#brother Eddie Munson

[dippindaz]

Would you be willing to do a Billy x Reader (Eddie’s younger sister/sibling). I just feel that Billy and Eddie would hate each other so the dynamics could be fun to play with. Is Y/n just like Eddie or quiet and a bookworm? I feel liked they’d have the same curly hair, maybe same eye colour. I listened to something similar on YT recently, thought it was cool.

thanks xx

Of course!! And I definitely think they have the same hair, no way you escape those curls.

I uh—I also got a little carried away with brainstorming an idea for this request so this is gonna be a multi-part thing now!! lol, I hope you all enjoy. (Also If you'd like this request to be executed differently as I know I went a little off the rails with it, I'd be more than happy to do it just send in another ask if that's the case :) )

Masterlist here

Mentions of drug baggies and Billy being Billy, (I think) are the only necessary warnings.

The trailer door creaked as it swung open, and Billy stepped inside without hesitation, letting it fall shut behind him. The place was dimly lit, cluttered with old magazines, half-empty beer cans, and random junk Eddie never bothered to clean up. Typical. Billy barely glanced at the mess, his attention locked on the guy slouched on the couch, counting out a handful of baggies like it was just another boring Tuesday.

Eddie barely spared him a glance. “You’re early.”

Billy shrugged, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe. “And you’re slow.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, tossing one of the baggies onto the table. “Gimme a sec. Gotta grab something from the van.” He pushed himself up with a grunt, shoving past Billy and out the door without another word.

Billy let out a scoff, but as his eyes flicked around the room, they landed on someone else—someone unexpected.

Sitting cross-legged in the recliner across the room, nose buried in a dog-eared paperback, was you. Eddie’s little sister. He’d seen you around school before, always on the outskirts, never in the thick of things. You had that same wild hair as Eddie, though without the dramatics. Quieter. More reserved. Talking was Eddie’s thing.

Billy tilted his head, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“Well, shit,” he drawled. “Didn’t peg Munson for the type to keep secrets.”

You didn’t look up. “Didn’t peg you for the type to knock.”

Billy chuckled, stepping further inside. “I don’t. Doors open for me.” His voice was thick with arrogance, the kind that made most girls stumble over themselves. You just turned a page.

“Huh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, studying you. “Didn’t know Munson had a sister. Guess you don’t get out much.” He did know, he just wanted to jab at you, you were sure.

This time, you did glance up, just briefly. “Or maybe you just don’t pay attention.”

Billy grinned. “Oh, I’m paying attention now.”

He let that hang in the air, watching for a reaction. Most girls at school either giggled around him or avoided him like the plague. You just seemed… uninterested.

Before he could push further, the door swung open again, and Eddie stomped back inside.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up,” Eddie muttered, tossing another baggie onto the pile. Then his eyes landed on Billy—no, on the space between Billy and you.

His expression darkened instantly. “The hell are you doin’ talking to my sister, Hargrove?”

Billy didn’t take his eyes off you. “Didn’t realize she needed permission to talk.”

Eddie grabbed the baggies, shoving them into Billy’s hand. “Yeah, well, now you know. So don’t.”

Billy smirked, slow and taunting, before finally tearing his gaze away from you. He lifted the baggies in a lazy salute. “Pleasure doin’ business, Munson.” Then, with one last glance at you, he strolled out, whistling under his breath.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Eddie spun around. “Don’t talk to him.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know who he is, Eddie.”

“Then you should know better.”

You sighed, waving him off. It annoyed you, but you were used to Eddie’s protective side. “It’s not like I’m gonna fall for him or something. He’s just a guy.”

Eddie scoffed. “Yeah. A guy who’s bad news.”

You just shook your head. It didn’t matter. A crush was harmless, right?

Harmless.

Right.

———————————————————————————

Later the next day you find yourself being dragged to the arcade with the kids. Arcades were okay, a bit too loud and overwhelming for you, but you’d go if it made the buttheads smile. The bells above the arcade door jingle as Dustin and the others rush inside, already chattering about high scores and token strategies. You’re about to follow when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Didn’t take you for the arcade type, Munson.”

You freeze for half a second before turning, already bracing yourself.

Billy Hargrove is leaning against the side of his Camaro, cigarette dangling from his lips, one arm draped lazily over the car door. The setting sun glints off his silver chain, making the smirk on his face look even more infuriating.

You school your expression. “Not often.”

Billy exhales a slow stream of smoke, eyes dragging over you with interest. “Then what’s the occasion?”

You cross your arms. “Why do you care?”

His smirk deepens. “Just makin’ conversation, sweetheart.”

You glance over your shoulder, where the kids disappeared inside. A distraction would be nice right about now. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Maybe a mirror to admire yourself in?”

Billy chuckles, pushing off the car. “That was the plan,” he admits, taking another drag. “Then I saw you.”

You roll your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Billy grins like you just handed him a prize. “Yeah, lucky you.”

You shift on your feet, debating if this conversation is even worth the effort. But Billy takes another step forward, the amusement in his eyes sharpening like he’s enjoying every second of this.

“Y’know,” he muses, tipping his head, “didn’t expect Eddie’s little sister to be so—” He drags his gaze over you, slow and deliberate. “—cute.”

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, and heat creeps up your neck.

Billy notices. Of course he does.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” he teases. “That’s alright. I like a challenge.”

You force out a scoff, hoping it covers the way your pulse kicks up. “You’re wasting your time.”

Billy flicks the ash from his cigarette, watching you like he’s already decided that’s not true. “Nah. I don’t think so.” He takes another lazy step closer, lowering his voice just slightly. “I bet if I asked real nice, you’d keep me company.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

His smirk curves into something slower, more deliberate. “Because you’re curious.”

Your stomach flips.

And he’s right.

Before you can decide whether to snap back or just ignore him, the arcade door swings open, and Lucas steps outside. He barely glances at Billy, his focus locking onto you instead.

“You coming?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

You exhale, grateful for the interruption. “Yeah.”

Billy’s smirk lingers as you turn away. “See you around, Munson.”

You don’t look back.

But even as you step inside, you can still feel his eyes on you.

———————————————————————————

You didn’t see Billy for the rest of the weekend, and though you saw him today you thankfully hadn’t talked to him. Only issue? He’s in your class. You’ve been keeping your head down, eyes glued to your notebook, willing yourself to focus. The teacher is droning on about something—probably the Cold War, or maybe Nixon—but it’s hard to tell over the sound of Billy Hargrove’s constant, low-voiced disruptions from the seat beside you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. “You don’t have to pretend to be so into this. Bet you’d have way more fun if you—”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. “Shut up, Hargrove.”

He lets out a short, amused chuckle, unfazed. “Feisty,” he muses. “I like it.”

You grip your pencil tighter, refusing to take the bait. He’d started this the second he strolled into class late and took the empty seat next to you. Just your luck. You weren’t sure if he even belonged in this class or if he just did whatever he wanted and no one stopped him.

Billy shifts again, slouching in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. “You know, ignorin' me doesn’t make me go away.”

“No, but it makes me feel better.”

His lips twitch into a smirk. “That so?”

You don’t answer. Across the room, your teacher gives an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples. “Mr. Hargrove, unless you’re going to contribute something insightful, I suggest you keep quiet.”

Billy raises his hands in mock innocence. “Just tryin’ to have a conversation, sir.”

The class snickers, but you just exhale slowly, willing the clock to move faster.

By the time the bell rings, you’re out of your seat in an instant, shoving your books into your bag as fast as humanly possible. But you should’ve known better.

Billy’s already leaning against the lockers when you reach yours, arms crossed, that same smug smirk playing at his lips.

“You always this fun, or just in class?”

You glance at him briefly, but you don’t stop twisting your locker dial. “What do you want?”

“What, can’t a guy say hi?”

You roll your eyes, pulling the door open. “Hi. Bye.”

Billy doesn’t move. If anything, he seems more amused. “Eddie put you up to this?” he asks, tilting his head. “The whole avoiding-me-like-the-plague thing?”

You huff, shoving your books inside. “No one has to tell me to avoid you.”

“Ah.” Billy nods, like that confirms something. “Right. So you just listen to every word your big brother says?”

“I have my own brain, thanks.”

“Yeah?” He leans in a little, and for the first time, you hesitate. He notices. “So what’s stoppin' you?”

You blink. “Stopping me from what?”

“From having a real conversation with me.”

You scoff, slamming your locker shut. “Maybe I just don’t want to.”

Billy studies you, eyes flicking over your face, your stiff posture, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag. He smirks—but it’s different this time. Less cocky. More… calculating.

And that’s what makes your stomach twist.

Billy Hargrove was a lot of things—reckless, arrogant, charming when it suited him—but he wasn’t aimless. If he was talking to you, pushing your buttons, keeping you on edge, it was because he wanted something. And Billy Hargrove always got what he wanted.

But why you?

That was the part that didn’t make sense. You weren’t stupid. You knew what people like him were like, knew the way he treated girls at school—like conquests, like challenges, like something to pass the time. You’d spent years keeping your head down, staying out of the drama, and ever since he moved to Hawkins, out of his orbit, and yet now, for some reason, he had decided to step into yours.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of you didn’t entirely hate it.

Billy watches you carefully, waiting for something—a crack, a slip, a reaction he can use. When you don’t give him one, he exhales, clicking his tongue. “Shame.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What is?”

“That you’re so damn stubborn.” He takes a step back, like he’s already won something. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Like I said, I enjoy a challenge.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past him without another word.

Billy chuckles under his breath as he watches you walk away.

You shake off the lingering feeling of Billy’s eyes on you as you weave through the crowded hallway. The last thing you need is to be thinking about him, but the interaction still clings to you, like cigarette smoke that won’t wash out.

It doesn’t help that your next class—English—feels like a blur. You’re barely paying attention as you slip into your usual seat near the middle of the room.

“Jesus, you look like you saw a ghost.”

You blink, snapping out of it. Robin Buckley is staring at you from the next desk over, eyebrows raised in amusement. She twirls a pen between her fingers, already halfway slouched in her chair. “Or, like, had an existential crisis in the hallway.”

You snort, rubbing a hand over your face. “More like the second one.”

Robin perks up. “Ooh, do tell.”

You hesitate, but before you can come up with a reason not to, the words are already slipping out. “It’s Billy.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Hargrove?”

“No, Billy Joel,” you deadpan.

Robin shoots you a look. “Okay, first of all, don’t sass me when I’m trying to provide moral support. Second of all, what did he do now?”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the desk. “Nothing… technically. He just keeps—" You pause, struggling to put it into words. "—I don’t know. Talking to me.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “Talking how?”

You shift uncomfortably. “Like… I don’t know, like he’s testing me or something. Seeing how much he can get away with.”

Robin hums, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Lemme guess. The classic Hargrove moves? Smirking, standing too close, saying weirdly suggestive things but in that way where if you call him out, he’d act like you’re the crazy one?”

You blink. “Yeah. That’s… disturbingly accurate.”

