#hellfireclub

masterlist

Summary: Dustin Henderson always leaves Hellfire early to keep his older sister far away from Eddie Munson’s obvious crush, but one forgotten character sheet ruins everything and gives Eddie the perfect chance to finally charm her right in front of Dustin’s horrified eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

There was a reason Dustin Henderson always left Hellfire Club five minutes early, and it wasn’t because he had to make it back for curfew.

It was because you, his older sister,  picked him up. 

And because Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master with a flair for dramatics, had developed a hopeless, obvious crush on you the first time he saw you waiting by your car, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to whatever song was stuck in your head.

Dustin had caught the look instantly.

“Don’t even think about it,” he had warned Eddie that very first day, grabbing his backpack like it was a shield. “I’m serious, Eddie. She’s off-limits.”

Eddie had only grinned, popping the cap on his marker. “Off-limits? Henderson, she drove you here. She’s literally right there. In the parking lot. Breathing the same air as me.”

“Exactly the problem!”

And so a system was born—one Dustin upheld with military precision. Every campaign night: five minutes early. No exceptions. No stragglers. No chance for Eddie to “accidentally” walk out at the same time.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the dice betrayed him.

A natural 1.

Not in the game, oh no, Dustin had rolled a 20 for that, but in real life, fumbling for his bag and realising too late that he’d forgotten his character sheet somewhere in the mess of snack wrappers and graph paper.

By the time he sprinted back into the room, Eddie was already strolling toward the doors, humming something off-key, twirling his ringed keys around his finger.

And outside—right outside—you were leaning against the car, Hawkins’ sunset painting you in gold.

Dustin skidded to a halt. “No, no, no. Abort mission. Turn around. Eddie, don’t go out there!”

Eddie froze mid-step, eyes lighting up with the slow-building grin of a man who finally caught the monster he’d been chasing.

“Why’s that Henderson, you tryna hide something from me?”  Eddie looked ahead, over Dustin's shoulder, with a large grin on his face. “Ah, someone?”

Eddie didn’t wait for Dustin’s answer. He brushed past him with that maddening, self-satisfied swagger, boots thudding on the linoleum as he pushed open the doors. The warm evening light hit his face, and he squinted dramatically, as if he’d just stepped into some divine realm—your realm. You glanced up at the sound, lifting your head from whatever you’d been scribbling on a notepad, and your eyes met Eddie’s.

He nearly tripped.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly softer, suddenly shy, like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. “Uh—hi. Didn’t know you were the designated Henderson chauffeur tonight.”

You gave him a small, amused smile. “I’m always the designated Henderson chauffeur.”

Behind Eddie, Dustin groaned loudly, breaking the air. “Oh my god. Y/N disengage, get in the car, and drive”

Eddie ignored him entirely. “Well, lucky us.”

You raised a brow. “‘Us’?”

Eddie cleared his throat. “Uh—me. Lucky me.”

Dustin threw his hands up. “No. Nope. Eddie, abort. Retreat. Go back inside and pretend this never happened—”

You tugged open the passenger door for your brother. “Dustin, it’s fine, get in the car. Let him talk. You never let me meet your friends”

Eddie visibly perked up whilst Dustin visibly died inside.

Eddie placed a hand over his heart, staggering back a step like he’d just been given divine permission to breathe.

“You hear that, Henderson?” he said, eyes shining with theatrical triumph. “Your sister wants to meet your friends. Specifically me. Mostly me.”

Dustin shoved his backpack into the car with a force that suggested he wished it were Eddie instead. “I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m telling Mom.”

“You do that,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be devastated to hear that someone finds her daughter interesting.”

Eddie snorted, then tried to disguise it as a suave laugh. It absolutely failed.

You shut Dustin’s door before he could protest again and turned back to Eddie, crossing your arms lightly over your chest. “So. Eddie Munson.”

He straightened like someone had just called his name at roll call. “That is me. In the flesh. In the leather.” He gestured vaguely at his jacket. “And the denim.”

You fought a smile. “Dustin talks about you a lot.”

Behind the rolled-up window, Dustin slapped both hands against the glass. “NO I DON’T.”

Eddie beamed. “Oh yeah? All good things, I hope.”

“Depends what you consider ‘good.’” You smirked. “Lots of yelling. Something about unfair campaigns. A dramatic monologue about you killing his character two weeks ago.”

Eddie gasped, affronted. “I didn’t kill his character. He threw himself into a pit trap after I explicitly told him not to.”

Dustin yelled through the closed window: “YOU SAID IT WASN’T A TRAP!”

“I lied! That’s storytelling!” Eddie shouted back, no longer looking at him, still looking at you.

You laughed, genuinely, bright and warm, and Eddie looked like he could live off that sound for a year. He rubbed his palms against his jeans, suddenly restless. “So, uh… since fate has clearly intervened tonight—thanks for the nat 1, Henderson—I was thinking… maybe… if you’re not too busy sometime, we could… I dunno.” He shrugged, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Hang out? Maybe grab something to eat? Talk without your brother trying to tackle me?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it even though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away.

“That depends,” you said. “Would Dustin survive the shock?”

From inside the car, Dustin pressed his face to the window, eyes wide with horror. “PLEASE DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.”

Eddie placed a hand on the car roof, leaning in closer, hopeful and helpless in the same breath. “I’ll take my chances.”

You cut him off. “Maybe.”

