loveangelic69

[loveangelic69]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! reader, Eds and Reader don't know each other, but Max and Dustin know both Eddie and Reader, and they both think that they would be a great couple so they try to get them to know each other but it never works. But what if Reader goes to the trailer park to take care of Max, or help her with homework but on her way to Max's trailer, Reader falls and Eddie sees it and helps her, after some time, Eddie and Reader start dating and it made Max and Dustin happy but they argue about who made that it happened? (I hope this make sense! I just imagine Max and Dustin seeing how similar Reader and Eddie are in some aspects so they're like, yeah, they would be a great couple, but for some reason, they can't make them like meet each other or even see each other! you can change some things if you think it'll be better!)

I love writing Max as a bestie. This idea is adorable. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting♥︎

Wingman vs Wingwoman

Max was surprised to find herself being friends with a cheerleader, granted it was forced in the beginning. Max's mom has been on an insane level since everything happened with Billy, so she refuses to let Max be alone. Y/N became Max's babysitter, Max wasn't warmed to the idea at first but now it was more of friends hanging out compared to babysitting.

Y/N was way more chill and interesting than the other cheerleaders, shocking Max. They talked, watched horror movies, shared comic books, and went to skate parks. With all of Y/N's badass interests, Max realized she might not be the only one who would adore her. Max knew she had to get Y/N to meet Eddie.

Dustin fell in love with Y/N the second she walked into the student council. Dustin's mom wanted him to engage in more school activities ( apparently hellfire wasn't real enough. ) But the student council wasn't horrible when Y/N was the president. Dustin was a love-sick puppy when it came to her and he practically was her vice president with how much he did for the club. Or for her. With her leading confidence and how high she held her head, Dustin couldn't help but see a bit of Eddie in her. That's when it snapped in Dustin's head that Eddie would love to meet this girl.

~~~

Max was rushing Y/N to Hellfire with a purpose in mind.

"I'm gonna be late for the student council!" Y/N groaned as Max dragged her arm down the opposite hallway.

"I know! I just need to show you something." Max said, a tiny smirk on her face. Her blue eyes lit up with mischief.

Max cheered as they reached the door, Y/N looked at her confused for two reasons. One, Max was excited about something, and two it was about a door with hellfire written on cardboard.

"What the hell is this?" Y/N asked, Max didn't answer, so she yanked open the door.

Max's smile and mood fell when she didn't see Eddie. Just the same losers she always saw.

"Where is he?" Max demanded, her foot stomped against the glossy floor.

~

"Dustin, dude, we can't be late for this campaign. The rest of the sheep are already set up." Eddie scolded but Dustin didn't listen. Just yanking Eddie down the hall.

"Just one minute!" Dustin groaned. He sighed at the lack of patience Eddie had.

"Where are we even going?" Eddie huffed.

"Tada!" Dustin cheered as he yanked open the wooden door. Eddie peeked in over Dustin's head and felt confused.

"Tada? It's a group of nerds talking about the school."

"It's called the student council, and she's not here!" Dustin growled. Where the hell was she?

~~~

Max and Dustin had no idea they were trying to get Y/N and Eddie to see each other. And they had no idea they were backfiring each other's plans.

"No! I need Eddie, I've been trying to get him to meet this girl for weeks!" Max snapped at Dustin, her icy blue eyes glaring straight at him.

Dustin felt himself shivering in fear but tried to stay confident.

"I don't care. I've got a way better girl for Eddie to meet."

"Mine's better, just watch." Max scoffed as she raced off on her skateboard.

"What did red want?" Eddie asked as he walked to his van.

"No clue. But look, I need you to drop me off at school early tomorrow, student council meeting." Dustin lied, Eddie huffed but agreed as he started the engine.

~

"Max, what's up? Dustin said he needed me this morning." Y/N asked as Max kept looking up and down the hallways.

"I just need to see something!" Max said as she looked into the parking lot. She saw Eddie's van but she couldn't find him at all. She checked all the rooms she knew Eddie knew but nothing.

~

"Dude, we've been here for ten minutes, when does this meeting start? We are the only ones here." Eddie sighed. He could have gotten another hour of sleep but this damn kid.

