.

Part 2      Masterlist 

The first time you had to walk down the gutter lane, you worried about your balance. One slip and you would land flat onto the too-waxed surface, like bowling alley roadkill. So you kept your eyes front and tried not to get distracted by the blaring music over the shitty speaker system, the balls whooshing past and pins toppling, and the local shithead teens whopping for their shots. Once you got to the end it was risky business, prying the rogue pin that had jarred the mechanism and quickly pulling it away before you lost a finger, then hurrying back down the gutter and shuffling behind the safety of the shoe counter once again.

After the first few times, it became routine. Up and down the lanes you went, all shift long until your feet would ache in your Reeboks and you would beg for the sweet reprieve of a 10-minute smoke break whenever you got a chance to sneak away.

It wasn’t much but this place had grown on you. Hawkins Bowl was tacky, even by normal bowling alley standards. A layer of grime covered almost everything but stayed hidden in the dim UV lights. The retro-patterned carpets were garish enough to hide decades of foot smell and food spills. Marylyn and Elvis stood proud on every wall, reminding patrons to drink Coke and feel nostalgic for the 50s. Even still, there was a charm to the place, and it was full of memories, of birthday parties and first dates, of Summer freedom and cheap beer.

This place was stuck somewhere between then and now. Which made sense, considering it had been closed for 8 years until a rich man moved to Hawkins and started buying up property and reopening all the boarded-up stores on Main Street. The old bowling alley was one of the first things Mr Hyde relaunched back in 87, with a few bare minimum cosmetic improvements to give the appearance that it was actually the 80s while you were in there. A few arcade games and an air hockey table were added to the corner, a cash bar replaced the old milkshake counter, and the toilets got a lick of paint, to hide all manner of past sins. It wasn’t great, but Hawkins seemed to love it, and teenagers flocked every weekend.

It wasn’t your first choice of job after you moved to Hawkins when you finished high school, but it was the only one that called you back when you were desperate, and the pay was ok. That was 2 years ago.

You were essentially part of the furniture now. Well, You, Murray, the day manager, and the two fry cooks that took the piss and goofed off all the time. Over that time, dozens of other kids had breezed in and out for casual work, never staying longer than a few months, before moving onto college or real jobs, or – if they were lucky – out of Hawkins for good.

You were in the back room rifling through the deep freeze to count the chicken finger supplies when you heard Murray calling you to the front counter. Here we go. You muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes at nobody. Another one you would have to train up and babysit for the week.

It wasn’t really surprising to have another new starter today. And, just like with all the others, you hoped whoever it was would just do the work and not complain too much. Most couldn’t handle the pace or the grime, but you had grown comfortable with it now.

You made your way to the front, noticing as you approached that standing next to and chatting to Murray was a tall guy with long shaggy hair. He looked about your age, maybe a bit older, and wore ripped jeans, a denim vest and some kind of metal-looking shirt. And, he was striking, out of place amongst the retro decor and disco lights. He didn’t look anything like the usual teenagers Murray chose, usually popular types with trendy clothes that would tell their friends to come and give the alley some business.

Seeing you appear Murray called you over to come meet “Eddie”. So, you made your way over, careful not to stare at the mysterious new guy.

“Y/n” barked Murray, full of impatience. “You know the drill. This is Eddie, show him the ropes, ok”. It wasn’t a question.

Eddie looked at you and outstretched a ringed hand towards you, which you took, hoping your fingers weren’t still as noticeably frozen to the touch as they felt to you. Damn that freezer. You inwardly cursed, noticing the shock of the cool metal against your skin.

“Nice to meet you”

Before you could speak Murray interjected. “Great. Let’s get to it then”. He then turned on his heel and retreated to his office, slamming the door behind him.

“Is he always like that?” Eddie asks after a few moments of awkward nothing.

You shrugged “he’s the resident bundle of sunshine”

There was another pause, so you grabbed the job clipboard and glanced down at it for some reprieve, even though you knew what had to be done inside out.

“Alright, toilets aren’t gonna scrub themselves. You are on urinal duty so buckle up.” You say after a moment.

Eddie winced but agreed, not letting his smile falter.

“Oh and –“ You tossed a T-shirt from under the counter at his face which he caught just in time. “You can put this on in the back room and I’ll meet you back here after” you add, pointing in the right direction. Eddie headed towards the back room, raising two fingers in a casual salute as he went.

When he emerged you noticed how different he looked in his lame polo uniform with the company name and rose logo over the left side of his chest. The shirt was too tight and accentuated his slim frame. He looked kind of lanky and far less intimidating than he did in his metal garb.

“Ok sweetheart, let’s go”

You paused, taken aback by the endearment.

“First of all, it’s y/n.” You replied curtly.  

His face dropped and he reached behind him to stroke the back of his neck in what appeared to be embarrassment, muttering a strained sorry.

“And second, we only have half an hour before the first kids’ birthday party. Trust me. That will be way worse than the toilets, so we better get going”

You headed for the bathroom, with a trailing Eddie in tow.

That half an hour was spent in mostly silence, aside from you barking the occasional instruction or comment to pick up the pace. At some point while you were holed up in the bathrooms the two line cooks must have arrived, as now you could hear the hum of their old radio and the clanging of pans from behind the shared wall. This signalled that the peaceful portion of the day – and your favourite – was over.

Once the bathrooms were as good as they were gonna get you asked Eddie to gather everything, and help you put it all back. You couldn't help but sigh unconsciously as you packed away the cleaning supplies.

“That bad huh?” He asked, looking right at you intently.

“What?”

“The impending birthday party mania” he replied, chuckling. “I feel like I’m about to go to war”

You scoff. “You’ll see” and you left it at that. If you told him the truth – that he was about to face six straight hours of children squealing and wiping up coagulated cheese – he might high tail it out of there. You already doubted he would be back tomorrow, most didn’t return or barely lasted a month working here.

“Ok, chief. Where do you want me?” he asked with a wide smile.

You ushered him to the shoe counter. If the overwhelming foot smell bothered him he didn’t let on. He listened to your shoe hire masterclass intently, nodding along and watching you carefully. His gaze was focused and you felt the blush clawing at your cheeks in response to it and prayed he didn’t notice it.

