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longclawislightbringer · 7 months

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Chapter One: Unworthy

Rating: T

Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary: College Freshman Chrissy Cunningham’s best friend, Eddie, is a rockstar. So what if she’s in love with him, and he’s writing gorgeous metal love songs for some cool chick in LA? She’ll still be his number one fan, supporting from the sidelines, even if that means breaking her own heart.

On the night before the band’s first show opening for Metallica—at which Chrissy plans to surprise them—her roommate shows her an interview in the latest issue of Rolling Stone that changes everything.

Hello lovely readers! This is my first foray into Hellcheer, although if you are an author you may have seen me lurking in your comments section. I also kind of jump around fandoms depending on where my muse takes me, so you may have seen me somewhere else before. I’ve been obsessed with Hellcheer since I watched the first episode of Season 4 last year, and had the idea for this last summer. Unfortunately, I’m the world’s slowest writer. Like George R.R. Martin levels of slow. It also doesn’t help that I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I’m trying to let go of my perfectionism and just be happy to get my writing out in the world. This is a short little story, only two chapters. The next part is already written so it should be posted by next week. I’d just like to take a moment now to thank my beta, ry, for looking over this for me. Ry is super awesome and you can find her at ryleighjosephine on AO3 or at @dustinswill on Tumblr. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading. :)

read on AO3

Chrissy tapped her foot to the beat of “Uptown Girl” as she grabbed a clean index card from the perfect stack at the edge of her desk. Dancing in her chair, she turned up the volume on her Walkman as the song reached the chorus. Softly humming, Chrissy wrote out “mitochondria” in big, blocky letters with her favorite rollerball pen. She bobbed her head as she waited for the ink to dry, checking Professor Miller’s study sheet to make sure she remembered the correct definition. Once she finished her list of vocab terms, she could start working on her poster for the concert tomorrow.

“As long as anyone with hot blood can,” Chrissy belted out without a care for any of the other girls still left on her floor on a Friday night. Even if her roommate, Stacey, was home, she wouldn’t care anyway. “And now she’s looking for a downtown man. That’s what I am!”

Although she would tease Chrissy for listening to Billy Joel.

When the pink ink had dried, she flipped the card over. As she wrote down the function of the mitochondria, she heard Professor Miller in her head, repeating, “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Placing the finished flashcard on her stack, she snatched another blank card as Billy Joel’s vocals faded into the searing electric guitar of Corroded Coffin’s new single. Her heart skipped a beat as Eddie’s fingers danced across the strings. She stilled, placing her pen on the table before she broke it.

“Starlit eyes, cherry gloss lips. You are perfect,” Eddie sang on the track, voice raspy. “And I am unworthy of you.” Chrissy clenched her fists. It was Eddie’s only line in the song before Jeff took over lead vocals. Chrissy could listen to him sing for hours, though.

She fiddled with the cassette case, running her fingers over the label “Chrissy’s Mix” in Eddie’s chicken scratch as she glanced at the photo of them together at prom last year tacked to her bulletin board. Arms circling her waist, Eddie stared down at her. The pink rose corsage on her wrist matched his boutonniere, and his tie matched her dress—Eddie insisted, even if it wasn’t an actual date.

When he sat down at their booth in the diner to give it to her one day while he was visiting Hawkins before she left for college, his leg had bounced up and down like he had drunk too much coffee. He dropped the tape in between them, the liner notes facing up.

“What’s this?” Chrissy asked, pulling it to her side of the table.

“It’s a mixtape,” Eddie said.

“I know that,” Chrissy smirked. “But what’s it for?”

Eddie wiped his hand on his leg. “It’s got some of our new songs on it. The demos, at least.”

“No way!” She exclaimed, picking it off the table to scan the notes. Three of the songs listed Corroded Coffin as the artist.

“I want you to tell me what you think of them. No holding back.”

“Of course.” Chrissy winked. “I wouldn’t dare think of lying to you. What’s the rest?”

“Just a bunch of your favorite songs. And mine. I thought they all kind of fit together.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck and flashed her a shy smile.

“Cool.” Grinning, Chrissy pulled her Walkman from her backpack.

“Don’t listen to it now!” Eddie nearly leaped across the table. “Wait until I’m gone.”

“Alright,” Chrissy smirked. “I’ll wait.”

At home that night, Chrissy shoved the tape into her Walkman and eagerly awaited the first new song. She grinned from ear to ear as the first base notes ripped through her, followed by Eddie’s dazzling guitar work.

And then that line.

“You are perfect, and I am unworthy of you.”

Her stomach dropped. A love song. Corroded Coffin had never released a love song before. Tightness bloomed across her chest as her stomach twisted itself in knots. She twisted her ring (Eddie’s favorite that he’d given to her right after graduation) and bit her lip as the song continued. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes when she listened to the other new songs—also love songs.

“Did you write all of these songs, Eddie?” she quavered, her voice small, on their scheduled weekly call.

“Yeah,” he answered. The phone crackled. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

His voice hitched before he continued, “What did you think of them?”

She swallowed back her tears, her rage at the subject of the songs, and replied, “They’re beautiful, Eddie.”

The cassette case clattered to the desk, breaking her from her reverie.

A tear rolled down her cheek as the song crested into the melancholy guitar solo. She wiped it away. With one final crescendo, the chorus began for the last time.

Chrissy picked up her pen again. If she ever found the girl who made Eddie feel so—

The door to her dorm room banged open.

“Hey, Chrissy,” her roommate Stacey barged in, letting the door slam shut behind her. She flopped on the bed across from Chrissy with a sigh, her long black braids fanning beneath her like a halo.

Chrissy paused her Walkman as “Take a Chance on Me” started and removed her headphones. “How was your date?”

“Another dud, as usual,” Stacey groaned. “I don’t know what it is about me that seems to attract the worst types of men. “ She rolled onto her stomach and rummaged through her purse. “He didn’t even have the manners to give me a decent good night kiss. Just slobbered all over me.” Shivering, she took out her lipstick for the night, a bright berry red, and placed it back on the shelf next to her desk. “Such is my lot in life.” She looked over at Chrissy. “What about you, Cunningham? Are you still hung up on that guy who calls you every week and wrote multiple songs for another woman that he put on your mixtape?”

A flush crept over Chrissy’s face. “He just wanted my honest opinion.”

“Girl, if that man can’t see that you are head over heels for him, he’s as blind as a bat.” Stacey pulled some wadded-up tissues from her purse and tossed them in the garbage. She grabbed a fresh one from the box on her nightstand and wiped her lipstick off, smearing it all over her dark skin.

“It’s not like that,” Chrissy protested, driving her pen perhaps a little too hard into the index card as she wrote the following definition. “We’re just friends.” Stacey folded the tissue, removed the rest of the lipstick from her face and dropped it in the trash.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Stacey quipped, pulling the new issue of Rolling Stone from her bag. “I can’t believe you’re studying on a Friday night.”

“I have to study today,” Chrissy explained as she tossed the card to the side. “We’re going to the Metallica concert tomorrow. I’ve got cheer practice Sunday afternoon, and my club meets Sunday nights.”

Chrissy scribbled out another word from her vocab list on a fresh card.

“Right,” Stacey rolled onto her stomach and unfolded the magazine. “I forgot you have your nerd club.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “I still think you would like it. You could pretend to be one of those barbarians from those Conan movies you’re always going on about.”

“Speaking of the concert tomorrow,” Stacey flipped the page of the magazine, “one of the opening bands has an interview in Rolling Stone.”

“That’s cool,” Chrissy remarked without much thought. She froze, pen hovering above the desk, as she recalled that Eddie had mentioned that the band had done an interview with a big magazine during their Thursday phone call. She shook her head. It probably was the other opener—they were much more famous than Corroded Coffin. “Let me know if there’s anything interesting.”

“Will do,” Stacey nodded and turned her attention to the glossy pages on the bed in front of her. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, the only sound the scritch of pen on paper and the flipping of magazine pages until one of their noisy neighbors arrived back home. The slamming door next door and ensuing clatter, as the girl stumbled through the room, jolted Chrissy from her work. She shook her head and grabbed another index card from the pile.

“That’s so sweet!” Stacey cooed, stroking the magazine page.

“What’s sweet?” Chrissy asked without missing a beat.