Eddie blinked. “Maybe?”

You shrugged. “Maybe we can hang out,”

Eddie grinned, slow and stunned and triumphant. “I’ll take a ‘maybe.’ ‘Maybe’ sounds like a strong ‘yes’ waiting to happen.”

Eddie’s grin was still stretching across his face, wide and triumphant, when he moved toward your car. He hooked his fingers around the handle like he had done it a hundred times before, although the truth showed in the careful and almost reverent way he pulled the door open. Inside, Dustin snapped his head toward him, eyes narrowed into the kind of death stare usually saved for mortal enemies or, apparently, potential brothers-in-law.

“Don’t you dare,” Dustin warned, his voice high with panic and disbelief. Eddie leaned down just enough to meet the younger Henderson’s eyes directly. The two of them froze, locked in an entirely ridiculous yet absolutely serious battle of wills.

Dustin’s glare promised violence. Eddie’s stare promised trouble.

The tension held for a moment. Then Eddie’s expression shifted slowly, showing a smug smile before he lifted his hand in one deliberate motion and flipped Dustin off right in his face.

“You absolute—!” Dustin sputtered, smacking his palm against the window with enough force to rattle the whole door.

Eddie had already stopped paying attention. When he turned back to you, the mischief fell away instantly. His posture straightened, and he pushed the door open a little more with exaggerated gentleness, almost as if he needed you to know he did have manners, even if he used them selectively.

“There you go,” he said, his voice softer. “Wouldn’t want the designated Henderson chauffeur to deal with any complications.”

You could not help smiling. There was something undeniably endearing about how quickly he could shift from menace to sweet. “Thanks,” you said, sincere despite Dustin’s meltdown.

“Anytime,” Eddie replied. The word came out like a promise, and his grin grew smaller and warmer. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet.

Inside the car, Dustin made a dramatic noise that sounded half wounded animal and half outraged brother. “I cannot believe this. He flipped me off. In front of you.”

You shut his door before he could work himself up further and moved around the car to take your seat behind the wheel. Through the windshield, you caught Eddie backing away with that same stunned, proud smile on his face. He lifted a hand in a small wave. You returned it before starting the engine.

The moment the car rolled forward, Dustin erupted.

“Why are you smiling?” he demanded. He twisted in his seat with an expression that accused you of committing several crimes. “He insulted me. He flipped me off. He is trying to date you. How is any of this funny?”

You shrugged lightly as you merged onto the road, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm you did not think about. “I do not know, Dustybun. Maybe because he is sweet.”

Dustin made a strangled noise and slumped dramatically into his seatbelt. “Sweet? Sweet? Eddie Munson is not sweet. Eddie Munson is chaos in denim.”

“It could be worse,” you said with a tiny smirk.

Dustin threw his hands up in complete exasperation. “How? How could this possibly be worse?”

In the rearview mirror, you caught one last image of the parking lot. Eddie was still standing there, fists raised, bouncing on his heels like someone celebrating a long-awaited victory. He looked absolutely thrilled.

Heroes and villains of Dungeons & Dragons truly come to life on the tabletop.

Painted miniatures build atmosphere, tension, and shape decisions every turn.

We paint models for RPG sessions – heroes, enemies, and entire bestiaries.

7 hours later and still not finished. 2 more hours to go for shading, highlights, guitar Eddie needs colour, more hair and the lightning.

I'm so tired, in pain. Back of the thigh tattoos are not fun! But anything for Eddie.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Shy!Henderson!reader

Summary: what if Eddie took a liking in a different Henderson even before Dustin came?

Warnings: none

Eddie watched as the elder Henderson walked past their table, Books tightly in her grasp as she hurried to her own table and friends. He had being eyeing her for years now, but she payed no attention, not once had she ever talked or wasted her time with the freak of Hawkins High.

But Dustin adored Eddie, he would come out of his way to help the older boy and give him ideas for campaigns and songs even if he knew Eddie made them great anyway.

Eddie locked his eyes on her back as she sat down, making everyone on her table look up and smile at her, she didn’t have much friends. Only 3, one of them being Robin Buckley but that didn’t matter, it's not like he was Mr popular at school, but it still put a smile on his face to see her have close friends that she could trust, even if he wasn't one of them.

"Hey, Henderson?" Eddie asked his younger friend. Making the boy look up immediately.

"Yes, Eddie"

"Do you tell your sister about me? Or us ever?" Eddie asked him

"Well um. Not much but I've told her you're the DM of the club and some other stuff I guess" the curly headed boy shrugged

"So nothing about me?" Eddie glared. Not in a mean way but to look more serious than usual.

"Well yeah, I figured she would already know you since you're in the same year and all" Dustin said.

"You would think. But, no" Eddie laughed sarcastically while standing up and walking slowly over to the boy.

"After everything I've done for you guys, the endless campaigns, the taking you under my wing, would you find it in your hearts to...repay my somehow?" Eddie somewhat suggested.

"I mean yeah, sure. What is it?" The Wheeler boy smiled politely

"Put a good word in from me to her, would you?" Eddie replied, picking the boys up by the shoulders

"To who? Y/n?" Dustin stuttered at Eddie's sudden movements.

"Yeah. And while you're at it, go find Lucas, we cant let him be taken to the dark side. Yeah? Ok, go" Eddie demanded, pushing the boys away from him.