“I think that’s everything. Got it?” You added.

“Yes chief” He replied, way too enthusiastically.

You tried to hide your scepticism at his abilities, before quickly retreating to behind the main counter podium which was situated directly across from him. Here people could order food and pay for their sessions. This spot has become like your second home now. You had a book stashed below the counter, for the occasional quiet afternoon, and had free reign on the soda machine, which added significantly to the appeal of front counter duty.

At that moment the front door chime rang, and both you and Eddie’s eyes snapped towards it. Eddie looked kind of expectant, but you felt your stomach sink. That bell signalled the beginning of the end, as a group of fifteen 9-year-olds ran in and towards the shoe counter. A trailing weary-looking mother rushed in after them, and towards the counter, apologizing profusely.

You were used to this but watched Eddie out of the corner of your vision scrambling trying to hand out shoes to the group and talk over the screeching hoard to get sizes. After a few minutes, the kids were situated and rolling the first few balls, surrounded by a pile of Their outside shoes and their brightly coloured jackets strewn over the backs of the table behind their designated lane. Eddie watched on with a look that could only be described as bewildered, which you couldn’t help but snicker at, particularly as he glanced over to you with an exaggerated wide-eyed look on his face, playing it up.  

The rest of the day shift went by like a blur of French fries and frosting. Until about 4 o’clock, when there would be somewhat of a reprieve. The short break gave you time to clean up the aftermath of too much birthday party fun and have a quick smoke, and the half basket for fries which had been generously donated by the fry cooks.

Eddie found you leaning against the cold bricks out back, having a quiet moment and a well-earned cigarette. You were in your own world and didn’t even notice him until he spoke.

“Jesus h Christ.” He exclaimed, nearly scaring you half to death.

You looked at him in surprise.

“Sorry” he replied “didn’t mean to scare you”

“It’s fine.” You replied, half wishing he would go away. But instead, he sat down on the upturned milk crate and lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply, like his life depended on it.

It was silent for a moment as you both enjoyed the nicotine filling your veins. After a moment, he spoke again.

“Is it always like that?”

“Pretty much” you replied dryly, not looking at him.

“I thought you were exaggerating,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

“I wish. Nights are better. you’ll see” you said as you pushed off the wall and snuffed out your cigarette onto the asphalt with your shoe. “Just gotta hang in there for a few more hours”

You headed back inside and towards the kitchen to check on Jonathan and Argyle, who you found giggling and throwing a can of pinto beans pack and forth in some stoner iteration of the game catch.

“You guys good?” You interrupted, to which Argyle threw you two thumbs up and a smile, causing him to forget to catch the can. It crashed down onto the floor before rolling towards you. You caught it with the front of your sneaker before picking it up and placing the now dented can on the bench. The guys continued laughing and went back to their stations, argyle peeling potatoes and Johnathon stirring a huge vat of chili on the stove.

At that moment, Eddie walked in, hovering behind you at the door of the kitchen.

“Oh guys, I forgot to introduce you to the new guy before it got crazy out there. This is Eddie”

The boys turned and Jonathan’s face immediately lit up in recognition. “Eddie! Man it’s been ages! How are ya?” Obviously, they knew each other already, and launched into familiar conversation about mutual friends and their old school, which you took as your cue to leave and head back to the snack counter to finish off your prep.

Despite their stupidity, you had grown to love the cooks. Their hijinks made life worth living on the days when angry parents yelled at you or you had to wipe up vomit off the carpet because some teen had a few too many cheap beers. It had taken a while for you to warm up to them though, not knowing where you stood with the obviously bonded pair and taking months to have the courage to chat casually and bum smokes off of them when you were out.

Eddie seemed to have no trouble though, fitting right in with them already. He had had no trouble with the shoe counter either, settling into the job and the pace quickly, his customer service smile never faltering, even when one annoyed dad gave him a gutful about the table being sticky.

You couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at his easy manner with the customers, even on his first shift. Although you had been working there for a while, you struggled to keep up the niceties and had been told many times that your face said it all, even when you were trying to be friendly. It had taken you nearly 4 months to feel at home here and seeing new staff member breeze in was always a little frustrating. Why am I like this? You inwardly cursed, but the sound of the door chime interrupted the thought. It was time.

The night-time crowd was very different, consisting of serious bowlers and what you like to call “beer bowlers”. They were mostly teenagers, or your age, heading to the bowling alley for something to do while they got drunk and chatted shit.

You called out to Eddie to come out of the kitchen, before serving the new customers jugs of beer and a few bags of pretzels, and sending them over for shoes. After the first few groups were settled the pace settled and you got into your normal groove. It was like muscle memory at this point. Even when a pin got stuck and you had to shimmy down the gutter lane, it didn’t break your rhythm.

That was until you noticed Eddie eyeing you as you walked back down, so intently that you nearly fell off kilter.

That happened a few times, and you noted that he was probably just trying to learn the technique and was definitely not staring at you.

The next time the mechanism got stuck you were predisposed to five baskets of chili fries when you noticed and had to call Eddie over. He rounded the counter quickly, making his way towards you.

“What do you need, chief?”

“Oh Eddie, um, would you mind going down the lane for me?”

“No worries!” He said way too enthusiastically for someone agreeing to a job that could have them potentially lose a digit.

“Just watch your fingers, ok?!” You called out as he headed over to the offending lane, pulling his pants up by his back belt loops as he went.

You tried to focus on getting the baskets down on their respecting tables, and not watch him, but it was difficult. He moved effortlessly, gliding down the lane, despite his height and the narrow footing. Once at the end, he whipped the pin out without fear or hesitation, before turning back around and making his way back to where you were standing, with a noticeable smirk plastered across his cheeks.

“How was that boss?” He asked, looking chuffed at himself. His overly positive attitude was jarring considering how rough he had looked when he first walked in. You were also genuinely shocked at how nonchalantly he did that, considering it took you nearly 6 months to not feel your stomach drop when you faced down the barrel of the gutter.

