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namirasmoon · 2 years

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OH HELL YEAH ITS TIME

hawkins' sweetheart - ch one

Eddie Munson x virgin!fem!Reader (SFW)

Synopsis: When an old classmate asks you to tutor him, it's kinda hard to say no when he's on his third attempt at graduating. Except Eddie Munson's the last person your parents want a sweet, innocent girl like you tutoring. They think Hawkins' freak is going to corrupt Hawkins' sweetheart. But they're not exactly far off...

Warnings: nsfw in future parts; fluff, romantic tension, Eddie being an intimidating goofball, reader being sexually repressed, hints of corruption & innocence kink (expect more later)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Let the eddie munson thirsting begin. NSFW comes soon, I promise ;)

The summer heat cooked the interior of your car. Three weeks into the school year should’ve marked a slight chill in the air, but you were blasting your AC and watching the football team run laps around the field. Five more minutes. You could spare five more minutes before traversing the heat to find your first appointment. Four forty-five minute ones today, an hour and a half long one tomorrow, then repeat until next week.

You glanced down at the textbooks on your passenger seat and shoved your campus I.D. underneath the stack.

This had been your schedule for a year now—you’d manage.

Classes, tutoring, chores, volunteering. Same schedule, different students, a new year.

You’d manage.

You threw on a smile as you left your car. It was a genuine one as you peered up at Hawkins High School. The memories weren’t that far in the past, but they still felt dreamy as they washed over you. Volunteering with your friends on the weekends, dancing between clubs and classes, tutoring students in the afternoons. Although back then, you hadn’t tutored as seriously as you did now.

It was experimental. Your parents had suggested you take it on after you helped a classmate out. When they came back with positive results and the offer of paying you to continue helping them, your parents swapped some of your clubs for tutoring sessions. Encouraged you to take on more students–under and upperclassmen. And since you liked seeing how happy they were after succeeding, you stuck with it.

It’s what kept the smile tugging on your lips when you continued it after graduation–even when you had your own classes to work on. But if you could balance it in high school, you could do the same in college.

You found the first kid outside the front of the school, fidgeting as you approached. Jeremy Walker. A nervous freshman who was already struggling in math–had been since middle school too. He’d been doing better since you’d started working with him, but the nerves hadn’t dissipated.

You waved and motioned towards the doors that’d lead you to the library.

“Hey, Jeremy. Let’s head inside where it’s nice and cool.”

There was him, the sophomore Kathleen who needed help in her English class, the freshman Corey who had a personal vendetta against math and science, then the junior year football player, Todd, who needed help working on his papers. He could get the points, but couldn’t form the sentences.

It made for long days, but you preferred these days over Mondays and Wednesdays. Those were made up of three back-to-back classes at the local college and the hour-and-a-half tutoring session with the overconfident Spencer Marden. A junior whose parents wanted him on track for Harvard. Even if he barely had a 3.5 GPA.

Those sessions were always exceptionally, frustratingly long.

But you always tried to look at each new day as a form of excitement–at what new thing they might bring to the table. Whether it came at the beginning of the day when you were driving to campus or at the end of the day when you were walking one of your students out.

“Hey, get home safe, Todd.” You gave his backpack a quick pat. He grinned, silently suffering through the heat in his letterman jacket. “You did good today, that was a really good paper. Be proud.”

“Thanks. See you Thursday, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You waved as he started towards his car and you rolled your shoulders, trying to work a kink out of them. The sun was long past its highest point, but the heat was still seeping through the air like it was. Dinner would be soon, but not soon enough that you could take a few minutes to unwind. So you closed your eyes and dropped your head back, smiling up at the sky. Tried to let the long day wash away, but the knot in your shoulder was throbbing. At least the wind was nice.

A nice, gentle breeze that carried something new with it.

It came in the form of four words, some approaching footsteps, and the faint scent of cigarette smoke.

“Not interrupting, am I?”