“The guitarist from that band I mentioned earlier,” Stacey popped her bubblegum. “He writes their songs, and get this—they’re all about the same girl.”

“Hmm,” Chrissy sneered, driving the pen into the index card with a little more force than was necessary. “I’m sure she loves having such a wonderful boyfriend who writes her amazing love songs.”

“They’re not together,” Stacey corrects her, flipping the page.

Chrissy stills. “What do you mean they’re not together?”

“They’re apparently just friends even though he’s been in love with her since middle school. They performed in a talent show together, and he’s been stuck on her ever since.”

Her heart leaped into her throat.

“She gets all of their demo recordings before the public,” Stacey continued, eyes widening as she took in the photograph on the opposite page, “so she just must want to stay friends because if I was her and I had a friend that looked like that who wrote me beautiful love songs, I’d climb him like a tree and maybe—“

Stacey rambled on, but Chrissy couldn’t hear her over the hammering of her own heart, beating against her ribs like a wild bird against the bars of a cage.

“—you know, I never pictured rock stars being into cheerleaders,”

Time stops.

Chrissy’s pen clattered to the floor as she whipped around.

“—but what do I know. I mean, you’re a cheerleader, and you like metal,” Stacey blathered.

“Stacey,” Chrissy stammered, “which band are you talking about?”

“What?” Stacey finally noticed her. “Corroded Coffin, why?”

“Can I see that article?” Chrissy choked, holding back the deluge of tears.

“Sure,” Stacey quirked a brow and handed the magazine over.

Chrissy flipped the magazine open to find Eddie Munson staring up at her from the glossy page flanked by Gareth and the rest of the band. Gasping, she dropped the magazine onto her desk.

“I am an idiot,” she murmured, and a tear slipped out before she could stop it. It rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the magazine.

“Hey,” Stacey bolted upright. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m so happy,” Chrissy hiccuped as the waterfall she’d held back for months came crashing down.

Stacey furrowed her brows until she alighted on the graduation and prom photos tacked to Chrissy’s bulletin board. She jumped to her feet, her gaze darting back and forth between the photos and the magazine spread.

“Oh my god!” Stacey exclaimed. “You’re her. You’re the girl from the article.”

“Yep,” Chrissy nodded, wiping her tears with a tissue.

“Which means that the Eddie that calls you every week is a literal rock star who’s been in love with you for years?”

“Apparently,” Chrissy shrugged. She slumped over the desk. “I should have just asked him out months ago.”

“Wow,” Stacey collapsed back on her bed. “That is a lot to process. How in the world did I not put it together sooner? You told me he was in a band. And you made sure we were going to this show so I could meet him.”

“I wanted to surprise him on opening night of his first big tour…” Chrissy said.

”I just thought your Eddie must be a colossal CC fan.” Stacey mused. “To think you’ve know them this whole time… Wait a minute.” She bolted upright. “How did you not know all those songs were about you?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I convinced myself he met some cool metal chick in LA.” She picked at the hem of her shirt. “I was going to ask who she was at the show tomorrow.”

“This is too funny,” Stacey laughed.

“I’m glad you find my emotional turmoil amusing.”

“What are you going to do when you see him?” Stacey asked.

Chrissy turned to the blank poster and art supplies waiting on her bed and grinned.

“I’m going to get my man.”

#rolling stone 513 #hellcheer fic #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #college student chrisssy #rock star eddie #friends to lovers #they're idiots your honor #love confessions #chapter one

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notablog42 · 2 years

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Stranger Things College AU HC 19

I have no idea where I would go with this, but I’m just thinking about this group in an airport/ on vacation.

Steve is in Panicked Mom Mode (TM), Eddie and Steve wrangle the luggage. Dustin won’t shut up about the science-y stuff at the airport. Max loves people watching and will sit with Chrissy, making up back stories for people that walk by.

They always show up way too early for their flight because Steve is convinced one day they’re going to miss a flight. Nancy drags Robin to the closest bathroom to make out in a stall until Robin gets a frantic call from Steve, asking her where she is and if she’s seen Nance. They get split up at security and Steve gets overly worried when Dustin is flagged for extra screening. It doesn’t turn up anything, but Steve is still freaked when his bag gets searched and he’s convinced they’re about to cart off his son for interrogation.

On the actual flight, Nancy curls up into Robin and falls asleep. Max sits on Robin’s other side and will alternate between playing on her Switch (let’s be honest Max is definitely a hand-held video game fiend), chatting with Robin, or sleeping on Robin. Dustin and Chrissy sit together in comfortable silence, sometimes sharing earbuds. Chrissy loves to draw and will sketch the view from above the clouds while Dustin always has his nose in a book. Steve and Eddie sit together, watching something and cuddled up. I was going to write something about the Mile High Club, you connect the dots yourself

They always rent a van that fits everyone and their luggage. Steve and Robin and Eddie and Chrissy switch off driving and navigating. Dustin and Max will play Smash Bros together, but refuse to let Nancy play with them because she gets extremely competitive and aggressive. Nancy always huffs about it, but they will absolutely not budge on this after the Smash Bros Incident and everyone but Robin has agreed to ban Nancy from the game.

Robin likes to take pictures and video everywhere they go and Nancy helps her pick the photos that go on The Wall. Chrissy and Nancy are both absolutely sluts for cheesy souvenirs, while Robin and Eddie have pictures of them eating some sort of food on a stick everywhere they’ve gone on vacation. They bring coffee stirrers or popsicle sticks with them and will put literally anything on a stick that they possibly can. Steve and Max go out for coffee in the mornings, just the two of them, and have almost always come home with some new beans or grounds from their trip. Dustin collects postcards from where they go and completely fills the part for writing on each and every one of them.

#stranger things college au #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #max mayfield #ronance #steddie #chrissy cunningham #the brain is braining today so we get two posts yay!#i love this sm i can't explain it to y'all

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glitterslag · 1 year

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eddie has chrissy's hs graduation pic up in his room

#he has it propped up on his windowsill while shes away at college #hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #havent posted abt them in a while

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hellcheerficdatabase · 1 year

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Class of '90, Come and Find Me

Author: @theroyalbeepboop

Rating/Warning: Explicit, referenced ED

Chapter Count: 3/3

Description: "Chrissy?" She instantly reacted to the sound of her name, head jerking to look over her shoulder. Nobody. She wasn’t too fazed, though. Her name was common enough, the call was probably meant for someone else. The students' center was plenty full, there was bound to be another Chrissy in the crowd. But still, that voice sounded so familiar yet so out-of-reach as to why, like returning to a place you’ve only ever been to in a dream. "Chrissy Cunningham, is that you?" She whipped back around to face the tables, eyes scanning the room to spot whoever it was that just called out her full name. Her eyes locked on one Eddie Munson, beaming at her with his hands on his hips.

Neither of them expected to be reunited in Boston. Neither of them knew that the other was going to college there. Isn't it funny how life works?

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, future fic, college au, meet-cute, mutual pining, smut, fluff, reunion meet cute, Alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: completed

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billyharringson · 1 year

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So I've written my first Hellcheer focused fic. A little backstory fic for the Domme!Chrissy/Puppy!Eddie characters from my Harringrove 'Baby, Let Me In' fic.

Title: So much for being a good girl

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Hellcheer

Additional Tags: Background Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Domme Chrissy Cunningham, Sub Eddie Munson, Dom/sub, BDSM, Modern Era, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Sexual Repression, Puppy Play, Puppy Eddie Munson

Summary: Chrissy had never been all that interested in sex, well that wasn’t entirely true, she’d been told that she shouldn’t be all that interested in sex. Good girls who are brought up well never are, they wait until marriage, and even then it’s a service to be provided for their husbands. Never something to be craved, and like hell are girls the leaders in the bedroom, especially not the good ones.

And then she met Eddie.

AO3:

#eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #domme chrissy #sub eddie #puppy eddie #college au #stranger things #fanfic

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limeandlightonwater · 2 years

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would chrissy cunningham also be a teacher or do i think all my faves will be teachers bc i am

#stevie is a teacher idc but chrissy too?#questions questions #maybe sports management? business administration? i could see her as a flight attendant #i didnt even do this much research when i picked MY college & major #st #chrissy cunningham

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theficlistpodcast · 2 years

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It’s, uh… It’s been a wild ride the last few weeks, y’all, and it’s only about to get wilder. In this episode of The Fic List, we welcome the one and only Professor Alpha, aka Berk, aka @icaruspendragon, to completely destroy us with kindness, humor, and some legitimately life-altering Destiel fanfic. The moral of this story is to chase your dreams, because sometimes the people you admire on the internet actually check their DMs.