“Honestly, impressive. I still shit myself every time.”

“Could have fooled me sweetheart – I mean shit, sorry, y/n – I watched you do it like 10 times and you looked like you were born to do it” he replied.

You blushed furiously at that, hoping it was hidden under the disco lights, scrambling to come up with a coherent response.

“I call it the jaws of death,” you said bluntly. “One of these days, someone will get maimed. Glad it wasn’t you. That would be a real shame on your first day.”

He chuckled at that “Me too. Would probably be a pain for you to re-wax the lane to get my blood out” You scoffed at that, hiding a smile, before noticing the line that had formed at the beer counter and you tearing yourself away from the conversation to handle it, somewhat disappointed.

The rest of the night went smoothly, with a steady pace of bowlers and drinkers filtering in and out. Finally, the shift was over and you had a moment to catch your breath outside with a well-earned smoke.

Eddie met you out there, again taking his place on the crate.

After a moment of silence, you decided to ask him the question. “So, your first day is done. Will you be back tomorrow?”

He signed, considering it for a moment. “That depends. Do I get any say on the music?”

“Unfortunately no, we only play pop hits in here, just the way the customers like it”

“That’s a damn shame, a little sabbath would really liven things up”

You couldn’t help but laugh picturing kids screeching happy birthday over blaring metal. “I’ll tell you what. Stick around a while and I’ll put in a good word for you with DJ Murray, ok?”

“Deal?” He asked, outstretching his palm towards you.

You considered it for a moment before gripping it tightly. Maybe this new guy might actually stick around for a while.

“Deal.”

Eddie Munson x fem reader 

Summary: After another busy weekend working at Hawkins Bowl, you and Eddie begin crossing the line between coworkers and something else.

Warnings: mentions of trauma. Slow burn - eventual smut. Eddie and reader are in their early 20s. No Vecna. 

Author's note: please reblog and comment :) would love to know what you think and where you would like the story to go.

Part 1 Part 3 Masterlist

It was your 74th Friday disco night at the alley. What started as a cheap ploy to lure in fresh customers had become like your own personal syncopated hell. On Fridays, the usual weird mish-mash of post-war Americana, all chrome and vinyl, turned psychedelic, as the coloured lights flashed to the rhythm and tiny squares of light danced across every surface for hours on end. 

The music was the same every Friday, and you were sure that tonight must have been the 74th time you had heard that same bee gees album. It was the kind of realization that left you wondering… 

How did I get here? 

Hawkins bowl was meant to be temporary, while you settled in and found your feet on your own. But time kept passing and you were still here. 

When you moved to Hawkins you had hoped that you were heading to a new place, a fresh start, someone where everything would be okay. Whatever it was, it was still better than where you came from. 

Anderson, Indiana was a small town with an even smaller town mentality. Full of zealots and hypocrites. In a place like that, you make one mistake and you're branded for life. Just like you were. 

A sinner they had called you. They probably still did. 

Your mistake was trusting Mark Elders. 

He had milky blue eyes and sandy hair and looked like he had just walked out of a wholesome mid-century rerun. He'd been kind and sweet, holding your hand and making promises to be together forever. You quickly learned to believe him. 

You'd trusted him when he said he loved you. And that the private things that happened between his sheets were just for the two of you. That was your biggest mistake. That, and not denying it when the town got wind of it. When your parents threw you out and uttered those words to your face. 

Sinner. Sinner. Sinner. 

The memory of the word still stung the backs of your eyes and left an acid taste on your tongue. 

You had always been a square peg in a round hole within your family. If you forced yourself you could fit, but it was clear you didn’t. Not really. They had always looked at you like you were a rogue browning leaf on a dusty indoor church plant. Not dead enough to ruin the whole plant, but just obtrusive enough to draw the eye of every parishioner. You were just never quite right. The way you talked, dressed, and even prayed was always under a microscope. 

Your mother had spent your entire life quietly correcting you as your father just watched on and shook his head. When Mark had pursued you they had been so proud. It was intoxicating. 

But that was then. This was Hawkins, now. Working the same shift, week after week. 

There were pros and cons, of course. A fresh start for one, a little comfy apartment. It was quiet, and here there were no unspoken expectations that you could never live up to. 

But you also had barely any friends, and the people you met at work never stayed long, so you kept going back to square one, over and over again. 

—- 

When Eddie walked at 5 pm that night his face twisted into an almost pained look. He shoved his jacket under the front counter with fervour. 

“What,” you asked, probably a little too shortly. You weren’t in the mood for complaints tonight. 

“If I have to hear The Bee Gees one more time, I might be forced to go postal.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, get used to it. I have” 

Eddie looked hard at you then, and you felt yourself shrink a little under his gaze, but he couldn’t hide the hint of playfulness in it. “You promised you would put in a good word with Murray about Metal night. I have half a mind to just resign.” 

You shook your head, suppressing a small smile. somehow he’d lightened your sour mood in all but a few minutes. 

“Well!?” He asked again, playing into it by raising his voice into a hysterical pitch.

“Just shut up and go shine some balls,” you replied, smirking and tossing a shining rag at him. 

“Oh, I will. But don’t think this is the last you’ve heard about this!” He yelled over his shoulder as he made his way over to the rack of balls against the far wall. 

Soon, the customers started trickling in, wearing too-tight shirts and sparkles. Within the hour, the beer was flowing freely and the crowd got louder, demanding the music be turned up. Between all of this, the sound of pins crashing and falling, the bright lights, and the smell of grease and sweat in the air, you could feel yourself settling into the routine of it all. You moved like clockwork, your muscles remembered each sequence from the time before. It was easy. 

You were so focused on the work you hadn’t noticed Eddie watching you all night long, enamoured by the way you effortlessly poured the tap and rounded each table, arms full of baskets and pitchers. He wasn’t sure why but, the way you carefully made your way up and down the lanes to free an errant pin, eyes front and ponytail swinging, made his stomach flip a little in its cavity. 