Robin leans back, shrugging. “I’ve seen him do it before. He’s got a type.”

Your stomach twists slightly at that. “And what’s his type?”

She gives you a knowing look. “Girls he thinks he can mess with.”

You make a face. “Great. Love that for me.”

Robin tilts her head, considering you. “So… what are you gonna do?”

You exhale through your nose. “Ignore him.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. He’s like a cockroach—impossible to kill and way too smug about it.”

You groan, resting your forehead against your desk. “This is so stupid. Why is he even bothering?”

Robin shrugs. “Could be a few reasons. Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he wants to piss Eddie off.” She pauses, then smirks. “Or maybe he’s just got the hots for you.”

You whip your head up to glare at her. “Shut up.”

Robin grins. “I’m just saying! You’re cute, he’s an asshole—it tracks.”

You roll your eyes, but your face feels warm. “He’s not interested in me. He’s interested in annoying me.”

Robin shrugs. “Eh. Sometimes those things overlap.”

Before you can argue, the teacher calls for everyone’s attention, starting the lesson. You sink lower in your seat, pretending to take notes, but Robin’s words stick with you.

What if she was right?

And worse… what if a tiny, irrational part of you wanted her to be?

The rest of the school day drags, but you do your best to push Billy from your mind. Robin’s words still linger, though—He’s got a type. You tell yourself she’s wrong. That Billy’s just messing with you because he’s bored, because you’re Eddie’s sister, because it entertains him to get under your skin.

But then, like clockwork, he finds you again.

You’re at your locker, swapping out books, when you feel it—someone hovering just close enough to be intentional. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

Billy Hargrove leans casually against the locker beside yours, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “Miss me?”

You huff, slamming your locker shut. “Not even a little.”

“Ouch,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “And here I thought we were bonding.”

You roll your eyes and turn to walk away, but Billy easily matches your pace, strolling beside you down the hall.

“Relax, Munson. I’ll behave,” he promises, voice lighter than before. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout.”

He grins. “True. But I’m thinkin’ maybe you don’t hate me as much as you pretend.”

You scoff. “What gave you that idea?”

Billy shrugs. “Just a feeling.” He glances down at you, his smirk shifting into something less predatory, more amused. “So, what do you do for fun, Munson? Besides avoid me, of course.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the normalcy of the question. “Why do you care?”

“Just tryin’ to figure you out.”

You steal a glance at him, expecting the usual smugness, but for once, he just looks… curious. That’s what makes you pause.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t ask questions just to ask them. Everything he does is deliberate—he pushes, he pulls, he tests the waters. And right now? He’s testing you.

Before you can decide how to respond, the warning bell rings. You pause, gripping the strap of your bag.

Billy clicks his tongue. “Guess you’re off the hook—for now.”

You shake your head, stepping away. “Whatever, Hargrove.”

But really, it wasn’t whatever. You couldn’t lie—to yourself, at least. Since the day Billy appeared in Hawkins, you’d found him attractive. How could you not? But you also knew exactly what he was. Trouble. And you had enough of that in your life. You weren’t interested in being another notch in his bed frame, another girl he’d charm just to discard.

The rest of the school day feels like a blur. You can barely focus on the lessons, your thoughts drifting back to Billy. The way he keeps popping up, his questions that always seem to lead somewhere you’re not quite sure of, the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what buttons to push. By the time the final bell rings, you’re more than ready to leave.

You grab your bag and head out the door, trying to ignore the heavy feeling of being watched. The halls are crowded with students streaming out into the parking lot, eager to start their weekends. But you don’t get far before you feel it—that familiar presence. Someone too close, too intentional.

Billy. Again.

That same infuriating smirk plastered on his face. “Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

You exhale sharply. “Yeah, it’s almost like we go to the same school.”

Billy chuckles, pushing off the car to fall into step beside you. “Y’know I like your attitude.”

You shake your head, already regretting engaging, but it doesn’t matter, Billy doesn’t give up easily.

“So,” he says casually, hands slipping into his pockets, “how come I never see you at any of the parties?”

You snort. “Because I don’t go to them?”

“Tragic,” he muses. “You’re really missin’ out.”

“Pretty sure I’m not.”

Billy tilts his head, studying you. “Lemme guess. Not a fan of loud music? Drunk assholes?” His smirk grows. “Or just worried big brother Munson wouldn’t approve?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re obsessed with Eddie, you know that?”

Billy chuckles. “Nah. But it’s fun gettin’ under his skin.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you approach Eddie’s van. Billy follows, stepping in front of you just before you can reach the door. “Y’know,” he muses, “you keep actin’ like you don’t like talkin’ to me, but you never actually tell me to leave.”

Your lips part, but before you can find a response, another voice cuts in.

“What the hell is this?”

Eddie.

He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a deep scowl etched into his face.

Billy grins. “Hey, Munson.”

Eddie ignores him, eyes locked on you. “You good?”

You sigh. “Yeah, Eds. We were just—”

“She was just enjoyin’ my company,” Billy interrupts smoothly, flashing a grin.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, sure she was.” He looks at you again, more serious now. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

You huff, glancing between them, then finally step around Billy toward the passenger side of the van.

Billy doesn’t stop you, but as you open the door, he calls after you. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

You don’t respond.

The van door slams shut behind you, and as Eddie pulls out of the parking lot, you can’t help but glance back out the window at Billy’s retreating figure. Something about the way he’s been acting lately nags at you. It’s different from how he’s treated everyone else; he’s not pushing you away, not provoking Eddie, not throwing his usual taunts.

The second Eddie pulls into the street, he lets out a sharp scoff.

“Seriously?” He shoots you a look, eyebrows raised. “Billy Hargrove?”

You roll your eyes, already exhausted. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” He snorts. “’Cause from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like he was trying to work his slimy little charm on you.”

You huff, shifting in your seat. “He was just talking, Eddie. You’re acting like I was about to jump into his car.”

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s how it starts, dude. First, it’s just talking, then he’s got you riding shotgun in that stupid Camaro, then—” He shudders dramatically. “God, I don’t even wanna think about it.”

You cross your arms. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being smart,” he counters, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Hargrove’s a dick. And I don’t mean in a ‘he’s kind of an ass but deep down he’s okay’ way. I mean in a ‘he’s a total, no-redeeming-qualities, king-sized douchebag’ way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, staring out the window.

Eddie sighs, his voice softening just slightly. “Look, I know you think I’m overreacting, but I’m serious, alright? He’s not good news.”

“I know that,” you mutter, because you do. Everyone does.

Eddie shakes his head. “Then why the hell were you even talking to him?”

You hesitate, fingers fiddling with your bag strap. “I dunno. It just… happened.”

Eddie exhales heavily, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” you say automatically.

But something about the way Billy looked at you lingers in the back of your mind. He was charming, you’d give him that.

The drive back to the trailer is quiet. Eddie’s hands grip the steering wheel tight, and his fingers tap the rhythm of a song you can’t quite make out. You steal a glance at him, the tense set of his jaw making it clear that he’s still fuming about Billy. You know he’s just trying to protect you, but there’s something in his posture that hints at more than just concern—he’s pissed. It’s not like he hasn't made it obvious, but there’s an edge to his anger now, a frustration that’s starting to gnaw at you too.

As the van rumbles down the road toward the trailer park, you lean back against the seat, eyes trained on the world outside the window, your thoughts still lingering on the brief encounter with Billy. What the hell was that about? He hadn’t been his usual smug self. Something about it felt different, almost… normal. But you knew better than to let that pull you in.

When the van turns into the gravel lot, you finally sit up straight, looking out the window at the trailer. The silence is thick between you and Eddie, but it’s not uncomfortable. Neither of you is really ready to talk, but eventually, Eddie pulls the van to a stop outside the trailer.

He kills the engine, then turns to you, eyes still intense. “You sure you’re good?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to come out steady.

He’s quick to catch it, though, his brows knitting together. “What’s goin’ on with you and Billy, anyway?”

You sigh, pulling the door open and stepping out into the cool evening air. “Nothing,” you say, though you don’t even believe it yourself.

Eddie’s eyes follow you as you move around the van and up the steps to the door of the trailer. You can feel his gaze on you, but when you look back at him, he’s already turning away, clearly ready to call it a night.

It’s quiet inside the trailer, the soft hum of the fridge being the only sound. Eddie slams the door behind him, and you hear the familiar clink of him tossing his keys on the counter. The normalcy of it settles over you, but your mind can’t let go of Billy. You try to shake it off, but the lingering look he gave you, his sudden charm, nags at the back of your mind.

Eddie’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “You know, if Hargrove’s gonna keep trying to mess with you, I’m not gonna sit by and watch it happen.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him. His expression is hard now, serious.

“You don’t have to protect me, Eddie,” you mutter, though you can feel the familiar prickling of tension creeping up your spine.

“I’m your brother. It’s what I do.” He shrugs, trying to look casual, but the anger is still there, simmering. “Just don’t do anything stupid with him, alright? He’s a real piece of work, and I don’t trust him for a second.”

You want to argue, to tell him you’re fine, but something about the way Eddie looks at you stops you. You just nod, even if you’re not sure you’ll follow through.

The truth is, part of you is curious about Billy—curious in a way that makes you uncomfortable. And for all of Eddie’s warnings, the pull Billy’s subtle charm has on you is harder to ignore.

But you can’t let it happen. Not with him.

It’d be stupid. You’re the responsible one, the careful one. Eddie’s future didn’t look the brightest, but yours was looking okay right now and you needed to keep it that way. To take care of your uncle when he was older, to make sure Eddie had a roof over his head. You didn’t have time to screw up. Which meant you didn’t have time for stupid high school romances, especially not with someone like Billy.

Eddie flops onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “So, what’s on the agenda tonight? Homework? Overthinking? Staring at the ceiling and contemplating existence?”

You snort, pouring yourself a glass of water. “All of the above.”

He grins, but it fades after a beat. “Hey,” he says, more serious now. “You know I’m not trying to be an ass, right? About Billy?”

You sigh, setting your glass down. “I know.”

“I just—” He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want you getting caught up in something you’ll regret. You’re smarter than that.”

You press your lips together, nodding. “I know,” you repeat.

Eddie watches you for a second longer, then sighs, leaning back again. “Alright, well. If you start getting brainwashed by his stupid pretty-boy hair, I’ll stage an intervention.”

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. “I thought you only considered Steve a pretty boy.” You tease.

Eddie holds up a finger as if he’s about to inform you of something major. You chuckle as he drops it back to his lap. “Touché.”

The night passes in the usual rhythm. You finish up some homework while Eddie strums lazily on his guitar, eventually getting caught up in his D&D notes. By the time you both call it a night, the house is quiet except for the low hum of the TV in the background.

But as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, you can’t seem to stop your mind from thinking about Billy. His stupid face, stupid smirk, and yes, that stupid pretty-boy hair. You’re not used to it. You’re not the kind of person who has a lot of crushes or interest in people. And it frustrates you to no end that you can’t seem to control your thoughts.