#The Fic List #fic list fam #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #college au #alternate universe #patrochilles #the song of achilles #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #destiel #supernatural #fandom podcast #fanfiction podcast #podcast

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pollenallergie · 1 year

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Saw your Chrissy post from yesterday and I 100% agree. As a switch myself, Chrissy is 100% a switch and I love her.

But also random thought, Arabella by Arctic Monkeys is extremely Chrissy-coded and I needed to share this with someone.

💜

glad to know i’m not the only switch!Chrissy truther 😂

also yes!!! 1000% that song was made for her!! i feel like it represents exactly what she’d be like in college; a little more sure of herself, a lot more mature, having swapped in some of her bright blues and soft pinks for dark maroons and charcoal blacks, having swapped her trademark scrunchies for elegant hairpins and sleek claw clips, having ditched her dull boyfriend the minute she got out of indiana, fully living her wlw fantasy in her quaint on-campus apartment with her two recused cats and you, the girl who’s owner her heart ever since you sat down next to her during a psych 101 lecture and offered to loan her one of your cute little gel pens when you noticed she’d forgotten to bring anything to write with.

#ask and i shall reply #lovely anon <3 #chrissy cunningham x reader #college au #chrissy cunningham thoughts #chrissy cunningham x fem!reader #college!chrissy cunningham #stranger things #chrissy stranger things #stranger things vol 4

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lipstickmarks · 2 years

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cant stop thinking abt that tumblr post where someone was like “imagine if eddie and jason had been best friends and eddie felt guilty for developing a crush on chrissy” and it had consumed my soul

#i wanna write a fic where they’re all in college and this happens #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #jason carver

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eiightysixbaby · 6 months

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baby, it’s cold outside

i ought to say no, no, no sir — at least i’m gonna say that i tried!

eddie munson x fem!reader

3.6k

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. mutual pining, friends to lovers, eddie convinces reader to stay but he’s not a creep - she’s just nervous, one (1) singular use of y/n, brief mentions of alcohol and weed consumption, protected piv sex, fingering. barely proofread so i apologize in advance if there's mistakes xoxo love u guys.

“No, really! I’m serious,” you laugh, tears springing from the creases in the corners of your eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you add, taking a tiny hit of the joint between your fingers before letting it rest in the ash tray.

The warmth from the tiny space-heater in Eddie’s living room kisses your cheeks, your fingers warming up where they wrap around your mug of spiked cider. You shift your weight on the worn cushions of the sofa, tucking one leg beneath you. You’re home from college for the holidays, catching up with all of your closest friends. Steve had hosted at his place, and when the party died down there Eddie had offered that you come back to his.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” the boy grins, shaking his head as he takes a swig of his beer.

“Yeah, well… I don’t know. We were in high school. Everything feels like such a big deal when you’re in high school. I felt like that crush could’ve been the end of the world if word got out,” you giggle, leaning your head back against the cushions behind you.

“I get what you mean,” he says, leaning to knock his shoulder with yours. “I just can’t believe I didn’t know,” he says, glancing sideways at you. “You weren’t always subtle, you know.”

You shove him, snorting out another laugh.

“Okay, so who was your high school crush?” you ask him, tilting your head to face him, a playful grin on your face.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he says easily.

“That’s the obvious one,” you roll your eyes. “We all knew that. Robin never let you live it down. I want your secret crush, one you never told anyone about. You have to have one,” you pry.

Eddie swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes shift away from yours, his beer bottle raising to his mouth to take another sip. A way to avoid his answer.

“Well,” he says, his voice gravelly. “It was, uh, it was… you, actually.” He’s quieter now, less sure of himself than you’ve maybe ever seen him. Your heart twists inside of your chest.

“What!?” you ask, sitting upright. You didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but it certainly caught you off guard.

“Forget it, it’s stupid,” Eddie retreats, trying to laugh it off. You stop him, though, reaching out to put a hand on his knee.

“No, no. It’s not stupid. I just… I had no idea,” you say, emphasizing the last few words.

“Yeah. It’s like you said, I thought it would’ve been the end of the world if you found out,” he laughs a little, but you detect a twinge of sadness behind it.

“Eddie…” you say. “You could’ve told me. I— I’m glad you told me now,” you continue, rubbing a soft circle over his knee with your thumb.

“You are?” he raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah. But I have one question,” you say, drawing your hand back from him and placing it in your lap.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Do you still have feelings for me? Now?” you ask nervously, glancing back and forth between the contents of your cup and his face.

He’s quiet, searching your face.

“Would it completely ruin everything if I said yes?” he asks, so quietly. His voice a gentle hum in your ears.

Suddenly, words escape you. You feel frozen, not knowing what to say. No, it wouldn’t, is what you want to say. Kiss me, please, is what you want to demand of him. But you find yourself unable to say anything at all. His gaze is overwhelming. Your heart races in your chest. Why is this so daunting?

He’s about to speak again, his mouth opening and closing. The moment is heavy, nerves raised high. Something in you wants to run, to flee. To escape the scary precipice you teeter on, between friends and something more. You welcomed this, but now it’s too much. You glance at the clock, cursing under your breath when you see the time. An excuse.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m so sorry. It’s so late, I really should get going—” you say, scrambling to stand while you set your mug on the coffee table.

“Wait,” a firm but comforting hand grips your arm, stopping you. “Please don’t go,” he says.

“Eddie, it’s almost midnight—”

“So stay with me. Please don’t leave right now, not after what we just talked about.”

“My parents, Eddie, they’ll be worried,” you rush out, slipping on your boots at the door and opening it.

A flurry of snow falls outside, coating the cars and the dirt and what’s left of the grass. The December night air is frigid and harsh where it hits your skin.

“Oh!” you gasp, wincing at the cold.

Eddie’s stood right behind you, his arm reaching over you and pushing the door shut again.

“No way you’re driving home in that, ‘s dangerous,” he tells you.

“Maybe I’ll wait it out…” you murmur, words failing you the longer he stares at you.

Your cheeks feel hot despite the below-zero windchill. Facing Eddie is harder than it had been five minutes ago, and you’re the one who brought on the conversation. He’s so close to you, gazing down at you, his eyes pleading.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “If you want to run, I won’t stop you. But I don’t think you really do. Just tell me, is the world going to end? Or can I have you?”

“I…. Eddie—” you stammer, and you really, truly feel like your heart might hammer through your chest and land on the floor.

His eyes are so big, pools of deep brown that draw you in. You could drown in them if you looked too long, could get lost in his vastness. He’s begging without words, aching for you to say something. Nervous eyes travel over his face, watching the slight twitch of his lips and the way they part just slightly. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful.

“You can have me,” you whisper.

It takes a split second before his hands find your waist, pulling you into him. He noses at your face, watching your eyelids flutter shut. Every exhale from him wafts breath over your face, warm and so incredibly him. The air that he had breathed and put back out into the open space, filling your lungs now. His lips press against yours, featherlight and testing the waters. Your body relaxes fully, mouth melting against his as you let him kiss you.

It becomes needy quickly. What started so soft and tender becomes eager, open mouths devouring each other as tongues touch.

“I had a crush on you, too—” you blurt in between kisses.

“What?” he breathes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your cheek. The way he says it doesn’t indicate surprise, but rather he just wants to hear you say it again.

“You were my other secret crush in high school…” you confess shyly, eyes wide and blinking at him when he stops his movements abruptly.

“You really weren’t always subtle,” is all he says, smiling as he leans in to kiss you once more.

Teeth clash, both of you giggling into the kiss, your hands wandering up his chest as he holds you close to him. He tugs at the collar of your sweater, pulling you with him as he walks backwards to the couch. Straddling his lap, your hands find their way up his shirt, smoothing over his soft skin. He lets out a satisfied hum, his own hands reaching around to squeeze your ass as he lets his tongue prod into your mouth.

A soft whimper escapes you, your hips grinding on top of his. You can feel the tent in his jeans as he grows stiff beneath them, completely affected by you. It becomes increasingly obvious to you, then, the boundaries that are being crossed right now. You can’t go back after this, things are forever changed between you and Eddie.