At one point, his distraction caused him to half-trip and nearly drop his bucket full of bussed dishes, to which you shook your head and suppressed a smug smile. This kind of clumsiness was becoming a regular thing with Eddie, and the way he tried to play it off to try and maintain a semblance of coolness was part of the goofy charm that made the hours working with him go quicker than usual. 

— 

Eddie watched you sing along to Gloria Gainer as you counted the final take, feeling almost disappointed that the night was over. He would have to go back to his trailer while you went wherever you lived. He wasn’t sure where, you never spoke about your personal life. 

“Ready to go?” You said suddenly, standing right in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed your approach. 

“Uh yeah, let me just grab my stuff” 

He rounded his counter and made a beeline to the front where he had stashed his jacket, then tugged it on quickly. You tried not to stare as he did so, noticing the way the skin under his hem poked out as he extended his arms into the sleeves. Stop. You inwardly scolded, wondering what had gotten into you. 

The two of you made your way out and simultaneously pulled out a well-earned cigarette each. When your lighter wouldn’t spark, despite your cupped hand sheltering it from the light breeze, Eddie wordlessly passed you his. 

After a moment, the acrid smoke was filling your lungs and your muscles were loosening. You suddenly noticed how much your feet ached. Great. You thought, anticipating the long walk home already. 

It was quiet, but not awkward, as you shared the moment, but before long Eddie was stubbing his cherries stub into the cement with a heavy boot and shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow” he murmured, turning towards his lone van in the alley lot. That’s when it hit him that you didn’t have a car here. 

He turned suddenly on his heel back towards you, before speaking. 

“Need a ride?” 

You did. Your car had been in the shop for a week now, and with every day that passed, you imagined the bill growing exponentially and tried to push the thought of eating noodles for the next month away. 

“Ummm, that’s ok. I don’t mind walking” you replied, trying to sound nonplussed “Thanks though” 

Eddie's eyes darted around the lot before he quickly came back towards you. 

“Look, I can’t let you walk” 

“Why not?” You asked, confused. 

“You're not from around here so I’m not surprised you don’t know….” He paused, and furrowed his brow, unsure of how to phrase what was to come next “A few years ago there was some strange stuff that happened in Hawkins and a bunch of missing people…” 

You brushed it off, folding your arms across your chest and looking bemused, but Eddie continued. 

“I’m serious y/n. If I let you walk I won’t get any sleep tonight” you noted he looked genuinely concerned. 

“Alright, fine.” You replied after considering it for a moment and stubbing out your own cigarette. “Thanks, Eddie” 

At this, his face lit up and he gestured dramatically towards the rusty beat-up van you assumed was his. “Your chariot is right the way madam” 

“Ok. Settle down,” you said, smirking at his theatrics, as you made your way to the passenger door. “It’s just one lift, don’t think you can sweet talk me into some kind of promotion” 

Eddie wanted to open the door for you but decided against it. Don’t get ahead of yourself Munson. He thought bitterly, reminding himself you were still his boss and it was just a ride home. You weren't friends.

The journey was comfortable. The speakers blared heavy riffs and astringent vocals you didn’t recognize, but also didn’t mind. After a while, you could help but nod along to the beat. 

“I didn’t know you were into metal” Eddie said, breaking you out of your trance. 

“I’m not. But I don’t mind this” 

He nodded, trying to hide how his stomach did another little flip as he scrambled to find more conversation. 

After a moment, he spoke again “I know you aren’t from Hawkins, so, where are you from” 

“Anderson.” You replied curtly. “Not far from here” 

He really wanted to know whether you still had family there but thought better of it. Instead, he asked, “Never heard of it. What brought you to Hawkins?” 

You considered that for a moment, “you wouldn’t have. It’s pretty conservative. I just never really fit in right there” 

“Huh,” Eddie replied, darting a look at you. 

“What’s that look for?”

“That’s how I feel about Hawkins” he replied, taking his eyes off the road to properly look at you for a little too long.

You shifted in your seat in the discomfort of the conversation. It was clear he was trying to blur the line between coworkers and friends, and you knew you needed to shut it down. 

So you changed the subject, “I’m just down this street on the left” 

“Oh ok, no worries” 

When you arrived outside your apartment, Eddie cut the engine and the van filled with a silence you wanted to wriggle away from. After a moment, he spoke. 

“I think you and me are a little the same”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to brush him off. You didn’t want to give him anything more than you already had. Not now anyways. He might be trying to cross over, but you stood firmly on your side of the invisible line. 

“In your dreams maybe” 

Eddie let out a huffed laugh in response as you opened your door and hopped out of the van, grinning to yourself. Sure you had avoided revealing anything personal but it still wasn’t often you lowered the assistant manager veil you seemed to always wear and joked with him. At least he hoped you were. 

Whatever it was, he would take it. 

——  

It was a regular Saturday night at the alley; super busy and full of drunkards rather than serious bowlers. On these kinds of nights, the bowling seemed to become secondary to the food and beer, and you spent most of the night running greasy baskets and icy pitchers to and from the tables. 

As the hubbub slowed, some stragglers in the corner remained, obviously sloshed and getting louder as the clock hit 9:30, signalling it was time to start closing up. 

You hadn’t noticed how Eddie had eyed them all evening, watching them carefully to make sure they kept to themselves. They were old classmates of his and Eddie sensed they had come there to cause him trouble. 

Around 10, the main guy, a blond preppy-looking Everyman approached Eddie at the shoe hire. At first, it looked like they were chatting, but Eddie’s expression was pressed into a hard line. Soon, the rest of the guys joined the first, and you noticed them starting to crowd him by leaning over the counter.

At first, you ignored it, but quickly it was clear something was wrong so you decided to go see what was happening. 

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” you asked in the most forced Manager tone you could muster. The guys start snickering and one even elbows the other in his rib. 

Here we fucking go you thought dryly. 

“It's fine,” Eddie mutters to you. He was looking down and appeared more uncomfortable than you had ever seen him, which set immediate alarm bells off in your head.

“You heard him – “ the man, who appeared to be the ringleader drawled out as he glanced down at your right breast where your name tag hung. He lingered there a moment too long “Y/n. Itssss fine” 

Another of the guys piped up then. “Just saying hello to our little friend Eddie here. We haven't seen him for a while. Isn't that right Munson?”

