could I request a Dustin Henderson x fem reader one-shot?
maybe she’s like a cheerleader or something and she asked him on a date but everyone (Eddie) told him it was a bad idea to go so he stood her up because he’s scared of getting hurt
but since Lucas is on the basketball team, he talks to her sometimes and she knows he’s friends with Dustin so she talks to Lucas about him standing her up
kinda angsty with some fluff at the end maybe?
MasterList
Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist
If you’d asked anyone at Hawkins High to describe me, they would’ve said cheerleader. Probably popular. Maybe untouchable.
What they wouldn’t have said is nervous, or hopeful, or terrified that the one boy I actually liked thought I was laughing at him.
I’d been standing in front of my mirror for twenty minutes, fluffing my hair, smoothing the skirt of my dress, then tugging it down again like it might somehow betray me. I didn’t usually overthink dates not the ones people expected me to go on. But this one felt different in a way that made my chest tight.
Because I’d asked him.
Dustin Henderson.
I could still remember the way his eyes had widened behind his cap when I’d stopped him in the hallway, the way he’d blinked like he thought he’d misheard me.
“Do you… want to go to the movies with me? On Friday?”
He’d gone red. Properly red. And then he’d smiled really wide and crooked and genuine.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
People had stared. Whispered. Tina Jenkins had actually laughed.
I ignored all of it.
Because for once, I wasn’t doing what was expected of me.
Friday night arrived far too quickly.
I told myself he might be running late. That his mum had kept him back. That he’d forgotten the time.
But ten minutes turned into twenty.
The cinema lights flickered on and off outside, couples laughing, queues forming, popcorn spilling. I stood near the poster for Back to the Future, clutching my jacket tighter around me, my stomach sinking further with every passing second.
At thirty minutes, it became impossible to pretend.
He wasn’t coming.
By the time I turned away, my eyes burned. I walked the long way home so no one would see me cry, heels clicking too loudly against the pavement, humiliation wrapping around me like a second skin.
I didn’t cry because I’d been stood up.
I cried because I’d let myself believe he might choose me, too.
By Monday morning, Hawkins High felt unbearable.
The whispers were quieter now.
“Told you there was something weird about that.”
“Probably a joke.”
“Maybe she wanted to make him look stupid.”
Every word landed like a bruise.
Dustin wouldn’t look at me. He kept his head down, shoulders hunched, laughing too loudly with Mike and Lucas like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t left me standing alone under flickering cinema lights.
That hurt more than anything.
Lucas was the only one who seemed… normal.
Since he’d joined the basketball team, we’d ended up talking more. Passing comments about teachers and homework. He was easy to talk to. Honest.
So when he slid into the seat opposite me in the cafeteria I didn’t plan on saying anything.
But the words spilled out anyway.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Lucas frowned. “What?”
“Dustin. He...” My voice cracked. I swallowed. “He didn’t show up.”
Lucas went still.
“He stood you up?”
I nodded, staring down at my tray. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I just... I thought maybe he’d said something to you.”
Lucas exhaled slowly. “No. He didn’t. But… I think I know why.”
I looked up.
“Eddie Munson’s been in his ear,” Lucas said carefully. “Telling him it was a bad idea. That there had to be some catch.”
My chest tightened. “A catch?”
“Eddie thinks you were messing with him,” Lucas admitted quietly. “That no one like you would ask him out unless it was a joke.”
That did it.
Tears blurred my vision again, and I hated myself for it. “Why would I do that?”
“I know,” Lucas said quickly. “I tried to tell him. But I guess Eddie got to him. Eddie told him getting his hopes up would just hurt more.”
I laughed once, broken and humourless. “Congratulations. It worked.”
Lucas looked genuinely guilty. “He’s an idiot. But… he’s a good one.”
I wiped my eyes. “I don’t want pity. I just want him to know I meant it.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to him.”
Dustin didn’t talk to me for days.
I stopped sitting with the cheer squad. People noticed. They always did.
By Friday, I’d decided that was it. I wasn’t chasing him. I’d been brave once. That was enough.
And then someone knocked on my bedroom window.
I nearly screamed.
Dustin stood outside, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, cap clutched nervously in one hand. He looked like he might bolt at any second.
I yanked the window open. “What are you doing?”
“I... um. Hi.”
My heart did something stupid.
“You stood me up,” I said bluntly.
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m really, really sorry.”
I crossed my arms, trying not to shake. “Why?”
He swallowed. “Because I thought you were going to laugh at me.”
The words landed softly, devastating in their honesty.
“Everyone said there had to be a reason,” he continued. “Eddie said… people like you don’t just ask people like me out.”
I leaned against the frame, anger and sadness tangling in my chest. “Did you ever consider asking me why?”
“No,” he admitted. “Because I was scared.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I liked you,” I said quietly. “I still do. You make me laugh. You’re kind. You talk about space like it’s magic. I didn’t care what anyone thought.”
His eyes filled.
“I ruined it,” he said.
“You hurt me,” I corrected. Then softer, “But you came here.”
He nodded. “Lucas yelled at me. A lot.”
I huffed despite myself.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Dustin said quickly. “I just needed you to know that it wasn’t a joke. You weren’t a joke.”
I studied him the nervous hands, the hopeful eyes, the boy who’d believed the worst because it was easier than believing someone wanted him.
“I don’t want to be your secret,” I said. “And I don’t want you deciding I’ll hurt you before I get the chance not to.”
“I won’t,” he said immediately. “I promise.”
I sighed, then stepped aside. “Come in. You’re going to freeze.”
His face lit up.
We sat on my bed, knees touching, the air buzzing between us.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Dustin said again. “I just… want to try. If you still do.”
I smiled, small but real. “I do.”
He laughed, breathless and disbelieving, and when he leaned in, it wasn’t perfect or smooth he knocked his nose against mine but it was gentle and warm.
When he pulled back, grinning, I rested my forehead against his.
“For the record,” I murmured, “next time, you’re not standing me up.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” he asked, eyes shining.
I kissed him again.
“Oh, absolutely.”
Walking into Hawkins High holding Dustin Henderson’s hand was… exhilarating.
Not because I needed to prove anything but because his fingers were warm and a little clammy, and every so often he’d glance at me like he still couldn’t quite believe I was real.
The looks started immediately.
Whispers. Double takes. One girl actually walked into a locker.
Dustin squeezed my hand like he might let go if he didn’t remind himself he was allowed to hold it.
“You okay?” I murmured.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just… wow.”
I smiled. “Get used to it.”
We’d barely made it halfway down the corridor when Eddie Munson froze in front of us, mid-rant about something metal-related to Gareth. His eyes dropped to our hands.
Then widened.
Then nearly popped out of his skull.
“What. The hell,” Eddie said slowly.
Dustin stopped walking. I didn’t.
I tugged him forward just enough that Eddie had no choice but to acknowledge what was happening. Dustin straightened beside me, shoulders still tense but chin lifted.
“Hey, Eddie,” Dustin said. His voice wobbled slightly. “This is… Y/N. My girlfriend.”
Eddie stared at him. Then at me. Then back at our joined hands like they might bite him.
“Your...” He choked. “Your what?”
I tilted my head sweetly. “Girlfriend.”
Eddie spluttered. “No offence, Henderson, but there’s no way”
I cut him off, smile sharpening.
“Just because you couldn’t get me,” I said lightly, “doesn’t mean Dustin couldn’t.”
The hallway went silent.
Gareth made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh.
Eddie’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I... that’s not...”
Dustin squeezed my hand harder.
Eddie stared at him, then sighed dramatically. “Wow. Okay. Guess I owe you an apology, man.”
Dustin blinked. “Yeah. You kinda do.”
Eddie looked at me, genuinely sheepish now. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I was,” I replied. “Next time, maybe don’t decide what someone’s worth for them.”
Eddie grinned, crooked and resigned. “Fair enough.”
We walked away together, Dustin’s steps a little lighter, his grip confident now.
“Was that too mean?” he asked quietly.
I glanced at him, then leaned in and kissed his cheek in the middle of the corridor.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson / Billy Hargrove / Jim hopper / Enzo / Phil Callahan / Peter Ballard / Robin Buckley / Jonathan Byers / Nancy Wheeler / Mike Wheeler / Lucas Sinclair / Jane el / Max Mayfield / Dustin Henderson / Will Byers
Rules:
I write nsfw fics and headcanons and ABC’s
I take Requests
I write for the kids, but only SFW because they are minors
I post when i am able to, though its almost summer and i have friends, and when school comes I have to focus.
If someone had told me that, at twenty-four, I’d be stood in a crowded bar with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington acting as my wingmen, I would’ve laughed in their face.
Actually, no I would’ve cried.
Because now that it was happening, it was every bit as chaotic, embarrassing, and completely unhelpful as anyone might imagine.
“Right, Henderson,” Eddie said, clapping a hand on my shoulder hard enough to nearly dislocate something. “Rule number one: women love confidence. So walk over there like you own the place. Swagger. Chin up. Chest out. Like a lion.”
“Eddie,” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’ll look like he’s got indigestion if he does that. Don’t listen to him, Dustin. Just be mysterious.”
I blinked. “Mysterious?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding like a self-declared love guru. “Say as little as possible. Makes them curious.”
Eddie scoffed. “Oh shut up, Harrington. The day you’re mysterious is the day I start wearing a cardigan.”
They bickered. Loudly. Dramatically. Half the bar was staring.