You stop kissing him, glancing out the window at the falling snow. “Eddie—” you say, your eyes looking frantic; skittish.

“Don’t you dare tell me you have to get home. It’s cold outside, baby. The weather’s bad,” he says softly, nuzzling his face into your hair by your ear.

“What happens after we do this? Everything will be different,” you say, wishing you weren’t so nervous. So hesitant. So scared to fall completely for him and for it to end badly.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, bringing a hand up to brush his fingers along your cheek. So gentle, so slow. “We don’t have to do anything. We can take it slow,” he soothes, and you can’t help but melt into his touch.

The blizzard still rages outside, no way you can get home safely.

You rest your forehead against his, your body relaxing once more. “I’m sorry for being so jumpy. I just… I want you in my life forever.”

“You know I feel the same. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to never give you a reason to kick me out of it,” he promises, hands rubbing up and down your sides.

You sigh, rolling your hips once atop his lap. Kisses are left on your cheeks, your jawline, traveling down to your neck. Everywhere his mouth lands is set ablaze, your body giving in to him, craving more. He paws at the hem of your sweater, causing you to pull it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor.

“Fuck,” he mutters, taking in the sight of you.

Your bra holds your breasts perfectly, your chest rising and falling with each breath you take. His hands trail up your skin, fingertips making you shudder as they dance along your torso. He caresses the swells of skin in warm hands, letting his thumbs run over the tops of each cup of your bra, dipping down to roll over your hardened nipples. A delighted, breathy noise leaves your throat, and Eddie revels in it. He wants to pull more pretty noises from you, keep you like putty in his hands.

“Can I take this off?” he asks you, dipping down to place a kiss between the curve of your breasts. His hands reach around your back, gliding along the band of your undergarment.

“Mhm,” you hum, your fingers tracing over the buckle on his belt.

He makes quick work of unclasping your bra, letting it rest on the floor with your sweater. His mouth immediately finds your tits, those big eyes of his glancing up at you as he sucks one nipple into his eager mouth.

You let your head fall back with a soft moan, electricity running through your veins. Your whole body is tuned into his actions, ready and waiting for more. And fuck, he’s barely doing anything yet but he’s so good. You know he’s fooled around here and there in the last few years, gained experience, but god, he’s so much better than you ever could have imagined on those late nights with your hand between your thighs. His hands and his mouth know exactly where to be at every second, making you perfectly pliant for him.

Your fingers start to undo his belt to the best of your distracted-ability, his tongue swirling around your nipple and making you dizzy with arousal. You work the button of his jeans open, fumbling with the zipper right after. You ease your weight off of him, hovering in place so he can slide the denim down till it pools around his calves.

A short, punctuated groan slips past his lips when you palm his stiff length over his boxers, his mouth now focused on your other nipple. Your short skirt does very little to keep you covered, the soft fabric riding so far up your thighs you’re almost exposed. His big palms move down to squeeze them, fingertips grazing beneath your skirt. You whine, bucking your hips slightly, encouraging him to move his fingers higher.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he coos, his mouth so close to your ear, hands rubbing the expanse of your thighs. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna take good care of you.”

It sends shivers down your spine, the way he talks to you. So unaccustomed to hearing him speak this way, and still in disbelief that he’s speaking this way to you — doing these things to you. His hands bunch your skirt up as far as it will go, fingernails dragging along your sheer black tights. He snags them, leaving a run in the material.

“Oops,” he says, smug as his hands climb your thighs, reaching closer and closer to your core. There’s still too many layers between him and you for your liking. Your tights and panties, his boxers concealing his cock.

“Eddieee,” you whine, squirming on his lap.

“What, sweet girl? Where do you need me?” he asks, voice so sugary sweet as he blinks at you, lashes fluttering.

You huff, brows furrowing in desperation. “Do you need me… here?” he asks, letting his fingers trail over your clothed core. They tease, cupping your sex and rubbing soft patterns on the skin.

“Yeah, please Eddie,” you gasp, your hands planting firmly on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Take everything off for me, baby, yeah?” he suggests, watching intently when you stand momentarily to strip.

You’re grateful for the warmth coming from the small heater, the chill from outside slipping in through the cracks of the trailer’s windows being warded off to the best of the equipment’s ability. You come to straddle Eddie once more, one of his hands immediately grabbing your waist, the other making its way back to your cunt. He ghosts his fingertips over your clit, making your hips jerk ever so slightly. He laughs lowly, not mocking you but instead basking in the spell he has you under in this moment.

His index finger runs through your folds, collecting the wetness that waits for him. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours for another kiss.

His tongue pushes gently past your lips right as he slips a finger inside of you, making you moan into his mouth. He swallows your sounds gratefully, his finger curling inside your walls to hopefully bring on more.

“Need more, Eddie,” you beg, grinding yourself on him. He obliges easily, slipping a second finger inside.

The way he stretches you is divine, it feels far too good to have you worrying any longer. You don’t care that one of your best friends has you naked on his lap, you don’t care about what your other friends will think, you don’t care that it’s late and you haven’t called home. You don’t care. He pumps his fingers in and out expertly, your arousal filling the trailer with lewd, wet noises. Your mouths move hastily against one another, kissing and licking and biting, making up for lost time.

“Feels so good,” you pant between kisses, making him smile.

“Yeah? You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, pressing more kisses to your face.

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, your head fuzzy. “Want— want you to fuck me,” you say softly, and he tilts his head, reading your expression.

“You sure?” he checks, stopping the movements of his fingers and instead removing them from you. He cups your face, his cheeks flushing pink when you nod.

“I’m sure,” you reply, reaching your hand down and squeezing the outline of his cock beneath cotton fabric.

He inhales, sharp and fast, his eyes half-closing in pleasure.

“Okay, sweetheart. Why don’t you lay down?” he asks, patting the cushion beside him.

You both maneuver your bodies, you lying on the sofa as he comes to hover over you. A condom had been pulled from his wallet, and he opens the packet with his teeth as he shimmies out of his boxers. You watch in awe as his cock springs free, the size of it surprising you. Your eyes are trained on him as he rolls the condom on, his fingers making quick work of it.

“Like what you see?” he asks, catching the area your eyes are glued to.

All you can do is nod, redirecting your eyes to the smirk on his face. Goosebumps rise on your skin, the icy wind blowing stronger outside now, more persistent in the way it penetrates the trailer walls. Eddie notices, standing up and pulling the thick knit blanket from the armchair in the corner of the room. He returns to the couch, positioning himself on top of you and awkwardly fixating the blanket over both of your bodies with your assistance.

It’s warm, and it’s safe, and it makes your heart swell.

“You ready?” he says quietly, kissing you on the cheek and then the forehead.

“Yeah,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly, letting your tongue take control this time.

He exhales heavily as he starts to push in, his head breaching your folds and making you both moan. His forehead rests atop yours, strong arms caging you in as he holds himself up. He moves slowly, filling you inch by inch and paying careful attention to your reactions. Your lips part, no sound coming out as he bottoms out inside of you. His head drops to your shoulder, shaggy hair tickling the junction between it and your neck.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you sigh, letting your body adjust to the stretch of him. It feels like he was made for you, your body quickly aching for more.

He starts moving, careful not to go too fast for you.

“Baby…” he breathes, pulling almost completely out before thrusting back in again.

Your hands slide down his back beneath the blanket, nails digging in slightly when he starts to pick up his pace. You can’t fucking believe you have him like this right now, and you think about how different this night would’ve played out if you had just gone home after leaving Steve’s. You’re grateful you didn’t; grateful to be here, being loved on by Eddie.

Your relationship blossoms into something new with each snap of his hips against yours, further solidifying the fact that you want more with him. Something deeper, something intimate.

Moans leave you in short, breathy spurts as he fucks you, filling you up over and over. He’ll slow down, taunting you with drawn out movements before he’s back to thrusting quickly, giving you whiplash. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, his nose brushing against yours. He smells so good and his skin is so warm, it only urges you closer and closer to release. Being so close to him is intoxicating, and you cry his name over and over as his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you.

“Getting close, angel?” he asks, grinning down at you when you nod. “God, you feel so fucking good around me, baby,” he says, kissing you like he simply can’t get enough.