Eddie’s lip curled into a scowl but he stayed quiet. Seeing this, Manager you decided that it was time to intervene. You didn't know what this game was but you had already had enough of it.  

“Look guys, we are actually just closing up so I'll just get you your shoes and you can be on your way out” Your tone was firm but you plastered a sickening smile on your face.

“Munson, you gonna let your girl here kick us out?”

“Your such a pussy, freak” he added, placing a hand on the counter and leaning into Eddie’s face “Got no idea why folks are scared of such a fucking pussy”

Freak? The word reverberated in your skull. 

“It’s time to go. Now.” you spat, not even sure you had spoken as it left as if your mouth was full of cotton wool. As you did you reached under the counter to grab the last foreign shoes remaining and slammed each pair on the glass top, which forced the guy to step back. Eddie flinched slightly with each thud, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. 

“Need your little slut girlfriend to fight your battles for you?” 

Slut. That word hit you like a freight train, triggering a memory that had the bile rising sharply in your throat and every fibre in your body telling you to run.

“You know what? I think we are gonna stay a while longer”, the main blond said with an arrogant grin, backing away from the counter while throwing back the last of his beer. “Actually freak, grab us another beer, would you? Don't think your girlfriend here is as obliging as she looks”

It was silent for a moment, which felt like minutes. Suddenly, Eddie stood sharply before rounding the counter and stomping towards the ringleader. Before you could even register what was happening Eddie had grabbed the man by the collar of his starched polo shirt and was shoving him towards the door, while you watched, frozen in place.

The anger in him was palpable and you noticed his knuckles had turned white where he fisted the guy's shirt, and the tendon in his jaw tightened as you imagined him clenching his teeth together. He pushed all of them out the door, to which they were surprisingly compliant, probably due to all the beer, as he yelled at them to fuck off and never come back. 

You barely heard it as the ringing in your eardrums intensified and the blood drained from your face, forcing you to shakily sink down to the floor behind the counter. 

Their words had pierced through the fragments of yourself you had painstakingly put back together, trying to break them into pieces again. And just like that, the memories of whispers, and of all-out accusations came flooding back. It was like you were right back where you started.

Eddie was back in front of you within seconds, holding your upper arms firmly and saying your name over and over, trying to bring you back to your body. 

“y/n, please you're scaring me” he uttered frantically, his face panic-stricken. “You're ok. Its ok, I promise they are gone”  

You came to, feeling his strong hands on you, but couldn't find words in your throat to speak.

“Are you ok?” he asked, with a concerned look on his face you had never seen before. You just nodded, placing your face in your hands, suddenly aware that you didn't want him to see you cry. You wanted to hide. No one was supposed to see this, especially not the goofy guy who worked with you at this tacky small-town bowling alley. 

Eddie didn't let go of you. After a few moments, you looked up at him, bleary-eyed.

“It's ok. You are safe now, I promise”

“I - I’m sorry” you managed to choke out. 

“No, I am y/n. Those assholes never would have bothered you if it wasn't for me” 

“W-why did they call you that?” you asked quietly. 

“A freak?” he asked, almost taken aback, before realizing you were serious. “Because I am” he replied like it was nothing. 

You just stared at him confused until he elaborated. 

“Well, not anymore. The whole thing is so fucking dumb, ok.” he took a deep breath before continuing. “This town has it in their heads that I’m some kind of Satanist, or like a cult leader or something” he looked down as he spoke, and you sensed a change in his demeanour as he shifted from kneeling in front of you to sitting with his back against the shelves in the small space. 

“Oh,” you uttered, slowly letting out the breath you had been holding in without realizing it. “I guess I know something about that” 

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you replied but didn’t elaborate. Looking at him now, in the blue UV light of the alley, he looked sad. Not the cool, edgy guy you had met just a few weeks before. Instead, he just looked tired. It was a feeling you knew well. 

You placed your hand lightly on his boot, before speaking. “I know what it's like to be branded something you're not.” 

Eddie smiled slightly at that, resting his head on the shelves. He wanted you to explain but didn’t want to push as this was the most personal information he’d ever gotten out of you. Besides, he swore he could feel the heat of your palm through the leather and laces, and the feeling was so soft and comforting that it forced the last trickle of adrenaline to leave his body. 

You both sat for a while, listening to the repetitive droll of Rick Astley until the tape clicked, signalling the end of the 8 track mix, and bringing you both back to reality. 

“I guess we better finish up,” you said with a sigh while pulling yourself up from the floor. Eddie nodded and stood also, immediately missing the feel of your hand resting on him.

“You finish up cleaning back here and I’ll count the till, ok.” 

Eddie nodded again, feeling a lump of disappointment rise in his throat at the return to reality. He knew it was stupid, after all, you were his boss and he was just the shoe hire guy. One of probably dozens you’d seen over the years at that. He tried to remind himself that you didn’t owe him any explanations. 

You both closed up in silence. The last thing Eddie did was toss the forgotten shoes of the asshole guys into an old lost and found basket in the back room, hoping it was the last he'd see of them for a while. The place felt cold when we returned to the empty alley. Marilyn’s regular smiling face on the wall turned almost mocking in the now darkened room as you both shuffled out in silence and bolted the front entrance. You didn’t even argue when Eddie told you he was giving you a lift home. 

As you rode home in silence your body felt stiff, and your mind numb, like you weren’t really there at all. Although he had been probably joking, in light of the evening's events, you wondered if maybe he was right. Maybe you and Eddie were a bit the same. 

But, none of that mattered right now. You were tired and ached to pull the covers up and let the riptide pull you out into the deep. At least for tonight. 

Tomorrow would be another day. 

— 

Eddie Munson x goth fem reader

Summary: Post S4, canon-divergent — Eddie survived the “earthquake” and had his name cleared. It’s now 1990 and the town is changing, as a bunch of young artists and creatives move in. Eddie meets a girl and sees the possibility of a different kind of life for himself.

