#eddie munson head canon

[punkrockmlchael]

(Word Count: 481)

Eddie Munson who is a badass until you ask him to kill a spider.

“What are you doing?” He’d ask, standing in the doorway of the bathroom while you’re standing on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the floor.

“There’s a spider, it’s big and hairy. please, kill it,” you’d whine, looking at him as the spider crawled around more and more.

“So am i but you don’t seem to want me killed,” he’d smirk, cocky ass grin on his face as you rolled your eyes. “Where is it?”

You’d point to the giant spider crawling around the floor, Eddie’s eyes meeting the little black ball of fuzz that was crawling around the floor.

A scream would leave his mouth as he would jump up next to you on the bathtub, wrapping his arms around you. “No, fuck that; you kill him. you found him, right? So you get to kill him.”

“No! I’m not touching that thing,” you’d complain, watching it continue to crawl around. Eddie would stare at the spider with wide eyes, watching it come closer and closer.

“My god, it’s coming closer. It must smell fear,” Eddie would comment, shuddering in his spot.

“Eddie, please, what happened to my big strong boyfriend?” You’d ask, looking at him.

“He’s not that big and strong when there’s a fucking tarantula in his bathroom. Oh, my god. Burn the house down; it’s his now, we’re moving out.”

And after hours of bickering back and forth with Eddie, continuously watching the spider crawl around the floor, Gareth shows up at your house for a movie night. He walks towards the bathroom and stops in his tracks when he sees you and Eddie standing on the edge of the bathtub arguing.

“…What are you two doing?” Gareth would ask, raising an eyebrow.

And both you and Eddie would point to the spider and yell “kill it!” at the same time.

And once Gareth sees what you’re pointing at he’d giggle, “it’s just a little spider, guys, fucking chill,” and he’d lean down and grab the spider and pick it up in his hands and walk towards the door with it to let it live and be free in the wild and you and Eddie are sighing and stepping down from the bathtub as you watch Gareth walk away with the spider.

“That’s messed up, i can’t believe i used to have a crush on him,” you’d comment, watching him walk away before Eddie would nod and reply with a,

“Yeah, me neither. What did I ever see in him?” Which would leave you staring at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and a look of shock on your face.

“…What?”

“Yeah, i don’t know either, maybe it’s the hair,” Eddie would reply, stepping out of the bathroom as he walked towards the living room, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

“…What?!”

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie makes you a mix tape labeled:

“songs i masturbated to before you agreed to go out with me”

…

“Vol. 1”

[shybunnie20]

A lot of writers in this fandom like to say that Eddie is "good with his hands." Yeah?? Because this is his secret talent, his party trick. This is what Eddie does to try to impress you.. and it works.

"I'm about to rock your socks off, sweetheart. No instrument required."

★My Masterlist

[eddies-hid3out]

Going through my notes app and I found these buried waaaay down from about 18 months ago. I have no memory of writing any of them.

More under the cut to save length and for NSFW stuff.

[infinite-orangepeel]

Steddie ask game #8? 🥰

ooo i like this one, thanks for submitting 💌 hope you’re doing well :)

here’s the link to the “steddie ask game” for anyone else who’s interested !

8. Favorite Steddie headcanon you’ve read or written ?

im a huge fan of any fic that includes eddie tattooing his initials onto steve and vice versa ! i also just love fics where they tattoo each other, in general. especially when the pain from getting a tattoo makes steve realize he might be a little more into eddie (and pain) than he originally thought hahaha.

also any fics that have them comparing scars, eddie kissing steve’s moles or counting them one by one, washing each others hair. i find some of the most vividly intimate scenes to be the ones in which they take care of each other (help each other bathe, cook for each other, face their fears together) in all the ways they didn’t experience in their childhoods. which is what prompted me to write its rotten work in the first place ! i wanted to experiment with a deep dive into these two doing everything in their power to save each other from their heartbreaking pasts. i love giving them the best of intentions but questionable execution !

