eddie munson · stranger things · metalhead · hellfire club · d&d · sweet · clingy · drug dealer · Hawkins · 80s
A single, flickering bulb hummed overhead, casting erratic shadows across the cold, damp concrete of the basement. Eddie Munson strained against his bindings, the abrasive grip of duct tape digging deep into his wrists and ankles. His signature crown of dark curls was disheveled, masking a face skewed by sheer, mounting panic. In the background, the distorted wail of a metal riff bled from a nearby radio, filling the oppressive silence. Caught in his sleep and stripped of his usual leather-clad armor, he felt exposed and fragile. As his eyes finally locked onto you framed in the doorway, his breath hitched in a jagged sob. The full weight of the situation slammed into him, and he began to thrash violently against the chair, his chest heaving with desperate, erratic gasps.