Warnings: some angst, fluff and a happy ending for our man

Author's note: the conclusion. I hope I bought it all together in a way that wasn't too cheesy. Let me know what you think in the comments

MINORS DNI

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Masterlist    

Eddie believed there were some things he would just never see in his lifetime. A decent remake of Lord of the Rings, for one thing. He knew that would never happen. He also knew he would never see Steve with a shaved head. That he was sure of. But he really never thought he would see Main Street actually being repaired.

After four years of temporary rerouting signs and cones around the deep chasms in the earth, seeing workmen and machinery on the site and actually at work didn’t feel real to Eddie.

The fault lines had sat as an unwelcome reminder to the town of its past and the people now gone, either to someplace else or below. For Eddie and the others, it was even more jarring seeing them every day. It was a reminder of a dormant threat, an unvanquished foe, and a fight that had nearly killed them. The gates had been closed, but some ends couldn’t get entirely tied.

Eddie watched the asphalt being poured, pressed and rolled, from his vantage point at the garage. They paved over all the evidence. He had thought that when this finally happened that it would bring the closure he and the others needed, that this would really mean freedom. But Eddie felt a knot form in his stomach as he watched on, and felt the pink scars across his body itch. The road may be fixed, but some things would never fully be.

Not yet, anyway.

The road works took a week, and then the sidewalks took another. And before he knew it, it was done. It was like the old Hawkins again. But not for Eddie.

—

All he could focus on was college. Dreading getting home every day to find an inevitable rejection. You reassured him every time he mentioned not having heard anything yet that it would be an acceptance, and not to be so defeatist. Damn, that optimistic goth of mine. He would curse inwardly. And then curse himself again. You weren’t his.

But you were still around.

After the night at your apartment, things shifted slightly. You had let down your walls a little, and let him see you as you really were. A little insecure, and maybe not as invincible as you let on. Maybe that would have scared some people, but to Eddie, it made you more beautiful, and just more real. More like him – anxious, damaged, and just plain scared shitless all the time.

You had helped him see things in himself too. Good things. Like that, he might actually have some talent, which you never shied away from reminding him of. You also never got tired of listening to him practice, while sitting on the edge of your bed, scribbling down lyrics and notes as he went. you would hum along and doodle aimlessly, laying on your stomach next to him and licking your legs. Those easy afternoons gave him a flutter in his chest he tried to ignore.

You reassured him too when Hawkins locals would stare. You didn’t mention it or say anything, just place your hand softly on his arm to say it’s ok, I’m not going anywhere. Just a simple gesture that would help ease his anger and anxiety.

And you never pushed him, allowing him to go his pace, and letting him come to you. In the beginning, just calling you made him sick to his stomach, but now it was routine. It was easy, and Eddie hadn’t felt so alone these past few weeks.

—-

As the end of the semester rolled around you retreated to the confines of your room to finish your final assessments, before leaving for Chicago to visit your parents. Eddie could tell you weren’t looking forward to it, and from what you had said about your mum, it probably wouldn’t be a vacation.

He missed you more than he expected, especially the day the letter he had been dreading arrived.

He couldn’t look inside. He didn't even want to hold it for too long, as it felt heavy in his hands. Eddie was painfully aware that this was it. There was way too much tied to this outcome. The stakes were way too high.

Eddie hated this kind of thing. Just when he was starting to feel like he had a handle on life's door, it was like it would rip off its hinges and he was left standing in the entryway, too scared to move forward and unable to go back. Like he was stuck.

He had to open the letter.

—

“Hey stranger” you answered after your mother called out to pick up the upstairs phone. There was only one person who had been calling you here.

“Hey”

You noticed how unsure he sounded straight away. “Everything ok?”

“It came”

You had to think for a second before realization set in. “Oh…”

“I can’t open it. Maybe I’ll get Wayne to do it. I wish you were here so you could”

Butterflies fluttered down low in your stomach upon hearing that. Even though you had been spending more time together, the times when Eddie was vulnerable with his feelings for you were still scarce. It was like finding a little breadcrumb to follow, and you couldn’t get enough.

Before you could respond he interjected. “I mean – um I just mean, like, because you helped me out with it.”

At that, you felt yourself smiling into the headset like a damn fool “It’s ok Eddie, I know what you meant”

There was a moment's pause.

“So are you gonna open it? How can you even wait!? I would have torn it open.” You ask.

“In my experience, nothing good comes in an envelope. Speeding fines, court summons that one time, and more notices of academic probation for Wayne than I care to remember” he replied dryly.

“This one will be good Eddie”

“How do you know?”

“Well. You are due for a win” you replied, trying for a joke but you both knew it was true.

He chuckled. “Ha. Maybe you’re right”

At that moment, your mum called up the stairs to come down for dinner.

“I gotta go but when you open it, call me back straight away. Ok?”

“Ahh Yeah, ok”

“Bye Eddie.”

—

The next few days crawled by. Eddie tried not to make eye contact with the letter, which he had thrown onto his bedside table in a bid to be nonchalant about it, despite it being the more important fucking letter he might ever get. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

It wasn’t even just about college, although the opportunity to pursue his dream weighed heavy. This outcome also tied him to you and a possible future that he wasn’t even sure you would want. Maybe you wouldn’t drop him if he didn’t get in. Maybe you would find some talented guy at college to be your proper boyfriend. Someone sure of themselves, who would have the guts to just ask you to be his and not linger at your side like an awkward puppy, longing for scraps of your attention like he felt like he did.  

Maybe it would ruin everything.

Things were nice right now, casual. You hung out together, sharing your stories, each of your designated hobbies and favourite music. And you shared moments of intimacy like they were stolen from somewhere far away.

Eddie knew that in the moment they felt good and real but it was almost like they didn’t quite belong to him. And he was so sure they wouldn’t last. Soon you would realize your error and push him away. In the moment, he tried to shake the thought away, pressing his mouth into a firm line between passionate kisses and sloppy thrusts, so as not to let how he truly felt slip.

You noticed of course. It felt like he was never fully able to let go and let himself want you the way you wanted to be wanted. You wanted him to babble your name, whisper sweet nothings as he touched you, and tell you that he would never go anywhere, for as long as you would have him.