[stevieschrodinger]

When Corroded Coffin make it big, Eddie leans into the persona in a big way. Face full of black and white make up, often made to look like blood is dripping from his mouth. Big, wild hair, usually shirtless, usually leather pants covered in chains, fingers covered in rings.

Eddie does photo shoots in the get up; Eddie wears the persona to interviews. He accepts awards dressed that way. That is what Eddie Munson looks like.

Eddie Munson maintains that he 'doesn't do relationships' and is famous for having a different girl on his arm to every event. They never go home with him.

So when Eddie wants to live his life, he just...doesn't wear makeup. Puts the hair in a man bun. Takes off the jewellery. Steals one of his husbands happy sweaters.

Eddie Munson, possibly one of the most famous people in the world, can walk with Steve in public and never get recognised.

[queenimmadolla]

it’s always Reader sitting in Eddie’s lap, what about Eddie sitting in Reader’s lap, huh???? sometimes i like to hold my little boyfriends, make them feel like my baby girl. sluts.

i know he’d play into it too, sitting sideways so he can sling an arm around your shoulders, his butt bones rubbing into your thighs, wiggling around and being like

“Is that a roll of life savers in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, baby?”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i saw a thirst trap of carlisle cullen last night and i immediately thought about a steddie twilight au but where eddie falls for steve, the patriarch of that weird-ass foster family that just moved to town at the start of eddie's third go at senior year (he moved to hawkins to stay with his uncle and try this last time to graduate after people in his home town keep only thinking of his now convict dad whenever they see eddie. maybe now he can actually graduate without all the teachers holding a grudge).

steve, or Dr. Harrington to the folks of Hawkins, who studied medicine to help people after he was attacked in his early 20s by an actual vampire his father was trying to hunt down after it killed steve's mother

steve, who forced himself to feed on animals, to not take a single breath when he went to his best friend robin's home after being changed to tell her goodbye

steve, who winds up changing robin too (accidentally biting her? he comes back not a year later and robin's sick? idk)

steve, who just kept collecting kids by accident when he'd find them on the brink of death, all throughout his long life.

steve and robin, who are now professionals at pretending to be married (and have been officially platonically married loads of times at this point).

eddie, who skids his car roughly into chrissy cunningham's in the school parking lot after they've just come back from winter break and they both end up bonding over the ride in the ambulance/long wait in the hospital

chrissy, who immediately clocks eddie's reaction to Dr. Harrington as soon as he walks in the room and relentlessly (lovingly) torments him about it from then on.

something something eddie falls for steve the otherworldly being and steve who falls just as hard for this entirely breakable human

classic miscommunications about "He's married!", "He's still totally into you though.." and "Oh my god he thinks I'm married...That's why he's not flirting back!", "And why did it take you so long to realize this?"

dr. harrington's meddling kids (who somehow look just like steve even though they're fosters??? ("They're vampires Chris, they've got to be.")) trying to push eddie on their 'dad' and eddie's 'robin' chrissy on their robin...

idk idk i just can't help but think about a twilight au now lmao

[mardyart]

sharing hobbies??? nicknames???? just kiss already ffs

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[briarberrythornedhart]

18 plus post content friendos.

I love reading Dom!Eddie - but I can’t escape “doesn't even know what BDSM is (yet??). Just wants to make you happy! Eddie” smut.

🦇 ⚔️ 🦇

There is nothing graceful about it, but it is the most beautiful thing you’ve experienced on this good green earth.

It’s not artful - but it’s also not false. He’s 100 percent present and 100 honest.

He is gentle mostly - only gets rough if you ask - but you usually bruise somewhere surprising - like - you don’t remember why or how the bruise could have formed? The back of your knee against his dresser?? Your elbow against the milk crate by his bed??

Eddie’s more likely to get hurt, honestly. He will flail out his limbs when you surprise him with a kiss or touch somewhere sensitive - he’s ticklish but won’t admit it.