Dustin checked his watch with a pit of anxiety in his stomach. Y/N said she'd be here and she is nowhere to be seen.

"Whatever. I'm going to have a smoke." Eddie said as he walked out the door.

Not even two minutes later Y/N walked in with a grumpy Max.

"Of fucking course," Dustin said as he shook his head.

~~~

Max and Dustin were slowly wanting to give up. Every plan they had was backfired. Somehow Eddie and Y/N were always at the wrong place at the right time.

Y/N groaned as she walked through the muddy trailer park. She regretted wearing her nice shoes. A huge van came speeding down the road, frightening her into slipping in the mud.

She groaned as she landed on her ass. Now her clothes were as muddy as her shoes.

The van slammed on their breaks and a boy came running out.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." The boy apologized, he kneeled next to her as he softly helped her stand up.

She went to scream in his face but once she took in his face, she was silent. He was the most gorgeous boy she's ever seen. His soft skin, bone structure, nice jaw, and flowing brown curls rested on his shoulders.

"Oh, that's alright." She shrugged off with a smile. She was sure she'd have fallen for him the same way if he still wasn't holding her up by the waist.

Eddie didn't hear a word she said. Too amazed at how beautiful the girl was. He didn't even realize he was still touching her until she shifted.

"Shit sorry." He apologized again as he removed his hands. He took in her muddy clothes.

"This will sound so creepy, but can I drive you to my trailer to get you new clothes? I feel awful." Eddie smiled as she laughed.

"It is super creepy, but I also don't want to babysit in these clothes." So she agreed and they rode off to his trailer. Only to connect the dots that Max was right across the way.

"Here! It's just an old shirt and some sweatpants." Eddie said as he handed Y/N the clothes.

"Do you want me to drive you to the trailer you need?" Eddie asked as they stood at his front door.

"It's actually just right there so I can walk. Thank you, what was your name?" She asked.

"Eddie Munson, and you?" He asked as he held out his hand.

~

Max eyed Y/N as she walked in covered in mud and clothes in her hand.

"What happened to you?" Max asked as she got off the couch.

"Slipped in mud, but I got new clothes so gonna change!" Y/N said she walked into the bathroom, with a smile on her face.

~~~

A month passed and Max was preparing to give up. No matter what she did, she never got Eddie and Y/N in the same room.

"Why can't you come tonight again?" Max asked, Y/N walked beside her down the hallway.

"I've got a date, but your mom is staying home," Y/N explained.

"Where is the date? I've got a guy for you and I bet he's way better than whatever loser you picked yourself."

"Rude, he is not a loser. I appreciate in a weird way that you want to set me up, but I'm fine. We are going to the movies."

~

"Dustin, I can't! I'm going to the movies for a date." Eddie sighed as he searched for an outfit to wear.

"Waste of time, bro. I've got the perfect girl for you. Just cancel, then come be my wingman at the diner then I'll set you guys up!" Dustin argued.

"First, I am way too old to be your wingman. It's creepy. And second, this girl is hot, I'm not ditching."

"Come on dude! You are my only ride and my mom said I needed a babysitter. Steve is working so please?"

~

"She's here, see ya," Dustin said as he ran to an empty booth with his date.

Eddie picked a seat where he could see the back of Dustin's head.

He smiled when Y/N took the seat across from him, blocking Dustin.

They dived into a conversation and the time flew by in seconds.

~

Dustin said goodbye to his date and walked over to Eddie, he noticed Eddie was alone.

"Stood up?" Dustin mocked as he pointed to the empty seat.

"Bathroom, now beat it," Eddie said, but Dustin sat down instead.

"I've got nowhere to go, you are my ride." Dustin shrugged, grabbing a fry from the plate in the middle of the table. "Plus, my girl would be so much better for you."

~

Max walked into the diner, and her mom drove her to pick up dinner. She waited near the counter as she waited. She gasped when Y/N walked out of the bathroom.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had a date?" Max asked, her arms crossed.

"I do! We changed it to her because he had to babysit." Y/N explained.