His breathing is heavy, exertion evident in the way he fills his lungs with air. You snake a hand down your body, softly starting to rub your sensitive clit with the pad of your finger.

“Want you to cum for me, baby, give it all to me,” Eddie encourages you, your eyes screwing shut as pleasure builds and builds in the pit of your stomach.

His cock glides in and out with complete ease, your pussy soaking him. He keeps a moderate, steady pace, wanting to savor every last second of this milestone with you. You can feel yourself quickly approaching your release, rubbing more urgent circles around your clit now. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, Eddie’s breath fanning your face as he grunts with each thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, feeling yourself let go completely.

Your walls clench tight around him, tensing up over and over as he helps you ride out the high. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he soothes. “Did so good,” he praises as he continues to fuck into you.

He’s close, you can tell by the way his movements get less precise. You pull his face down to you, capturing his lips in what feels like the millionth kiss of the night. He kisses back urgently, pulling away only to warn you of his approaching climax.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” he huffs, barely giving you a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of the condom.

His hips stutter, and you can just barely feel the way his cock twitches as he rids himself of every drop. Both breathing heavily, he collapses on top of you, your arms wrapping around him to hold him tight. The blanket keeps the warmth locked in, his skin sweat-slick against yours.

Regaining composure, he pulls back enough to look at you.

“Did you mean it, when you said I can have you? Will you be mine?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I’m yours.”

His grin is brighter than the sun, outshining the glow from the Christmas tree as he smiles down at you. All he can think to do is kiss you, and somehow it feels even sweeter this time.

Once you’ve both redressed, him in his pajama pants and you in his borrowed clothes, he pads into the living room with a glass of water for you.

“Oh, hey. The snowstorm’s died down,” he says, peering out the window. “You still want to try and make it home?”

“No. I want to stay right here,” you say, coming up behind him. Wrapped in a blanket, you reach your arms out, enveloping him in the warmth, too. Your face nuzzles into the space between his shoulder blades, before he turns around so he’s facing you.

“Good. Cause I really don’t want you to go,” he smiles, his dimples peeking out. “It’s still cold outside, after all. A lady like you should be safe and warm in my bed, not braving the elements.” You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his.

“You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

Text

Simmer #2

CH.2 Ice Box | The Menu [4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

The first week at Jim’s went somewhat smoothly.

You figured out a bus that would take you out of town and to the diner when it was raining or too dark, a rusty old thing that rattled the entire journey but it meant you got there a few minutes before your shift started. The summer was still present, a growing thing that became hotter and bigger as June turned to July, the sidewalks baking, the skies an endless blue between storms that you didn’t really mind.

You got to meet the rest of the team that first morning, bumping into a girl as you made your way through the side door meant for staff. Robin was another waitress, a little blunt, really pretty and more than helpful. She took over immediately, waving away your explanation of having to report to Eddie, leading you into a back office that was crammed with a desk and a line of lockers. It took a while for her to find a key to one in a security box but eventually you had a locker, a name badge and a uniform that Robin promised was the cleanest one she could find.

It was a powder blue thing with red trim, a little on the short side for a dress and it had you pulling at the hem until it covered your thighs more. The collar was white, starchy, the apron that tied around your waist matching. Robin grinned when you reappeared with it on, straightening your name badge for you before handing you a new pad and pen.

“C’mon,” she tilted her head towards the kitchen, the smell of coffee and maple already pouring out of it. “I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”

There was Nancy, another waitress who helped Jim manage the diner’s taxes when she wasn’t back at college in Indianapolis. She seemed sweet, a little quieter than Robin, more eager to keep her head down and garner the best tips.

Argyle was the boy you’d seen in the kitchen the day before, a smiling boy with the sleekest hair you’d ever seen. He offered a fist bump and a warm greeting, telling you to let him know of any medicinal preferences that he could help you out with. He was on prep duty in the kitchen and Robin claimed he could chop a full onion in ten seconds when he wasn’t busy eating the product.

Then there was Jonathan. A quiet guy who mostly worked the coffee bar and helped on dish duty when the kitchen was busy. He made a mean latte, you were told, and if he liked you, he’d use his special coffee beans that he kept hidden in the back.

Steve was front of house, mostly waiting tables, sometimes sitting at the rarely used host desk. Handsome and polite, he waved at you from atop a kitchen counter, already chewing on a slice of toast that he ended up sharing with Robin.

Going by the staff schedule that was pinned to a board in the office, there seemed to be more employees you’d yet to meet. A Chrissy Cunningham, Jason Carver and someone called William although it was scored out and had Billy written next to it. There was Dustin too, pencilled in at the bottom as a weekend busboy.

All in all, the staff at Jim’s diner were pretty cool. There was a man you hadn’t met yet, someone called Murray that was supposed to be the kitchen manager but apparently, he preferred a more work from home type of schedule. Then there was Eddie Munson.

Line cook, although in a diner this size, he was pretty much the only cook. Territorial over his kitchen, you’d been warned that the boy tended to keep to himself, liked to communicate in grunts and grumbles, and was usually perpetually moody. He had a lot of opinions over music, over food, over the right spice to use in apple pies. And he didn’t tend to take to new people, much to your dismay. The morning you arrived ready to work, Eddie greeted you with a grunt from behind a coffee cup, dumping your uniform into your arms with a name badge that had “Chicago” written in permanent marker, a sure sign that Jim had forgotten your name.

So the first week went without much talking to Eddie, you keeping to your space between the tables and him keeping to the kitchen. Music blasted through most of the shift, with the boy working with his head down, curls escaping his bun, his apron tied right around his waist. Every now and then, when you came to the hatch to collect plates and orders, you’d hear him hum along to the radio, an upbeat tune that never matched the frown on his face. And if he happened to catch you staring, well, the lines between his brows only deepened.

And despite the sour faced regulars who only grunted and held their cups out when you offered more coffee, working at the diner wasn’t the worst job you’d had. Tips were okay, Jonathan made you a latte every morning you shared a shift and the sizzle of the stoves became a comforting background noise as you pottered around the tables, smiling shyly and taking orders with the utmost concentration.

It was fine, good even. Up until your first run in with Mr Creel.

The older man frequented the diner regularly, coming in early mornings and late nights, leaving whatever job he did to spend hours at a time at the end of the diner bar. He sat under the television screen, a dead eye stare on whatever it was showing, only holding his mug out for coffee refills.

He was particular about being left alone and even more particular about his coffee being black. So when you accidentally topped the caffeine up with creamer, you finally heard the old man’s voice. He yelled something awful, his voice croaky from hardly being used, a raspy, horrible thing as he uttered ugly words.

“Stupid girl,” he hissed, knocking over the cup of coffee until the insides ran along the bar and dripped onto your white sneakers. “Are you dumb? Huh?” The man glared at you as you tried to form words, mouth tripping over an apology you weren’t sure he deserved anymore. “How difficult can this job be?”

Steve came to your aid, brow furrowed and tongue bitten as he held back the things he wanted to say to the customer. But he saw the tears in your eyes, your gaze a little unfocused and glassy, his hand on your elbow as he coaxed you into leaving the situation.

“I got this,” he muttered, a rag in hand, ready to mop up Mr. Creel’s mess as he pointedly ignored the old man’s whispered insults. “Take a breather, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t hesitate, scampering away with coffee sodden sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. You’d have to thank Steve later, the tears were close to falling and you were adamant they wouldn’t escape while you were still on the diner floor. So you barrelled into the kitchen without much thought, not bothering to yell ‘doors’ or ‘corner,’ just desperate to get out of sight. It was a slow morning, a few pancakes on the griddle, some leftover waffle batter in a bowl by the stove, another one full of eggs beside it. Apart from the sounds of food cooking, sizzles, pops, the sound of the radio, it was quiet.

Pushing your back to the tiled wall, you weren’t able to do much to escape the heat that always filled the kitchen. The back of your uniform scratched at your neck, an itchy warmth that stuck to your skin and made the tears come a little easier as Mr. Creel’s words echoed in your head. You knew it wasn’t worth overthinking - everyone had warned you that the man was a perpetual thunder cloud, always gloomy, always looking for an excuse to yell. But still, you blinked one too many times and your glassy eyes spilled over, lashes sticking together with tears as you stuttered over a heaving breath. Your face scrunched, falling with too much emotion and you made a noise akin to a whimper, a wet sounding thing that you could keep in.