———————————————————————————

Tuesday morning feels like a repeat of yesterday, and yet, it feels heavier somehow. You walk down the hall with your books clutched tightly to your chest, hoping for a quiet start to the day. But when you turn the corner, you spot Billy. Leaning against the lockers with that infuriating, cocky smirk plastered on his face.

He looks up at you, eyes narrowing playfully as you stop in your tracks. For a brief second, he just stares, like he's trying to figure out your next move.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice too smooth for your liking. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

You stare at him, suppressing the instinct to roll your eyes. He’s not really concerned. It's just part of the game he plays. "Not interested in playing your little games today, Hargrove."

Billy chuckles lowly, pushing off the lockers to step closer to you, his gaze not leaving yours for a second. "Oh, I don’t know about that. You played them yesterday."

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to go about my day,” you mutter, stepping to the side to walk past him.

But Billy’s too quick, blocking your path with a casual lean against the lockers. “C’mon, Munson. I know I’m irresistible, no point in pretending you’re not interested.”

You swallow hard, already feeling that familiar knot of frustration building. Why could he seem to read you effortlessly? “I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say.”

Billy’s eyes glimmer with something dangerous, and he tilts his head just slightly. "Really? ‘Cause you’ve been looking at me a lot for someone who isn’t."

You force yourself not to react. He’s fishing for a reaction, and you’re not going to give it to him. "You have no clue what you’re talking about," you reply, trying to sound steady, but your heart is racing.

Billy takes a step forward, lowering his voice, as if sharing a secret. “You know, I can tell when someone’s just pretending. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think, sweetheart.” He leans in even closer, his face inches from yours. “Why don’t you admit it? You’re intrigued.”

For a moment, part of you wants to push him away, to tell him to get lost. The logical part of you. But instead, you freeze. He’s not backing down and not deterred by you brushing him off. And part of you is happy he isn’t. Part of you is almost enjoying his attention.

“I don’t care what you think, Billy,” you say, the words coming out a little shakier than you intend. "You’re not worth my time."

Billy smirks again, his eyes lighting up in that annoying, self-satisfied way that makes your skin crawl. “Sure, Princess. You keep telling yourself that.”

He steps aside, finally letting you pass, but not before his hand grazes the side of your arm. The touch sends an involuntary shiver down your spine, and it takes everything in you to keep walking. You try to shake it off as you keep walking down the hall, but you know he’s watching you, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re exhausted—mentally, mostly. You spent half the morning trying to ignore the way Billy Hargrove had been getting under your skin, and the other half pretending like he hadn’t been in your head since yesterday. It was stupid, really. You knew what kind of guy he was. And yet, here you were, letting it bother you.

You drop into your usual seat at the lunch table, across from Robin and Steve. Eddie’s already there, poking at his food with disinterest while Robin chatters about some new movie she and Steve saw over the weekend. You try to listen, but the weight of Billy’s gaze from across the cafeteria is making it difficult.

“You’ve been a little quiet today,” Robin suddenly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. She nudges your tray. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say automatically, but even you don’t sound convincing.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m not buying that.”

Eddie, who up until now has been ignoring the conversation, suddenly glances up. He follows your gaze across the cafeteria and scoffs. “Jesus Christ. Again?”

You snap back to reality, tearing your gaze away from Billy, but it’s too late. Eddie saw.

“I thought we talked about this,” Eddie mutters, stabbing a fry into a glob of ketchup.

“We did,” you reply tightly.

“And?”

“And nothing,” you huff.

Robin, sensing the shift in tension, leans in with an interested smirk. “Alright, so are we gonna pretend like Hargrove isn’t staring at you from across the room, or…?”

Steve groans. “Seriously? The dudes a dick,” He says as if you don’t know. “We knew something was up, you’ve been looking weird all day.”

“I have not been looking weird,” you argue.

Robin grins. “You kinda have.”

Eddie lets out a sharp exhale and turns to you fully. “You told me you were done with this already.”

“There’s nothing to be done with,” you snap, voice sharper than you meant it to be. “I’m not doing anything.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah? Well, he sure as hell is.”

Robin watches the exchange with an amused expression, but Steve looks a little more cautious. “Listen, I don’t like the guy either,” he says, glancing toward Billy. “But maybe let her handle it?”

Eddie looks at Steve like he just suggested something insane. “Oh, sure, let’s just let her walk straight into that disaster.”

You slam your fork down. “Eddie, enough.”

The table goes quiet.

You rub your temples, exhaling hard. “I know what he’s like. You don’t need to keep lecturing me about it.”

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by your tone. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you cut him off. “And I get it, okay? You don’t trust him. I don’t trust him either. But I’m not an idiot, and I don’t need you hovering over me every five seconds about it.”

Eddie looks like he wants to argue, but for once, he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales heavily and mutters, “I’m just looking out for you.”

Your shoulders slump slightly, some of the fight draining out of you. “I know.”

Robin clears her throat, cutting the tension. “Sooo, we all in agreement? Hargrove is an actual demon, but it’s not our job to beat the idea into her head?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I still think it’s our job.”

Steve nudges his arm. “Let it go, dude.”

Eddie grumbles under his breath but says nothing else.

You poke at your food, your appetite all but gone. Across the cafeteria, Billy is still watching you, and despite everything you just said… you don’t look away this time.

The last bell finally rings, and you exhale, relieved to be free from the suffocating halls of Hawkins High—at least for the day. You gather your things, moving quickly to avoid getting caught up in the post-class rush, but it doesn’t take long before you feel it again.

That familiar, lingering presence.

You don’t even have to look to know who it is.

Billy falls into step beside you, hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, looking effortlessly smug. “You got a habit of starin’, princess,” he muses, voice dripping with amusement.

You blink, thrown off. “What?”

“Lunch,” he clarifies, smirk widening. “Caught you lookin’ at me.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you walk faster. “You’re delusional.”

Billy matches your pace with ease. “Am I?” He tilts his head, studying you. “’Cause I could’ve sworn you were watchin’ me. Like you couldn’t help yourself.”

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you keep walking, refusing to look at him. “You’re full of yourself.”

Billy hums, clearly entertained. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

You stop at your locker, spinning the dial harder than necessary as you try to keep your expression neutral. “If I was looking, which I wasn’t, it’d only be because you make it hard to ignore your obnoxious ass.”

Billy leans against the lockers beside you, unbothered. “Yeah?” His voice drops lower, smooth and teasing. “That why you’re all flustered right now?”

You slam your locker shut, glaring at him. “I’m not flustered.”

His eyes flicker over your face, reading you too easily, like he knows he’s in your head and is enjoying every second of it. “Whatever you say, Munson.” He pushes off the locker, stepping back but not leaving just yet. “Maybe next time, don’t be so obvious.”

You huff, adjusting your bag as you start to walk away, only for his voice to call after you one more time.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

You don’t look back.

But damn it, you feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

———————————————————————————

You’re exhausted—from school, from Eddie’s constant hovering, and most of all, from Billy’s persistence. He hasn’t done anything outright, nothing you could point to and say, see, this is why he’s trouble. But he’s there. In the halls, in your periphery, throwing casual smirks your way like he knows something you don’t.

At lunch, you’re at your usual spot with Eddie and his friends, Robin perched on the other side of the table, half-listening to Steve complain about work. You’re mostly tuned out, too aware of the weight of a particular gaze from across the room.

Billy is sitting with his douchebag friends, lounging back in his seat like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But his eyes keep flicking to you. Not constantly—just enough that you know it’s deliberate. Just enough that it’s distracting. Again.

“You spacing out or something?” Robin nudges your arm, making you blink and tear your gaze away.

“What?”

Robin follows your line of sight, eyes narrowing when she spots Billy at his table. When she looks back at you, her expression is unreadable. “Are we seriously doing this again?”

You frown. “Doing what?”

Robin leans in, lowering her voice. “Whatever weird, unspoken thing that’s happening between you and Hargrove.”

“There is no thing,” you insist quickly, too quickly.

She snorts. “Right. And Steve suddenly enjoys working retail.”

You shoot her a look, but she just shrugs. “I’m just saying—if you’re gonna go down that road, at least be smart about it.”

You don’t respond, mostly because you’re not even sure what to say. There’s no thing between you and Billy. There can’t be.

And yet, when you glance back across the room, you catch Billy smirking at you, like he knows something you don’t.

You look away this time.

The day starts like any other—school, classes, Eddie making sarcastic comments at every opportunity. But you can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting, like the inevitable pull of a current you’re not sure you want to fight anymore.

At lunch, you and Eddie are sitting with Robin, idly picking at your food when Steve Harrington appears, dropping his tray onto the table with a loud clatter.

“Alright, losers,” Steve announces, pointing at each of you in turn. “You’re coming to the game tomorrow.”

Robin groans dramatically, flopping onto the table. “Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes.” Steve stabs a fry in her direction. “Support your school, Buckley. And besides, the team’s doing good this season. It might actually be fun.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, no. I’ve got a very important Hellfire meeting tomorrow. Sorry, big guy, but D&D takes precedence over sweaty jocks running around in circles.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Figures. What about you?” He turns to you, and you open your mouth to refuse out of instinct—until an image of Billy flashes through your mind.

You hesitate. Billy will be there.

You shouldn't care. You know that. But the thought plants itself in your brain, an unshakable little itch. You tell yourself it's curiosity, nothing more. It’s not like you’re going for him. It’s just… an excuse. A reason to see if he acts the same outside of school, if he’ll even acknowledge you when he's with his friends, when he’s not leaning against your locker and throwing smug comments your way.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “I mean… I guess I don’t have anything else going on.”

Robin sighs, giving you a look. “Fine. But if it sucks, I get to complain the whole time.”

Steve grins, triumphant. “Deal.”

Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. “You’re really gonna go watch Hargrove stroke his own ego for an hour and a half?”

You nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a game, Eds. Not the end of the world.”

He mutters something about falling to the dark side, but the conversation moves on, leaving you with the nagging realization that, despite every logical reason not to, you want to see Billy play.

You don’t expect to run into Billy after school, but of course, he finds you.

You’re walking toward the parking lot when you hear the unmistakable click of a lighter, followed by the sharp scent of cigarette smoke. Turning your head, you spot Billy leaning against a tree near the edge of the lot, one foot crossed over the other, watching you like he’s been waiting.

“You stalkin’ me, Munson?” he drawls, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

You scoff. “Says the guy who’s always conveniently around.”

Billy smirks but doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods toward you. “So? You gonna be there tomorrow?”

Your heart stutters for half a second before you recover. “The game?”

He hums in confirmation, flicking ash onto the pavement.

You cross your arms. “Why do you care?”

He exhales a long stream of smoke, eyes flickering over you like he’s assessing something. “Maybe I just like an audience.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches before you can stop it. His eyes catch the movement, and his smirk softens—just slightly.

“I’ll be there,” you admit before you can overthink it.

Billy tilts his head, looking vaguely pleased. “Good.”