I rubbed my face. “Guys, can we please focus? Because she’s right there.”
Y/n.
My crush.
Actual, heart-pounding, stomach-flipping crush.
I’d met her only a few times friends of friends kind of thing but every time she smiled at me my brain short-circuited. Tonight, she was leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, laughing at something her friend said, completely unaware that I was one minor cardiac incident away from dying over her.
Steve grabbed my shoulders. “Okay. Game plan. You go over there. Say something cool.”
“Like what?” I croaked.
“Like ‘Hey.’” Steve said it like it was the smoothest line anyone had ever spoken.
Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. You’ve got to open strong, Henderson. Something unforgettable. Something metal.”
“Absolutely not,” I muttered.
Eddie ignored me. “Say something like ‘Do you believe in destiny?’”
I stared at him. “Eddie.”
“What?! It works!”
“When has it ever worked?”
He snapped his fingers. “It worked in a film once!”
Steve looked personally offended. “No. Do NOT say destiny. She’ll think you’re about to read her tarot cards.”
I groaned. “Guys, I’m begging you. Just give me something normal to say.”
Steve thought for a second. “Ask her what she’s drinking.”
“That’s boring,” Eddie said.
“It’s normal!” Steve shot back.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m doing it. I’m going over.”
I started walking before I lost my nerve.
Behind me, Eddie stage-whispered, “Remember swagger!”
And Steve hissed, “Mysterious! Be mysterious!”
So I ended up walking like someone whose entire body was malfunctioning.
Brilliant.
As I reached the bar, Y/n looked up.
Her eyes lit up.
Actually lit up.
Oh God.
“Dustin!” she said warmly. “Hey!”
My brain: Say something normal. Say something normal. SAY SOMETHING NORMAL.
My mouth: “Do you… believe in drinks?”
She blinked.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Behind her, reflected in the bar’s mirror, I saw Eddie choke on laughter while Steve slapped a hand over his face.
Y/n tilted her head. And then she laughed.
Not in a mean way. A warm, bubbling laugh that somehow made me feel less like I’d humiliated myself and more like she found it… adorable?
“Oh God,” I muttered. “I meant do you believe in… destiny? No. No, wait don’t answer that. Please. Oh my God, this is going terribly.”
She laughed again, softer. “Are those two idiots coaching you?”
I froze. “What? No. Of course not. Who... who said that?”
She nodded behind me. I turned slightly.
Steve and Eddie were not subtle.
Eddie gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Steve winked, then did that weird double-finger-point thing he thinks is smooth but just makes him look like someone’s dodgy uncle.
Y/n shook her head fondly. “Poor thing. You’ve got the worst wingmen on the planet.”
“I know,” I said helplessly.
She rested her elbow on the bar, studying me with a soft smile. “Well… ignore them. Just talk to me. Be yourself.”
I swallowed.
Right.
Be myself.
Could I do that without combusting?
I cleared my throat. “Okay. Erm… hi.”
She smiled wider. “Hi.”
Suddenly, it felt easier. Like the panic loosened its grip on my ribs.
“You look really nice tonight,” I said, surprised that the sentence came out without tripping over itself.
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you, Dustin. So do you.”
I definitely blushed.
We talked.
Really talked.
Not the awkward small talk I’d expected. Actual conversation. We laughed about Eddie’s ridiculous band phase. She told me about her job. I told her about mine. She teased me about my hat collection. I pretended to be offended.
And I forgot to be nervous.
Completely forgot.
Until...
“So,” she said after a while, leaning in slightly, “were you actually coming over here to talk to me? Or were they forcing you?”
“Oh, I was definitely coming over to talk to you,” I said before I could chicken out. “I’ve… erm… wanted to for a while.”
Her expression softened in a way that nearly melted me on the spot.
“That’s sweet,” she murmured. “I’ve always liked talking to you.”
The world went fuzzy for a moment.
But then something shifted in her eyes.
A spark.
A decision.
Before I could process it, she moved closer. So close I felt her breath against my cheek.
She kissed me.
Just a soft press of lips, gentle but sure, and my entire brain short-circuited.
I kissed her back, instinctively, hands hovering like I was afraid to touch her without permission. She smiled against my lips, tilting her head a little, deepening it just slightly, enough to make my knees wobble.
And then...
“WOOOO! GO HENDERSON!”
We broke apart, both instantly turning towards the noise.
Eddie was fist-pumping the air.
Steve was fist-bumping Eddie dramatically.
Eddie shouted across the bar, “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! MY BOY!”
Steve argued back, “MY ADVICE GOT HIM KISSED, NOT YOURS!”
“WHAT?!” Eddie yelled. “He used MY line!”
“He did NOT use your line!”
“He thought about it!”
They kept arguing. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Drawing even more attention.
Y/n burst into laughter.
I put my face in my hands. “I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, slipping her hand into mine. “It’s adorable.”
I looked at her, heart thudding loudly. “So… does that mean…?”
“That I like you?” she finished for me. “Yeah. It does.”
My chest felt too full. Too warm.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And for the record… you didn’t need lines. Or swagger. Or mystery.”
I squeezed her hand gently. “No?”
“No,” she said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “All you needed was to come over.”
I beamed. Actually beamed.
Behind us, Steve shouted, “DUSTIN, ASK HER ON A DATE!”
Eddie chimed in, “DO IT, HENDERSON! SHOOT YOUR SHOT!”
Y/n sighed affectionately. “You might want to ask before they explode.”
I laughed, feeling bold for the first time all night.
“Y/n… would you like to go out with me? Properly?”
She smiled.
Soft. Certain. Bright.
“I’d love to.”
I swear I could’ve floated.
And then Eddie screamed, “HA! THAT WAS DEFINITELY MY INFLUENCE!”
Steve shoved him. “OH, SHUT UP, YOU GREMLIN.”
Y/n laughed again and squeezed my hand.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go tell them to shut up together.”
And for the first time ever, I felt like the coolest guy in the room.
Hello! This time i’ll be requesting a Joe keery x actress reader one shot if thats okay hahaha. Ive been watching a lot of djo’s performance at lollapalooza, and wanted a story where reader attends the said music fest in support of joe, they have been keeping their relationship lowkey, but with the stage adrenaline and living in the moment, they couldn’t care less anymore if the crowd sees reader singing along and running to kiss or hug joe after his set. Reader was just so happy to witness him and his talent live. Thank you!
MasterList
Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist
Thank you for being patient! 🩵
I could feel the bass reverberating through my chest before I even reached the gates. Chicago in the middle of summer had its own energy, the kind that prickled against your skin and clung to the air like heat haze. People streamed past me in every direction festival wristbands flashing, glitter catching the sunlight, plastic cups sloshing with neon-coloured drinks. And me? My heart was already racing, not from the crowd, but because tonight was his night.
Joe.
It still felt surreal, knowing that the boy the world adored the one they cheered for on screen, the one whose music was becoming a festival staple was the same boy who slipped his arm around me when the cameras weren’t looking. We had been careful, quiet, lowkey. Private dinners, disguised entrances, two sets of Uber rides to the same place. It wasn’t that I was ashamed. Far from it. I was impossibly, ridiculously proud of him. But his life was already dissected enough. Ours was better hidden in the gaps between headlines.
At least, that had been the plan.
I found my spot in the VIP section close enough to see every expression on his face, but tucked away from the chaos of the general pit. I pulled the lanyard around my neck and felt the laminated pass bounce against my sternum like a secret badge of honour. The crowd was humming with anticipation, bodies shifting restlessly, waiting for the set change. I chewed my lip, nervous and excited all at once, clutching the cold railing like it could ground me.
And then the lights cut.
The stage washed in deep red, smoke curling upward, and the opening synths of his first track bled into the night air. Screams erupted around me, a wall of noise so loud it almost pushed me backwards. And there he was silhouette first, then the messy hair, the wide shoulders, the way he leaned into the mic like the stage was an extension of his lungs.
My chest swelled. That’s him. That’s my Joe.
The thing about seeing him perform was that it never got old. I’d heard these songs a hundred times late at night on his guitar, scratchy demos recorded on his phone, little fragments hummed absent-mindedly while he cooked eggs. But live? Live they were galaxies away from the kitchen or the studio. Live they were alive.
I sang along without thinking, mouth forming every word. When he glanced toward my section, I felt it like a jolt his eyes catching mine, just for a fraction too long. He smiled, the corner of his lips twitching, and I knew. He’d spotted me.
From then on, the rest of the set was a blur of music and adrenaline. My body moved before my brain did, hips swaying, arms up, singing louder than anyone around me. I didn’t care if people noticed. I didn’t care if someone’s phone caught me on video. For the first time, I just wanted to celebrate him in the open, to let the music tear down the walls we’d built to protect ourselves.
Song after song, the crowd grew wilder. Joe had them in the palm of his hand, weaving sound and light into something that felt almost spiritual. I lost myself in it, every lyric a tether between us, every beat a reminder of why I loved him so fiercely.
And then, too soon, he announced the final track.
The lights shifted to electric blues and whites, casting him in a halo glow. He poured himself into the last song, voice raw, guitar straining. I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes because God he was extraordinary. Not as the actor people thought they knew, not as the indie musician they were just discovering, but as the man who still kissed my forehead in the kitchen at 2am.
The last note hung in the air, suspended, before the stage fell to darkness. The crowd erupted. People screamed, jumped, begged for more. And me? My body moved before I even decided.