~

"Hey Y/n" your younger brother, Dustin greets as you dig through your locker, trying to find your sketch book. You look back and see him and Mike looking a bit distressed as they smile at you awkwardly

"Hi? What do you want?" you smile tightly, exaggerating the 'hi'

"Did you know Eddie gets great grades. He's super smart" Mike moves his hands as he speaks.

"Then how come he's repeated senior year twice" you say, puzzled and confused

"He repeated?" The raven head laughs, acting clueless to his friends failure in education

"Ok seriously, what do you guys what, I don’t have time for this" you shut your locker as you found your sketch book and turn to face them fully.

"Nothing. We just wanted to tell you how great he is. He's amazing, i- we think you'd love him" Dustin nods vigorously

"Sure, Dusty. I'm happy that you found a great friend but he cant be that amazing" you roll your eyes.

Truth is, you found yourself looking at The Munson Boy a lot, whether it was in the hall, Across the cafeteria or in class. You couldn't help it. You found yourself thinking about him before going to bed and it weirded you out to say the least. The first and last time you talked to him is when he bumped into you in the hallway while you we're a sophomore and he was a junior. You wouldn't actually classify it as talking cause all you said to each other was muffled 'sorry's' but you still counted it, yet you don't get why you care if it was talking or not. You knew a lot more than your brother and friends thought you knew about Eddie.

it wasn't your fault you asked the teacher to make you switch seats to sit next to him, was it? It wasn’t your fault you look at his doodles he draws on his desks. It wasn’t you fault for looking for him at pep rallies, you knew he wouldn't be there, but it was worth trying. It wasn’t your fault you couldn't keep your eyes off him when near him. It wasn’t your fault.

"Come on. I bet you have a lot in common!" Dustin pleads for God knows what.

"No. We really don't" you lied

As much as you would like to admit. You liked all the metal bands he did: Metallica, Dio, Wasp, Mötley Crüe.

You liked playing DnD. You played a lot in middle school. Got to level 29 but suddenly stopped playing as the satanic panic flew over. You didn’t want to be known as a freak. You were actually the boys Dungeon master for some time, so you had a lot of experience with the game.

“you don’t even know him yet, you don’t know that” Dustin complains like a child

“why do you care so much if I like him or not, Dusty. I don’t like him so just leave it alone” you say defensively and walk away from the boys.

from a distance you could hear Dustin scowl at Mike for making the mistake of telling you Eddie had good grades and acting like an idiot when you said he had repeated twice. 

You enter your class for the last period and sit down at your desk at the very back where the seat next to you, where Eddie was supposed to be, stayed unoccupied. You sigh and lay your head down on the desk, already bored out of your mind and just tired.

Everyone piles in the classroom and takes their seats with their friends and you stare at the door, not exactly sure what your waiting for, because he barely comes to class anyway but you still wait, just in case.

But he doesn't. Twelve minutes into the lesson and his seat still stays empty.

You start to fall asleep in your chair as a sudden open of the door interrupts the lesson.

"Well, nice of you to join us, Mister Munson" Miss O'donnell says annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah" Eddie mutters under his breath as he passes you to get to his seat.

You look down and your desk with your sketch book open on the only empty page left. The pen in your hand connects with your page and starts doodling random things here and there and soon enough you have a full page of hearts, stars, flowers and bees. A weird combination of drawings on one page but that didn't bother the person watching you.

Eddie found it cute how your tongue peaked out when you were so concentrated on your doodles and when he realised you sighed in a wasted last page of what used to be real sketches of people, animals and things, to now be your subconscious hearts and stars.

He watched you as you shut your book and look up at the boring lecture and finally pay attention.

He didnt want to stop looking at you and after the freshmen told him they had not only failed but made themselves look like idiots, he gave that idea up and wanted to give a good impression himself, if they couldn't do, he should do it.

Eddie stretches his arm out to lay in front of you. Making his sleeve go up more to leave you with a perfect size canvas of his arm to draw on. You look down at his gesture and then back at him, to be met with the side of his face as he looks at the front of the room. Trying to hide how nervous he would be.

"Go ahead, draw" he whispers, still looking ahead but moving his hand toward you more.

You smile sheepishly at him and pick your pen up again and draw on him, trying to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt him in the slightest.

You have no idea what it was supposed to be while drawing it but when you look up to see if he's ok you see him already looking down at you, giving you a slight smile, you look back down at his arm in embarrassment and continue drawing lines and curves, shading some in and leaving some blank, to give some depth just to make it look half way decent.

~

The end of the day bell rings and you get up, packing your things and rushed out of there, not waiting for him to say it's bad or he doesn't like it.

You open your locker and put your stuff in for tomorrow, you drop your pen on the floor and bend down to get it and when you get back up your met with him in front of you.

"Well hello, Sweetheart" he beams at you

"Oh- Hi" you look away and place your pen away, Shutting the door of your locker.

"The drawing looks really cool. You're really good" he compliments

"Oh uh, thanks" you begin to walk away, not slow but enough so he can walk with you. You look down at his on show arm to see the dragon on his arm.