More than a handful of times he has fallen out of the bed because he was trying to change your position together or try something new and was too excited and lost track of where the bed stops.

There is a lot more giggling from you both than someone else might expect. It doesn't make it less hot.

Eddie is just a force of nature. His style is more mosh pit than choreographed walz.

[punkrockmlchael]

Imagine rockstar!eddie and popstar!reader and the media has pit these two against each other, saying how they hate each other when in reality it's not true at all. And during one of reader's concerts or a live stream someone tries to start something against Eddie and & reader is like "Hold on babygirl, we love Eddie here"

Omg, your mind. (While I agree with this I have a bit of a different take; hear me out) (Word Count: 775)

No because like, imagine being in a band yourself with your closest friends, and you're touring with Corroded Coffin, opening for them. Being in the spot light means rumors flying left and right, it was inevitable. About you, your friends, Corroded Coffin, you and corroded coffin; it felt like there was always something being brought up whether it was true or not.

And you were nervous to tour with them because the media always paints Corroded Coffin to be these big mean and scary guys because, hello, they have this really heavy and deep metal sound (and they’re kinda tall, except for Gareth) but, just because they play metal music doesn't mean they themselves are these big scary guys; in fact they were the opposite.

No, Corroded Coffin are actually sweethearts. The sweetest, to be honest. They would hold doors for you, always make sure you and your bandmates are okay in the public eye; they basically took you and your bandmates under their wings because they wanted to show you the ropes and make sure you’re all living the dream as well.

And after that tour, you kept close ties with them, you were friends with them after all. And somehow you were always the closest to Eddie, he just had the biggest personality in corroded coffin, followed closely by Gareth. Grant and Jeff tended to keep to themselves, but that didn't change the fact that they too were the sweetest boys you had ever met; always always checking in on you. Random texts from Corroded Coffin’s members were something that happened daily it felt like; a meme, a video, a congratulations text on a new song or video coming out. It was always something with those boys, not that you or your friends were complaining.

Anyways, sometime after that tour you and your band were blowing up, becoming bigger and bigger; more songs, more tours, more livestreams to keep your fans up to date!

And one livestream Corroded Coffin got brought up, your band members laughing and recounting the memories of those boys and spending time with them.

Talking about how your first time in California you all went to the beach and Eddie forgot sunscreen and literally was so burnt to a crisp he couldn’t even play his guitar that night because wearing the strap hurt; he stood there and sang while Grant and Jeff did all the work. Talking about how the best part of tour was when Gareth broke his drum set and had to use your bands for a couple shows. Talking about how Jeff and Grant are actually the funniest people you would meet, like they’re always cracking jokes about something whether it be the time or not. (Literally, like remember when Eddie was burnt to a crisp and couldn’t play the guitar? Yeah; they said he looked like a singing and dancing lobster because his bright red shoulders, arms and face were on full display for everyone as he winced into every step he took. As they called it; “the Amanda Show called, they want their dancing lobster back!”)

That was just the start; the fans of Corroded Coffin themselves knew these boys were actually idiots and the funniest people to walk the earth, and you didn’t quite believe it until you witnessed it first hand. (But, come on, they’re idiots and nerds who play metal music; what’s not to love about them?!)

And suddenly while reminiscing on the good old days of tour while on livestream, your friend reads a comment about how Eddie is a dick, and how it appears that everyone’s hates him.

“I heard that Eddie is a dick, he’s such an arrogant asshole who only seems to think about himself and what will benefit him.”

And you whip your head around and look at the screen, raising an eyebrow; ready to defend your friend at any moment. “Oh, no, he's actually quite the opposite. He’s the funniest, sweetest, most caring person we’ve ever met; we love Eddie here. In fact, he actually texted me this morning congratulating us on our new single being out. He said it sounds so awesome, and he can’t wait to hear us play it live.”

Your friend nodded, agreeing with you. “He might look scary with that mullet and those tattoos but I promise you he is actually a giant teddy bear,” they said, nodding along to your words. “He’s a dork, let me tell you.”