I ran.
Slipping past the security barrier, heart pounding, I sprinted toward the stage as the lights flickered back on and Joe waved at the audience. For a split second, he looked surprised. And then his grin split wide.
“Y/n?” I heard him laugh, voice picked up faintly by the mic before he cut it off.
The crowd roared in confusion, but I didn’t stop. I launched myself into his arms, and he caught me effortlessly, pulling me close, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.
“You were amazing,” I breathed against his ear, not caring that the entire festival could probably see us.
He kissed me. Right there, centre stage, thousands of phones raised in unison like a sea of tiny stars. And I kissed him back, with everything I had, every ounce of pride and love and relief that I didn’t have to hide for one perfect moment.
The noise was deafening. Screams, cheers, the collective gasp of a crowd realising they’d just witnessed something unexpected. But I barely heard it. All I could feel was him. His heartbeat thundering against mine, his hands gripping my waist like he’d never let me go.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he whispered, “Guess we’re not lowkey anymore.”
I laughed, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Couldn’t care less.”
And I meant it.
The internet exploded within hours.
Clips flooded Twitter, TikTok, Instagram me singing along in the VIP section, me dancing like nobody was watching, me running onto the stage, and us kissing like a scene from a film. “Who’s the mystery girl with Joe Keery?” trended before I’d even made it back to the hotel. Fans dissected my outfit, zoomed into screenshots, debated whether I’d been spotted in his photos before.
I should have been terrified. I should have panicked about the invasion, the scrutiny, the endless commentary from strangers who thought they knew him. But I wasn’t. Not this time.
Because the truth was simple.
I was just a girl who loved her boyfriend, and tonight, I got to watch him light up the world.
And if the world knew that now? So be it.
For the first time in months, I felt free.
And Joe? He just laughed when he scrolled through the headlines, tossing his phone onto the hotel bed before pulling me close again.
“Looks like they love you as much as I do,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple.
And with his arms around me, festival noise still echoing faintly in my ears, I realised it didn’t matter if we were private or public, hidden or seen.
I never thought my rock bottom moment would involve sprinting down a communal hallway in slippers, banging on my neighbour’s door at nine o’clock on Christmas morning.
But here I was.
Knuckles on cheap wood. Hair in chaos. Heart in full panic mode.
“Eddie!” I hissed, knocking again, harder. “Eddie, open the bloody door!”
From inside I heard a muffled groan. Something clattered. A curse.
Then the door opened a crack.
Eddie Munson stood there in pyjama bottoms, shirtless, curls tangled, eyes heavy with sleep.
My brain genuinely stopped working.
“What,” he rasped, rubbing his face, “is on fire now?”
“Me,” I whispered, because apparently every brain cell I had melted the second I saw him half-clothed.
His eyebrows lifted. “Interesting. Elaborate?”
I took a breath. Right. Focus.
“It’s Christmas lunch today. My entire family is already at my parents’ house. And my brother…”
I swallowed.
“My brother invited my ex.”
Eddie blinked slowly. “Your ex. Luke?”
Oh god.
“Yes.”
“The one who ‘forgot’ your birthday?” Eddie asked, using air quotes aggressively.
“Yes.”
“The one who called you ‘clingy’ because you asked for the bare minimum?”
“Yes.”
“The one who said your cooking tasted like an old grandma made it”
I nodded. “He meant it lovingly.”
Eddie stared at me. “He absolutely didn’t.”
A beat passed.
“My family won’t let it go,” I rushed on. “They think I’m heartbroken and pathetic and unable to move on, and I just...”
My voice cracked. “I told them I was dating someone.”
Eddie stared blankly. “Oh.”
“And I may have said that someone was… you.”
Silence.
He blinked once...Twice.
“You told your family we’re dating.”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since I saw the guest list and panicked.”
He leaned against the doorframe, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m flattered you think I’d make convincing boyfriend material.”
“Oh please,” I groaned. “You’re the best looking person I know.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Well now I definitely need coffee.”
I clasped my hands together dramatically. “Please, Eddie. Pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for today. Just until dessert. Or until my grandmother falls asleep and stops interrogating me about my womb. Either way.”
Eddie let out a low laugh, warm and gravelly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He paused.
Then “What time do we leave?”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
He shrugged, casual, but his eyes were soft. “Wouldn’t let you face the wolves alone, sweetheart.”
My stomach absolutely somersaulted.
“Also,” he continued, smirking, “I want to see your ex’s face when he realises you’ve upgraded.”
I shoved him lightly, cheeks burning. “We need to get dressed. And… we need boundaries. Rules.”
Eddie stepped closer, voice low. “I’m an excellent rule-breaker.”
I pretended not to react to that.
By midday we were standing outside my parents’ house white Christmas lights strung across the roof, wreath on the door, fake snowflakes dangling from the windows.
Eddie looked stupidly good.
Black jeans, black shirt, leather jacket, hair half-tied, rings glinting, smelling faintly of vanilla and tobacco.
“You ready?” he asked.
“No,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand.
“Too late.”
He rang the bell.
The door flew open.
My mother pulled me into a hug, then froze when she saw Eddie.
“Oh my!” she gasped, eyes sparkling. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was so handsome!”
I could feel my soul leave my body.
“Thank you, Mrs Y/L/N,” he said politely.
My mother giggled. Like actually giggled.
Dad appeared, eyeing Eddie up like he was preparing to interrogate him with a lie detector.
“So,” Dad said gruffly, “you’re the musician.”
“Yes, sir.” Eddie nodded.
“You make money doing that?”
“Dad!” I hissed.
Eddie grinned. “Enough to feed myself and fund my shampoo addiction.”
Dad choked on his drink laughing.
So far? Success.
Then I heard it.
Luke’s voice.
“Y/N?”
My stomach dropped.
I turned.
There he was. Blonde hair. Pastel jumper. Smug smirk permanently attached to his face.
Standing beside my brother.
Luke whistled. “I didn’t realise you moved on so… dramatically.”
I felt Eddie straighten beside me. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me against him.
“Dramatically?” Eddie repeated politely.
Luke chuckled. “Look at you, mate. Tattoos. Jewellery. Leather. It’s like someone ordered ‘Rebellion’ off Amazon.”
Eddie’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “at least I wasn’t returned within thirty days.”
My brother snorted cider through his nose.
Luke looked personally victimised.
I grinned.
This was going to be fun.
Lunch was chaos.
Eight adults squeezed around a table for six. Christmas crackers, gravy spillages, Dad insisting he didn’t snore while Mum rolled her eyes.
I introduced Eddie to my grandparents.
Nana clasped his hand. “You’re beautiful,” she declared.
He flushed red. “Thank you.”
“And fertile-looking,” she added loudly.
Eddie choked on his wine.
Luke snorted.
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
Eddie leaned close, whispering: “I’m trying to decide if I feel complimented or incredibly endangered.”
I giggled into my napkin.
Throughout dinner Eddie played his role perfectly hand on my knee, thumb brushing circles, leaning in to kiss my cheek occasionally.
Each touch felt… real.
The room buzzed with warmth and Christmas music and chatter, and somewhere between roast potatoes and trifle, I forgot we were pretending.
He whispered jokes in my ear. Saved me from awkward conversations. Stole bites from my plate.
And every time I looked at him, he was already looking at me.
After dessert, Mum put on old family videos.
Eddie sat beside me on the sofa, arm draped across the back, fingers brushing my shoulder.
Luke plopped himself on the floor, far too close.
“So, Eddie,” Luke said, “how did you two meet?”
Eddie didn’t even blink. “Laundry room,” he replied.
“She couldn’t reach the top shelf. I rescued her favourite jumper.”
I stared at him. We’d never discussed this.
“And then,” Eddie continued smoothly, “she asked me out and made me lasagne on our second date. Best I ever had.”
Luke scoffed. “She can’t cook.”
Eddie turned ice cold. "She absolutely can.”
I stared down at my lap, throat tight.
Luke shrugged.“Well. I’m just saying.”
Eddie leaned forward. “A piece of advice, mate.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Next time,” Eddie said quietly, “don’t throw away a good woman and then act shocked when someone better picks her up.”
The room fell silent.
My heart thudded painfully.
Luke looked away.
Mum mouthed “wow.”
Grandad whispered, “I like him.”
Eddie brushed his fingers through my hair, gentle.
I stopped breathing.
Did he mean that?
Later on, after presents and alcohol and more embarrassment, Eddie tugged my coat sleeve.
“Walk with me?”
We slipped out into the cold December air, fairy lights lining the street, snowflakes drifting lazily.
Everything smelled like pine and smoke and Christmas.
Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets. “So,” he began, “did today help?”
I let out a long breath. “Yes. More than you know.”
He nodded.
He silent for a bit before speaking “You really okay… seeing him?” he asked gently.
I swallowed. “It hurt. But having you there made it so much easier.”
His jaw clenched. “I wanted to punch him.”
“I noticed.”
“He would deserve it.”
More silence.
Then, voice lower: “I wasn’t acting, you know.”
I froze. “What?”
He turned to face me. Moonlight now turning his eyes molten.
“I didn’t pretend anything today,” he said.
My heart hammered. “Eddie…”
“I’ve been in love with you for ages.”
My breath caught. “I... what?”