"So um. Dustin told me you play. You should join us sometime, it would be fun" he suggested

"I haven't actually played in a while" you laugh awkwardly

"That's fine. No one would mind, he just told me you were really good so I wanted to put you to the test" he shrugs

"I'll think about it" you say quietly

"You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean I get it, you wouldn't want to get called a freak like me and all, I just thought it would be fun to have you there" he shook his head in embarrassment and looks down his feet

"No it's not that, I just- I dont think you're a freak" you mess up your train of thought and stutter

"You don't?" He looks up, a bit shocked

"No, I don't really get why they even call you that to be honest" you murmur but he still manages to hear you. Making him smile in content

"Well thank you, that um, that means a lot coming from you" he smirks, opening the door to his van.

"You have a way to get home?" He asks hopefully

"Yep" I nod

"Ok. I'll see you later then" he starts the engine and winds the window down.

"I'll play" I tell him making him look at me while slowly back out of his spot

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" I smile

"Well our new campaign starts tomorrow so, you could come then if you want" he suggests

"Yeah sure" I agree

"Great. I'll see you then" he says and heads off

As I walk back over to my car I see Dustin already waiting for me on the passenger side

"I knew you liked him" he smirks

"Who said I liked him?" I unlocked the car and waited for him to get in before starting it.

"Come on. The way you were looking at him! You totally like him" he crosses his arms

"Do not!" I yell loudly before driving out of the car park

"Yes you do" he smiles

"Fine! I do, ok, there" I sigh in frustration

"He likes you too" he giggles like a kid

_______

This is so bad omg😀🤣.

Twitch Fanart: Emma Frost

We do daily fanart requests on my Twitch Channel. Today's request is the White Queen her self: Emma Frost.

If you'd like me to make art of your favorite X-Men character, my sketch cover commissions are still open! Check out my journal for more info: Sketch Cover Commissions Open!

masterlist

Summary: 18+, Eddie X Steve's younger sister

At Steve’s chaotic party, you and Eddie Munson circle each other like fire and gasoline, sharp insults, teasing glances, and a dangerous spark that refuses to die. Every interaction is a game of push and pull, and the tension between you is impossible to ignore.

WARNINGS: 18+, MDNI< its boutta get unholy up in here yall

WORDCOUNT: 5499

The music was loud, the kind of bass-heavy chaos that rattled your teeth and made Steve’s parties feel like their own small apocalypse. You were hovering near the kitchen, soda in hand, trying to avoid the sweaty crush of teenagers circling the living room when someone slid up beside you with a grin that could only belong to Eddie Munson.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Harrington,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “Out here pretending you don’t want to be at your own brother's party?”

You arched a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. “And you’re here pretending you don’t want to annoy me.”

He laughed low and long, like you’d just handed him the punchline of the century. “Touché. But let’s be honest—you do want to be here. And you secretly want to talk to me.”

“Secretly,” you echoed, voice flat but eyes narrowed. “Or you’re just full of shit.”

“Both,” he admitted instantly, tilting his head with that infuriating confidence of his. “I’m full of shit, and you love it.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, challenging him. “I loathe it. You are… how do I put this…utterly insufferable.”

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “Insufferable? Please. I’m charming. It’s a talent.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a deliberate, slow sip of your soda just to irritate him further. “If you’re charming, I must be blind. Or deaf. Definitely both.”

Eddie’s grin widened, and you immediately regretted the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth. 

“I don’t,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction. You refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting that maybe, just maybe, he got under your skin in a way no one else could.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You narrowed your eyes, giving him a pointed look. “And I bet you say that to every girl at these parties.”

“Every girl?” he echoed, mock offense in his tone. “Darling, you wound me. I save my best insults for special people.”

You blinked, heat crawling up your neck before you could stop it. “Cute. Very cute. Keep insulting me like that and I might start thinking you enjoy this.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up like you’d just dared him to do something reckless. He pushed off the counter, closing a fraction of the space between you with a swagger that made you want to roll your eyes and maybe shove him—hard.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice to something annoyingly smooth, “if I enjoyed this any more, Steve would throw me out of his own house.”

You scoffed. “Please. Steve would throw me out first.”

“Careful, Harrington,” he drawled. “Keep talking to me like that and someone might think you want me.”

You scoffed and shoved his shoulder just enough to rock him backward. “Relax, Munson. If I wanted you, you’d know.”

Eddie steadied himself, ringed hands raised in surrender, but his grin sharpened. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Ooh,” he breathed, stepping back toward you like you were gravity. “Even better.”

Someone yelled Eddie’s name from the living room—probably Gareth or Jeff or one of the other guys demanding he come defend his title in a very serious argument about Metallica—but Eddie didn’t move. Not yet.

He tipped his head, eyes dragging over your face with an annoyingly slow, annoyingly knowing sweep.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

“It never is,” you shot back.

Only then did he tear himself away, strutting off toward the noise—leaving you with your drink, a racing pulse, and the horrible realization that you were in trouble. Very big trouble.

—-

The music thumped from inside, but out here in the garden, it felt quieter, like the world had narrowed down to the grass under your feet and the dark sky above. You were swaying slightly, more from liquor than the wind, when you spotted him leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling between his fingers

“Eddie,” you called, voice sharp enough to cut through the buzz in your head. “Giving the party a break, or just trying to look like a tragic poet?”

He snorted, eyes glinting as he flicked ash onto the grass. “Tragic poet?” he slurred slightly, the alcohol loosening the usual edge of his voice. “Sweetheart, I like that. Want a cigarette?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe. If you promise not to lick it first.”

“Hey,” he laughed, the sound low and rough, leaning closer so the smoke curled between you, “I don’t lick my smokes. That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. That’s different.”