Your brows furrowed as you cracked an eye open.

A somewhat familiar face gave you a wide grin as he leaned against a streetlight. He had to be hot in his leather jacket and jean vest combo, especially with the black jeans and long brown hair. But he seemed entirely unaffected by the weather as he shifted up and took a few steps towards you.

“Eddie, right?” You narrowed your eyes and bit your lip. “Munson. Eddie Munson. We had an English class together my senior year.”

He sucked in his cheeks and put a hand over his heart.

“Wow, you do remember me. Saves me an awkward introduction.” He crossed his arms as he got closer, stopping a foot away.

It was hard not to remember him. He was nothing if not memorable. His local reputation also contributed to that. Most knew who he was, at least in your circle, because he was the guy you stayed away from. The number one bad influence.

He was also the guy who sat a few seats behind you in Mrs. Mullen’s English class. The only ones who really interacted with him were his direct friends and those who wanted to buy whatever illegal substances he had on him.

You two, for any of the four years you attended school together, did not directly interact.

“You, uh, you still tutoring kids?”

Eddie held up an old flier you’d posted around the school when the year had started. You’d taken most of them down since most of the slots had been filled. At least, you thought you had. All of the tabs with your home number on the bottom were gone on the one in his hand.

“I am.” You motioned to where Todd was backing out of his parking spot. “Just finished for the day. Why? Know someone who needs help?”

“Yeah.” He laughed a little nervously. A surprising sight on the guy who looked even more intimidating now than he had back then. “I, uh, I’m trying to finally graduate, but I’m struggling a bit. Saw this and remembered hearing how everyone talked you up back then. I was wondering if you had any openings.”

It was a bad idea to even entertain the thought. The odds of your parents agreeing to let you tutor Eddie was slim to none. He wasn’t just the number one bad influence amongst your friends—you had no doubt it stretched to your parents as well. But they’d been the ones that made you start tutoring in the first place, and you never turned down someone who needed help. Even if this was what had to be his third attempt at senior year.

Especially because of that.

“That depends on what you’re looking for. Day, time, length. I charge four dollars every thirty minutes. I only do it Monday through Thursday, and save Friday and the weekend for any extra sessions.” You glanced down at your watch and hoped he wasn’t going to say Tuesdays and Thursdays were his only free days. You weren’t sure you could handle another student. “So, those are my stipulations.”

“Okay. I can get behind those.” Eddie nodded, and you watched his hair bounce. “But, uh, about payment.”

You couldn’t fight the smile he pulled out of you when he gave you a wry, sly look.

“I am open to negotiation.” You were, and normally you’d only bend by fifty cents. But based on the look Eddie gave you, you had a feeling it was going to be a lot more than that.

“Does it have to be monetary?” He tilted his head, and the smile he gave you was almost charming. Enough so that it made you feel like you were in on some inside joke you knew wasn’t there.

“I would prefer it to be monetary.” But you were nothing if not a helper. And of all the students you’d taken on, Eddie was the one who could probably use your help the most. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I do have direct access to weed and beer and…” He shrugged. “Fun stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“I think you already know none of those are enticing to me.”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re Hawkins’ sweetheart.”

You scoffed and glanced down at your feet.

That wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Far from it. When you’d volunteered during high school—food drives, homeless shelters, and afterschool clubs at the middle school—you were always the sweetheart.

The one who was extra patient, the one who was always offering to stay later or put in the extra effort. Knew everyone's names and always had a smile locked and loaded. It attributed the sweetheart label to you within a matter of weeks. But you never saw yourself like that—you really just preferred to be nice. It was how you’d been raised.

And that niceness extended to helping out an old classmate, regardless of his reputation. Regardless of payment.

“Tell me the days and times. We can figure out payment later.” You looked out over the parking lot and caught Eddie matching you, watching as a car drove by.

“Mondays and Wednesdays work best for me. Anytime. However long.”