"Babysit? Can't get a real job?" Max mocked and rolled her eyes.

"Watch it. I'm a babysitter." Y/N declared as she glared at the younger girl.

"Is he still here? I want to meet him so I can prove my guy is better."

Y/N sighed but agreed, walking Max to the table.

"Dustin?"

"Y/N?"

Eddie looked between them confused, "you two know each other?"

"How the hell do you know her?" Dustin spazzed as he looked at Eddie with huge eyes.

"EDDIE IS THE GUY!" Max squealed, and Y/N was confused about her showing a positive emotion.

"What is going on?" Eddie and Y/N asked at the same time.

~

After Dustin and Max explained their sides, they left the couple alone. Dustin walked Max out to her car, killing time until Eddie was ready to leave.

"I so did that." Dustin bragged, he nodded in improvement as Eddie slid his arm around Y/N as they walked out.

"They didn't even know you were trying to set them up, plus she met him because of me!" Max argued

"No, she did not!" Dustin fought back.

"Yes huh!"

"No huh!"

~

"It's kinda cute they wanted us together so much," Y/N said, walking out of the diner.

"I'm surprised Dustin thought I was in your league." Eddie chuckled, his arm still over her shoulder.

"I'm surprised you'd even like a cheerleader," Y/N replied.

"When they look like you? Yeah, I like the cheerleader." Eddie teased, but his heart raced as she laughed and swatted at his chest.

He might have to give Dustin a praise for this.

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[loveangelic69]

tying your heart to mine

pairing(s): eddie munson x cheerleader!fem!reader

summary: eddie is tired of hiding your relationship so he does the only gentleman thing and ties your shoes...in front of everyone.

request(s): pls write an eddie x cheerleader where he reveals their relationship at school - anon

a/n: this was originally apart of a mini blurb series i planned on doing but i found this fit the request fairly well so sorry if this wasn't what you envisioned and feel free to request and tell me what you think!

warning(s): fluffy fluff fluff, eddie being cute and unedited work.

ALSO THIS IS NOT NO FREE USE SHIT YOU CANNOT PLAGIARIZE OR REPOST MY WORK ON THIRD PARTY SITES

Eddie immediately smiled when he caught your eyes. There you stood, in the middle of the gym with your cute little cheerleading uniform on. He wondered if your heart raced the same way his did when he saw you.

You and Eddie were dating just not publicly. You were two different people and you never wanted to complicate things well more like he never wanted to.

Eddie knew how much effort you put into the things you did and he didn't want that to be ignored just because you were dating the freak but he was now tired.

Tired of watching you at school from the sidelines, tired ever never going on real dates, tired of hiding.

He didn't want to hide you and he knew you didn't want to hide him so he wasn't going to force you to.

"I'll be right back" Eddie raised his hand cutting off whatever Dustin was saying rising from his seat on the bleachers. The group watched their friend wondering what the hell was so important.

"What's he doing?" Mike asked as Eddie jogged his way towards you.

"Hey sweetheart" he smiled shoving his hands in his pockets nervously. He didn't know how you were going to react to him just running up on you but he was pleasantly surprised when you smiled back "Hi Eddie"

Eddie was sure people were staring at the two of you as he took a step towards you now in your personal space "You come to bother me loverboy?" You teased in a soft whisper raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled "Maybe" his eyes ran over your face before letting out a low hum looking down.

"Or maybe I just noticed my girl's shoe was untied" You looked down at your untied shoe rolling your eyes "You're a dick" you said playfully about to bend down to tie your shoes when Eddie dropped down on his knees in front of you.

Your eyes widened as his fingers carefully grabbing your white shoelaces his eyes dragging back up towards yours. "I got it though" You didn't know why but this moment felt way too intimate. Your heart was beating heavy in your chest as he began to tie your shoe humming softly.

Your eyes ran over the class around you, it felt as if all eyes were on the two of you.

The freak Eddie Munson had just got down on his knees to tie the head cheerleader's sneakers.

Oh, people were definitely looking and you didn't have to ask to know this is exactly what Eddie wanted.