He doesn’t push for more, doesn’t gloat like you expect him to. Instead, he flicks his cigarette away, pushing off the tree with an easy roll of his shoulders. “See you tomorrow, doll.”

And just like that, he’s gone, walking toward his Camaro like it was just another casual conversation.

You watch him go, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter.

It’s just a basketball game. It’s just curiosity.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

———————————————————————————

Friday drags, each class feeling longer than usual. You go through the motions—taking notes, exchanging sarcastic remarks with Eddie, rolling your eyes at Robin’s exaggerated groaning about having to endure the game later. But underneath it all, there’s something… off.

Billy hasn’t sought you out once.

No lingering at your locker. No smug comments in the hall. No interruptions in class with whispered teasing in your ear. It’s almost unsettling.

You shouldn’t care. It should be a relief, really. Maybe he lost interest, moved on to some other poor girl to taunt and charm in equal measure. That’s what you should want.

And yet, every time you pass him in the hall, your stomach twists just a little when he doesn’t even glance your way. He walks with his usual swagger, laughing with his friends, exuding the same effortless confidence, but it’s like you don’t exist.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. But a small part of you—a part you don’t want to acknowledge—already misses the attention.

By the time the final bell rings, you’re more than ready to leave, eager for a distraction. Robin finds you at your locker, shoving her books into her bag with a dramatic sigh.

“I cannot believe we’re voluntarily going to this thing.”

You snort. “You act like it’s torture.”

“It is torture,” she insists. “Loud gym, sweaty dudes, and an entire student body acting like they suddenly care about school spirit? Pass.”

You shut your locker, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Well, too late now. Plus we’re supporting Steve.”

Robin groans, but she follows you anyway, because despite all her complaining, you both know she doesn’t actually mind.

As the two of you make your way toward the gym, you can’t help but wonder—will Billy keep ignoring you? Or was this whole day just a setup for something else? Regardless, you didn’t like it.

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, holding the phone too close to his face: Hey guys, I just got a text from my husband and now I’m on my way to his school be- he’s a teacher!

Eddie: He’s a teacher. Not a student.

Eddje: I’m driving to his school right now because he accidentally brought our cat to work with him

[d0rianw1lde]

Pre-S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of the Starcourt mall.

Pre-S4 Eddie who has to make sure that his eyes aren’t deceiving him- that Steve Harrington is actually in the back of his shitty van, cash in hand, waiting for Eddie to pick his jaw up off of the floor and give him the damn weed he’s trying to pay for.

“Sorry- not every day you uh..” Eddie starts.

“..See your high school bully ask you for weed?”

“What? No. No, those are my biggest buyers.” Eddie snorts, and hands over the baggy. Steve goes to hand him the money, and Eddie counts it, giving back half. Steve stares at him quizzically. “Consider it a first-buy deal.” Eddie explains, and Steve shrugs, unamused.

“You mind if I..” Steve grumbles, and Eddie puts his hands up.

“Be my guest. That’s a best-seller. Purple Palm Tree Delight. It’ll have you in another dimension.” Eddie grins, but Steve cringes slightly. He looks to Eddie, who, with slender, ringed fingers, beckons for the baggy back. “C’mon, let me roll it for ya. You look..beat, man. Heard scoops went up in flames.” Eddie lets out a low whistle- if only he knew.

Steve doesn’t answer. He just waits patiently for Eddie to hand him the little joint, offering him a light. Steve places the joint between his lips, and leans forward, allowing the flame to light the tip of the joint. He anticipates the feeling he knows all too well- the calming feeling. The beautiful, floating feeling that had allowed him to drift away from his parents fighting, from his tanking grades, from his girlfriend declaring their love bullshit. And that first drag in feels like bliss…it feels like drifting..It feels like..

Falling. Like spiraling.

Had Eddie’s van always been so small? So suffocating? Steve allows the smoke to leave his lungs, and Eddie leans back. Grinning and reaching out for the joint.

“So..What do you do now?”

“What?” Steve’s mind is racing- this isn’t bliss. This isn’t mellowness. God, why is Eddie’s van so goddamn small? Have the sleeves of his jacket always been so

So tight? Around his wrists?

The tacky lights in Eddie’s van shine brighter- they feel blinding.

“Just asking you where you work now.”

Where he works.

Who he works for.

“Scoops..” Steve mutters, but his voice is far away. Eddie plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers.

“What?” Eddie asks, taking a drag from the joint.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

He reaches out, places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but the angle is awkward, and his fingers brush-

His fingers brush his neck.

The spot.

It burns. Steve swears it burns the same it did.

God, Eddie’s music is so obnoxious-

Or was it Robin’s screams?

Where even was he? He stares at the door at the back of Eddie’s truck. He crawls toward it, and fumbles helplessly with the handle.

“Hey- Steve? It’s uh- It’s just Indica, man-“

“Gotta- Get out. let me-“ Steve’s hands are trembling- his vision is blurring- is it the drugs? His tears? Was this dying? Had he ever left that dark room? That sterile metal box?

Eddie tries to lean over to open the door, but Steve’s frantic movements leave him blocked off completely. He crawls into the front quickly, and hops out of the van, running to the back to open the door up.

And Steve nearly falls out of the back- if it hadn’t been for Eddie scrambling to break Steve’s fall, he would’ve ended up with a mouth full of dirt. And judging by the ragged breaths leaving Steve’s lips, and the unintelligible ramblings tumbling from his lips, that was the last thing he needed.

Eddie was no stranger to a bad high. No stranger to coaxing his customers out of a panic when they first tried a bit of weed- but this?

If only he knew.

Pre S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of Starcourt.

Pre S4 Eddie clutching Steve Harrington’s face, telling him he’s safe. That he’s at Lover’s Lake. That he’s just having a bad high.

Pre S4 Eddie holding the King of Hawkins High in his arms as he shrivels into a broken mess of sobs, and apologies that echo against the silent trees of Lover’s Lake.

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Little thing I wrote while procrastinating writing part 5 of Hide Your Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington who knows his kid brother is obsessed with some niche, up and coming metal band. Steve Harrington who groans and grumbles and carries on about having to drive him around to shows and listen to him nerding out but does it anyway. Steve Harrington who doesn’t really pay attention because the lights on the stage are too bright and drown out whoever’s playing. Steve Harrington who is currently wading through a crowd making their way to the door, going against the current and stumbling as he searches for the mop of hair he promised to get home.

“Henderson!” He cups his hands around his mouth, “Where is that kid?” 

He finds himself pushed to the outskirts of the mass of bodies, plastered to a wall but he still pitches forward when a particularly rowdy young woman rams into him. He thinks he’s going to go all the way to the floor when a hand snags his elbow, holding him up. He turns to rush out an apology, a few thanks for the save, but stops before he can get the words out because holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

And Steve—well Steve has been doing some thinking about himself. About how most guys don’t have to mentally prepare themselves to go into the locker room after pe class. About how most guys don’t let their friends paint their nails pretty colors. Robin told him that there was this thing called being bisexual and he thought some things were clicking into place. So he’s gotten used to going out and noticing more than just girls, it’s not uncommon, but this guy is hot, like really hot. 

He’s dressed in leather pants and a cut off tank top that hangs around his sides. Tattoos, more doodles than actual designs, on full display for the world to see, running up his arms and peeking out from his ribs. His hair is in curly tangles, sweat sticking it to his forehead but he’s grinning. He has a jacket, leather, in his other hand. 

He’s also still holding on to Steve’s arm. Warm rings press into the inside of his elbow as he rights himself.

“First time?” The man asks.

“Y-yeah.” Steve gets out, “I’m supposed to be here with my brother, he’s a huge fan of some band playing here. Molded Coffin or something.”

The guy’s face breaks out into a full on smile, humor sparking in his eyes but Steve doesn’t know if what he said was that funny.

“Yeah? Where’s he at?” The guy still hasn’t let go, leading Steve away from the crowd and further into the room where there were less people.

“I’m actually looking for him now. Left him alone for five minutes to get a drink and he disappears.”

“You need help? These things can get a little crazy.” The man offers.

“You do this a lot?” Steve asks, immediately mentally face palming. He practically asked the guy if he came here often, he was going to think he was flirting. Was he?

The man just smiled, “You could say that. Eddie.” He finally released Steve’s arm in favor of holding out his hand. They shook hands and Steve told the man—Eddie—his name.

They talked for a while, Eddie got them drinks and Steve told himself that Dustin was old enough to behave himself for 15 minutes. Eddie kept an arm around his shoulders the whole time, shielding him from the chaos of the dwindling crowd was his excuse. Steve would have told him he didn’t need an excuse if that didn’t seem too forward.

 Eddie was just asking for his number when someone behind them called, “Ed! Quite flirting and get your ass over here! You’re helping us tear down this time!”

Eddie sighed, “Duty calls.” He scribbled something on to a napkin, patting it against Steve’s chest and backing away, “I’ll be waiting for yours, sweetheart.”

And Steve was either drunk or insane because he actually laughed at that. Laughed again when he looked at the napkin and saw numbers almost unreadable, a winking face below them.

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you—What’s that?” Dustin’s tone went from annoyed to prying as soon as he saw the napkin.

“None of your business.” He stuffed the napkin in his pocket, “Are you ready to go or what, kid, I’ve been waiting forever.” He poked Dustin’s shoulder until he got moving and then he poked it again when Dustin scowled at him.

In the car he was once again subjected to Dustin’s after show rant about how cool it was. The guitarist apparently broke two strings and flipped the crowd off with his bloody fingers—which they went wild for, which Dustin screeched along with them for. They played a new song, but it all sounded the same to Steve. That was as much as he heard, though, his mind kept wandering back to the man after the show. To the number in his pocket. He debated putting it to use, was the next day too soon? How long was too long until Eddie forgot about him? A guy like that probably had a mountain of napkins with numbers thrown at him every day. He decided to get over himself and call late the next day. 

“Hi, this is Steve.” He suddenly felt very silly for calling but it was too late now.

“Steve, pretty boy from the show last night Steve?” And just like that he forgot why he hesitated to call.

“That would be me.” He cringed, “No, wait, that sounds so self centered.”

“Not self centered if it’s a compliment.” Eddie argued.

“If you say so.”

They talked, got 10 whole minutes of random conversations Steve never wanted to end before Eddie cursed.

“I’m sorry, I promised my uncle I’d help at the shop.” He muttered, “I’m gonna be late.”

“That’s fine, you should go help him.”

“I’ll call you later?” Eddie asked, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d say it sounded hopeful.

“I’ll be here later.” He responded. 

They called all the time after that, whenever they were both free. They even met up in person, it was just to the park because Eddie found out Steve had never fed ducks before, but it ended with another day scheduled to spend together and then another and then a month had passed and he could say they were officially dating. It was the best time Steve had had in a long time and he really didn’t want it to end. The realization came to him one night, after another day with Eddie, and it wasn’t as shocking as he thought it would be. It was a Friday night, Eddie was busy most Saturdays—something about going to shows with the guys—so a lot of their slow nights were Fridays. They were watching TV on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, which was quickly becoming Steve’s favorite place, when he found himself watching the way Eddie laughed and even jumped at whatever horror movie was on more than he was watching the movie itself. 