You couldn’t stop the sigh of relief as you closed your eyes and just enjoyed those few blissful seconds under the setting sun. Beside you, his jewelry jingled as he crossed his arms and laughed.

“What?” His word carried like the breeze—a bubble of laughter behind it. It swirled around you, a soft giggle you weren’t expecting from him.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just glad you chose those days. Tuesdays and Thursdays are jam packed for me.”

Eddie scoffed and gave you a skeptical look that you pointedly avoided, shrugging and glancing down at your hands. There was a divot on your finger from where you’d been holding a pencil all day and where your ring had pressed into the plush skin. A thin layer of lead and ink covered the side of your hand from where it’d dragged over your notes. You’d have to scrub it out when you got home.

“Should have told me that outright then.” Eddie narrowed his eyes slightly, but you just rubbed the side of your hand, trying to clean it. You wanted to work with students on their schedules—you’d make whatever they needed work. “Got set plans every Tuesday anyway. Meet up with the band before we play. Would prefer to not think about schoolwork before that.”

Band? You glanced over at Eddie, and he could see you thinking the word. He grinned as you drew your eyes over him. You lingered over his Iron Maiden shirt, the worn spots and pulled thread near the bottom, poking out by his belt that had….a handcuff on it?

A dust of heat no thicker than what covered the side of your hand hit your cheeks and you looked away, over the emptying parking lot.

It was easy to picture him up on stage with an electric guitar or bass. Maybe sitting at a set of drums. He looked right at home there, and there was a pang of jealousy as you imagined him playing song after song with his friends.

Instruments were the one area you’d never been able to dabble in. You used to listen to band practice while you tutored, watched your friend’s mother play the piano they kept in their living room.You’d tap the keys aimlessly, but that was it. That was all you had time to dabble in before you had to shift your focus back to your studies or other important extracurriculars.

It was definitely not a subject you’d normally ignore, but if you inquired about it, you’d be there longer than you could spare. You’d have to save the questions for another time. Maybe when you had some downtime during sessions—during breaks or if you finished up early.

“Fair enough. How does four-ish sound? I have an hour and a half session I do those days here, but that’s it. I usually finish up around then.”

“Four-ish. Easy. Meet you here tomorrow then?”

“Sure. Bring whatever you need help with, and we’ll figure the rest out then.” You glanced at your watch again. “Crap, I have to go. Can’t be late for dinner.”

“Works for me. Gotta get outta here anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow then, (Y/L/N),” Eddie mused, holding a hand out as you walked past him.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Tutoring Eddie Munson.

A fascinating turn of events.

You told your parents about Eddie during dinner and swore your mother almost choked on her wine. You needed to use a bit of persuasion, and while they weren’t happy, you were able to sell them on your tutoring him. Mostly because you’d promised that you’d only tutor him at the high school and only in the library where others were. And it was a good sign that he was aiming to graduate. If you could help him achieve that, maybe it’d put him on a better path.

They couldn’t argue with that.

Although they did still lecture you about avoiding any potential bad influences Eddie might try to instill in you. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no slacking off. Nothing that could fall under the umbrella of what your parents deemed as bad.

You nodded and agreed—you’d kept it up this long. Eddie wasn’t going to suddenly change that.

It was weird, though. The interaction you’d had earlier had been the most you and Eddie had ever spoken. Four years of high school together—even sharing a class—and yet you never really interacted. But, back then, Eddie was far more intimidating when he was sitting at the back of the classroom, doodling in his notebook or staring out the window. Unapologetically himself, scowling at the letterman jackets and cheer uniforms. Sold weed behind the bleachers and buildings, and always had a cigarette on hand. Held dangerous thoughts behind his dark eyes that felt like if he murmured the wrong thing, he’d pull you in like a siren.

That’s what your friends believed, at least.

Don’t talk to him, he’ll steer you down the wrong path.