You looked back down at it as he successfully finished tying your shoe "Bunny ears" he commented flicking one of the loops.

He patted your shoe staring up at you "You look worried sweetheart" his hand slid to the back of your calf pulling your leg closer placing a kiss on your knee before standing up "I changed my mind about wanting to hide us" he said his eyes flickering down to your lips.

"I need everyone to know you're my girl" he bit his lip before sliding his hand to the back of your neck pulling you so your lips were against his.

And in Eddie's mind, it was just you and him in an empty room just loving each other but in reality the two of you were in a gym class filled with shocked students because never in a million years had they thought Y/N Y/L/N would choose Eddie fucking Munson.

[loveangelic69]

Read all of this so fast ! It’s so good

DANCING WITH MYSELF: MASTERPOST

MAIN STORY

Summary: Eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, Chrissy Cunningham. Instead, he spends the night stuck in the women's restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music Parts: 10/10 Word Count: 43,565

EPILOGUE - Part I & Part II

Summary: After leaving prom, you and Eddie go to The Hideout to reminisce and listen to music. One thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer. Two-part story.

BONUS CONTENT

Pillow Talk - "Post Prom" bonus chapter

The Morning After - a deleted scene from "Post Prom" [unedited]

Out of the Loop - Eddie went home with someone after prom, and Gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

Bad Omens - [middle school fic] After experiencing the most unlucky morning of his life, Eddie is convinced that doom is on the horizon. All his friends think he's just being paranoid, but then Jeff receives an unexpected request from you, Eddie's little harbinger of misfortune.

The Shrieking Queen's Catacombs - a collection of fics set during the summer of 1980 — Session 1

MORE COMING SOON!

▶️ PLAYLIST: SPOTIFY

💭 FUTURE FIC LIST [GOOGLE DOC]

[loveangelic69]

THE SHRIEKING QUEEN'S CATACOMBS

— Session 1: Friday, May 23, 1980

summary: on the first day of scott sloman's infamous summer D&D campaign, you're excited to showcase your original character and sorely disappointed by eddie's lack of creativity. you promised chrissy you would be nice to eddie this summer, but...

seriously, that's the best you could come up with, munson?

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 8,450 warnings: middle school; young!eddie; insecure!eddie; secret crushes; the unnamed freak is named grant in this series; inaccurate d&d gameplay; seriously, I'm taking a lot of creative liberties here; eddie has a tiny crush on chrissy

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

“Okay, should we go over the rules one more time?”

“No… I think I got ‘em down pretty well.”  

“Let’s go over them one more time.”  

Chrissy Cunningham paced the floor of her bedroom with an authoritative stride, her arms folded neatly behind her back, chin held proudly in the air. Standing at only five-foot-one, she looked like an adorable little drill sergeant… until she looked over at you, sitting on her bed with your chest puffed out and hand raised in mock salute; then her composure shattered and she reverted back to her goofy, giggling, eleven-year-old self. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said. 

“What? I’m showing you respect.” 

Chrissy raised her eyebrows in friendly disapproval. “Stop,” she said. “We need to be serious.” So she donned an expression of stern command and resumed her stride. “Okay, repeat after me: I will not be mean to Eddie.”  

“I will not be mean to Eddie.”  

“I will not mock him.”  

“I will not mock him.”  

“I will not tease him.”  

“I will not tease him.”  

“I will not call him names.”  

“I will not call him names.”  

“I will laugh only when it’s appropriate, and in a good-hearted manner.”  

“Wait, how are we defining appropriate?”  

“Just repeat it, please.”  

You sighed in surrender and echoed your best friend’s words dutifully: “I will laugh only when it’s appropriate, and in a good-hearted manner… even though I don’t really know what that means.” 

Chrissy shot you a strict glare and continued: “I will not let my anxiety make me forget rules one through five.”  

“I will not let my anxiety make me forget rules one through five.”  

Chrissy stopped in front of you, put her hands on your knees, and smiled warmly. “I’m gonna have fun this summer.”

“I’m gonna have fun this summer.” 

“I’m gonna show Eddie what a smart, creative, and wonderful person I am.” 