“The biggest dork,” you giggled. “But, we love him just the same.”

[italiansteebie]

Steve is a big nickname guy.

Robin is Bobin, or Robs, or even Bobby.

Dustin is Dust, or Dusty.

Hell, he even has nicknames for that little brat Micheal.

So yeah, he's a nickname guy, but the thing is, he's never had a nickname. He's always been just Steve. And I guess you could argue that since his full name is Stefano, that Steve is a nickname but... It's not the same. It didn't come from a place of love, or friendship. It came from the kids in his kindergarten class who sneered and said that was too hard. So he became Steve.

He doesn't count King Steve.

That's just a title that became a reminder of how much of an asshole he was in high school. Because he was. And if we're being honest he can still be kind of a bitch (The sass never ends).

But he's never had a nickname, and it hits his insecurities just right because was he really never worth something as simple as a nickname?

But then Eddie comes along.

And he's Eds, and Love, and Baby.

And Steve...

Steve is Stevie, and he's sweetheart, and Sunshine. And Steve loves sunshine, he thinks it might be the best thing anyone has ever called him. And when Eddie finds out his full name is Stefano, he's Stef. And if that doesn't make his heart swell. Because Eddie is using his real name, and it's not too hard, and it's pretty. And it comes from love, because Eddie says he loves the way it feels in his mouth, and he love the smile that grows on Stef's face when he says it.

And suddenly, Steve is fine with no one giving him a nickname. Because the one's Eddie gave him were worth waiting for.

[lovelylittlegrim]

Dustin Henderson is absolutely going to walk across that stage at graduation in season five, take his diploma, turn to the crowd and do Eddie’s signature devil face at them all, because Eddie never got the chance.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Mayfield pt 2

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Steve’s standing in the middle of the driveway, just out of sight of the windows, when the deep rumble of a car engine rips down the street. Nausea floods his throat and he swallows against the taste of bile on the back of his tongue. The blue Camaro flies up the driveway, and Steve wills every muscle in his legs to stand his ground when it parks just before bumping against his knees.

Max sits frozen in the passenger seat, staring at Steve like she’s seen a ghost. Before he can move toward her side of the car, Billy’s slamming the door behind him, barreling towards Steve with a familiar manic grin on his face. Yet even with a smile as big and bright as that, there’s no light in Billy Hargrove’s eyes. Just a blank emptiness with a tint of rage.

“Well if it isn’t Steve goddamn Harrington!” Billy cackles, crowding in so close that Steve can feel the wet heat from his breath. He reeks of stale cigarettes like the inside of the house, a smell that’s most likely permanently soaked into his denim jacket. “Don’t look so much like a King anymore.”

This is the version of Billy that Steve can deal with. All loud, over the top showmanship, acting like the biggest asshole in the room. This is the version of Billy that Steve has coped with at school everyday since September, and in a way it’s a reflection of who he used to be. Except when Steve’s layers of bullshit were peeled away, he found someone who actually cares, willing to die to save the people around him. 

When everyone saw the core of Billy Hargrove exposed in the Byers’ house, all that was left was a monster. Cold, hollow, and deadly, uncaring in a way Steve’s only seen in his father when he had a full bottle of scotch.

Steve knows he has a long way to distance himself from the King Steve moniker, but he knows for a fact he’s not Billy Hargrove, and certainly not his father. One step at a time is another step away from turning into a monster.

He clears his throat. “I never was,” Steve replies. Even if everyone else saw him as King Steve, he sure as shit never did. Never wants to be again.

Billy smirks, but before he can respond, they hear a second car door slam closed. In his periphery, Steve can see Max storm towards them. She shouts, and the boy in front of Steve flinches at the snap in her voice. “I told you to leave him alone.”

He sneers at Steve before reluctantly taking a step backwards, and Steve feels like he can breathe again. Max stands next to him, so close that her arm brushes his elbow. Tension radiates from her like a pulled rubber band even though her command was sturdy and strong. It’s all just another sick reminder of how much these kids have to deal with on top of interdimensional monsters.