“Good,” you shot back, stepping forward just enough to grab the cigarette, your fingers brushing his. Sparks—or maybe alcohol-fueled hormones—shot up your arm. “I like disgusting. Makes life more fun.”

He grinned, tipping the cigarette to his lips, eyes half-lidded. “You’re a nightmare. I like nightmares.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered, dragging a long inhale, holding it just to annoy him, “maybe someday you’ll believe it.”

Eddie leaned closer, too close, his grin mischievous and messy. “You’re drunk,” he said softly, voice teasing, “and meaner than usual. I like it.”

“Not drunk enough,” you shot back, voice low and rough, “or I’d set your hair on fire just to see you scream.”

He laughed, a low, rattling sound, tilting his head as if that idea excited him. “You’d get me hard before the fire, you know that, right?”

You snorted, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’d make sure you hated every second of it.”

He groaned dramatically, fumbling with the cigarette, still too close. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking. “But somehow, I can’t stop looking at you.”

Eddie’s grin softened, just slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer under the alcohol-fueled confidence. “Same,” he admitted, leaning back just enough to give you room, but not really. “Same, goddamn it.”

You snorted, taking a long drag and letting the smoke curl around you. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson. Otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”

He tilted his head, eyes dark, grin sharp. “And I’d like it. Maybe too much.”

“And you’re a dick,” you said, smirking as you flicked ash to the ground. “Annoying as hell, as usual.”

Eddie didn’t laugh this time. He went still—eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before dragging back up to your eyes. His grin curved slow, lazy, dangerous.

“You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “for a total pain in the ass, I can’t stop looking at you tonight.”

Your stomach tightened, heat coiling low, but you forced a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh please.”

He leaned in, just a fraction, enough that you could smell his cologne and cigarettes, enough that your pulse stuttered. “Don’t ‘oh please’ me. You look good tonight. Messy, drunk, irritating… and I like it.”

You covered it with another drag of your cigarette. “You’re lucky you’re drunk, Munson,” you said, exhaling smoke between you both, “otherwise, I’d be kicking you into next week.”

Eddie tilted his head, hair brushing his shoulders, grin gaining a wicked tilt. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “the way you look at me? You’re not kicking me anywhere.”

Your pulse jumped. You glared at him to hide it.

He stepped the slightest bit closer—close enough his breath warmed your cheek. “And if you did…” his voice dropped into something low and filthy, “I’d probably like it. A lot.”

The night felt suddenly too warm. He leaned back just a bit, muttering under his breath, half to himself, half to the universe, “Of course it has to be Steve’s sister…”

You froze, smirk tugging despite yourself. “Excuse me?”

Eddie’s eyes flicked up to yours, mischievous and slightly guilty, but that grin stayed sharp. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. “Seriously, you’re standing out here missing all the fun. You should go back in, you know… join the chaos.”

“I’m gonna head up to bed,” you said, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, giving him one last sharp glance over your shoulder.

He frowned, muttering, “Bed? You’re abandoning the party already?” His grin faltered into something sharper, more deliberate. “C’mon, you’re making me feel like I should be punished for being fun.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe you should.”

Eddie stepped a little closer, but you shook your head, flicking the cigarette away. “Anyway,” you said, voice softening just enough to make him catch it, “don’t get too comfortable with the party without me.”

You started up the stairs, pausing halfway to glance back at him. “Oh, and Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His grin was lazy, knowing, and entirely too confident.

“2nd floor,” you said, voice casual, like it was nothing. “Next to the bathroom on the left… in case you get bored of the party.”

His eyebrows shot up, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “Next to the bathroom on the left,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with that mix of frustration and excitement. “Of course it’s there…”

The party raged on below, oblivious, but upstairs, in that small, quiet hallway, the air felt suddenly charged. Eddie’s hand itched, as he dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushing it with his boot.

The music thumped from downstairs, but up here, the world had narrowed to the dim hallway, the faint smell of your perfume, and the heat that seemed to cling to him. Eddie ran a hand over his face, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to make sense of how someone could be so infuriating and magnetic at the same time.

He leaned against the wall, boots scraping softly against the wood floor, imagining what it would be like if he followed you up there. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them innocent. Every rational thought—the one telling him not to overstep, not to give Steve’s sister the wrong idea—was drowned out by a cocktail of alcohol, adrenaline, and desire.

“Next to the bathroom on the left…” He could feel that smirk still haunting him, teasing him with every step he took. He started up the stairs, boots thudding softly against the wood, each step calculated, purposeful, bringing him closer to you.

Halfway up, a shadow detached itself from the hall. Steve. His expression was casual enough, but Eddie could hear the curiosity in the drawl of his voice. “Hey—where’s Y/N?”

Eddie froze for just a second, weighing his options, then smirked and shrugged, turning on the charm. “Oh, uh… she said she wanted to crash early. You know, rest and all that. Party’s wild, gotta pace yourself.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it go. “Alright, fair. Don’t do anything stupid, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie replied, voice smooth, eyes already darting toward the second-floor landing. Steve waved him off and went back downstairs, and Eddie exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders.

Once he was alone, the hallway felt different—quieter, charged, like the whole world had shrunk down to just him and the space between the stairs and your door. He paused for a fraction of a second, hand brushing the frame, savoring the thought of you just beyond it. He could hear faint creaks from inside, maybe the sound of you moving around, maybe not—it didn’t matter.

He leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips, whispering under his breath, “Let’s see how impossible you really are, Harrington.” Then, tapping lightly on the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room smelled faintly like you—your perfume, your shampoo, something familiar that made his chest tighten in an annoying, pleasant way. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you. You were perched on the edge of your bed, hair a little mussed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a cigarette dangling lazily between your fingers.

“You actually came,” you said, voice sharp but teasing, eyes narrowing with the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Of course I did,” he said, stepping fully into the room, letting the door close behind him. “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak off to bed without saying hello, did you?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging on your cigarette and letting the smoke curl around you like a shield. “I said I was heading to bed. Didn’t say anything about company.”

“Right,” he said, tilting his head, grin spreading slowly. “Company that doesn’t have to follow the rules of Steve’s little party chaos. Company that can do… whatever it wants.”

You snorted, leaning back slightly on your hands. “Careful, Munson. You’re flirting dangerously close to the ‘I hate you’ line.”

He laughed, low and throaty, taking a step closer so the space between you felt electric. “Good,” he murmured. “I like it when you hate me. Makes the chase… fun.”

Your stomach fluttered despite yourself, and you shoved him lightly with just enough force to rock him back on his heels. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” he countered instantly, smirk sharp, eyes gleaming. “Admit it.”

You blinked at him, chest tightening in a way that was equal parts thrilling and infuriating. “Maybe,” you repeated, voice low, teasing, “if I felt like it.”

Eddie’s grin widened, slow and dangerous, and he took another step closer, closing the distance until the heat radiating off him brushed against your arm. “Mm,” he murmured, dragging out the sound, “you know… you’re really good at this—making me want things I shouldn’t want.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you shot back, scoffing, though your pulse betrayed your nerves.

“Oh, it’s a warning,” he said, voice dropping low, rough, laced with that messy confidence you couldn’t ignore. He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face with that maddening, calculating look. “The way you look at me, the way you’re just… standing there like you own my brain right now… it’s—fuck it—driving me insane.”

Your breath hitched, and you shoved him again, harder this time, though not enough to really move him. “You’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice sharp, to hide the heat coiling low in your stomach.

“And you,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you’re making me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about… right here, right now… and it’s making me fucking hard.”

Your eyes went wide for a split second, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. “Eddie—”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before closing the gap completely. His lips were on yours, claiming and bold, and the world shrank down to the taste of him, the rough scrape of stubble against your cheek, and the overwhelming electricity sparking between you.

You froze for a moment, stunned, before your body betrayed you, pressing forward, letting the kiss deepen. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place, and for all the teasing, the challenges, and the sharp words between you, this—this was unguarded, messy, and undeniably real.

His hands moved to your waist as he deepened the kiss.

“This,” you catch your breath. “This is a bad idea, Steve will kill you, he’ll kill me,”

Eddie chuckled low against your lips, the vibration sending heat straight through your chest. “Steve doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, and dangerously close. He tilted his head, pressing just a little harder, fingers digging into your waist as if to anchor himself to you.

You tried to pull back slightly, fumbling for air, but he didn’t let you. “Bad idea, yeah?” he muttered, lips brushing against yours again in a soft, taunting graze. “Everything worth doing is a bad idea sometimes, sweetheart.”

You groaned, exhaling sharply, pressing into him despite your better judgment. “Eddie… we shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what?” he teased, voice low, dangerous, brushing your ear as he nuzzled the side of your neck. “Tell me you don’t like this, and I’ll call bullshit on the spot.”

You froze, heart hammering, caught between the urge to shove him away and the undeniable pull of wanting him closer. “I—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted, grinning against your skin, “that’s what I thought.” His hands tightened at your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, harder this time, leaving no room for argument or hesitation. The world outside the room, Steve’s party, the music, the chaos,faded completely, leaving only you and him, tangled up in something reckless.

Eddie kissed you like he’d been waiting years for an excuse, mouth hot and greedy against yours, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The second your bodies collided, he exhaled something ragged, almost relieved, like finally getting his hands on you had knocked the air out of him.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer until there was no space left at all. His rings were cold against your skin as he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss with an urgency that made your knees go weak.

He broke away for only a second, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat, breath hot as he muttered against your skin, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt without thinking, feeling warm skin and the tense flex of muscle as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I shouldn’t be doing anything to you,” you managed, voice shaky. “This is—this is stupid. Steve will—”

Eddie cut you off with a laugh against your neck, low and breathless. “Steve’s not here,” he said, mouthing at your pulse. “And even if he was… you think I’d stop?”

You dragged him back up by his collar and kissed him again, harder this time. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing dangerously close to places that made your breath catch. Every pass of his hands felt deliberate, hungry, like he was mapping you.

He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed. The shift in balance made you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.

“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, “you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna forget how to be a gentleman.”

“You were never a gentleman,” you shot back, but your voice was barely a whisper.

“Exactly,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. His hands settled at your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft dips there as he eased you down onto the mattress.

His hands crawled under your shirt and around to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a simple click. You gave him a somewhat look of respect, which he returned with a casual shrug before pushing your shirt up as he laid you down on the bed.

Eddie’s lips kissed up your stomach before landing at each nipple, giving them a light tug with his teeth, causing a sigh out of your mouth.