He laughed softly, nervous. “You come to my flat at three in the morning asking to borrow milk and smile like i'm handing you diamonds. You smell like rose and rasberry. You listen to the stupid song drafts I panic about. You fix my broken mic stands with duct tape and a threat. You make the building feel like home.”
He looked away. “I fell for you, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”
The world tilted.
“You… never said anything.”
“You were with him,” Eddie whispered. “And then you were sad. And I didn’t want to be a replacement. I wanted to be… right.”
I stepped closer. “So pretending today… hurt you?”
He shook his head. “No. It was the best Christmas gift I’ve ever had.”
My chest felt too full.
“And you?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel?”
I stared up at him, snow collecting in his curls.
“I feel…” I swallowed. “…angry.”
His face fell. “Oh.”
“Angry that I wasted time on someone like Luke,” I continued, voice trembling, “when you were right next door the whole time.”
Eddie’s breath hitched. He blinked once, slowly.
Then he laughed a soft, stunned sound before stepping forward and gripping my waist.
“Say it again.”
I smiled. “You’re better than him in every way.”
His forehead pressed to mine. “Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you for real this time?”
I didn’t even speak. I just grabbed his jacket and pulled him in.
The kiss was slow and warm and deep, tasting like winter air and stolen moments and years of unspoken feeling.
His hands slid into my hair, mine wrapped around his shoulders, and for the first time all day I felt whole.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless and laughing, he whispered:
“So… can I be your boyfriend for real?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
He kissed me again.
“Oh,” he added between kisses, “and next year… I get to tell Nana I’m as fertile as I look.”
I shoved him playfully. He laughed against my mouth.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Plot: Eddie helps you and now you owe him a favour of his choice.
MasterList
Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist
I’d been standing at the edge of the car park for a good five minutes, clutching my books to my chest like they might somehow shield me from the situation I’d stupidly landed myself in.
The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across Hawkins High. Most people had cleared out already, the corridors quieting down to a dull hum.
And there he was Eddie Munson.
Perched on the bonnet of his van like he didn’t have a care in the world, cigarette dangling from his lips, boots scuffed, a battered notebook balanced on his knee.
Everyone knew Eddie’s reputation.
The Freak. The Dealer. The Outcast.
But that wasn’t what I saw.
I saw the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he played guitar with a kind of raw passion that made my heart stutter, the way he spoke like he meant every word, no matter how outrageous.
And God, I saw the way his rings glinted on his fingers big, strong hands, veined arms poking out of a torn Hellfire Club shirt.
I’d had a crush on Eddie Munson for longer than I cared to admit.
And now, thanks to a frankly horrific twist of fate involving a botched science project, a missing lab partner, and an unforgiving deadline, I needed him.
I shifted from foot to foot, anxiety gnawing at my gut.
He hadn’t noticed me yet or if he had, he was doing a bloody good job of pretending otherwise.
I could still back out.
I could still turn around, figure something else out.
But then his head lifted, slow and deliberate, and his dark eyes locked onto mine.
A smirk tugged at his mouth, cocky and knowing.
Like he could read every panicked thought racing through my brain.
"Well, well," he drawled, flicking the cigarette away with a casual snap of his fingers. "If it isn't little Miss Good Girl herself."
I flushed, heat crawling up my neck.
"I..." I cleared my throat, hating how wobbly it sounded. "I need your help."
He leaned back on his hands, stretching out long legs, rings catching the last bit of sunlight. He looked so at ease it made me dizzy.
"If you need somethin’, darlin’," he said, voice slow and syrupy, "all you gotta do is ask."
My knees nearly gave out.
The way he said it rough, teasing, commanding like it wasn’t even a question but a foregone conclusion.
I squeezed my books tighter.
"It’s for the science fair," I rushed out, words tripping over themselves. "My partner bailed on me and I heard you’re good with electronics and I just..."
He raised an eyebrow, cutting off my nervous rambling with a lazy grin.
"You want me to help you build your project?"
I nodded, cheeks burning.
He tapped his chin, pretending to consider. "Hmm. What’s in it for me?"
I blinked, panic spiking. "I could pay you?"
He chuckled, a low rumble that did wicked things to my insides.
"Don’t want your money, sweetheart," he said. "Tell you what. You owe me a favour."
"A favour?"
"Yeah." His grin widened. "Could be anything. A ride somewhere. Help with homework. Carrying my gear. Whatever I feel like cashin' in."
The way he said it casual, almost lazy made my heart skip a traitorous beat.
I should have been wary. I should have said no.
But instead, I found myself nodding.
"Alright," I whispered. "A favour."
His eyes lit up, mischief and something darker flickering behind them.
"Deal," he said, hopping off the bonnet with a thud. He sauntered towards me, stopping way too close, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of smoke and leather clinging to him.
"Lead the way, princess," he murmured, voice curling around my brain like smoke. "Let’s get to work."
Eddie’s van was a mess papers, guitar picks, cassette tapes everywhere but somehow it suited him.
He insisted on blasting Black Sabbath as he soldered wires together, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, muscles flexing under his ratty T-shirt.
I sat on the floor, trying not to stare, trying not to let my mind wander.
It was hopeless.
Every time he made a snarky comment, every time he shot me a grin over his shoulder, every time he brushed past me, my heart threatened to break free of my ribs.
I was utterly, pathetically, hopelessly infatuated.
And he knew it.
I caught him smirking to himself more than once, like he could feel the tension crackling between us, like he was revelling in it.
At one point, he crouched down beside me to explain a connection, our knees bumping.
He pointed to the circuit board, his hand brushing mine, slow and deliberate.
"You’re shaking, sweetheart," he murmured, voice practically sinful. "You nervous? I don’t bite."
Not unless you ask me to, I thought wildly, biting the inside of my cheek.
"I’m fine," I squeaked instead.
He chuckled, dark and delighted.
"Liar."
By the time we finished, it was nearly dark.
The project looked... incredible. Way better than anything I could have pulled off alone.
I stared at it in awe, hands trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline.
Eddie stood back, arms crossed, watching me.
"So," he said. "Was I worth the risk?"
I blinked up at him.
"What?"
He shrugged, casual. "You didn’t want to ask me, right? Thought I’d laugh in your face. Tell you to piss off."
I swallowed hard. "I never thought you were a freak."
His eyes softened, just a fraction, and my chest squeezed.
"Yeah?" he said, voice almost gentle.
I nodded. "Yeah."
For a moment, the air between us felt heavy, charged.
He took a step closer, eyes never leaving mine.
"You ever need anything again, darlin’," he murmured, voice low and rough, "you come to me. Understand?"
I nodded again, helpless.
"Good girl," he said, and the praise hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath.
Before I could recover, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering just a second too long.
Then he stepped back, smirking.
"I’ll be cashin’ in that favour soon, sweetheart," he said, backing towards his van. "Don’t you forget it."
I watched him drive away, heart hammering against my ribs, knees weak.
And I knew deep in my bones that whatever favour Eddie Munson wanted, I was absolutely, hopelessly doomed to say yes.
It had been three days since Eddie Munson helped me with my science project.
Three days of me replaying every word, every smirk, every brush of his fingers through my hair like some hopeless sap.
And three days of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I thought, maybe stupidly, that he’d forget.
Maybe he was just winding me up about that "favour."
But when I opened my locker Friday morning, a scrap of notebook paper fluttered out and landed at my feet.
‘You owe me, sweetheart. Meet me behind the gym after last bell. Don’t be late. -Eddie’
I stared at it, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Behind the gym?
What the hell was he planning?
I spent all day jumping at shadows.
By the time the final bell rang, my palms were sweaty, my stomach a mess of nerves.
He was already there when I arrived lounging against the brick wall, battered leather jacket slung over one shoulder, chain on his jeans catching the sunlight.
When he spotted me, his grin lit up his whole face.
"There she is," he said, voice warm and teasing. "Was startin’ to think you’d chickened out."
"As if," I muttered, crossing my arms to hide how bloody shaky I felt.
He pushed off the wall and sauntered towards me, lazy and loose-limbed.
"Ready to cash in that favour, princess?"
I swallowed. "What exactly does it involve?"
He pretended to think, tapping his chin. "Hmm. Let’s call it... a not-date."
"A what?"
He laughed, grabbing my wrist gentle, but firm enough that my breath hitched and tugging me after him.
"You’ll see," he said. "Come on. You’re burnin’ daylight."
Turned out, Eddie’s idea of a "not-date" was driving half an hour out of town in his rattling van, windows down, music blaring.
He didn’t say where we were going.
Didn’t even give me a chance to protest.
He just kept throwing me these sideways glances, smirking every time he caught me sneaking a look at him.
Which, honestly, was often.
How could I not?
The way the wind ruffled his curls, the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music it was like something out of a dream.
Eventually, he pulled off onto a dirt road, tires kicking up dust.
"You’re not gonna murder me and leave me in a ditch, are you?" I joked, only half teasing.
He shot me a wicked grin. "Depends. You scream a lot?"
I made a strangled sound, and he laughed like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.
We finally stopped at a little clearing tall grass, wildflowers, the whole lot.
At the edge was a battered old blanket spread out under a tree.
My mouth dropped open.
"You set this up?"
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Thought you deserved a break after all that sciencing."
He grabbed a cooler from the back of the van and sauntered over to the blanket, plonking himself down with a dramatic sigh.
"Well?" he said, patting the space beside him. "You gonna stand there gawkin' all day, or you gonna come enjoy my five-star hospitality?"