You didn’t hear someone come back in from the fire exit, the brief smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the heat and the fiery barbecue scent of lunch hours brisket cooking. Eddie scowled at the sight of you by his station, back to the wall, hip pressed to the stainless steel table. Your head was bowed, the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes and when he turned down the radio - just slightly - he could hear you sniff.

The boy frowned, somewhat uncomfortable, that crinkle that was always between his brows deepening. He used his wrist to sweep the hair out of his eyes and he gestured to the walk-in behind you, even though you couldn’t see. "Uh, normally we cry in the freezer."

You looked up, mortified. Your cheeks were red hot, a burn from the embarrassment of being caught and the frustration from the customer who was surely still at the bar, uncaring of the state he’d put you in.

You sniffed, swiping hastily at your cheeks. "What?"

The boy sighed, an impatient noise that Robin had already told you not to take offence to. He nodded at the freezer again, lowering the heat on whatever it was he was cooking in a comically large pot. "In there. That's where we have our breakdowns."

You stood, aimless, wondering what you were supposed to do with that information. The freezer? Wouldn't Hopper be looking for you?

The boy scrunched his face in annoyance and you thought he was going to return to his recipe, but he turned off the burner and rounded the station. He tilted his chin at you, signalling you to follow. "C'mon, come wi' me," he murmured.

It was the most he’d said to you since the day you’d turned up with your resumes and some hope in your chest. You blinked, watching Eddie stomp down the aisle between the stations, big combat boots a strange congrats to his chef whites. You ran a little to catch up, hip catching the corner of a cart filled with fresh fruit and a bowl of proofed dough, trying not to stumble into the back of the boy. You almost did when he stopped dead and pulled at the door of the giant walk-in, a wall of cold air hitting your both square in the face.

Stacks of frozen food sat on metal shelves, lines of cut meats, boxes of iced over vegetables, already cut and prepped. Eddie waved a hand inside, gesturing for you to enter. Your breath turned visible as the temperature dropped by twenty degrees, ice cold and raising goosebumps on your arms. You half expected Eddie to shut the door and leave you alone, but you were surprised when he walked in after you, the soft thump of the door closing after him.

Silence enveloped you both, the noise of the kitchen, the broken AC, the diner all disappearing. You breathed out a sigh of relief, breath crystallising between you and the boy who was eyeing you warily, wondering if you were going to keep crying. He didn’t say anything, he just leaned against a shelf and tugged a rag from his back pocket, wiping off his hands.

It was easier to breathe without the heat of the diner, the constant steam from the kitchen, the way the sun hit the windows and made the whole place too hot. The boy watched you, still cautious, waiting for your chest to stop heaving and you to stop sniffling. When you did, he peered at you through his bangs.

“Better?”

Still embarrassed, you swiped hastily at your cheeks and tried to pretend you weren’t crying, wiping the evidence of the apron that held your pad and pen- and now splashes from Mr. Creel’s coffee tantrum. “Yeah, m’fine. Thanks.”

The boy nodded, lips pressed together as if he didn’t know what else to say. Neither did you, still hot cheeked and mortified, staring wide eyed at the freezer door and for a brief second, you wondered if the rest of the diner would hear you from behind the thick freezer door if you just so happened to let out a yell. Maybe that’s why Eddie said this was the breakdown space. You guessed you’d find out sooner than you thought.

And just as you were getting ready to push the door back open, Eddie peered up at you from where he was busy inspecting a silver scar on his wrist. “Creel’s a real asshole, don’t let him get to you.”

Surprised, you stopped in your tracks and turned. The leftover tears on your cheeks weren’t quite ice, but they left cold trails across your face that felt too obvious. You pushed against the apple of your cheek once more, fingers digging in a little too meanly as you tried to get rid of the evidence that Eddie already saw. “I know,” you nodded. You sniffed again. “Just— took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Eddie nodded slowly, like he was thinking over your words. “You gotta toughen up, kid.” He swept by you, lemongrass and some cologne that was hidden behind the smell of basil and spice. His shoulder knocked yours. “Told you you wouldn’t last in the kitchen.”

—————

Some would call it stubbornness, others would call it spiteful, but you were more determined than ever to fit in and work hard at the diner. Eddie’s comment made a lasting effect on you and you tried every day to smile through the shit and be a little bolder, leaving the shyness behind with Chicago and every other failed opportunity. Plus, the tips came a little easier if you flashed a smile and some flirt.

You cleaned up the smashed burgers and soggy fries that were smeared into the floor after a family of tourists swept through the restaurant, you wiped down tables, refilled the salt shakers and when you collected orders from Eddie at the kitchen hatch, you made sure to use the towel to pick up the hot plates. The last time you’d suffered a burn, Eddie had rolled his eyes and scoffed. But when you came back for the next order a few minutes later, an ice pack was sitting waiting.

“You okay?” Robin’s side nudged up against yours in greeting at the cutlery station, familiar and friendly.

You smiled, nodding, wrapping napkins around knives and forks. Robin picked up a bundle to help and you could tell by her unsettled fidgeting, she wanted to ask something. “Are you okay?”

The girl made a face and squinted at you, all nervous charm and nervousness. “Yeah, yeah— I’m good. So good. It’s just, uh—”

You blinked, waiting, both of you moving out of the way when Jonathan appeared with a set of headphones over his ears, grinning at you both as he dumped more clean cutlery into the drawers.

“—you know how it was both of us on the late tonight?” Robin continued once Jonathan disappeared. You nodded, still sorting out the utensils, frowning when the freshly cleaned sets burned your fingertips. “Well, I kinda got asked on a date tonight and oh my god, okay, like, I know you’re new but I’ve been waiting on this girl literally forever and—”

It was easy to smile at Robin’s enthusiastic rambling, your shoulders losing the tension they usually held as you listened to her talk. “Who is it?” You asked curiously.

“It’s like, holy shit? She’s interested in me? I mean— oh.” Robin cut herself off after she realised you’d spoken. Her cheeks burned, pink covering her freckles and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed at her own excitement. “Nancy.”

You beamed and nodded, already knowing about the flirting that went on during their shared shifts, the way Robin looked at the other girl, the way Steve rolled his eyes fondly behind his friend's back.

“That’s sweet,” you told the girl, happy for her. “You guys goin’ somewhere nice?”

“Uh, yeah,” Robin smiled, bashful, before she flicked her gaze to you again, nerves kicking back in. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask. Would you mind if I left early?” The girl gestured to the quiet diner, a little more peaceful now the dinner rush was over. “I know I was supposed to stay until close with you, but this show starts at like, nine? So I was just wondering if it’d be okay with you if I—”

You cut the girl off with a hand to her forearm, stopping her nervous gesturing. You smiled again. “Hey, it’s totally okay. I can handle it.”

She grinned, face lighting up with genuine happiness as she squealed and grabbed your arms, pulling you into a crushing hug despite the bundles of cutlery you held to your chest. But her excitement was contagious and you grinned too, happy to have made Robin happy, happier to feel like you had a real friend.

“I owe you!” She gasped, “thank you so much! You’re on with Eddie ‘til close, and maybe Jonathan? It’ll be fine! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She gushed as she pulled off her apron and rushed to the office.

The rest of the time went quietly, as did most of the graveyard shifts. Families and couples left after eight and as the evening headed towards night, the clock approaching twelve, the diner was empty apart from one lone trucker in the corner nursing an extra black coffee and a cinnamon roll. So you headed into the kitchen with the last of the plates, proud of the way you balanced all five of them over your forearms, only wobbling a little. You even remembered to call out as you pushed the door open, even though there wasn’t much happening.

The hustle and bustle had slowed to a lazy stroll, the radio still on but much quieter, another sixties song crooning from the speakers. Eddie was washing down his station, knives sharpened and put away, the stovetop grills seeping in the sink full of bubbles.

“Floors have just been mopped,” he told you without looking up. “Careful.”

You nodded, always startled when he spoke, his voice much softer than he looked. It was honeyed whisky, syrupy smooth. You managed to slide the dishes into an empty sink without much fanfare - nothing spilled, nothing smashed - and you were planning on refilling the ketchup dispenser when your stomach growled, unreasonably loud.