“I love you.” He whispered. 

Eddie’s head whipped around, eyes wide, movie forgotten, “I love you too!” And then Steve couldn’t be blamed for not watching the movie anymore when he was practically tackled to the couch, laughing the whole way down.

It was a month after that night that he was steeling himself outside of his front door.

“It’ll be fine.” He said to himself, “They’re going to love you.” He said to Eddie who was gripping his hand.

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie agreed and he almost sounded convinced.

Today was the one day that everyone could gather at Steve’s. The whole party had shown up, everyone he had folded into his makeshift family was in his living room waiting for him to get back with the new partner he told them he was introducing. Today was the day they decided to tell people about them.

Steve pushed the door open, taking a deep breath before leading Eddie to the living room. All of his friends sat scattered around the room. On the couch and floor and coffee table. He could do this.

“Uh. Hey.” He cleared his throat, “I’m back.” All eyes snapped to him, eager to know who this mystery person was.

Eddie tried for an awkward wave but their hands were still connected so they just shook between them.

The silence was getting unbearable until finally Robin shot up from the floor and tackled him in a hug, subsequently dragging Eddie along into it.

“I’m so happy for you, dingus.” She laughed as she pulled away, “Robin.” She stuck her hand out to Eddie who visibly relaxed, “Best friend, platonic soulmate, hurt him and I swear to god you’ll wake up with no kneecaps.”

“Eddie.” Eddie squeaked, shaking her hand hastily.

“Bobbin.” Steve only called her that when she was being particularly over the top because it annoyed her to no end and she knew this, “Tone it down, would you?”

The rest of the group chorused their hellos and introductions and a weight lifted off of Steve’s shoulders at the sight of all of his friends accepting the news without comment. Until he realized there was only one person who hadn’t spoken a word, standing in the middle of the room with a strange look on his face.

“Dustin?” Steve prompted, voice strained.

“Oh my God.” Dustin mumbles in disbelief.

“Dustin…” Steve shot him a warning glance, “If you’ve got a problem with it—”

But Dustin ignores him, he’s staring at Eddie in shock, “Oh my God!” He practically shouts, coming to life to jump and screech, “That’s—! You’re—! You’re Eddie Munson!” 

Eddie grins, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre reaction to meeting your brother’s boyfriend, “I take it you’re a fan?”

“A fan of what?” Steve asks, pulling his hand out of Eddie’s to turn to him face to face.

At the same time, Dustin starts babbling hysterically, “A fan? Only the biggest CC fan in all of Hawkins! I have every song on vinyl, like three posters and—oh my god this is so embarrassing. Eddie Munson is in my house and I’m telling him I have his face on my wall.” 

He keeps talking but it’s more to himself than anyone else in the room so Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “What’s he talking about? Why are you on posters and why does he have them?”

Eddie, for the first time since Steve has known him, looks almost sheepish, “Oh…I guess I’m kind of, maybe the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” He might be blushing.

“You’re that nerd Dustin’s always going on about?!” Steve exclaims.

[littlexdeaths]

𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 - 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

sneaking around with your older brother’s best friend…

what could go wrong?

below you can find all the blurbs, moodboards, etc. for this au!

this will be updated as things are posted!

all works are intended for audiences eighteen and older.

minors do not interact!

the car troubles saga:

• one

• two

• three

• four

• five

• six

trouble in paradise:

• one

• two

taking care of eddie

band practice

the fake dating saga:

• one

• two

• three

• four

• five

• six

• seven

series headcanons

series moodboard

please go check out this beautiful cover art that

@uglypastels made for this series <3

• eddie munson masterlist •

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[hello-sweetheart]

Dustin and Eddie who become actual brothers when Wayne and Claudia marry.

Steve being high low key jealous cuz he always considered Dustin like a pseudo brother but now he has an actual brother and they share similar interests, they get along, they squabble sure but in the end of the day it’s all love and belonging

And Steve is like a stray cat outside in the rain looking in at the cozy family gathered at the dinner table

He’s so happy that Dustin is happy, but their time together is limited now that his family has grown. and when they do have time he hears all about how Eddie is so cool, how his mom has never been happier, how she loves Eddie, how Wayne doesn’t mind his science rambles, how Eddie is such a great DM—

Of course he gets invited, he’s Dustin’s friend he still is he’s still here but that doesn’t mean he feels like he’s part of their family, their home.

Steve’s just the friend at the dinner table, the polite boy who offers help wash the dishes, who leaves at the end of the night with left overs. The guest.

And Eddie? Eddie who mistrusts this boy, who fits the mold of jock so perfectly that he’s baffled when he finds that there’s more to him… he takes an interest in this regular Saturday dinner guest of theirs…

[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

[eddiesxangel]

Could you do a smutty Eddie Munson fic where he’s your older brother’s bsf?

maybe reader has had a crush on Eddie for a while and when she finally decides to move on and date someone Eddie gets jealous?

What Eddie Doesn’t Know | Eddie x f!reader

AN: I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took a while to complete. Thank you for the request; I haven’t been inspired by anything non-Christmas-themed in a while. I was literally barking at the trope.

wc: 7.1k oops

Cw: f!reader, reader is 19 and in collage and Eddie is 22 and a full time mechanic, reader goes by a nickname, jealous Eddie, jealous reader, angst, cheating (on the reader but not by Eddie), smut (pet names, oral, dirty talk, p in v), the fluffy ending!

Pathetic. That was how you felt at this moment in time. Here you were at your college homecoming party, and all you could do was be a wallflower, watching in self-pity as the love of your life. ( who doesn’t know is the love of your life) is pressed up on some girl in the back of the room.

"What are you doin' here, Tink?" you pop out of your daze to see your older brother, Adam, addressing you.

Did your parents name you Tink? No. Were you so obsessed with Peter Pan as a child you demanded to go by Tinkerbell? Yes. The nickname kinds just stuck.

"I go here?" You sass him back.

"This party is for upperclassmen only. How did you get in?" Adam was only three years older.

"Eddie's here, and he doesn't even attend school..." You gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah, cuz he is my best friend... like I said, how did you get in?"

"It's a house party, not Studio 54... I walked in."

"I'm going to kill Cory," He mumbled under his breath. Cory was supposed to be manning the door.

"Yeah, you should definitely get better security, all I had to do was let him feel up my tits, and we walked right on in..."

The Neanderthal didn't actually touch you, but the look on Adam's face when you let Adam believe he did? Priceless. You only lied so Adam would leave you alone.

What actually happened was you, Nancy, and Robin scaled the fence and got in through the back door.

"Cory!" Before you knew it, Adam was out of your hair, and you were back to being a wallflower….

"Tink there you are! You wanna continue to mope in the corner, or do you wanna get out of here?" your two best friends/roomies, Robin and her girlfriend Nancy, approach you.

"I guess let's just go." you sigh.

You can no longer bear the sight of Eddie, the boy you've been crushing on since the sixth grade, and your older brother’s best friend, leading the random girl up the stairs hand in hand.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of her hands running all over his body, how he would be on her, kissing her... inside of her. He didn't even know you were here... You should have gone up to him, maybe said hello. Perhaps he would have seen the ridiculous amount of effort you put into your ensemble just to catch his eye. But your efforts were lacking because, to him, you're always going to be Adam's annoying little sister.

You knew you had to get over this, but how could you? He has been in your life for fifteen years and always will be. Adam and Eddie have been friends for as long as you can remember. Your brother stuck by him throughout Eddie's family struggles. Your parents even took him in for a few weeks before CPS found his uncle took over full custody. He was basically your big brother, too, until your pesky teenage hormones started to kick in, and boom! You've been head over heels ever since.

''Good, let's get some greasy burgers and fries to end the night, ok?" Robin smiled.

In the 24-hour diner on campus, you were sitting at your regular booth with the girls across from you, eating your feelings, trying not to think about what Eddie was doing with that girl.

"So that party was a bust, huh?" Nancy spoke first.

"Yeah, totally... probably because Adam's house hosted." You giggled.

"Not to mention Eddie still didn't see you -OUCH." Robin looked over at Nancy, who was giving her a look of distaste. "Sorry, I meant he is an idiot, and you need to get over him! There are plenty of eligible guys on campus who you could date!"

"Even though my girlfriend is being is harsh, she is right, Tink. It's been so long, and you'll kill yourself over this if you keep this up."

"Ugh, I know! Do you think I'm a masochist or something? I hate to break it to you, but I do not enjoy this. I hate it. I hate that he is the one I think about every day when I wake up. I hate it when I go to sleep; he is the last person on my mind. He takes over my thoughts, and I don't know how to stop it!" You shove a fry into your mouth so you can take a breather.

"What if we found you a new guy? Someone to take your mind off Eddie?" Nancy perked up at her idea.

You heard the diner doorbells chime from behind you.

"I don't know..." Putting all your time and energy into someone new seemed like a lot of emotional work you wanted to avoid going through.

"Yes! Oh my god, Tink, you have to. It's the only way you'll get over him!"

"Get over who?" The silky, sweet voice of a male came from behind you.

You and the girls froze as Eddie, your brother, and a few other guys approached the table.

"No one." You mumbled, trying to fight off the blood rushing across your chest and cheeks.

"You can tell us, Tink! Who are we fighting?" Eddie laughed.

"Tink? What kind of stupid name is that?" one of Adam's jerk friends spoke.

"Excuse me?" you turn to see the guy you've never met.

You heard Adam burst out laughing with the rest of them, but not Eddie.

"Hey man, not cool!" Eddie stood up for you.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach. Eddie was always your protector. Even as kids, when Adam picked on you, he always stood up for you. Even if you weren't around, Eddie always put Adam in his place when it came to you.

You saw, out of the corner of your eye, Eddie shifted his weight down so he could sit beside you. Then, you felt a protective arm wrap around your shoulder.

Fuck. This shit right here is why you can never get over Eddie Munson.

You dared to look up; there he was in all his glory. The way the fluorescent light from above had cast down on him made him look like an angel. He smiled at you, but not before you noticed the dishevelled sex hair he tried to fix and the small amount of pink lipstick that stained the skin on his neck that he didn't quite get off. And the smell… sickly sweet perfume that was definitely not his signature musk.

You quickly turn your head back to your plate because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested…

"You, if you don't leave us alone." Robin piped up. She saw the look of pure disappointment in your eyes. You didn't need Eddie to rub in the fact that he hooked up with someone, especially since now he is smelling like a cheap hooker.

Robin and Nancy thought it was incredibly rude of your brother to flaunt Eddie in front of you like this. Of course, he knew your mega super infinity crush on his best friend. Yet here he is with his drunk-ass buddies, antagonizing you about the guy you needed to get over.

"Woah, Birdie, take it easy; we are just saying hello," Adam chimed in.