You still smiled at him if your eyes met in the hallways or the classroom, though. He was still a peer and he hadn’t outright done anything to you. You stayed in your own separate lanes; nothing more, nothing less. But you never had the bravery to approach. Nor the time.

No reason to either. It wasn’t like you were into the same things.

But he was in a band.

As you stared up at your ceiling, willing the thoughts to still so you could sleep, it was hard to deny that was cool. You’d never seen a band perform—not outside of the family-friendly performances at the summer camps. And Eddie, as you recalled his fairly…alternative fashion sense, did not seem like the type who performed family-friendly content.

But he was in a band.

You had to ask him what instrument he played, mentally adding it to the agenda for the afternoon. Ran through your list of to-dos in the process, sighing and throwing your hands above your head as you ticked off each item.

You’d never talk ill of any of the students you tutored. You did, however, find yourself looking forward to finishing your session with Spencer in the afternoon. Not that your other students were boring—there was just a special curiosity that came with tutoring someone like Eddie. Someone who had not just a toe, but his whole body dipped into a pool that you’d never taken a dip in. Never would.

You rolled over in bed and fluffed your pillow, flipping it over to the cold side.

You were tutoring Eddie freaking Munson.

It wasn’t as hot as it was yesterday. You’d spent nearly four hours in lecture halls that morning and then another hour and a half in the library, so as you waited for Eddie, you let yourself enjoy the sunlight.

You were a little more tired than you’d planned, but Spencer had picked an argument over a mathematical equation that he hadn’t understood. Snapped at you for not teaching it right even when you’d gone through it every possible way you knew how to explain it. And half the time he interrupted your explanations, grumbling about how he didn’t understand what you were saying and he was just going to try again without your help.

But it was good pay, and he did need the help, so you powered through. Even if it drained your energy down to almost nothing. Made your head throb a little, traveling down your neck. Made you close your eyes as you leaned back against the side of the building.

The sun just felt so, so nice.

But it could only last so long, and your eyes opened when you heard a soft whistle.

“And she showed! Here I thought you would’ve changed your mind about helping a freak like me.” Eddie wiggled his brows. He held a notebook and a copy of Animal Farm in one hand. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, come on.” You turned to go back inside, but Eddie reached out and grabbed the strap of your bag.

“Oh, please do not make me go work in the library.” He tugged you toward a cluster of nearby picnic tables, and your heart skipped in your chest. “It’s freaking desolate in there. Plus, I work a lot better outside.”

“I…” You bit your lip and glanced over at the table. Being out in the open was just as good as being in the library, right? “Okay, we can work outside.”

Eddie let go of your bag as soon as you started moving. He plopped down at the table in the middle, his book dropping right in the line of the sun. He shrugged off the same coat and vest combo he had on last time and sat them beside him, angling forward to rest his chin on his knuckles. His eyes looked bigger and softer than you remembered, a hint of that intimidation still making your nerves flare up as he watched you sit across from him.

You stared at his tattoos first, then his rings as he turned his notebook and showed you his scratchy handwriting. There were doodles in the margins of spiders, bats, demon heads, and other things you didn’t recognize but looked scary. Like he’d taken inspiration from the Halloween section in stores. Nightmares come to life and such. But they were good—that was undeniable.

They were really good.

He leaned on his forearms, his notebook between them, and when you looked up, you realized how little space was between your two faces.

“So, I have a history quiz coming up, and I am not good at that. And then…” He turned the page. “I have a paper on this great novel due next week. Can so do it myself, but would love an extra set of eyes.”

“Okay.” You nodded, voice a little tight as your hands brushed on the notebook. He was warm. Like a radiator or boiling water. “Well, we’ll work through your notes today. Have you started on the paper yet?”

“Haven’t even started the book, sweetheart.” He gave you a wry smile, and you turned a playful glare on him. “I’ll have it done for you Monday, how does that sound?”

“Good.”