You lay there, still catching your breath, Eddie's weight a comforting press against you as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin. The afterglow hummed through your veins, but the distant thump of music from downstairs reminded you of the party raging on without you two. Eddie's lips curved into a smirk against your neck, his cock twitching inside you as if already stirring for more.

A sudden knock echoed through the door, sharp and insistent. Your heart leaped into your throat. "Y/N? You up here?" Steve's voice called out, muffled but clear. Panic flickered in your eyes, but Eddie just chuckled low, his hand clamping over your mouth briefly to silence any gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. He pulled out slowly, the slick slide making you bite your lip to stifle a whine. Before you could protest, he rolled off the bed, grabbing the duvet and comforter in a fluid motion. "Act natural, baby. Tell him you're fine."

You scrambled to sit up, yanking the sheet up to cover your chest as another knock came. Eddie dove under the covers at the foot of the bed, his hands immediately gripping your ankles and spreading your legs apart. The fabric tented slightly as he positioned himself between your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, Steve? What's up?" you called out, voice steadier than you felt. Your pulse raced, a thrill of danger mixing with the lingering ache between your legs.

"Have you seen my lighter? The one that says 'I heart Hooters'? I swear I had it downstairs, but it's gone. You didn't grab it or anything, did you?" Steve sounded annoyed, shifting his weight outside the door.

Under the duvet, Eddie's tongue flicked out, tracing a bold line up your inner thigh. You clenched your fists in the sheets, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "N-no, I haven't seen it," you managed, hips twitching involuntarily as his mouth reached your core. He didn't hesitate—his lips sealed over your pussy, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue delving into your folds to lap at the mix of your arousal and his cum still leaking from you.

"You sure? I need it for this joint everyone's passing around." Steve knocked again, lighter this time, like he was about to turn the knob.

Eddie's hands dug into your thighs, holding you open as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate strokes. The wet sounds were barely muffled by the comforter, and you pressed your thighs together around his head, both to hide him and to chase the building pressure. "I'm sure," you replied, voice hitching slightly. "Maybe check the kitchen? Or ask someone else?"

He hummed against your clit, the vibration shooting straight through you, and you had to bite down on your knuckle to suppress a moan. His tongue circled the swollen nub, flicking relentlessly while one hand slid up to pinch your ass, pulling you closer to his face. He was devouring you, dominant even in secrecy, forcing your body to respond while you played innocent above.

"Alright, fine. But if you find it, holler. Party's dying without it." Steve's footsteps retreated down the hall, fading into the bass-heavy music below.

The second he was gone, Eddie growled against your skin, the sound possessive and hungry. He sucked your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch off the bed. His fingers joined in, two plunging into your soaked entrance, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Good girl," he murmured, voice vibrating through you. "Keeping secrets for me. Now cum on my tongue before he comes back."

You shattered quietly, body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you, pussy clenching around his fingers while he licked every drop, unrelenting until you were spent and shaking. He emerged from under the covers, lips glistening, eyes dark with promise. "Told you this isn't over," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to claim your mouth in a deep, tasting kiss.

                                                         —-

For the next few weeks, it felt like that night had rewired something between you—something dangerous, addictive, and impossible to undo. Eddie acted normal in public. You acted normal in public. But underneath every shared glance, every insult, every shove was the echo of his mouth on your skin and your legs locked around his waist. The two of you became very, very good at hiding it.

It started small.

After Hellfire, Eddie would offer you a ride home like it meant nothing. The moment the van doors shut, he’d grab the front of your shirt and drag you across the bench seat, pulling you into his lap. He kissed you like he’d been starving for days, hands everywhere, breath hot, windows fogging so fast you’d swear the air inside the van had turned molten. Sometimes the seatbelt would dig into your hip. Sometimes his rings would press into your thighs as he held you down. And every time, he’d murmur in your ear to be quiet or he’d make you louder.

The woods were worse. One night you slipped away from a bonfire with the excuse of “getting more beer,” and you barely made it ten steps before Eddie had you against a tree, messy and greedy. His rings were cold on your thighs, bark biting into your back, his hair tangled in your fingers as you tried to keep your noises swallowed.

You returned flushed, breathless, leaves in your hair, and Steve watched you the rest of the night with a suspicion that made your skin burn.

Then there was the trailer. With Wayne working double shifts, the moment the door clicked shut Eddie would pin you to the nearest surface—wall, couch, kitchen counter—and kiss you until your knees gave out. You’d pretend you’d stopped by to “drop something off,” but you never made it past the living room. Half the time you walked out with your shirt buttoned crooked and Eddie’s belt still undone.

The Harrington house was riskier. Much riskier. Which made it your favorite.

Sometimes, when the house was quiet and Steve had gone to bed, Eddie climbed up the porch railing and slipped through your second-story window like a man who’d done it a hundred times. He always came in a little breathless from the thrill, hair mussed from the wind. He’d cover your mouth with his hand as he kissed you, whispering against your lips to be quiet, sweetheart, before pushing you back onto the mattress with the softest, filthiest kind of urgency.

Other times were even worse.

Ten minutes before Steve came home from work, he’d have you in the laundry room, your back against the dryer, his hands gripping your jaw while the other fumbled with your waistband. You’d hear the garage door start to open, and the two of you would scramble into half-presentable shape, breathless and trembling, pretending nothing happened.

