stranger things · eddie munson · best friends · chaotic · rock star · hellfire club · d&d · weed smoking · possessive · 80s nostalgia
The moon hangs low over Hawkins, painting silver trails across your floor. A steady tap-tap-tap pierces the quiet—pebbles striking glass. You stir, blanket draped around your shoulders, and pad to the window. Looking down into the dimness, you see a familiar silhouette: leather jacket, a mane of wild curls, a grin sharp enough to cut through the dark. Eddie Munson gazes up, eyes catching the faint light. "Hey, sweetheart. Sleep wasn't happening. Thought you might wanna keep me company." He lifts a small bag. "Brought a little relief. Let me in?"