I couldn’t help it I laughed.
Really laughed.
And before I knew it, I was sinking down beside him, the late afternoon sun warm on my skin.
He’d packed sandwiches slightly squashed, but somehow charming and two cans of warm soft drink.
We talked about everything and nothing music, books, how shit Hawkins was and I found myself relaxing more with every passing minute.
Eddie was easy to talk to.
Eddie was dangerous.
Because the more I laughed at his ridiculous jokes, the more I caught him looking at me like I hung the bloody moon, the deeper I sank.
And somewhere between arguing about the best Metallica album and watching the clouds drift lazily overhead, the air shifted.
I caught him watching me properly watching me and my stomach twisted itself into knots.
"What?" I said, half laughing, half terrified.
He shrugged, but there was something serious under the easy smile.
"You’re not what I expected," he said.
I blinked. "You expected me to be a bitch?"
He snorted. "Nah. Expected you to be... I dunno. Too good for the likes of me."
My heart cracked right down the middle.
"You’re not a freak, Eddie," I said, voice fierce.
He smiled, slow and soft, and God help me, I wanted to kiss him.
Maybe he saw it on my face.
Maybe he was feeling the exact same thing.
Because a second later, he leaned in achingly slow, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to.
I didn’t.
His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
But when I sighed into him when I fisted my hands in the worn denim of his jacket he groaned low in his throat and kissed me properly.
Hot.
Messy.
Desperate.
It wasn’t neat or perfect, but it was real.
He cradled the back of my head in one hand, the other gripping my waist, pulling me against him like he couldn’t bear to leave even an inch of space.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Still not a date," he whispered, breathless.
I laughed, giddy and dizzy and completely lost.
"Definitely not a date," I agreed, voice shaking.
But we both knew we were lying.
The sun dipped lower, casting everything in gold.
We lay tangled together on the blanket, Eddie tracing lazy circles on my hip with calloused fingers, making my whole body shiver.
His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, skimming over bare skin light, teasing touches that left me aching.
I turned my head, catching his gaze.
He looked so wrecked hair wild, pupils blown wide, mouth swollen from kissing.
"Can I?" he started, voice rough.
I answered by tugging him down to me, desperate for more.
His hand slid higher, cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my bra, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.
I gasped into his mouth, arching into him.
He kissed down my jaw, my throat, scattering rough, reverent kisses that made my toes curl.
"You’re so fuckin’ soft," he murmured against my skin, like he was drunk on it.
He kissed lower, pulling my shirt up to mouth at my stomach, each kiss making my muscles jump.
I buried my fingers in his hair, tugging gently, and he growled low in his throat.
He kissed along the waistband of my jeans, teeth scraping lightly, and I whimpered.
"Eddie," I whispered, desperate and shaking.
He lifted his head, eyes dark and burning.
"Tell me to stop," he said, voice a low rasp.
I shook my head, pulling him back up to kiss me again, harder this time.
Clothes were pushed aside, touches growing more frantic, and when he finally slid inside me, it wasn’t hurried or rough it was slow, deep, aching.
Like he was trying to memorise every second.
Like he needed it as much as I did.
Afterwards, we lay tangled together, breathing hard, Eddie’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare back.
"You still think this wasn’t a date?" I mumbled against his chest, too blissed out to move.
He chuckled, low and smug.
"Nah, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to my hair. "This was definitely a date."
I smiled, tucking myself closer against him.
For once, I didn’t care about reputations or gossip or any of the bullshit waiting for us back in Hawkins.
All that mattered was Eddie warm, solid, real holding me like he never wanted to let go.
Keeping things quiet sounded easy in theory.
In reality?
It was bloody impossible.
Especially when Eddie Munson was involved.
It started small.
Little things.
The way he'd find me in the corridors between classes, brushing his fingers over mine when nobody was looking.
The way I'd catch him staring at me during lunch, this soft, stupid smile on his face, like he couldn't help himself.
The way he'd mouth something utterly filthy across the room something that turned my face scarlet and made me nearly choke on my sandwich then wink like the cocky bastard he was.
We were awful at hiding it.
Like, truly pathetic.
It didn’t help that Eddie was absolutely no help whatsoever.
If anything, he enjoyed the risk of getting caught.
He’d catch me in the library, brush past just a bit too close, then smirk when I dropped my pen.
He’d mouth "Later, sweetheart" as he sauntered past my desk in science, leaving me a flustered, stammering mess.
And he always looked so bloody pleased with himself afterwards.
The rumours started before the week was out.
I heard snippets in the girls' toilets.
"Did you see the way Munson looked at her?"
"Swear I saw them sneaking off together behind the gym."
"She could do better, surely?"
It should've made me nervous.
Instead, every whisper made me feel a little giddy, a little more reckless.
Because for once, I didn't care what people thought.
I liked Eddie Munson.
And he somehow, unbelievably liked me right back.
I should've known he wouldn't let it lie.
It was a Tuesday, halfway through lunch, when he did it.
I was sitting with some of my friends, pretending not to watch Eddie across the room even though he was making it impossible by looking over every thirty bloody seconds.
I was mid-sip of my drink when suddenly, bang the screech of a chair dragging across the floor made me jump.
Everyone turned to look.
And there was Eddie standing on the lunch table like a man possessed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
I nearly died on the spot.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, loud enough to shake the rafters:
"Alright, Hawkins High! Since you’re all so bloody nosy"
(I buried my face in my hands.)
"let me clear a few things up, yeah?"
A few people laughed. Others were just gawping, forks halfway to their mouths.
"I am head over heels for Y/N," Eddie declared, voice ringing out, proud and utterly shameless.
"Completely, stupidly, hopelessly in love with her."
The cafeteria exploded.
Cheers, whistles, people banging on tables.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
But then he looked at me properly looked all soft eyes and secret smiles, and something in my chest just melted.
"Y/N," he said, over the noise. "Come up here, sweetheart."
I shook my head furiously, laughing.
"No way!"
"C’mon," he coaxed, reaching out a hand. "Don’t leave me hangin’."
People started chanting.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
Before I could lose my nerve, I scrambled up not very gracefully onto the table, gripping his hand tight.
He pulled me close, grinning like a lunatic.
"You ready to really give ‘em somethin’ to talk about?" he whispered.
And then he kissed me.
Right there, in front of everyone.
It wasn’t a quick peck, either.
It was full-on, dizzy, toe-curling, I never want to stop kissing.
The cafeteria went mental.
Wolf-whistles, clapping, someone actually started banging a tray like a drum.
When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, Eddie was beaming.
"We’re so bloody busted," I panted, half laughing, half terrified.
And right on cue
"MR MUNSON! MISS Y/L/N!"
A furious shout from across the room.
Mr. Clarke, the science teacher, red-faced and charging towards us.
Eddie grabbed my hand, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief.
"Run!"
We leapt down from the table nearly sending the lunches on it flying and tore out of the cafeteria, hand in hand, both of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe.
"GET BACK HERE!" Clarke bellowed behind us.
"Not a chance!" Eddie yelled back, cackling like a madman.
We sprinted down the corridor, past the lockers, past the stunned faces of other students peeking out of classrooms.
My heart was pounding, adrenaline singing through my veins.
We finally burst through the side doors into the sunlight, collapsing against the wall, gasping for air.
Eddie looked at me, flushed and breathless and utterly beautiful.
"You’re mad," I wheezed, still laughing.
He grinned, wide and wicked.
"Yeah, but you love it."
And bloody hell, I really, really did.
I grabbed his jacket, pulled him down, and kissed him again fierce and giddy and completely, utterly in love.
From inside, we could still hear Clarke shouting.
"Think he’s gonna kill us?" I murmured against his lips.
Eddie just laughed, wrapping his arms tight around me.
If there was a record for the worst day to come home early, I’d just shattered it.
I’d planned to curl up with my book and a bag of crisps, maybe watch a bit of Doctor Who while the house was empty. But the universe clearly had other plans.
As soon as I pushed open the front door of the Harrington household, I was greeted by noise. Loud, obnoxious, cackling laughter that echoed down the hall like a thunderclap. I followed the sound, already regretting my decision to come home.
Sure enough, there they were. The Motley Crew. Robin sprawled out on the floor with a bowl of popcorn on her chest like some sort of offering to the gods. Nancy perched primly on the arm of the sofa, giggling into her hand. And my lovely twin brother, Steve, looking far too pleased with himself, clearly enjoying the chaos.
And then, in the middle of it all, feet up on our coffee table, rings glinting in the dim light, sat Eddie bloody Munson.
Ugh.
He caught sight of me first, tossing his head dramatically like I’d just walked in and ruined his one-man show. “Ohhh look who it is,” he announced, voice dripping with mockery. “The Lady of the Manor returns!”
“Oh, brilliant,” I muttered, brushing past him toward the kitchen. “Didn’t realise we were hosting the village idiot today.”
Robin snorted from the floor. Steve just sighed.
“Oi, play nice,” Steve warned, but I could already hear the grin in his voice. He lived for this. Loved watching me and Eddie wind each other up like kids in the playground. I’d never understand it.
“Just saying,” Eddie called after me, “you should be thanking me. I bring vibes to this house. Energy. Spice.”
“You bring a migraine,” I shot back, yanking open the fridge. Nothing exciting. Milk, a half-eaten yoghurt, and something that might’ve once been lasagne. Great.