“Well…” You looked away, embarrassed. 

“Come on, say it.” Chrissy started shaking your knees gently. “C’mom, c’mon, you gotta say it.” 

Her words made you squirm a little. Timidly, you looked at her and said in a bashful voice, “I’m gonna show Eddie what a smart, creative, and wonderful person I am.” 

“Because you are.” 

“… Because I am.” 

Her smile grew. “Good!” She drummed her hands on your knees and stepped away from you. While rifling through her desk drawers, she said, “So what game are you playing exactly? Is it like a board game or something?”

“Uh, no… it’s like this fantasy roleplaying game. I don’t really know how to describe it.” 

“But you know how to play it, right?” 

“Yeah, for the most part.” 

“For the most part?” Now Chrissy sounded worried. “I thought you had been practicing. Isn’t that what you spent the last two weeks doing?”

“Well, yeah… but it’s a surprisingly complicated game.” 

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“No, I totally was, I promise.” You had put in the time and the effort. Every day after school, you rushed home, hopped on your bike, and peddled down the street to the Wheeler house. You sat in that stuffy, smelly basement for two hours while a group of third-grade boys explained all the rules and then bickered over said rules. “There was just a lot of information being thrown at me in a short period of time. And I guess not everyone plays the game the same way, either, so even if I learned how they play the game, I still might not know how they will play the game, so… I’m just gonna wing it and hope my creativity saves me. Dustin said I made a pretty cool character for my first try, so…”

“Who?”

“Dustin Henderson. Third-grader. Doesn’t matter. The point is…” 

Mrs. Cunningham poked her head into the room and said brightly, “Chrissy, dear, don’t forget we have to leave in twenty minutes.” Then she saw you and her whole demeanor frosted over. “Oh… I didn’t realize you had company.” 

You had been Chrissy’s best friend for five years and Mrs. Cunningham still referred to you as “company.” It was like she didn’t even see you as a person. You were just this disgusting blob that took up space in her daughter’s life. 

“I just stopped by for a minute,” you told her. “I’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

(But were you, really?)

Mrs. Cunningham lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, smiling at you and restlessly wringing her hands. Before leaving, she tipped her head toward her daughter and said, “Chrissy, stop slouching, dear.”

Chrissy heaved a frustrated sigh. Then she padded across the room and closed her bedroom door. When she turned around, you both said in perfect unison, “Chrissy, stop slouching, dear,” and broke up into giggles. She was still laughing as she hopped onto the bed and sat down cross-legged beside you.

You turned around to face her. “So where are you going in twenty minutes?” 

“Just the salon,” she answered uncaringly. 

“Oh, please tell me you’re not getting a perm like your mother. I’ll hold you down and shave your head if you do.” 

“If she makes me get a perm, I’ll shave my own head. It’s just a trim. She makes me get one every three weeks; otherwise, I’ll get split ends.” 

“Oh, split ends… the scourge of society.” 

“Shut up,” Chrissy said, giving you a playful swat. “Be nice or I won’t give you your present.” 

You perked up. “A present, you say?”

“Mhm.” Chrissy flashed an excited smile, then reached behind her back and pulled out a colorful woven bracelet. “I made this for you.” 

You raised your eyebrow curiously. “Another friendship bracelet?” 

“No, this one’s not a friendship bracelet.” Leaning forward, she carefully tied the bracelet onto your left wrist. Its vibrant color perfectly complemented the other bracelet she had made for you. “This one’s for good luck.” 

You admired the bracelet for a moment, thanked her for making it, then felt your stomach bubble and churn. “Okay, now I’m getting anxious.”

“Don’t be anxious,” Chrissy said. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

But you still weren’t convinced.

“What time is it?” you asked. 

Chrissy looked over her shoulder and glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. “Nine thirty-five.”

“Oh crap,” you said, and got up. “I better get going.” 

You grabbed your backpack off the floor, slung it over your right shoulder, and exited her bedroom. Chrissy followed you downstairs and opened the front door for you.

Before heading out, you turned back with sudden panic and said, “Should we go over the rules one more time?”