“You said hello at the party. Now leave!” You gritted through your teeth.

“You were at the party?” Eddie asked. His voice hitched high. High enough, it was embarrassingly so. Thankfully, his friends were too drunk and hungry to realize. A deep blush crossed his face when he saw you noticed the tone in his voice change. You just have a slight nod and continue to play with the food on your plate.

That’s why you were so dressed up. Eddie thought you looked so pretty, too pretty to be sad about some looser in a diner at one in the morning.

"Do we have a problem here?" A voice none of you recognized came from the booth beside you.

You all look over and see a cute guy with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing your school's rugby jersey. He was so not your type, but you can still admire beauty for what it is. He was a jock; that was clear as he stood up. He was big, more significant than your brother and Eddie, that's for sure.

"Nah, man, it's cool. This is my little sister and her friends." Adam slurs. Clearly, he had more shots since he left you to find Cory.

"I don't care who you are. You're clearly bothering them."

"It's okay, they were just leaving," Nancy said confidently.

"Whatever, let's go, guys," Adam commanded the pac, but Eddie lingered. He didn't like this blondie guy. He didn't like the way he was looking at you.

"Ed, come on!'

Eddie got up and slowly made his way to his friends.

"I'm Jesse," Eddie heard the musclehead speak, and he cringed internally. Something wasn't right. The feelings of anger and protectiveness were filling his mind.

Eddie looked back again and saw you smelling at the stranger as he reached out to shake your hand before sitting beside you.

What kind of freak is alone in a diner at 1:15 am? Eddie thought.

But it didn't seem to phase you or the girls; you were all blinded by his shiny hair and pearly white smile.

Eddie walked out and felt like he wanted to punch something. He needed to get away. He needed to know what the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you the one causing him distress? You were just Tink? Or so Eddie thought.

Jesse turned out to be really cool. You exchanged numbers, and he asked you to go to the movies next Friday. You hadn’t been on a date in forever; you had been so hung up on Eddie that any other guy seemed uninteresting. But this time, you were determined that Jesse would be the one to break the cycle. He was much different than you’re generally into, but you have some of the same interests, like movies and music, so you thought you’d go for it.

Jesse picked you up, bought the tickets, and insisted on buying the snacks and drinks. He held your hand and then slowly made his way to wrap his arm around your shoulder. It gave you butterflies you hadn’t felt from anyone else. Before you knew it, you willingly leaned in to make out with him in the back of the theatre.

You were so focused on Jesse that you didn’t notice Eddie was also on a date in the same theatre. But Eddie noticed you. He was seething the whole time. He didn’t pay any attention to his date or the movie. He hogged the popcorn and munched away as he watched you giggle and flirt with the blockhead jock. Eddie didn’t care that he had pissed off his date. He hardly said two words to her when they parted ways, not even offering to drive her home.

He didn’t want to go out with her but had hooked up with her at the party and felt terrible about it then. Now, he can’t even remember her name or why he went upstairs with her in the first place.

You were there, at the party, but he didn’t see you. Now he sees you everywhere, and it’s pissing him off. Why were you on his mind all of the time? For the past week, why have his dreams been consumed by you and you alone? Why did he want to hold you, be with you, talk to you, dare he say… kiss you? You were Adam’s little sister. Well, not so little anymore. You were a late bloomer, but boy, did you bloom.

Eddie hated how the blonde meathead’s hand rested too low on your back. His hands grazed your skirt a little too closely. Eddie wanted to jump the guy, but he couldn’t. He was twice his size. He would be pulverized, and that would be mortifying in front of you. You wouldn’t want him like that anyway, even if he did win in a fight over you!

What the fuck was Eddie thinking? He wasn't… that's the problem. He's now thinking about getting into a physical altercation over you. He isn't able to sleep now without thinking about you. He needed to get his head on straight and quit fucking around. He hoped that if he just focused on the cars at work, this little thing would go away on its own. Maybe he can't remember that he had slipped and hit his head? Yeah, that's it. He hit his head, and now his brain is just confused. He didn't like you like that! This will all go away by tomorrow.

Wrong.

Eddie was plagued with thoughts of you. He caught himself in numerous daydreams about you while doing mindless tuneups and tire changes at the shop. It was getting out of hand; it’s been another week, and he still can’t get you off his mind… Eddie needed to be proactive. The guys were starting to give him shit about it too. They knew he was focused on a girl. They could sense it.

There was another party tonight that Adam mentioned. He will go home and get cleaned up. Then he will go to the party, he will find a nice pretty girl who will let him bury himself inside her, to forget about his thoughts of splitting your open with his cock, and this will all be over.

You walked into the party hand in hand with Jesse. He was starting to make waves in your life, being only two weeks, but still. He would walk you to your classes and help you study in the library. He would walk you home and kiss you goodbye like the perfect gentleman. He hadn't tried making any advances as of yet. The two of you had only made it to first base. Maybe tonight you would get lucky? You felt ready.

“You want something to drink?” Jesse guided you to the kitchen.

The house was hot and sticky; you were worried about your hair getting frizzy. You worked so hard on it to look good for Jesse. He even complimented it when he picked you up. Forever the gentleman.

“Whatever they have is good.” You smiled up at him.

As the two of you walked into the packed kitchen, you tried to squeeze your way around but got stuck in the crowd. It was much easier for Jesse to get by just with his size alone.

“Excuse me,” you repeated three times, but no one was budging.

“You should be a little bit more assertive,” the voice behind you said. It sent a shiver down your spine.

As you turned, you saw Eddie smirking down at you. He was drunk. You could see that and smell it.

“Hi, Eddie.” You smiled meekly before you felt the weight of Jesse’s arm wrap around you, passing you your drink.

“There you are,” Jesse smiled. "Who's this?"

"That's just Eddie...Eddie, Jesse. Jesse, Eddie." You introduced awkwardly.

Just Eddie. The words stung.

"How do the two of you know each other?" Jesse gestures between the two of you.

"Brothers best friend." You smile.

"That's all I am to you? You wound me, Tink."

The fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Eddie, man! I got us two hotties over by the pool. Let's go!" In comes your obnoxious brother with perfect timing, as always.

"I guess I'll see you around." Eddie sighed.

"Nice meeting you, man." Jesse stuck out his hand.

"Whatever." Eddie brushed him off and left with Adam.

"I'm sorry about him. That was very rude. I don't?- He's usually not like that?"

"It's okay; I can tell a jealous guy when I see one." Jesse shrugged.

You almost spat out your drink. "Jealous?!"

"Oh, it's clear as day, honey."

"No... there is no way. He's never and will never like me... like that." It broke your heart to say that out loud. Your chest felt so heavy as the words came out of your mouth.

As the rest of the night went on, you and Eddie tried avoiding one another like the plague. Those words about him being jealous were swimming around in your head for most of the night, and Eddie was trying to avoid his feelings by being with another girl, but not one stood out to him.

Adam tried getting lucky but struck out when Eddie refused to go with the friend.

"What the fuck is your problem, man? She was like a solid eight out of ten."

"I wasn't into it..." Eddie's eyes found you, and he couldn't break his gaze. You were curled up in the blockhead's lap, sitting by the fire pit, all cozy and giggly. What he would give to have you in his arms like that.

"Oh fuck, not you now." Adam groaned in frustration, seeing where Eddie's googly eyes were directed.

"Huh?" Eddie said absentmindedly, not really paying attention.

"You can't be serious?! That's my little sister, dude; come on!" Adam was always one for the dramatics; that's why he and Edie got on so well.

"Woah, man, I never said anything about your sister."

"Well, it sure is clear by the way you're making heart eyes at her."

"Yeah, right," Eddie scoffed.

"Trust me, dude, it's that same way she looks at you." Adman shook his head. He thought he would be clear of this. That this would never happen, and yet here it is, happening.

"Wait, what? What do you mean?-"

"She's been in love with you since she was twelve... come one like you didn't know?"

"No way, you smoked too much tonight, or something? Maybe my stuff is off?"

"She likes you, dude. Never fucking shuts up about you."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't think it was relevant... I was never going to allow her to be with you! You serious? It's Tink, she's so...ew. You're so above that."

"She's not ew," Eddie snapped. He hated how hard Adam had always been on you.

"Whatever, man, too late now. About time she has moved on."

Eddie stood up and walked out of the party without a word. He heard Adam call out, but he ignored him completely. He needed to process what Adam told him. He needed to sober up so he could think clearly. He needed to either make you his or find a way to get over you... and fast.

That night of the party, you didn't end up getting lucky. You tried making advances, but you inevitably were shot down. He said he didn't want your first time to be when you both had been drinking and in some random bathroom. So you accepted it, even though your horny gremlin was starting to come back to life. But what did happen was he asked you to make it official with him, and you said yes!

Tonight, you had to leave the apartment for your roommate's sake. It was their anniversary, and you told them you could have the place to themselves for a romantic evening. When you told Jesse, your new boyfriend, you needed a place to crash, he offered you his bed. You would go to your classes and then return to his for your first sleeepover as a couple. You were so excited!

Jesse ended class at one in the afternoon that day, and you ended at five, so it worked out perfectly. Luckily enough for you, your professor for your last lecture was ill, so they cancelled class that day. You thought it would be fun to surprise him by showing up early.

When you got to his house, his roommate let you in and said he was in his room with his friend Connor. So when you knocked on the door and walked in a few seconds later, you did not expect to see the two men in bed, naked...

You screamed and covered your eyes, absolutely mortified that you had walked in on them. You were so unbelievably hurt that you had been deceived. Why would he ask you to be exclusive if he was sleeping around?! And on the night when you thought you would get to have sex with your new boyfriend.

You did not give Jesse any time to explain himself as he tried to get out of the tangled sheets and arms of the other man. You heard your name being called out, but you ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

Tears stung your cheeks as the cold autumn air began to settle in. The rumble of the dark clouds was also looking quite ominous.

Just your luck. Of course, you would find your boyfriend in the arms of another man, and of course, the universe would make you walk him in the rain. How poetic.

A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, and that's when the rain came down in buckets. At least it could cover up your tears. You continued walking, but you couldn't think of a place to go? You could not ruin your roommate's night. There is no way Adam would let you stay in his frat house, not that you would want to anyway, and your friends from the class went home for the weekend. Shit... maybe you could spend the majority of the night in the diner and then just walk home really late once they were defiantly sleeping. But your clothes were soaked and---

“Tink, what’s wrong?” you were snapped out of your thoughts by none other than the man who was the cause of this whole mess.

Eddie rolled down the work van window. He was covered in motor oil and dirty from working all day. His muscles ached, and he badly needed a hot shower, but now all he could focus on was you and why you were upset.

“Leave me alone, Eddie.” He hadn’t ever heard you speak to him like this?

“Tink, come on, it’s a literal thunder storm. Let me take you home.”

“Can’t, girls are having date night… told them to have the place to themselves.” You continued to walk as the chill from the rain was beginning to seep through to your bones. Your teeth betray you as the chatter starts.