“Do I live rent-free in your head, sweetheart?” he called, still far too smug for someone wearing a Hellfire tee with a suspicious-looking mustard stain on the hem.
I poked my head round the corner. “You wish. I don’t make time in my day for trolls.”
He gasped, hand over his heart like I’d personally wounded him. “A troll? This face? Rude. Uncalled for. Deeply offensive.”
“You are offensive,” I said, walking back in with a can of Coke, trying not to notice the way he watched me with that annoyingly amused look in his eyes. Like he’d already decided how this conversation would go, and it would end with me wanting to scream.
Steve groaned. “Can you two not start, please? Just sit down, shut up, and be nice humans.”
“That’s a big ask,” Robin mumbled from the floor.
“Oh, c’mon Stevie,” Eddie said, tossing a piece of popcorn at his head. “You can’t tell me this isn’t the highlight of your day. Watching little miss sunshine try not to fall madly in love with me.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “What?”
“Sorry,” Nancy said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “But that was kind of hilarious.”
Eddie looked far too pleased with himself, the absolute menace. “You should see the way she looks at me when she thinks no one’s watching.”
“I look at you like I’m trying to set you on fire with my eyes,” I snapped.
“Exactly.” He winked. WINKED. “Hot.”
“You are insufferable.”
“You are obsessed with me.”
“Alright, that’s it” I lunged for him, fully prepared to yank the smugness right off his face, but he leapt off the couch and danced out of my reach, laughing like a maniac.
“What is your damage, Munson?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he said, hands up in surrender, but that bloody smirk never left his face. “Maybe I just love winding you up. You’re like a little wind-up toy. So easy to push. So cute when you're angry.”
I nearly screamed. “I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re going to kiss me.”
And that was the moment everything froze.
The room went quiet. Even Steve stopped mid-sip of his drink. Robin blinked slowly like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
I stared at Eddie, cheeks suddenly burning. “What did you just say?”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator who knew the exact effect he had. My brain screamed at me to move, say something clever, anything. But all I could do was stand there as he got closer.
And closer.
Until we were barely inches apart. I could feel the heat of him, the smell of leather and smoke and something warm and oddly comforting.
His voice dropped, low and taunting. “Ohhh… you wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?”
My mouth opened and nothing came out.
He grinned wider, clearly revelling in the chaos he’d just unleashed. My face felt like it was on fire, and the worst part? I had no retort. No comeback. Just my rapidly melting dignity and the sound of Robin’s very audible gasp behind me.
“Speechless?” Eddie teased. “That’s a first.”
I opened my mouth again, determined to salvage my pride, but all that came out was a sound that could only be described as a squeak.
And that bastard he stepped back.
Like he’d just won the world’s most annoying game.
“Caught red-handed,” he said smugly, turning away like this was just another day at the office.
Robin clapped once. “Okay, that was… iconic. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it was.”
Steve shook his head. “Eddie, mate, you’re gonna end up with a black eye.”
“Worth it,” he said, plopping back onto the sofa and stretching like a cat in a sunbeam. “So worth it.”
Nancy leaned in close to me, whispering, “You alright?”
“No,” I hissed. “I’m humiliated.”
“Ah,” she said, trying not to laugh. “But you’re also a little bit into it, aren’t you?”
I scowled at her. But my silence betrayed me.
Because, deep down, I couldn’t deny it. The rush, the heat, the way he’d looked at me like he knew. Like he’d been waiting for that moment for weeks. Maybe he had.
Maybe I had, too.
“God help me,” I muttered.
Across the room, Eddie met my eyes. Raised his brows. And winked.
I spent the next ten minutes pretending I hadn’t just been verbally undressed by Eddie Munson in front of all my closest mates. Which, in case you’re wondering, is not easy to do when your face is still bright red and said verbal undresser is lounging about with a stupid little smirk on his stupid beautiful face.
I stood by the bookshelf, flipping through a random novel I’d already read twice, trying to look casual and unaffected, which was impossible because Robin kept snickering every time she looked at me.
“You good?” Steve whispered as he walked past with a fresh drink.
“Peachy,” I muttered.
He tilted his head. “You look like you’re about to combust.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can we not?”
But, of course, Steve could. And would. Because he was my twin and delighted in my suffering. “You do know he only winds you up because you’re the only one who bites back, right?”
“I don’t bite back, I...” I caught Eddie watching me from the sofa, his arm thrown across the backrest like he owned the place. When our eyes met, he raised one brow, lips twitching. Again.
“I loathe him,” I finished lamely.
“Uh huh,” Steve said, and walked away like that settled the matter.
Eventually, Nancy and Robin started talking about some book they were both reading something tragic and romantic and Steve got up to answer the phone when it rang in the kitchen, leaving me and Eddie more or less alone in the living room. Well, as alone as you can be with other people in the next room, distracted and not paying attention.
I debated leaving the room, but that would’ve meant admitting defeat, and I’d rather walk barefoot through Mordor.
So I sat on the arm of the sofa opposite him, arms crossed, eyes pointedly on the fireplace.
“You’re awful quiet,” Eddie said after a beat.
“Enjoying the silence.”
He grinned, shifting to face me more directly. “You sure? Thought you’d still be coming up with a witty comeback or something. You were always quick on the draw.”
“I was caught off guard,” I snapped, glaring at him.
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “You liked it.”
“I didn’t!”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You blushed, sweetheart. You don’t blush. I’ve never seen you speechless before. It was adorable.”
I turned away, biting my lip so hard it almost hurt. My skin still tingled from how close he’d gotten earlier. The heat of it lingered like a fingerprint on glass.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and this time his voice was quieter. Less smug.
I looked at him then. He wasn’t grinning now. Just watching me, brows slightly drawn, fingers fiddling with a ring on his thumb.
“It’s just… you’re fun to rile up,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to actually upset you.”
I blinked. “Is that… sincerity I hear?”
He gave a sheepish little laugh. “Don’t tell anyone. Ruin my rep.”
I couldn’t help it I smiled. Just a little.
“I’m not really mad,” I said eventually. “You’re just… the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
He beamed. “That’s high praise.”
“And you’re cocky.”
“Charming,” he corrected.
“Smug.”
“Confident.”
I rolled my eyes, but it was lighter now. The tension had shifted. Less volatile, more… playful. Like we were on the edge of something neither of us wanted to admit.
I looked at him properly for the first time all evening. His hair was a little wild, as usual, one curl falling into his eyes. There was a tiny scar on his chin I’d never noticed before. And his eyes brown, warm, so very alive they weren’t mocking now. Just… soft.
“Why do you even bother?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Why go out of your way to tease me?”
He hesitated. Then shrugged, glancing down at his hands. “Because you see through my bullshit. Most people let me perform. You don’t. It’s… annoying,” he said with a grin, “but kind of refreshing.”
That shut me up.
“I like getting a rise out of you,” he added. “Not because I want to make you feel small or anything. Just… because when you look at me like you want to strangle me, it’s better than when you ignore me.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was actually saying what I thought he was saying.
“I don’t ignore you.”
“You try to.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t mean to,” I admitted. “It’s just… you’re a bit much sometimes.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”
There was a silence between us, not uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken things.
Then he said, quieter now, “You really don’t hate me, do you?”
I looked at him. Really looked at him. His knees bounced nervously, one ringed finger tapping against the side of his thigh. He wasn’t cocky now. He was uncertain. Vulnerable, in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“No,” I said softly. “I don’t.”
And I didn’t. Maybe I never had.
Eddie smiled small this time, real and nodded once, as if that meant more to him than he wanted to admit.
Robin called from the kitchen about something to do with ice cream, and the spell broke.
But for a moment, just a moment, we sat in the quiet. No insults. No witty comebacks. Just me and Eddie Munson, and the unspoken thing hanging between us like smoke in the air.
And I swear just before he got up to help them in the kitchen he looked at me like he knew.
Like we both did.
Later that evening the bowling alley smelled faintly of stale popcorn and that strange waxy scent of rental shoes. It was loud neon lights flickering above us, classic rock blaring through crackling speakers but honestly, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a Friday night.
Robin had roped us all into it. Said we needed a proper night out before “the inevitable soul-crushing weight of adulthood” came crashing down on us. Classic Robin.
Nancy and Steve were already competing like it was a televised championship, Robin was dancing to the music more than she was bowling, and Eddie well.
Eddie had spent the past twenty minutes doing increasingly ridiculous trick shots, including one where he spun around dramatically before launching the ball straight into the gutter.
“You’re hopeless,” I said, sipping my drink from a plastic cup and watching him theatrically mourn the death of his bowling career.
He collapsed onto the seat beside me. “Admit it you’d miss me if I weren’t here to make this night less tragically normal.”
I gave him a long, unimpressed look. “I think I’d survive.”
He gasped. “Cruel.”
We grinned at each other, and the moment hung again like it had in the living room, but lighter this time. Easier.
“You’re up,” I told him, nodding at the scoreboard. “Let’s see if you can break double digits.”
“Oh, now that sounds like a challenge.” He stood, cracking his knuckles like he was about to enter a wrestling ring. “Prepare to witness history.”
“You said that last round,” I called after him. “And the ball nearly hit the snack bar.”
He glanced back, winked, and lined up his shot.
To be fair, he didn’t completely whiff it this time. He knocked down four pins, which was practically a miracle for him. He turned back with arms raised like he’d just won the lottery.
I gave him a mocking round of applause.
“Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got, princess,” he said, handing me the ball.
“Oh, you don’t want to challenge me,” I said, standing and stretching my arms in the most obnoxious show-off-y way possible. “I’ve got hidden talents.”
“I’m quaking,” he deadpanned.
I stepped up to the lane, took a breath, and with a smooth, calculated throw knocked down every single pin.
The strike echoed loud, a satisfying crack followed by a chorus of groans from the others.
Eddie’s jaw actually dropped.
I turned back slowly, eyebrows raised. “What’s the matter, Munson? Cat got your tongue?”
He stared at me, momentarily speechless.
I savored it.
“Oh no,” Robin called from the seating area. “He’s malfunctioning. Someone reboot him!”
I leaned in slightly, smiling sweetly. “You alright there, Eddie?”
He blinked, visibly trying to recover. “That was… lucky.”
“Three times in a row?” I held up the scoreboard as proof. “Face it. I’m better than you.”
“You’re evil,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked so thrown off, I almost felt bad.
Almost.
“Now you know how it feels,” I said, smirking. “Tables have turned, haven’t they?”
He pointed at me, like he was trying to form a comeback and couldn’t find the words.
“Speechless?” I teased. “At this rate, I might start to think you actually like me.”
His mouth opened. Then closed.
Then he blushed.
Not much just a faint pink along his cheekbones but I saw it. And I won.
I turned, smug as hell, and flounced back to my seat like a victorious queen. Robin held her hand up for a high-five. “Absolute annihilation.”
Eddie sat beside me again, still trying to gather his pride. He was quiet for a full thirty seconds. Then, in a completely casual voice, he said:
“So, uh. Hypothetically speaking. If someone wanted to, like, maybe… go somewhere with you. That wasn’t here. And maybe there was food. And possibly feelings involved”
I turned to look at him, brows raised.
He pressed on. “would that be, like… a thing you’d be into?”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
I laughed.
“What?” he said, slightly defensive. “That made sense.”
“No, it didn’t,” I said, still laughing. “Just ask me out properly, you idiot.”
He flushed deeper now, grinning despite himself. “Okay, fine.”
He cleared his throat, dramatically, placing one hand over his heart.
“Y/N Harrington, would you do me the immense honour of accompanying me on a date? Preferably one where I can attempt to redeem my tragic reputation?”
I smiled.
“Yeah,” I said. “I would.”
He blinked. “Wait seriously?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I teased.
“I’m just I mean cool.” He sat back, pretending to be casual, but the grin on his face was blinding.
“I hope you know I’m going to destroy you at mini golf too,” I added.
He groaned. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
And just like that, the teasing started all over again but this time, it felt different.
This time, it felt like something beginning.
I was halfway down the stairs, one earring in and clutching my boots, when Steve’s voice cut through the Living Room TV on, legs sprawled, snack bowl balanced on his chest like a raccoon hoarding treasure.
“Oi,” he said, frowning up at me like I’d just walked into the room wearing a chicken suit. “Why do you look like that?”
I blinked. “Like what?”
He gestured vaguely in my direction, squinting. “Like that. Like you’ve got some weird disease on your face.”
“Excuse me?”
“All that makeup and shit.” He sat up straighter now, bowl teetering. “Is it contagious?”
I groaned and stepped into the hall mirror, touching under my eyes just to check. “You’re unbelievable. God forbid you just say, ‘Wow, Y/N, you look really nice tonight.’”
“That’d be weirder,” he muttered. “You’re my twin. Complimenting you feels like incest.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are so dramatic. I barely put anything on.”
“You’ve got… sparkles on your eyelids.”
“They’re shimmer,” I said, like it was obvious. “Besides, you used to steal my moisturiser before dates.”
He waved me off like that had never happened. (It absolutely had.)
“Anyway,” he said, folding his arms now like some kind of dad. “You’re dodging the question. Where are you going? And why do you look like you're about to be interviewed on the red carpet?”
I slipped my boots on, casually avoiding eye contact. “Out.”
“Out where?”
I made a face. “On a date.”
His reaction was instant.
He straightened so fast the snack bowl hit the floor. “A DATE?! With who?!”
I winced. “Could you not shout?”
“I’m your brother. twin, actually. I’m genetically obligated to shout when my sister leaves the house looking suspiciously fit.”
“You make it sound like a crime.”
“Depends who the guy is.”
I hesitated.
His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t say it,” I said, finger pointed in warning. “Don’t be weird about it.”
“I’m never not weird about it,” he said. “Who is it?”
I grabbed my coat.
“Y/N.”
I stalled.
He stood, hands on hips now.
“Y/N.”
I groaned. “Alright! It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”
Silence.
Then
“You’re dating Eddie Munson?”
“I didn’t say I was dating him. I said I was going on a date with him.”
Steve’s nose wrinkled like I’d told him I was going to lick a bus window. “Eddie our friend....The one who used to convince freshmen he could curse them with his guitar?”
“Yes, that Eddie.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. Of all the people.”
“Don’t start.”
“No, no, I’m not judging. I’m just… digesting.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Do you even like him? I thought you two hated each other. Last week you called him a goblin with too many rings.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t hate the goblin as much as I thought.”
He squinted at me.
I squinted back.
Finally, Steve sighed, leaning on the back of the couch like the weight of the world had just hit him.
“I knew there was something between you two. You’ve been bickering like it’s foreplay.”
I choked. “Oh my god”
“Don’t even deny it. The way you two argue? It’s suspiciously flirty. Like enemies in a soap opera who end up shagging in episode three.”
“Can you not?”
He smirked, annoying older brother mode fully activated. “So what, he called you pretty and you forgot how much you wanted to punch him?”
I glared. “He did not call me pretty.”
Steve just grinned like he’d caught me red-handed. “So you’re saying he will?”
“I’m leaving.”
“You gonna kiss him?”
“Steve!”
“Just saying, if he hurts you, I’m putting spiders in his van.”
“I’ll let him know,” I said flatly, pulling on my coat.
He stepped forward, gentler now. “Just be careful, yeah? I know Eddie’s a bit of an idiot, but I also know he’s got a good heart under all that metal and eyeliner.”
I blinked. “Was that… sincere?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t get used to it.”
I smiled at him as I reached the door. “Thanks, Steve.”
“Still grossed out though,” he muttered. “You and Eddie. Ugh.” he fake gagged.
I gave him the finger and shut the door behind me, heart thudding in my chest.
The night was just getting started.
The mini golf place was decked out like a knockoff medieval fairground plastic dragons, crumbling stone towers, and a pirate ship for absolutely no reason. It was kitschy, ridiculous, and very on-brand for Eddie Munson.
He was already there when I arrived, leaned against the dragon statue like it was his throne, spinning a bright neon pink golf ball in his hand.
When he spotted me, he grinned like the cat who’d swallowed the canary and set the house on fire.
“Well, well, Harrington,” he said, pushing off the statue with a theatrical bow. “You’ve arrived to lose with grace, I hope.”
I crossed my arms raising my eyebrow.
He held out his arms. “Is this not the most romantic venue in all of Hawkins? Look at that knight statue over there he's literally proposing to a squirrel.”
“Are you planning on proposing tonight, Munson?”
He blinked. “I mean, if you sink the windmill shot in one try, I might have to.”
I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re here anyway. What does that say about you?”
“That I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“Or that you secretly love it when I annoy you.”
We bickered through the first six holes like it was our full-time job. Every time I missed a shot by an inch, Eddie would gasp dramatically and hold his heart like I'd stabbed him. When he managed a hole-in-one purely by dumb luck he pranced around the hole like he’d just won Wimbledon.
“You’re literally unbearable,” I muttered, watching him twirl his club like a cane.
He grinned, eyes bright. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m grimacing.”
“You’re blushing.”
“That’s the neon lights.”
He stepped closer then, a little smug, a little daring. “You’re imagining kissing me, aren’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “If I were, it’d only be to shut you up.”
“Hot.”
God, he was exhausting. And stupid. And kind of adorably stupid. Which was the problem.
We reached the pirate-themed hole complete with cannonball obstacles and a parrot animatronic that kept screeching “Walk the plank!” every thirty seconds and paused to take a breath (and eat the terrible vending machine chocolate he'd insisted on buying for us).
As we sat on the rickety bench nearby, the chaos melted for a moment. Eddie’s fingers brushed mine when he handed over my half of the chocolate bar, and instead of some dumb joke, he looked at me quietly.
“This is nice,” he said, voice softer than I expected.
I glanced at him. “You surprised?”
“Kinda.” He shrugged. “You know, I thought maybe you’d get sick of me halfway through and run off screaming into the Hawkins night.”
I tilted my head. “I did consider it.”
He chuckled, then looked down at his hands. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes, you know.”
I blinked. “What, to the date?”
“Yeah. I mean… you’re you. Smart, sharp, terrifying when you want to be. And I’m just… well, me.”
I frowned, suddenly wanting to shake him. “Eddie.”
He glanced at me.
“You’re not just anything.”
He looked at me like I’d slapped him but in a good way. Like no one had ever just said that to him straight.
I reached over, took the stupid golf pencil from behind his ear, and tapped it against his forehead. “Don’t get all emotional on me now. I’m still gonna beat your ass on the pirate hole.”
“Doubtful,” he smirked, confidence reloading like a shotgun. “But you’re welcome to try.”