“Aww, come on Maxine,” Billy jeers, “King Steve and I were just having a friendly chat, man to man. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

“You aren’t friends,” she snaps back.

It’s just then Steve hears the front screen door close, Mrs. Hargrove’s voice calling out, “alright I’ve got my home and work contact info filled out, along with my work address and–” but Steve watches her pause and take in the sight before her. She moves closer and Billy’s entire demeanor changes. He moves his hands behind his back, legs spread in a military stance, as he softens the muscles in his face almost like he’s hiding himself. Another thing Steve wishes they didn’t have in common.

“What’s going on, Susan?” Billy asks, his voice laced with false sweetness. He gestures at Steve, and he feels all three sets of eyes on him at once. Mrs. Hargrove approaches slowly, standing at the point of Billy and Steve’s fucked up triangle, with Max still plastered to his side. Mrs. Hargrove hands Steve the note paper and Billy tracks it as Steve shoves it in his back pocket.

“Well,” Mrs. Hargrove draws the word out, assessing the situation, “Steve here came by asking to be Max’s new babysitter.”

“What?” Max and Billy ask simultaneously, turning towards her. Max’s eyes are bright with guarded hope, while Billy appears slightly panicked under his casual charade.

“That’s not possible,” Billy says. “I’m Max’s babysitter, Susan. That’s the way my dad wants it, and we don’t need some strange, older boy like Steve hanging around Maxine.” The implication leaves Steve disgusted, choking back the rising bile in his throat. Sharp points of pain bloom across his wrist as Max’s nails dig into him in a poorly concealed panic.

“Billy, if Steve starts watching Max before and after school, then you’ll have less to worry about.”

“No. No, Susan, if my dad wants me to watch Max, then that’s what’s going to happen.” Billy’s facade is starting to crack around the edges, and as he takes a step, the two girls step back, Max pulling Steve along with her. The careful choreography is keeping Steve on his toes. “How does dear old dad feel about this idea?”

He smiles wide again, the cat who got the canary. Steve sees the fight leave Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes as she glances towards the cold cement driveway, shoulders hiked up to her ears in defeat. Max’s grip on his wrist tightens again. He’s assuming he’ll find little bruises there in the morning. 

He’ll bear whatever bruises he needs to for these kids. Confronting Billy, taking the hits, it’s all worth it if he can spend every day knowing exactly where all of his kids are. And that sure as hell includes Max.

“What do you want, Billy?” Steve asks.

He scoffs, “what do I want?”

“Yeah,” Steve bitches back, “that’s what I said. Maybe my hits landed harder than I thought, because apparently you’re deaf now.” At school, this is the part where the people crowding him would laugh, back him up. Here in the Hargrove’s driveway, no one’s laughing. “I asked you, what do you want?”

He’s surprised when Billy snaps his mouth shut, seeming to take the offer seriously. After a few moments, he smirks again. “Alright, Harrington. You win. You can take little Maxine here off my hands. But I want your spot on the team, and I want to be captain.”

“Done.” Steve says.

Steve hasn’t been to school yet to tell the coach he’s dropping out. Once he turns in his doctor’s note, the coach won’t have anything to argue against. But he figures Billy doesn’t need to know that. It seems Mrs. Hargrove’s caught the same cue, as she side eye’s Steve but doesn’t say anything.

Billy’s staring at him, lips parted in shock. Leaving him speechless feels like a minor accomplishment. “And I still want my allowance, same as if I’m still watching her.”

“Done.” Mrs. Hargrove and Steve reply in unison. Billy looks back and forth between Max and Steve, a complicated expression passes behind his eyes Steve can’t quite place, something close to remorse. It’s gone before Steve can puzzle it out, replaced with his usual facade. 