You weren’t sure when that switch had happened. One day you were sitting as strangers across from each other at the diner. And now, the thought of him invaded every moment of silent peace. You couldn’t believe how quickly you had fallen. But you guessed that was because people never really know who's waiting for them, or when love could come their way. It’s completely random. Or maybe that bullshit concept of fate that you never let yourself fully believe. Maybe we make our own destinies. You couldn't know for sure. But it was real, now, and the need to tell him the truth the second you got back from Chicago.

The days counted down slower than you would have liked. Between trying not to fight with your mother and not going insane worrying about what you would say to Eddie when you got home, it was near torture. He had to know that this meant more to you than the current situation had space for. That you wanted more from him and for him to take that leap that showed he wanted you to.

—-

Eddie looked up to see you enter the diner. It was your first day back from your holiday break, having called him first thing when you got home to ask to see him.

Seeing you here now, he noted how beautiful you were, just like you had been that first night he saw you in the dull lights of the seedy hideout after his set. That night you were all edges, in fishnets and bondage. But today, you wore a long black velvet dress with bell sleeves, like some kind of dark angel or enchanted Forest nymph. You were like nothing else he’d known in this god-forsaken town before, he thought, seeing the light spill in behind you as you strode towards him.

You took your seat across from him, nodding and smiling at the prompt new waitress, as she filled your mug, before looking straight at him. He felt himself shrink a little under your gaze, knowing that this may be the last time you would look at him with those pretty and encouraging eyes of yours.

You sensed his nerves and decided to break the silence.

“So”

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling the folded and now crumpled and slightly dirty envelope from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, setting it on the table like a ticking time bomb between you.

After a moment you spoke. “Eddie, I just want you to know.” You paused, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and looking down. “That… either way, nothing's gonna change between us, ok? You’ll try out again, or we will figure something else out – “You knew you were rambling but the words were spilling out unchecked, despite days of silent practice between the walls of your old bedroom.

He reached out and took your hand, a foreign gesture between the two of you that made your heart soar and gave you the courage to look back up into his big brown expectant eyes.

A playful smile danced across his lips as he spoke now.

“What if I don’t want that?”

Your heart sank. This was what you had been dreading. He was sick of you, just like all the rest had gotten. He’d seen the real you as the veil of novelty had worn off and didn’t want any of it.

Noticing your mood shit, he tightened his hold on your hand. “No I mean, what if I don’t want things to stay the same?” He paused, trying to gauge your reaction. You seemed far, far away.

“Oh,” you muttered.

“No, umm – what if I want more?”

You looked up at him in full surprise, the wind feeling like it had been knocked clean out of you.

He continued, knowing this was his one shot. “You are so talented and could do better than me, but I want to be with you –  really be with you –  regardless of what’s in this,” he said, gesturing towards the offending envelope.

“The more I thought about it the more realistic I became” he added matter-of-factly. “If they did any kind of background check on me I’m not getting in. But that’s ok, you know, I’m prepared for that. But I’m not prepared to lose you or go one more day not having the guts to tell you how I feel. I just want you, ok?”

You were truly stunned and felt tears of joy and relief swelling in your eyes. You tried to collect the millions of thoughts that were crossing your mind before you spoke again.

“That’s all I want too,” you said, smiling and gripping his hand as tight as you could.

“Fuck ok, Jesus – I wasn’t expecting that” he replied chuckling, letting go of your hand,  looking towards the ceiling and bringing his palm to his chest. “I’m so fucking relieved!”

You wiped the tears from your eyes as he steadied himself, laughing tearily too.

But you still had to know.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Open the damn letter now please, before I do”

He laughed, picking it up off the laminate table top. It almost felt lighter now. He ripped it open sloppily and unfolded the page.

His eyes widened as he read the words in front of him in disbelief.

“What? Eddie, oh my god, what does it say?!” You asked too loudly, enough to garner attention from the other patrons.

“I got in” he replied, looking up at you, his chocolate eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“WHAT!” You answered, jumping up, and rounding the table to plonk yourself next to him in the booth. The letter was trembling in his hands as you took it from him to read it yourself.

When you were done reading you looked up at him filled with pride, noticing that he looked utterly bewildered. So, you pulled him against your chest to ground him.

“You did it Eddie. I’m so proud of you” you whispered into his ear as you held him.

He pulled you in close. “You helped me get here, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life showing you it was worth all of your effort.”

You pulled back, looking into his eyes with a serious look. “Eddie, you've already shown me. You are worth the effort”

At that moment, Eddie wanted to tell you that he loved you but knew that it could wait. It felt like he now had all the time in the world with you in front of him and there was no need to rush.

He’d waited four long years to feel even a little bit normal again, wondering if he would get to see a proper future for himself in his lifetime. He was still a murderer to half the people in this diner. nothing would ever change all the things he had seen and all the pain. The fear that he might never shake. And, that future was still so uncertain now too, but this was something. A fresh start.

There was hope for him yet.

What is it about SNatsis - and lying..?   

This blog is replete with many, many instances of the SNatsi Parti lying its ass off, over and over again.  But the latest SNatsi lier is surprising - even by SNP standards.

Acclaimed - ahem - songwriter and dyed in the wooly-thoughts separatist Eddie Reader is currently in a Twitter battle to justify a series of statements including: “I was a No voter. I changed my mind” ..!

Not only is she notoriously a ‘yes’ supporter - and no one can find any record of her supporting a No Vote - but the internet is littered with her statements of support for yes.  As she proclaimed:

So then she tried to backtrack claiming that it was earlier that she had been a “No voter” (quite how that works, pre the actual vote, we’ll set to one side).  When challenged she claimed to have come round to Yes in “early spring 2014. 

Really, said the eagle-eyed on the net:

Plain, unvarnished facts are these - there is no record she can point to to back up her story.  While there are volumes or examples (not included here - but they are out there - see just one thread at this link) that show she is being openly untruthful.