I went first and somehow nailed the trick shot between the cannons. I raised both arms like I’d won the lottery.
“Boom!” I crowed. “Take that, Munson.”
He stared at the ball as it dropped neatly into the hole, then back at me. His jaw dropped.
“You...you hustled me.”
“Maybe I just got good while you were too busy showboating.”
He pointed at me accusingly. “You let me think I had the upper hand.”
I grinned. “Sweetheart, you never did.”
He looked stunned for a second. Flustered, even. Like I’d just out-Eddied Eddie.
I started to walk away to the next hole, smirking, but he grabbed my hand not rough, just enough to pause me and pulled me back.
“Wait.”
I turned. “What?”
He looked… nervous. Then steeled himself like he was about to leap into battle.
“Would you maybe wanna… do this again? Like… something else? Not just mini golf. Like… more dates. With me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to date you, Munson?”
He looked like he’d been caught shoplifting in a nun’s handbag. “I mean, yeah? If that’s not completely bonkers.”
I laughed actually laughed, half from disbelief, half from pure affection.
“Jesus, Eddie,” I said, “just ask me out, you idiot.”
He huffed a breath, stepped forward, and gave me a shy, crooked grin.
“Y/N Harrington, would you like to keep dating the annoying, overly dramatic metalhead who can’t mini golf to save his life but might just be absolutely into you?”
I grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
We were nearing the last hole some ridiculous castle setup with a drawbridge and LED torches and I was still riding the high of absolutely crushing him on the pirate ship hole. Eddie, for once, wasn’t talking. Just watching me. Too quiet.
I turned to him, suspicious. “Alright, what’s your deal? You look like you’re about to propose or faint. Possibly both.”
He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking to my mouth for the briefest second before quickly darting away. “I’m not… I mean. I was gonna…” He stepped closer, barely a breath away. The smirk was gone. Just those dark eyes, all mischief swapped for nerves.
I arched a brow. “Gonna…?”
He opened his mouth like he might say something, like he might finally kiss me and then he chickened out.
Literally froze.
I watched his jaw tighten slightly. The muscles in his face doing that dumb, adorable twitchy thing they always did when he didn’t know what to say. And he never didn’t know what to say.
I let the moment hang there, then sighed loudly, dramatically and tilted my head.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.
He made a surprised little noise at first, like he couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. And then he melted into it, fingers curling lightly around my waist like he didn’t want to push his luck.
When we finally pulled apart, he blinked down at me, dazed.
I smirked. “You really gonna leave me hanging like that, Munson?”
He blinked again, then grinned shy and crooked, somehow smug and stunned at the same time. “I was building tension.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling cowardice these days?”
“You wound me, Harrington.”
“Only your ego.”
He shook his head with a soft laugh and bumped my shoulder with his. “Remind me to let you take the lead more often.”
I nudged him back, my smile tugging at the corners of my mouth whether I liked it or not. “Remind me to not wait around for you to grow a pair.”
“Deal.”
And with that, we moved on to the last hole, fingers brushing together until they weren’t just brushing anymore.
Would you be able to make a dustin x reader fanfiction where she’s Y/n Harrington Steves younger sister where it’s season 5 and yn and dustin are both greiving Eddie a lot but yn is keeping it better together since her and Steve mom died when they were younger so they were used to loss and yn stands up for dustin after he gets beat up and they ditch to go to the bathroom and she cleans all his wounds and bandages him up and they have a long close conversation finally breaking down about there dead friends and how they feel about each other or something? You don’t have to do this lmao I just suck at trying to write things with characters that already exists instead of my own oc’s I just really love your writing style!!
- Hope :)
MasterList
Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist
Grief doesn’t always arrive loudly.
Sometimes it’s just there when you wake up sitting on your chest, dull and heavy like it’s been waiting patiently for you to notice it again.
People think I’m handling Eddie’s death well.
They say it in hushed voices, like it’s a compliment. Y/N’s so strong. Y/N’s holding it together. They don’t see the way my hands shake when I hear Metallica on the radio, or how my throat closes whenever I walk past the empty lunch table where Eddie Munson used to sprawl like he owned the place.
They don’t know about my mum..
She died when Steve and I were young the details blur, but we were old enough to remember the shape of loss. The quiet after. The way the house felt hollow, like something essential had been taken and never replaced.
So yeah I know how to survive grief.
That doesn’t mean it hurts less.
Dustin is not surviving it.
He’s unraveling.
I see it in the way he’s stopped correcting teachers when they get things wrong. In the way he doesn’t argue back in class anymore. In how his laugh once loud and uncontained now sounds brittle, like it might shatter if pushed too far.
And I see it today, when someone finally pushes.
In the corridor between second and third period a boy from the basketball team tall, broad, cruel in the effortless way people are when they’ve never been hurt properly shoulders into Dustin as he passes.
“Watch it, freak.”
Dustin stumbles, books scattering across the floor.
I turn around instantly. “Hey.”
The boy smirks. “What?”
“You heard him,” another voice says. “Munson’s little boyfriend’s still crying?”
The words land like a slap.
Dustin freezes.
Something inside me snaps.
“Shut up,” I say sharply.
The boy laughs. “Or what, Harrington?”
I step closer, heart pounding. “Or you explain to Principal Sinclair why you’re beating up a kid whose friend died saving this town.”
The laughter falters.
“He didn’t save anything,” the boy scoffs. “He was a freak. Probably deserved it.”
That’s when Dustin moves swinging wildly, fists clenched, grief pouring out of him in one desperate motion.
He doesn’t land the punch.
The boy does.
I scream his name as Dustin goes down, blood already blooming at his lip. Someone shouts. A teacher yells. The world erupts into chaos.
I don’t wait for permission.
I grab Dustin by the wrist and haul him up, ignoring the shouts behind us, dragging him down the corridor, past the science wing, into the nearest bathroom.
I slam the door shut and lock it.
Dustin sinks onto the floor immediately, back against the tiles, breathing hard. His glasses are crooked. There’s blood on his cheek, his nose, his mouth.
My chest tightens painfully.
“Jesus, Dusty,” I whisper, dropping to my knees in front of him. “You didn’t deserve that.”
He laughs weakly. “Did you see his face though?”
I don’t laugh.
I reach into my bag, pulling out tissues, a small first aid kit cause Steve drilled into me after Mum died. Always be prepared. You never know.
I gently dab at the blood on his lip.
He flinches.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I know.”
He swallows, eyes fixed on the floor. “I didn’t even care if he hit me.”
That hurts more than the sight of blood.
I clean the cut above his eyebrow carefully, fingers steady despite the ache in my chest. I tape gauze to his cheek, wipe his nose, straighten his glasses.
“You should’ve told someone,” I say quietly.
“Like who?” he snaps suddenly. “Everyone keeps acting like he was just some guy. Like he didn’t matter.”
His voice cracks.
I sit back on my heels, meeting his eyes.
“He mattered,” I say firmly. “Eddie mattered.”
Dustin’s breath stutters.
“I didn’t save him,” he whispers. “I ran. I left him there.”
My throat tightens. “Dustin”
“I should’ve stayed,” he says, voice rising. “If I had stayed, maybe....”
“Stop,” I say gently but firmly, placing my hands on his shoulders. “That’s not how it works.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I say softly. “Because I’ve done this before.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, eyes red and desperate.
“When my mum died,” I continue, “Steve blamed himself for years. Thought if he’d done one thing differently, she’d still be here.”
Dustin swallows hard.
“But the truth is,” I say, “sometimes you can do everything right and still lose.”
The silence between us is heavy.
Dustin’s shoulders start to shake.
“I miss him,” he sobs suddenly. “He was my hero. He believed in me.”
I pull him into my arms without thinking, cradling his head against my shoulder as he breaks down completely. His cries are raw, unfiltered, the sound of a kid who’s lost too much too fast.
I hold him tight.
“I know,” I whisper. “I miss him too.”
We sit like that for a long time, the bathroom quiet except for his breathing slowly evening out.
Eventually, he pulls back, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Sorry.”
“Don’t,” I say. “Never apologise for that.”
He hesitates. “You’re really good at this.”
“At what?”
“Not falling apart.”
I shake my head. “I fall apart all the time. Just… privately.”
He gives a weak smile. “Figures.”
I rewrap the bandage on his cheek, making sure it’s secure. “You’re not weak for hurting, Dustin.”
“I feel like I am,” he admits. “Everyone else seems to be moving on.”
“They’re not,” I say. “They’re just pretending.”
He studies me for a moment. “You and Steve… you’re different.”
I smile sadly. “Loss makes you grow up fast.”
We sit side by side on the floor now, backs against the tiles, knees touching.
“I’m scared,” he says quietly.
“Of what?”
“That if I let myself stop hurting… it means I’m forgetting him.”
I swallow. “It doesn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because love doesn’t disappear just because the pain softens,” I say. “It just changes shape.”
He nods slowly.
After a moment, he glances at me. “You really stood up for me back there.”
I shrug. “Anyone who messes with my people answers to me.”
He smiles faintly. “Guess I’m one of your people.”
“You always were,” I say.
The bell rings in the distance, muffled.
“We’re definitely skipping class,” he mutters.
“Obviously.”
He laughs softly, then grows quiet again. “I’m really glad it was you today.”
“So am I.”
He leans his head against my shoulder. I let him.
For the first time since Eddie died, the grief feels… shared. Lighter, somehow. Not gone but bearable.