“Max, get your shit out of my back seat.” He’s still smiling, but his voice is a cold void. She runs back to the car, ripping the passenger front and back door open. As she does, Billy storms off into the house and Mrs. Hargrove timidly watches him go, then turns back to Steve.

She crouches down to look her daughter in the eye, and Steve’s struck with how similar they appear with the same burning red hair, orange freckles. Max seems to soften slightly under her mother’s gaze, but she’s still holding herself strong and straight like Billy’s out here next to her. It sets Steve’s teeth on edge. He remembers learning at a similar age that his mom is just a person, a woman capable of mistakes instead of an all powerful Mom all kids think they have as a parent. He also thinks maybe kids should get to believe that longer than him and Max got to.

They work out the details, making sure Max has enough clothes in her backpack, along with her skateboard and homework, so she can stay the night at Steve’s. He’ll drop her at school in the morning, along with Henderson, and that’s two more kids he knows are safe.

The car ride to his place is quiet, radio volume on low. Max is fidgeting with the strap on the backpack on her lap, and Steve doesn’t know whether he should poke and prod, or let her come to him. In the end, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He hums. “Done what?”

“Given up basketball, being captain, just to– I don’t know. Be a babysitter. Especially my babysitter. It’s not like I need one.”

Warmth fills him up at the familiarity her words strike in him. He’ll prove to her how wrong she is eventually. How she’s a kid worth babysitting.

“Max, I already gave up the spot. Just haven’t told the coach yet.”

He doesn’t glance over to her when she turns, eyes focused on the road. Still, he can hear the smile in her voice, “but Billy–”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “he would’ve gotten it anyway.

She scoffs, delighted and surprised.

“Is this something you’re ok with?” He asks, only kind of afraid of the answer. “I should’ve asked you sooner, if you’re ok with me–”

“Totally,” she cuts him off, still smiling.

“And the whole, King Steve thing, doesn’t bother you?” He thinks about everything Dustin’s made passing comments about. How Mike throws it in his face at every opportunity and how he knows it’s all Jonathan and Nancy seem to see in him. How obsessed Billy was with him for so long, and that Max spends more time with all of them than anyone. When it comes right down to it, she barely knows Steve, yet is probably equipped with enough stories to make her own guesses. 

They ride the rest of the way in silence, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come until they’re parked in his empty driveway. When he finally turns to face her, Max’s eyes are earnest and clear, illuminated by the conviction on her brow.

“‘King Steve’ sounds like a stupid nickname,” she snarks. There’s fondness in her tone, and he smiles back at her. “I think I’ll just call you Steve until I can think of something better.”

A weight so heavy is lifted from his shoulders in that moment that he almost cries from the relief. He tips his head back to keep the overwhelming emotions contained just a little bit longer, and he laughs wetly to release some of the uncontained joy. 

“Is a nickname like Random Girl any better?”

She giggles, small and easy. “We’ll work on it.” And as she grabs her stuff from the back and makes her way towards the front door, Steve realizes they’ve got all the time in the world to work on it. Together.

~~~

I'm really enjoying this series, and this section in particular! I'm such a sucker for Steve and Max. <3 <3

[ronancecore]

My steddie rock concert canons:

Metal is not the main stream of Steve but he goes always to see Eddie's performance.

When the song ended. Eddie spotted Steve in the waves of crowd, Steve grinning widely and he shouted. “the performance was great!! we want moreee!” Steve hyping the crowd aslo audience shouted along with Steve. Eddie plays Steve's favourite romantic alternative rock song for Steve:) Steve just stunned on his ground when he hears his favorite song played. He didn't realize at first, but he knew it's for him. Steve clearly smile widely and remain standing there. The crowd singing with Eddie, and swaying their hands in the air like, it's shoot from a movie scene.

Steve enjoys listening to Eddie's new songs in record player.

Steve's enjoying playing drum in, Eddie's band studio. He almost broke the drum stick.

Robin help Steve making a poster for Eddie's band group advertisement. Bonus Nancy wrote the headlines.