You settled on forty-five minutes to an hour for sessions. If they ran longer, they ran longer. You technically didn’t have anywhere you had to be until six-thirty for dinner. So if he needed any extra help, all he had to do was ask. He laughed, asking if you’d ever extended your sessions that long before. You, hesitantly, nodded. Spender had started out with thirty-minute sessions. And then they just kept getting longer and longer and longer.

Payment was still up in the air, but you reassured him that it was fine. You’d figure it out. It was worth it to help if it meant he was going to graduate. That was almost payment enough. Although if he didn’t graduate, you were personally going to chase him down and lecture him.

“Oh, how’d it go, by the way?” You asked as you sat back, the sun warming you through your pink dress. “Your, uh, band thing. You had that last night, right?”

“Band thing?” Eddie laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Good, it was good. We, uh, play every Tuesday over at The Hideout, if you’ve ever been. Doesn't exactly seem like your scene though.”

Considering it was in a section of town your parents told you to always steer away from, it was not.

“I haven’t.” You pursed your lips. “But I know it. It’s on the list of places I’m not supposed to go to.”

“You have a list?” His mouth dropped open. “Does it include people, too? Actually, don’t tell me. Scared to know if my name’s on it.”

“I’m glad it went well.” You scribbled one of his notes down onto a flash card.

“It is on it.” Eddie plucked your pencil from your hand and leaned close. “That’s so not nice of you. Hawkins’ sweetheart is a total lie.”

You stole your pencil back and smacked Eddie’s hand away. But you were still smiling. You were trying not to laugh as you finished the flash card and added it to your collective stack.

“What instrument do you play?” Your eyes flickered up at the same time as Eddie’s, and he smirked.

“Guitar. Pretty good at it too, if I might say so myself.”

You nodded and finished off the last bullet point you needed to copy and sat the pencil down. Eddie, not done with his yet, still mimicked you and you were left staring at each other. It was a little hard keeping composure when he had his dark eyes locked on you, but you weren’t going to let yourself be intimidated by him.

At least your mind hadn’t totally betrayed you yet.

“Okay. I know how you can repay me for the tutoring sessions. I share my knowledge, you share yours.” You motioned down to where you could see a few callouses on the ends of his fingers. “Teach me how to play.”

Eddie sat back and drummed his fingers on the table—studied you for a few seconds before he looked back down at the table. The silence dragged on a few more seconds before he nodded.

“Alright, deal.”

He held out one hand, and you peered down at the three thick rings on his fingers. His hand was steady, waiting for yours. And you sucked in your cheeks before giving in and shaking his hand. It was warm, rough, and it felt big in yours.

His rings clicked against yours, and you smiled.

“Deal.”

You told him not to worry about the lessons for the time being. You wanted to focus on tutoring him first. Once you got your rhythm, then it’d be easier to add to it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly like you had a guitar to work with when you were at the school—so you’d figure that part out later. So for the next two sessions, you were focusing solely on the history test and the essay. That’d been your plan, at least.

It was hard to focus when you were feeling the effects of your own workload as you left the school on Thursday. Drained and exhausted from answering question after question, head hurting as you read through bleary vision. Your own assignments trickling into your thoughts that you had to dedicate nearly all of Friday to work on.

At least Saturday provided the break you desperately needed.

You’d gone out to dinner with your friends. It’d been suggested by Hailey—a childhood friend—who needed to get out of the house for a few hours. A girl you two had met back in high school, Jodie, came along like usual. As well as two girls you’d met in your literature course last semester with Hailey. They lived on the other side of Hawkins but coincidentally went to the same church as Jodie. They were twins a year older–Lillian and Rose.

It was a fun night to relax, listen to the diner’s music, and subtly broach the topic of how you were tutoring Eddie Munson. Jodie and Hailey’s eyes had widened, with the former warning you to be careful. She’d had a few classes with him junior and her senior year—Eddie was a scary guy. Not to be trusted. Hailey, however, just laughed and said the worst he would try to do was corrupt you.