It's part of a couple of SNatsi threads of late - first the more longstanding one: any lie, any exaggeration, any mischaracterization - any of them is ok if it serves the ‘transcendent objective’ the SNP has to break up the UK.  (See many other examples throughout this blog - just got to thearchy and input the work “lie”).  Secondly, as support for the separatist cause has stalled and reversed - and the Flailing First Minister cannot afford to call the second referendum that she repeatedly promises is ‘imminent’, ‘inevitable’ and ‘impending’ - the tactics must adapt.

There needs to be a narrative that ‘the tide is turning’ - and that what was once ‘No’ is now ‘YES..!’  It's not.

There are other examples of less high profile liars being caught out claiming to have once been ‘No’ but having ‘changed their mind.  Reader is not only the latest but the most absurd, given her public record of ‘Yesisims’.

One can only wonder if the musician and lyricist who wrote:

“What a wonderful lie What a wonderful lie What a wonderful lie What a wonderful lie What's the truth ever done for me? I don't know So tell me again Tell me again Tell me again This wonderful lie All i want is something i can't have And if you can't tell the truth Then make it a wonderful lie”

… has finally fallen for her own lines...  ?

In 2009 Paul won the award for Best Pianist at the first Scottish Jazz Awards ceremony, and in 2011 received another award for Best Project. As an arranger he’s been commissioned by the Scottish National Jazz Orchestra to write for musicians as diverse as John Scofield and Eddi Reader. His interest in spontaneous improvisation and electronica find a combined outlet in his current main project Sugarwork and also the experimental duet Herschel 36 with percussionist Stuart Brown.

What was your favourite venue to play in or the best gig you saw in 2018?

The best gig I saw was Jason Moran’s “Harlem Hellfighters”, timed to coincide with centenary of Armistice day, and brilliantly shining a light on the early jazz pioneer James Reece Europe, a black American bandleader who fought on the frontline. The music was hard-hitting and original, yet drawing on historical styles, and the multimedia element of the concert, which can often be often bogus, was perfectly judged.

Did you record anything this past year? Collaborate with anyone?

I recorded and collaborated on a few albums this year, all of which will be released in 2019: an album by Mr. Mcfall’s Chamber for Delphian records will include two commissions I composed for the group, one of which is “Born In Dirt An’ Din”, a piece themed on the Glasgow shipyards.  It was a pleasure to play with the legendary jazz vocalist Carol Kidd on her new album for which I also contributed the string arrangements for her fascinating song choices. Also, a long-awaited album from Simon Thacker’s Ritmata, featuring the most intricate and challenging music I’ve ever played.

Were there any downsides to 2018 for you? If you could change one thing about the music industry in 2018 what would it be?

Downsides – not enough gigs… Note to other musicians – I’m not expensive! Try me! I’m struggling to think of downsides, but I have to say that it’s frustrating to see that we still have the same ongoing problems – too few venues, many losing support, and too many that are managing to survive are working on fragile margins and tiny budgets and struggling to entice people out of their homes to gigs.

What has been on your turntable/phone/iPod/car stereo this year that you have particularly enjoyed listening to?

Oh, all kinds of things – avant-garde saxophonist and composer Anna Webber’s “Simple”, Sam Cooke’s live concert recording “One Night Stand! Live at the Harlem Square Club”, the beautiful melodies of the computer game soundtrack “Fez” by Disasterpiece.

Do you have any ambitions or exciting plans for 2019?

Stu Brown and I, together known as Herschel 36, are taking our “Wunder Der Schöpfung” silent film score back out on tour, including the Hebridean Dark Skies festival in Stornoway in February. This will coincide with the release of an album, 3 years in the making, from live recordings we made on tour in 2016.

You can learn more about Paul at his website here

Having the commodity of patience in abundance, means you can remain calm, In the face of adversity. Even when you’ve been waiting like what feels like forever or dealing with something so painstakingly slow or trying to teach someone how to do something, that they just don’t get. It involves acceptance and tolerance. The ability to be as patient as an angel. Well I’m impatience personified, and it would be tensioning the tendons and ligaments of truth to say I handle this emotion well.

Lets put it in layman’s terms. We all have 24 hours per day. In that we are all equal. However the amount of 24 hour periods is a little more open to hope and inquiry. So time is a wasting. The to musical opposites in question are, and in the blue corner is “I want it all (and I want it now)” by Queen. Freddie Mercury a man that you could argue, lived his life excessively and paid the price. In the red corner Patience of Angels by Eddie Reader. A beautiful lyrically crafted meander through a life of anonymity, repetition and hope. As with everything there is possibly a measured and counter balanced response. On this issue however the fence is to splintery and abrasive on my derriere, that I can only fall on one side.

So I’m a blue corner thinker. how long have I got on this ragged patch of earth? Unanswerable and unknown. Have I got time therefore to waste, dither, procrastinate, pontificate on the circumstances around me. Do I have time to allow the planets to align. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t? But waiting isn’t going to achieve anything. But the more analytical of you. The planners, the prodders and the calculators. Would see no method in this impulsive madness. The horizon can only be seen, when a sturdy platform, on firm footings has been erected to get a pure salient perspective of the horizon and all the beauty it holds. Alternatively bumped, broken, shamed and bruised encounter after encounter (not diminishing all the life experience along the route) you wake up one day, beaten to submission or joyous in a journeys end.

This is not about money, not about status or stature its about your Elysium on earth. The plateau where all your (and yours alone) satisfactions is met. I’m trying to find a balance of the 2 valuable enemies and allies. I would glean far more life credits in thinking that I threw everything and failed, than If I had all the tent poles erected but never the canvas.

So the advocacy here is patience may well be a virtue, It maybe a waste of time? “I was waiting for something extraordinary to happen but as the years wasted on, nothing ever did unless I caused it.” – Charles Bukowski. Impulsive people that are not as patient as an angel. They are just balls out, pigeon hole failure as the way not to do things, and deal with what life hurls at them. I am not so enveloped in wisdom that I have any definitive answer.

But an equation on our lives for the numerically ordered amongst us is one day waiting = one non-refundable day gone. I found this opinion and thought provocation from music. What life lessons have you learnt from music?

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