You clamped a hand over it, an awful flush crawling up the back of your neck that you knew too well. Embarrassed, you tried to laugh it off, avoiding Eddie’s gaze when his head shot up. Wide eyed, he appraised you, watching as you gave him a wide berth as you shot for the door. Before you could make a break for it, the cook dropped his cleaning rag and sighed.

“Have you ate?”

You stopped, almost tipping over your own feet as you spun back round to face him. You wondered if you misheard him, if he was maybe talking to someone else in the kitchen you hadn’t noticed but Jonathan was whistling outside of the kitchen hatch, cleaning down the coffee machine and no one else was on shift.

Still, you asked, “what?”

Eddie frowned, like he was upset about repeating himself. But he was already pulling a chopping board out from the racks underneath the workbench. “I said, have you ate? You sound like a dying whale.”

If you weren’t so mortified, you think you would’ve been offended. You hadn’t eaten though, not since you’d managed to shovel a bag of chips into your mouth between a bus load of tourists stopping off for a milkshake and Jim’s famous wings. But you weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to know so you shrugged, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t showing on your face.

The boy just sighed, like he always did, and gestured to a stool that sat across from his station. “Sit,” he ordered gruffly before pulling out half of a baked loaf from earlier. “You like mustard?”

“What’re you doing?” You hadn’t moved, standing shell shocked by the door, your stomach still yelling at you.

Eddie turned to you with that same frown, forever looking annoyed at your presence. Now he was brandishing a butter knife, more curls than ever escaping his bun. He really should wear a hairnet.

“What’s it look like?” He grunted. He pointed at the stool once more. “C’mon. Mustard?”

You walked over slowly, like you were approaching something wild and unpredictable. Maybe you were. The stool squeaked as it scraped across the tiles, and you eyed the boy warily as you pushed yourself onto the chair across from him. ��Sure,” you mumbled, watching as he slathered slices of sourdough with mustard and a little mayonnaise.

“You should eat properly.” Eddie scowled. “You don’t eat nothin’, gonna make yourself pass out in this heat.”

You seemed to forget your shyness as you frowned right back. “How would you know?” You demanded.

Eddie scoffed and suddenly you forgot altogether that you and this boy didn’t really talk. He was rolling his eyes at you as he layered on some cheddar cheese and salami, not asking you before he added some prosciutto and lettuce. “Because you scramble in and out of here all day chasin’ your own tail. I watched you inhale that bag of chips earlier like a goddamn raccoon.”

You squirmed not loving the comparison but knowing that he probably wasn’t far off in terms of likeness. But still, your frown matched his. “I don’t scramble,” you murmured.

Eddie scoffed, a breathy, disbelieving thing that made him raise his eyebrows. He was moving around his station with a grace you couldn’t fathom, speedy and gentle with each movement. He drizzled a little honey over the second slice of bread before stacking it on top, an impressive display of flavour in each layer before he sliced it down the middle.

“Oh, yes you do,” Eddie shot back. “Like a squirrel.” He placed the sandwich on a plate Jonathan had already cleaned and pushed it towards you before deciding to add another little pot of honey beside it.

“I thought I was a raccoon?” You asked him before you could help yourself. “Thank you,” you added quickly, looking down at the plate. Your stomach grumbled again, your mouth watered.

Eddie shrugged, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “Either rodent will do,” he told you. “And you’re welcome. Now eat.”

You didn’t argue anymore, tucking into your snack with a shy sort of wariness. You’d hardly spoken to the boy before now and yet here he was, preparing you food. Just a sandwich, but it took more effort than any snack you’d ever made yourself. You took a bite, eyes closing at the flavour and you hummed in appreciation. When you opened them again, Eddie was at the sink, his back to you but you could see from the tilt of his head that showed off how he watched you from the side of his eyes.

“Oh my god—” you cut yourself off, humming again, a delighted little noise that you couldn’t help let out. “This is amazing.”

You ate until Eddie was done cleaning, using your crusts to dip into the honey, mopping up everything off your plate until it was empty, your legs swinging happily from the stool. If you were alone, you would’ve danced. You were sure you saw him fight a smile as he returned to the bench, brows raised at your full cheeks, your happy eyes, the crumbs on his once clean station.

“Squirrel to chipmunk,” he noted, gaze trailing over your face. You swallowed quickly, cheeks heating up once again and you dropped your eye line to the table as you wiped your hands on your apron. “Good?” He asked.

“Delicious,” you told him with a nod. “Thank you. Again. You didn’t have to do that.”

Eddie swung a dish towel over his shoulder and ducked his head, curls falling loose around his face and you watched as he slid his clean equipment back into their rightful place. “Was just a sandwich, no big deal.”

It was just a sandwich. But you’d soon come to realise it was something so much bigger than you’d ever have thought.

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longclawislightbringer · 6 months

Text

Chapter Two: The Princess and the Jester

Rating: T

Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary: It's fifteen minutes to showtime and Eddie's a nervous wreck when he sees a familiar face in the crowd.

I’ve been absolutely blown away by the response to the first chapter of this little fic. Thank you to all my fellow Hellcheer shippers for being so welcoming. I think I originally started writing this chapter in Chrissy’s POV before deciding that it would be more fun to see it from Eddie’s perspective. After all, there’s a reason this is tagged “Idiots in Love” *wiggles eyebrows*. Thanks once again to my beta, Ry, for taking a look at this chapter. You can find her at ryleighjosephinne on AO3 and at @dustinswill on Tumblr. I hope you all enjoy part 2! I think I've read through it about five times in the last two days, so I'm ready for it to be out there.

Chapter One. Chapter Two.

Read on AO3

As Eddie waited backstage with Jeff and Grant, he fiddled with the skull ring on his pinky finger. The din of the crowd, waiting for the concert to begin, rose behind the curtain. His heart raced in time with the clock above the stage manager’s station on the black cinderblock walls.

“I can’t do this,” Eddie blanched, butterflies dancing in his stomach. “This is the biggest crowd we’ve ever played for.” He crouched on the floor while the backline and lighting crew scurried past him as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey, snap out of it,” Jeff snapped a finger in front of his face.

“But what if I mess everything up?” Eddie wondered, eyes downcast.

“You won’t,” Jeff hauled Eddie to his feet. “You electrify a crowd when you play that guitar. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine,” Eddie scoffed, straightening his leather jacket.

“Here,” Grant walked past the sound monitors and tossed him a water bottle. “You’ll feel better.”

“I sure hope so,” Eddie muttered, twisting off the cap to take a sip. The ice-cold water glided down his throat with each gulp.

“Hey,” Gareth mused, “is that Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie spewed water all over the floor.

He whipped around toward Gareth, who peeked past the curtain onto the pit.

“I thought she was only coming to the Indianapolis shows?” Jeff interjected.

“She didn’t tell me she was coming!” Eddie set down his half-drunk water and marched to the curtain, peering over Gareth’s shoulder into the crowd.

Chrissy stood at the edge of the stage, looking like a fish out of water in her matching pastel blue miniskirt, sweater, and white Keds. After she checked her watch, she ran a hand through her teased strawberry-blonde hair and fidgeted with one of her many necklaces.

His stomach flipped. Chrissy wore his ring on her hand.

“That’s definitely her,” Eddie mumbled.

“You don’t think she read the interview, do you?” Gareth asked.

Eddie’s heart plummeted.

“When was that supposed to come out?” Eddie questioned through tight lips. “I was supposed to tell her not to read it until she saw me at the Indianapolis show.”

“Last Tuesday,” Jeff replied as he and Grant joined Eddie and Gareth at the curtain. “Maybe she doesn’t read Rolling Stone.”

Chrissy took a poster from the dark-skinned girl in fishnets and combat boots beside her. Eddie waited with bated breath for her to flip it over.

His heart sank once more when he read, “EDDIE MUNSON WE NEED TO TALK” in Chrissy’s perfect handwriting.

“Ouch,” Grant patted him on the back. “Sorry, dude.”

Eddie glanced at the clock above the manager’s podium—still fifteen minutes to curtain.

He could fix this.

_________

He could not fix this.

While he waited for the security guards to bring Chrissy and her friend to their small green room, every tick of the clock reverberated against the white-washed walls. His heartbeat slowed to match; butterflies danced in his chest.

Eddie paced up and down the room, shaking his hands as he dodged the cherry coffee table in front of the couch.