“Corrupt that sweet, sweet mind.” She wiggled her fingers in front of your face and grinned. “But you’re smarter than that. Don’t let him talk you into anything stupid, okay?”

“I won’t.” You matched her smile, not meaning to remember how his hand felt in yours. “Parents taught me better than that, you know that.”

The night had really been the break you needed. But it only lasted until the next day. Then you were struggling to finish your homework before bed, and when you woke up, you had to rush off to three long classes while still sleepy. Where you had to take notes until your hand cramped and your pen ran out of ink. And Spencer, the energetic teen that he was, had gotten a seventy on his last assignment and he said he had to do better otherwise his parents would be pissed. But it was like he expected you to just inject your knowledge on the subject into his head. And no matter how hard you tried to teach him, he wouldn’t listen.

And then it was hot outside, but Eddie didn’t want to work in the library, so you went back to the picnic table. He sat across from you and passed you his finished essay—small margin doodles included. You asked how his weekend was while editing it, writing notes where you could fit them, blinking hard a few times as the words blurred. Across you, he shrugged and talked about how he hung out with his bandmates. Got drunk, got hight went to the movies, worked on his paper, tried studying his notes, practiced guitar.

“What about you? Anything half as scandalous?” His eyes dropped to your hand as you tapped the pen on the table.

“School work, dinner with friends, and then chores around the house.” You sighed and cracked your neck.

“Mm, so insanely scandalous.” Eddie nodded slowly. “You know, if you’re ever looking to do something—”

“Scandalous?” You smiled as Eddie did. “Don’t know if that’s my type of thing.”

“Come by The Hideout one Tuesday. I’ll even steal you the best seat in the house.” He drummed his fingers on the notebook he was supposed to be reading from. A stack of notecards sat beside it. “You know…if you’re ever feeling up to it.”

“My parents would kill me.” You looked at the silver ring on your finger. “They’re already not happy that I’m tutoring you.”

“Think I’m going to corrupt that pretty mind?”

A flush of heat hit you, and you blamed it on the sun.

“Something like that.” You went back to looking at his paper, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight in a way that made your heart beat a little faster. “But I appreciate the invitation.”

Eddie smirked as he went back to studying, but he’d successfully baited you.

“What?” You sat the pencil down. “What’s so amusing?”

“You just…” He licked his lips and glanced out over the empty field beside the school. “You really are such a sweet little goody two shoes aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“I hate to break it to you, (Y/L/N), but you are.” He leaned forward and pinched your chin. “Accept it.”

You glared at him—or attempted to at least. The way his fingers, rough and calloused, slid over your skin had done something to you that made you lose all focus. All the thoughts in your head vanished as his fingers left you and he sat back down. His gaze lingered for a few moments before he turned his attention back to the notes.

Wait.

You bit your lip and touched your chin where he had, but it wasn’t tingling from your touch. You cleared your throat as you went back to reading his paper, trying to act as casual as possible. But you had to start reading from the beginning.

You stayed an extra twenty minutes to run through the notecards a few more times. Only when he had an eighty-percent accuracy did you call it. His quiz was the next day, so you told him to go through it a few more times before bed and when he woke up, then he’d be good.

“Good luck tomorrow.” You hesitantly tapped his shoulder as you walked back to your cars. Your skin was still tingling.

“Thanks.” His smile was soft as he pulled out his keys and twirled them on one finger. “I hope to report only good news on Wednesday.”

“You better.”

“Or else?” Eddie’s smile turned to a smirk. It made your cheeks burn hot. “Got a sentence you want me to write down a hundred times? I spend hours writing campaigns, baby, fucking try me.”

“Or else we’ll have to study harder.” You gave him a pointed look, the word campaigns lodging itself like a sticky note in your head to inquire about later. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie grinned, tossing his keys up and catching them.

“Night, (Y/N).”

You scoffed as you climbed into your car. Eddie Munson was a lot different than you’d expected.

Fascinating.

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