“Where were you supposed to be right now?”

“None of your business!”

“Tink, don’t make me pull over!”

“Screw you, Eddie!”

“That’s it.” Eddie parked the car and got out. “You’re coming with me.” Eddie picked you up over his shoulder, and you let out a screech.

“Eddie! Put me down, you caveman!” You screamed. If anyone saw you, it looked like you were being kidnapped and taken into a murder van.

“No, can do Tink. I’m taking you home to warm you up. Then you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.” He commanded. And if you weren’t so mad, you’d say you were a little turned on by his voice.

You hear the car door open before he plops you into the passenger seat.

“Get in” he points to your legs hanging out of the car.

“Make me.” you shiver.

“You’re being such a child! Let me help you.”

“Fine!” You swing your legs into the van, and Eddie slams the door closed, making you wince.

The car ride was quiet besides the radio and your chattering teeth. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but it was of no help. Your t-shirt and jeans clung to you like a second skin, and the car heater was only blowing cool air. You swore you thought your nipples could cut glass.

Eddie said nothing as he tugged you over on the bench seat and wrapped a warm arm around you. You broke out into another chill, but this time, you weren't sure if it was from the rain or from Eddie.

Even though Eddie was self-conscious of smelling like motor oil and body odour, he was more worried about you catching hypothermia.

Once you were inside Eddie's warm apartment, he noticed how your body was on display. You would be the clear winner if you were in a wet t-shirt contest, that's for sure. Eddi's eyes were wide with desire, but he returned to reality when you asked if you could use his shower to warm up.

Eddie nodded absentmindedly as he thought about you being naked in his shower.

"Uh, you mind if I borrow a towel and some dry clothes? I have mine, but they got soaked through my overnight bag..."

"Yeah! Uh- I mean, sure, yeah, whatever..."

You blushed slightly at Eddie, trying to play it cool. He ran to his bedroom and returned with a handful of different fabrics. You took them and then headed into the bathroom.

The hot water defrosted your bones, and when you stepped into Eddie's clothes, his sent hit you like a tidal wave. You brought the old black corroded coffin band tee that he had from high school up to your nose and inhaled deeply. You felt immediate comfort being here, with Eddie, wearing his clothes.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in the towel, Eddie couldn't help but smile at the sight of you.

"Not a word," you warn.

Eddie mock zipped his lips, then gestured to the couch for you to sit beside him.

"Sorry about being a pain earlier; you caught me at a really, really bad time."

"It's okay, Tink, you're here with me now; that's all that matters." Eddie let the towel around your head fall back so he could see your natural hair. "You wanna tell me what happened? I've never seen you so upset."

"You shook your head no, "It's too embarrassing."

"Come on, it's me we are talking about here."

You paused for a deep breath and decided to just lay it all out on the table... how much worse could it get, right?

“You remember Jesse, right?” Eddie could feel his fist tightening, but he said nothing while nodding his head with a tight lip. What the fuck did he do to you? “Well, he asked me to be his girlfriends no less than a week ago, and I was supposed to spend the night at his place… but I went over early and found him in bed with… someone.” Eddie went to say something but realized you weren’t finished and let you continue.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?! I finally get a boyfriend, and the moment I want to actually sleep with someone who isn’t you, they are in the arms of someone else! Am I really that undesirable?! I was practically throwing myself at him, and it turns out he was fucking his “friend” the whole time.”

You had missed your slip-up, but Eddie hadn't. Eddie didn’t hear anything after “I want to sleep with someone who isn’t you,”

So Adam was right…

“Eddie? Eddddiiieee?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face to try and get back his attention.

Great, so now you’re undesirable AND boring.

“Sorry what?”

“Forget it… you don’t wanna hear about my pitty party. I’ll call a cab and head back to… oh shit, I can’t even go home!”

“Stay here.”

“Eddie, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes. Stay. Take my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, Tink?” He brushed a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, and those pesky butterflies erupted within your core.

“Because…” because I’m in love with you and don’t know if I can hold back my feelings any longer.

“Exactly, you can’t come up with one. Let me take care of you.” Eddie’s voice dropped an octave.

A chill travelled down your spine. His touch is electric. Any time you’re with Eddie, your body feels like it’s been recharged.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, this undeniable magnetic pull connects you. Was he leaning in? Or were you? Maybe it was the both of you? There was little to no space between you. Never in a million years did you think you would be sitting here, alone with Eddie in his apartment.

“I should get cleaned up,” Eddie whispered. He was so close you could taste the spearmint Nicorette gum he had been chewing. It took everything in his power to pull away. He wanted to kiss you so very badly, but he got a whiff of himself, and he needed to wash up. I would be unfair to you.

“Oh, okay,” you breathed in, and Eddie slid back.

“You can make yourself at home, okay? Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Eddie was freaking out in the shower, and you were freaking out in the kitchen. While Eddie scrubbed his skin so hard he thought he would scrub it off completely, you went to the fridge to find anything to help calm your nerves.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge, but the freezer, on the other hand... Bingo. You poured yourself a shot of vodka and almost threw up, but you held it together with a chaser of orange juice. You took one more for good measure and then made your way back to the couch. As you waited for your liquid courage to kick in, you flicked around on the TV but didn’t really pay much attention. Your thoughts were swimming with questions and possible scenarios that could play out this evening.

You were taken away from your inner thoughts when Eddie exited the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You tried not to make it obvious, but the alcohol clouded your awareness of your face.

“Sorry, I left my clothes in the bedroom” he saw you eye fucking him and gave a little smirk.

“It’s okay. Totally okay.” you sighed.

The sight of his wet, bare torso makes your heart race, his flesh covered in goosebumps, his nipples perked, and his hair soaked yet still so sexy. Your stomach simultaneously flip-flopped. And as for your pussy… well, she got a little excited at the heavenly sight in front of you.

“Yeah,” You wanna see more, Tink? Eddie thought to himself.

“Yeah.” You sighed before he disappeared into his bedroom.

Minutes later, Eddie returned, and the two of you acted as if nothing happened. Neither of you willing to break the tension first. So you both sat silently, watching some random TV movie while you prayed to come up with something to discuss. You wanted to talk so badly with him.

“This couch is pretty lumpy; it wouldn’t be fair to make you sleep on it.” You felt terrible that he offered his bed. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope. No way.” Eddie shook his head.

“Eddie.” You huffed.

“Tink,” he mocked back.

“You need a good sleep! You work a strenuous job…And my back can take it.”

I bet your back could take it, Eddie thought.

“You calling me old, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart, your stomach did a flip-flop again.

“No.” You snicker at his accusation.

“I don’t think I believe you” Eddie’s tone dropped again.

“Well, I’m not letting up”

“Neither am I; you’re sleeping in my bed whether I’m on it or not.

“Oh...”

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie sat back and the both of you finished the movie in silence.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but Eddie shook your shoulder awake.

“Come on Tinkerbell we are going to bed.” You think you hear Eddie whisper.

Were you dreaming? Did Eddie just tell you the two of you were going to bed?

“Mmm?”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, remember? Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.”

“Okay, Eddie, “ you agreed in your sleepy haze.

You feel his arm wrap under yours as he helps you off the couch.

“There you go.” Eddie coos as he places you down gently.

The moment your head hits the pillow, you’re suddenly wide awake. You’re in Eddie’s bed. Eddie is getting in next to you.

“Figured we would compromise.” He slid next to you but over the covers with a throw blanket.

“Thanks for letting me stay… and giving me a shoulder to cry on.” You cringed with embarrassment at the last part. “You seem to always be there for me…” you turn to your side to face Eddie.

“I’ll always be there for you, Tink, whether you like it or not…” Eddie also turns so he is facing you.

“Eddie.” Your breath hitched.

“Yes Tink.”

Fuck are you really going to spill your guts to him here and now?

“I… I wanna-need to tell you something.” You close your eyes, not daring to look at him.

“I think I might have an idea.”

“You-what?” Eyes still closed

You feel the bed shift and feel Eddie's warm breath fan your lips.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie whispered.

You aren’t brave enough to speak. So you tentatively nod your head yes.

“Do you trust me, Tink? I need you to say it.” He asked once more.

You slowly opened your eyes and bravely opened your mouth. “Yes, Ed’s, I trust you.”

A slight smile graces Eddie’s before you watch him lean in with a pucker.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment his lips touched yours.

Holy shit.

Eddie Munson was kissing you. Eddie Munson, your older brother's best friend, who you’ve been in love with for seven years, is now kissing you… in his bed… late at night… with no one else around. It was like fireworks were going off. It was everything you ever wanted and more.

It was all you had ever dreamed of, and now he was blowing your expectations out of the water. You had to have more. You needed this to last forever.

Your hands moved up to cup his face. His cheeks were rough with stubble, contrasting his soft plush lips. Eddie shifted closer to you. You could feel his body through the thick blankets that separated the two of you, but you wanted to be closer to him. You threw the blankets and all caution to the wind when you shifted to wrap your legs around him.

Eddie rolled so he was on top of you. To your surprise, you felt his firm cock pressed to your thigh, which made you moan softly.

“Fucking hell, Tink”

“Eddie, please, I need you.”

“Didn’t take you long to beg,” he chuckled darkly.

“Well, it took you long enough to see me.”

Eddie gazed into your eyes like he was looking at you for the first time. Like really seeing you. He muttered your name, your real name, for the first time, and you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face before you strained your neck to take his lips once more.

Eddie’s strong hands grazed your waist and settled on your hips, pinning you down to the mattress. His weight is entirely on you now. Your knees hitched up, and you opened your hips more to give him more room.

“Eddie,” you gasped into his mouth. Eddie ground his hips into yours, and you let out another soft moan.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You, it’s always been you.” You confessed.

Eddie didn’t say anything in reply but instead worked his fingers to the waistband of his sweatpants that you dawned.

“This okay?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you rushed. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“Don’t be mean,” You shove the pants off your ankles and go for your shirt.

“Wait… let me.” Eddie sat up so you could as well. His hands brushed the hem and slowly pulled the shirt he let you borrow off of you.

He took in your naked frame in front of him.

Shit, you weren’t wearing your panties this whole time? They must have been soaked as well from the rain. Eddie thought.

Eddie saw you shy away as you sat there naked in front of the boy you loved as he took you all in.

It didn’t take long before Eddie’s hands roamed your skin, finding your breasts.

“You’re so soft.” Eddie moaned into your neck as he took in the fact that you now smelled like him. He sent all over you; he was feral. He needed to claim you as his own. How could he be so blind all these years? You were perfect; you were everything he ever wanted.

“Do you like soft?”

“Very much so.”

Eddie melted into you once more as he travelled down your body, kissing and nipping at every inch. You softly moaned when he flicked your nipples with his tongue, and you really moaned when he reached your wet pussy.

How Eddie loved the noises he was pulling from you. He would do anything to make you sing for him.

“You like that baby? You want me to touch you… here?” His index finger grazed your wet slit.