Or the upstairs bathroom—where you told Steve you were “fixing your eyeliner” and Eddie slipped in behind you, locking the door with a quiet click. He’d lift you onto the counter and kiss you like he dared the entire world to catch you, his fingers smearing your lip gloss, his breath warm against your throat as he murmured what he’d do if you weren’t both pressed for time.

It should’ve felt wrong. It should’ve been terrifying. Sometimes it was. But mostly, it was intoxicating—every stolen moment, every whispered insult, every time his fingers brushed yours under the table as if by accident, every time he muttered that you were impossible right before kissing you breathless.

You both claimed it was casual. Claimed it was just fun. Claimed no one would ever find out.

But sometimes Eddie looked at you in a way that made your stomach flip—like he remembered every sound you made that night, like he wanted to hear them all again.

And that look made one thing painfully clear:

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.

And it was only getting harder—much harder—to hide.

—--

You were already breathless, fingers gripping at his shoulders, the rhythm between you steady, familiar, addictive. Eddie hovered over you, curls falling into his face, breath warm against your cheek as he moved with you—slow, deep, like he wanted to feel every single second of it.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, as he kept drilling his hips into you. “You say that every time.”

“That’s because it’s true.” His forehead dropped to yours, his smile crooked, eyes half-lidded and blown. “You—you have no idea what you do to me. None.”

You were about to tease him for being dramatic when you shifted your hips just a little too sharply, and the motion broke the rhythm—one of those clumsy, breathless slips that happened sometimes when you were too lost in each other to care.

Eddie froze.

Not because of the pause, but because in the space it created—one beat, one breath—something spilled out of him he didn’t plan.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock twitching inside you, voice cracking slightly, “I—I love you.”

The room went still.

Your fingers tightened on his arms. His eyes widened like he’d heard himself too late.

“Wait—no, I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he stammered, panic flickering across his face. “Not—not right now, not during—shit—”

You stared up at him, heart pounding for an entirely different reason.

“Eddie,” you breathed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw flexing. “Just—pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? It slipped, that’s all, it’s—fuck, I didn’t want to mess this up. Not tonight.”

You were lost in him, breath ragged, heart hammering, fingers clutching at his shoulders when a sudden metallic scrape made both of you freeze.

"Hey, Munson, what you doing parked in front of my yard?"

Steve.

The van door swung open, and Steve’s eyes narrowed instantly, dark and furious. “What the hell—what are you two doing?!” he barked, stepping fully inside, voice rising over the music from the street.

Eddie’s eyes went wide, panic overtaking him. “Steve! No—wait, it’s not what it looks like!” he stammered, fumbling to cover you, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to shield you.

You scrambled, pulling the blanket and your jacket around yourself, cheeks burning. “Yeah! Totally innocent, Steve! We weren’t—”

Steve’s glare cut right through you both, sharp and accusatory. “I don’t want excuses, Munson. I… fuck I can’t believe you, my sister ?”

 He swallowed hard, anger thick in his throat, then shook his head, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to process something obvious. “…But… honestly? This—this is kind of obvious. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, the way you act. I knew it. I should’ve known months ago.”

Eddie froze completely, his face a mixture of guilt and relief, while you clutched the blanket closer, heart hammering, cheeks flushed for entirely different reasons.

Steve let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both idiots,” he muttered, anger still simmering, but now tempered with a resigned sort of acknowledgment. “Just… be smart about it. 

The room hung in tense silence for a heartbeat before Steve stormed off, slamming the door, sleaving you and Eddie staring at each other, the air thick with heat, laughter, and something more dangerous than either of you had intended.

Eddie exhaled shakily, voice low and rough as he leaned in, brushing a stray curl from your face. “Well… that went… okay?”

You smirked, still breathless, still flushed, and shook your head. “Yeah, ‘okay.’ That’s one way to put it.”

Eddie coughs before turning to you. “ So what I said about, you know, how I said I love…”

Eddie leaned over you, chest pressed to yours, curls falling into his eyes, trying way too hard to look casual. He grinned crookedly, voice low and teasing, “So… that, uh… thing I said? Totally slipped. Didn’t happen. Forget it, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow, fingers tangling in his hair. “Oh really? Just slipped, huh?”

“Yeah!” he said, leaning back just enough to try and sound nonchalant. “Nothing. Forget it. Keep… keep doing whatever you were doing. Totally fine.” His attempt at casual was laughably transparent—heat still radiated off him, and the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

You smirked, pressing closer, lips brushing against his in a teasing, deliberate kiss. “Hmm… sure you want me to forget it?” you murmured against his mouth.

Eddie froze, eyes wide for a heartbeat, then groaned, leaning into the kiss, trying—and failing—to keep up the act. His hands found your waist, gripping, holding you close. “I… I didn’t mean it like that! I—shit, I wasn’t trying to—”

You cut him off, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, letting him taste your control for once. He let out a low, breathy laugh against your lips, curling around you anyway, surrendering just a little. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, “maybe I meant it. Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”

You smiled against his mouth, trailing your hands over his shoulders and down his back. “Weird’s overrated,” you whispered.

Eddie groaned, resting his forehead against yours, still trying to play it off, still trying to act like nothing had changed—but you could feel it, the way he kept leaning into you, the way his grip tightened as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Yeah… yeah, okay,” he admitted finally, voice low, half teasing, half raw. “Weird’s… fine. Just… don’t tell anyone I said anything, alright?”