“Dude, sit down,” Gareth called from the couch. “You’re gonna give yourself a headache.”

Eddie bit his lip. “Alright.”

He perched on the brown couch between Jeff and Grant, tapping his fingers on his bouncing leg.

He froze as the green room door creaked open.

Without ceremony, a security guard ushered Chrissy and her friend inside and closed the door behind them.

Chrissy glowed, her strawberry-blonde hair framing her face like a cover girl on a magazine.

The silence hung thick between them, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Eddie sprang to his feet.

“Chrissy.” Eddie choked out. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she squeaked back.

Jeff broke the tension. “Chrissy, are you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Right,” Chrissy shook her head as if in a daze. “Guys, this is my roommate, Stacey.”

Stacey waved behind her, her enthusiasm jingling the upwards of ten bracelets she wore on each arm. “Stacey, this is Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Stacey gushed, twirling one of her braids. “I’m a huge fan.“

“Any friend of Chrissy’s is a friend of ours,” Grant said as he shook her hand.

The room settled back into silence. Eddie studied Chrissy like a starving man at a feast, drinking in every last drop of her before she inevitably told him to go to hell.

Gareth slapped his knees and rose from the couch. “Stacey, how would you like to see the stage?”

“I would be honored,” Stacey tipped her head in a mock bow.

“Fantastic!” Gareth grinned. “Jeff and Grant, let’s give Stacey the full tour.”

Grant put down his water as he got up to leave.

“Shouldn’t you guys stay here so the crew can find us?” Eddie asked, fiddling with the edge of his flannel.

“It’ll be fine,” Jeff said through gritted teeth. “We’ll just let Rodney know what we’re doing.” He mouthed, “Talk to her!” while he filed out of the room, leading Gareth, Grant, and Stacey toward the stage.

As she left, Stacey turned back, gave him two thumbs up and winked.

“Have fun!” Chrissy called out to her without looking away, the foreboding poster still dangling from her fingers. Eddie gulped.

When the door clicked closed and they were alone, Eddie rubbed the back of his head, “Chrissy, I—“

“I read the interview—“ Chrissy interrupted him softly, “—in Rolling Stone.”

“Oh,” the color drained from Eddie’s cheeks. “You saw that. You weren’t supposed to see it until I could tell you myself.”

He crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders.

“Look, pretend I never said anything,” Eddie pleaded as her bright eyes filled with tears. “We can go back to the way it was.”

Chrissy shook her head. “Eddie, I don’t think I can.” Her voice wavered.

“No, no,” Eddie stepped back. “Please don’t, Chrissy. I can’t lose—“

The door to the Green Room slammed open.

“Five minutes to your set, Mr. Munson,” the PA said, not even bothering to glance up from his clipboard.

“Coming,” Eddie called as the PA walked away. He turned back to Chrissy but avoided her tearful gaze. “I’ve got to go.” He shouldered past her, continuing, “If you want, you can watch us from the wings. I’m sure the guys already dropped Stacey off. It’s a really great view and—“

“Edward Munson, would you stop talking for once!” Chrisy seethed.

Eddie whirled around in the cinderblock hallway, already halfway toward the stage. Chrissy stood in the green room door, tightly clenching her poster. An angry flush bloomed across her cheeks and bled down her neck into her blue sweater.

Eddie put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t forget,” Chrissy’s voice quivered, “because . . . because . . . Oh, gosh darn it!”

Eddie reeled back as Chrissy hurled her poster aside and flung herself into his arms. On instinct, he reached his arms around her waist to steady her as she cradled his head, pulling him closer. She jammed their lips together, and in an instant, every anxiety about the upcoming concert vanished.

The world slowed to a standstill around them.

She tasted like strawberries.

Chrissy pulled back with a lazy grin, holding onto the collar of Eddie’s jacket. “I would have said yes if you asked.” Her skin was warm where his hands crept under her sweater. “So now I’m asking you: will you go out with me?”

“What?” Eddie blinked.

“Mr. Munson, you’re needed on stage,” the PA tapped his shoulder, pulling him out of the daze.

“Right,” he grabbed Chrissy by the wrist and dragged her to where Stacey and the rest of the band waited in the wings just out of sight of the crowd.

Depositing her next to her roommate, Eddie fiddled with the hem of her sweater.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Chrissy bristled. “Absolutely.”

“Just had to be sure,” Eddie smirked as he leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips.

Stacey squealed as the rest of the band gasped. Eddied gave them the finger as he pulled back.

“Yes, Chrissy, I will go out with you,” he answered as the lights dimmed over the crowd and their intro music blared through the speaker system. The crowd roared in applause, chanting “Corroded Coffin” in time to the beat.

Chrissy melted, stars in her eyes as she watched him go.

“I’ll even be your man forever if you like,” Eddie shouted back to her as he backed away.

Giddy, Eddie jogged onto the stage behind his bandmates and assumed his position in front of his microphone downstage left as Jeff approached the mike center stage.

Grabbing his beloved red guitar off the stand, Eddie slung it over his back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Chrissy in the wings, who blew him a kiss. Beside her, Stacey looked like she was about to faint.

Eddie tinkered with the frets on his guitar.

The backing music cut out. Gareth counted them in on drums as the spot came up on Grant. With precise fingers, he picked out the opening to “Unworthy”.

Eddie tapped his foot, waiting for his turn. In eight bars, he would come in with his signature riff.

He took one last look at Chrissy. She clasped her hands tight.

Eddie winked at her before ripping into his opening chord. The sound reverberated through the stadium as the spotlight above him blasted on, a blindingly hot beam of white light. Eddie closed his eyes. He glided across the strings, plucking out a melodious cacophony.

When he finished his riff, he opened his eyes and glanced at the crowd. They watched the band with rapt attention. Eddie settled into his element.

Jeff stepped up to the mike as the last spotlight blared on. The crowd was putty in his hands.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff shouted. “Let’s get ready to rock!”

_____

“Thanks for being such a great crowd, Pittsburgh!” Jeff yelled into the mike. “We’ve got a couple more songs for you all, but I’m going to pass the mike over to Eddie to introduce this next song.”

Eddie glanced between Jeff and the audience without missing a beat.

Jeff nodded toward Chrissy, waiting for him in the wings.

She gave him two thumbs up and mouthed, “You got this!”

Eddie smiled and turned back to the booming crowd. The stage lights beat down on him—he could barely make out any faces beyond the first row.

“Hey, everyone,” he waved. “ I’m Eddie.”

The crowd roared.

“I love you, Eddie!” one guy screamed.

“Thank you,” Eddie joked, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m touched.” He leaned his bare arm on the neck of his guitar. He’d lost the jacket and the flannel somewhere halfway through their set, when he was singing lead on their cover of "11th Street Kids". “So funny story about this next song . . . And every love song that I’ve ever written. They’re all about my best friend—“ A cheer rose from the crowd as Eddie vamped the opening of the next song. “If you read our interview in Rolling Stone, I admitted I’ve been in love with her for years, and I never told her, even though she’s gotten demos of every song I’ve ever written.” He paused for dramatic effect—the crowd waited with bated breath. A rivulet of sweat darted between his shoulders. “She hasn’t heard this song before.” He winked; the crowd screamed. He plucked the strings with a gentle touch. “Whenever I’m in her presence, I am but a humble court jester devoted to a beautiful, unattainable princess, unworthy of her attention, only desiring to hear that melodious laugh for one more time.” Eddie sighed pathetically. “That’s all I thought I would ever be, her court jester.”

He waited again, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. He smirked.

“But apparently, I was wrong. She’s here tonight, and she just asked me out!”

Cheers and whoops rose from the crowd.

“I said yes, of course.” Eddie winked. “Guess I’ll have to come up with some new material for the next album.”

The crowd laughed.

Eddie picked up the tempo, queuing Grant on bass and Gareth on drums. The rhythm coursed through him like lightning as the lights flashed and smoke rose from the floor. It was a good thing they had been practicing to start playing this song after the Indianapolis show next year.

“This song is called ‘The Princess and the Jester’.” He glanced at the wings. Half in shadow and flushed with excitement, Chrissy bounced along to the song.

They locked eyes as time seemed to slow down. Eddie kept the rhythm but couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Chrissy, this one’s for you.”

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