“Yes” you replied quickly, a little too quickly.

“Good, I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”

You giggled, but it was cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s fingertips grazing your clit.

You’d daydreamed countless times about how his fingers would feel while you watched him while he and your brother jammed in your garage.

He circled your clit before dipping his head down to kiss your lower lips. Reality hit you once again. Eddie was eating you out. Eddie was eating you out like a man starved, in fact. How was he so good at this? Scratch that you didn’t want to know. Your thoughts slowed down as Eddie’s thick fingers entered your wet hole.

“Eddie!” You yelled with pleasure.

“Oh yes, sweetheart, say my name.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you replayed like a mantra.

As his fingers grazed that spot that only you managed to find when you were alone in your bed, exploring your body. You fell apart in his hands.

“Your pussy grips me so good, god I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in your blissed-out daze.

“Let me hear it again,” he smirked.

“I need you, please. I want your cock so badly."

“Mmmmmm, as you wish.” he pulled back so he could strip. You watched as his tight muscles flexed as he pulled off his shirt, then scrunched as he bent over to take off his bottoms.

His cock sprung out of their confines, and your breath hitched for what you thought was at least the fourth time that night.

You’ve imagined what it would look like, but none of the times ever did you imagine he was this hung. No wonder he was so confident and cocky around women. It was long, thick, and straight. No curvatures, just pure rod.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit,” you blurt out, not thinking.

“Don’t worry, Baby. It’ll fit.” he slunk back down on you, peppering your lips with more sensual kisses. His fingers travelled down to your pussy, stretching you out again, only this time, he used 3 fingers to make sure you were nice and ready.

“Please, I’m ready” You ground your pussy into Eddie’s hand.

Eddie reached over into his drawer, pulled out a condom, and slipped it over his shaft as quickly as possible. Seemed that he was just as eager as you.

Eddie kissed you hard as his cock slipped past your wet folds and inside, splitting you open. The wonderful burn of his cock burying itself inside of you. What could you say? It had been a while, and Eddie was the biggest you’ve ever had.

“Slowly,” you guided Eddie as he rocked his hips, giving you time to adjust.

“God, you’re so tight”

“Mmmphmm”

“Your noises are so pretty.” Eddie tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear.

Eddie took your breath away as he looked into your eyes. He was being so soft and gentle with you as if you could break.

“Eddie, please.”

“I got you, Princess”

Eddie rocked his hips with more emphasis; his body was moulding into yours. As his cock grazed your tight walls, you felt your body was brought to life.

“Oh fuck” your words slipped, not even realizing you were speaking.

“Come’on baby, let me hear you”

“You’re making me feel so good, Eddie!”

“More, tell me who you belong to.”

“ You! always been you, Eddie, please, I wanna come. Please make me cum on your cock.”

“Good girl. You’re being so good, f’me” Eddie's hips slapped into the backs of your thighs, and he plummeted into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Eddie grabbed the backs of your knees and pushed them back to your shoulders, only making the angle more delicious as he fucked you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your wanton pussy. He watched as you clenched down on his cock, and he almost lost it as he tried not to cum right then and there.

“Fuck me, Tink! Your pussy is too good,” he gritted through his teeth, trying to keep the pace without blowing his load.

“Eddie!” Your body was on fire as his cock continuously hit your g spot. Your lower belly tingled as the feeling of your orgasm built up again.

“You close, baby?”

“Yes”

“Cum for me.”

“More, I need more.”

Eddie slipped his hand between you and gently circled your clit once again.

You moan, cockdrunk as your body begins to spasm around Eddie’s cock.

“Yes, that’s it, come on baby. Keep cuming. That’s my girl.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you clamp your jaw. Every muscle tightens and clenches as your second orgasm rips through you.

“Good girl. Good fuckin girl.” Eddie praises as he empties himself into the condom.

After a few moments of the two of you catching your breath and Eddie discarding the used condom, you break the silence.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Adam is going to kill me,” Eddie laughed.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to get him back. You roll over to snuggle in his arms.

“And to think you were supposed to be in another man’s bed tonight.” Eddie hated that idea.

“At least I ended up in the right man’s bed.”

Part 2

Tagging those who seemed interested: @lofaewrites @lavendermunson @imyourdaninow @itsfreakingbats @allthingsjoeq

[artiststarme]

Steve and Eddie have a fight and give each other the silent treatment for eight days. Within the week, Eddie is arrested on a multitude of bullshit charges and Uncle Wayne has to pick him up from the sheriff’s department every other day, each time progressively more confused and exasperated. Who the fuck could get arrested for disturbing the peace four times in the same week and why was it apparently Eddie?

Eddie has no idea what he did to warrant all the arrests and assumes that Officer Callahan is on some sort of weird power-trip for that entire week. He doesn’t notice that it stops as soon as he makes up with Steve.

It’s only when he sees Officer Callahan, Officer Asshole as he lovingly refers to him, at Steve’s Christmas dinner that he discovers that they’re brothers. In hindsight, it makes all of Callahan’s hatred make a lot more sense.

Even after he finds out though, Phil still arrests him for various charges whenever he hears that Eddie pissed off Steve. Disturbing the peace, gross negligence, making Phil’s life harder; all reasons that Eddie has been arrested for but never charged with. And yet, the Munson idiot that Phil’s brother is in love with hasn’t yet learned his lesson. Luckily for him, Phil will keep it up until he does.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Father's Day

Was going to post this for the steddie microfic June prompt, but decided it's probably not Steddie-centric. Still sticking to the reqs though, just for fun!

prompt: "stuff" || wc: 483 || rated: G || cw: none

~~~

Everyone knows Steve’s house is free reign for hangouts, yet the Party’s collectively designated Sundays as alone time for the new couple. So it’s a bit of a surprise that someone’s knocking. 

The fact someone’s knocking at all is weird.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie shouts from the living room, “can you grab that? I think someone’s here.”

Steve opens the door to find Dustin and Max looking slightly shy, if he had to put his finger on it. Odd, especially for them. They’re holding gift bags filled with colorful tissue paper, Max’s blue and Dustin’s red.

Before Steve can invite them in, they surge past him towards the living room. So not too far off from normal, he thinks.

He trails after them and finds Eddie right where he left him– sitting on the floor, surrounded by DnD books and a notebook perched in his lap.

“Babe, what are the sheepies doing here? It’s Sunday,” Eddie asks. He’s smiling up at them, despite the interruption.

Of course they’re happy to see the kids– always are, always will be– but only these two could get away with showing up on Eddie and Steve day.

“We brought you something,” Max says, thrusting the gift into Steve’s arms. Dustin drops his onto Eddie’s lap, scattering his loose notes.

Curious, Steve looks to catch Eddie’s expression to find him already tearing into the gift. Steve sets his on the coffee table and digs out the colorful paper.

Inside he finds a plain, white coffee mug, except it’s been hand-painted with colorful paint pens. On it he finds a basketball, baseball, and a crudely drawn version of his beloved beemer. But on the front, the word “Dingus” is written in Max’s bubble font underneath a bloody version of his nail bat. 

His eyes sting with warmth, and he looks up at Max, whose cheeks are flushed red. Steve finds Eddie holding a similar mug covered in what he assumes are DnD monsters, along with some dice, and his precious Warlock on the front with “Metalhead” underneath.

“What is this,” Steve asks, choking on the lump lodged in his throat.

“It’s all stuff you like,” Max replies, pointing at the mug, choosing the easy answer instead of the real one.

”No– why?” Steve feels like he can’t breathe, his eyes almost full, and his heart racing.

“It’s Father’s Day,” Dustin says, sniffling and wringing his hat in his hands “and me and Max, you know, we don’t–”

“You guys taught us how to play basketball, so we could practice with Lucas,” Max interrupts. “And how to play guitar. And all of the Upside-Down stuff. You’re always here.”

Steve wraps Max up in his arms, dragging her to the ground next to Dustin similarly draped over Eddie. It’s not the six little nuggets Steve asked for.

But these kids– their kids– are so much more than he ever could’ve hoped for.

~~~

To everyone out there who doesn't have a father, your father is absolute shit, or you mom was both parents -- I hope you have as good a Sunday as possible.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie follows up his Tiktok of an old home video of him sick with a current video of him sick. He’s congested as hell and his voice is practically gone when he croaks out, “Don’t marry teachers. They carry the plague.”

“It’s allergies. You have allergies.”

Eddie coughs pathetically and then pans the camera over to the other side of the bed. Steve, who will get a fever if you look at him too hard, has his back to Eddie.

Eddie is not reaching for him but Steve says anyways, “Don’t touch me or I will melt like a spider made of people.”

“…What does that even mean?!!!”

[atmilliways]

What if a fic where Eddie finds Steve so pretty and cute and at times downright adorable that he keeps wanting to bite him, but he can't because they're friends. Eddie isn't even out to Steve, doesn't want to risk it. So instead of biting, he ends up grinding his teeth a lot.

He starts getting a lot of really bad tension headaches, which brings Steve even closer into his orbit because Steve is very sympathetic (and secretly, selfishly, kind of likes having a headache buddy, because it sucks but at least they're not, like, alone). Which means Eddie grinds his teeth more and ends up with more frequent headaches.

But trying to avoid Steve results in Steve showing up outside his door with over the counter painkillers, tea, Gatorade, Pedialyte, hot and cold compresses, high quality sleep masks for cutting out light while he rests, essential oils, anything he knows that works for him when he gets a migraine. He offers scalp massages and times his compress use and refills his cup of whatever he's hydrating with and even guides Eddie to the bathroom when he doesn't want to crack an eye open to navigate the hallway.

I don't know how it ends, but at one point Steve asks Robin if migraines are contagious. She wants to grab him and shake him a little bit because what no, but he just looks so earnest and concerned and maybe a little guilty, it'd be like kicking a puppy.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie watched Dustin with Eddie's brand new kitten. She was sleeping until Dustin picked her up. Eddie narrowed his eyes.

Eddie: *under his breath* Just you wait, Henderson, just you wait. . .

Later that night. . .

Dustin was fast asleep when Eddie snuck into his room. Glaring down at the sleeping boy, Eddie grabbed him and picked him up. Dustin screamed.

Eddie: IT'S NOT SO GREAT, IS IT? TO JUST PICK SOMEONE UP WHILE THEY'RE SLEEPING?!

Dustin: IS THIS ABOUT YOUR CAT?! . . . PUT ME DOWN, I GET IT! *Eddie dropped him* . . . Jesus, Eddie, how did you get in here?

Eddie: Your mom let me in.

Claudia: Never wake a sleeping kitten, Dusty!

Dustin: Oh my god, I don't like you two teaming up against me.

Eddie: Well, get used to it. . .your mama is boinking my uncle. . .

Dustin: WHAT?!

Eddie: Anyway. . .sweet dreams, Henderson. . .it's going to be so much fun having a little brother. . .

Dustin: Like, I'm going to be able to sleep after that. . .Jesus H Christ. . .