Chrissy shook her head. “No, you know the rules. Just be your normal charming, delightful self and you’ll be fine, okay? I promise.” 

She sent you off with a gentle shove, and you went uneasily: down the porch steps, down the cobblestone walkway, and found your bike sitting beside the garage. You put up the kickstand and swung your leg over the seat, but just as you were about to push off, a dreadful thought came to your mind. You replanted your foot and looked up at Chrissy with a worried frown. 

“Hey, what if it doesn’t work?” you asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… what if I do all this and Eddie still hates me?” You shrugged, demoralized. “What then?”

Now Chrissy was frowning, too. “Well, at least you’ll know you gave it your best shot.” 

Four blocks away, Scott Sloman was dressed in his Sunday best and restlessly pacing his basement, which was now pristine thanks to his diligent efforts the day before. 

On that morning, Scottie had woken up early, consumed a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, and French toast (all prepared by his lovely mother, of course; Mrs. Sloman was an excellent cook), pulled on his rubber gloves, went downstairs, and got to work. It took him hours, but it was worth it. Every crumb, every cobweb, every splatter, every stain had been expertly tracked down and eliminated with the toughest chemicals money could buy. Now every surface sparkled radiantly, and the air carried a whimsical, woodsy scent that transported you to the crisp forests of New England—not that Scottie had ever been to New England, but he imagined that’s what its forests smelled like. 

He grabbed the can of EVERGREEN Air Freshener and gave it a vigorous shake.

“Do not spray that again,” Jeff told him. “You’re gonna give us all cancer.” 

“I’ll stop spraying when you guys stop smelling.” 

He pressed down hard on the nozzle and sprayed a thick cloud of EVERGREEN mist into the air. It showered over the table like a light drizzle of rain, getting on everyone’s hair, everyone’s clothes, and speckling the open page of Eddie Munson’s notebook. 

Eddie, who had been tuning everyone out and listening to music on his Walkman, now looked up with bewildered annoyance. “Dude, come on…” He fanned the remaining mist away with his hand and immediately went back to his notes. 

Observing him, Grant said to Jeff, “Damn, Eddie’s really in the zone today.”

It wasn’t exactly unusual for him to be this withdrawn. Eddie Munson took his D&D very seriously—perhaps a bit too seriously, although no one would ever dare tell him that. Before every session, while everyone else joked around and snacked on donuts and muffins (also prepared by Mrs. Sloman), Eddie sat quietly in his chair, the same chair he occupied for every session, and gradually slipped further… and further away. The Walkman, a gift from his uncle for his fourteenth birthday, only accelerated his emotional departure.

But he would return eventually. He always did. 

“You think he’s anxious about her coming?” Grant asked.

Jeff frowned guiltily. “Probably.” 

Beside Grant, Gareth was sharpening his pencil with a small metal pocket sharpener. From the look on his face, you would have thought he was honing a warblade. 

“He’s preparing his mind for battle,” Gareth said, his blue eyes burning with a ferocious and frightening intensity. “The enemy draws near. She will soon be at our gates.” He withdrew his pencil and blew fiercely on the pointed tip. “We must be ready to meet her.”

Jeff and Grant rolled their eyes. It was way too early in the morning for this. 

“She’s not the enemy,” Jeff said.

“Well, you’re a traitor,” Gareth replied. “Yeah, Eddie told me you’re the one who invited her, you Judas.”

“What? Oh c’mon, man, don’t start that now.” 

“How’d she do it?” Gareth asked. “Did she blackmail you? Bribe you? I didn’t realize your loyalty could be so easily bought, Jeff.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” 

Grant, ever the rational one, said, “Ignore him. Gareth’s just mad she beat him in the spelling bee last year.”

And that’s when Gareth fired back with unseemly anger: “She did not beat me in the spelling bee! That whole competition was rigged right from the start. Every round, she got the easiest words while I got stuck with all the hard ones. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I’m telling you, the whole thing was a sham!”

Jeff and Grant exchanged an amused glance. “My mistake,” Grant said while Jeff snickered. “Clearly you’ve moved on from this.” 

Gareth waved him off. “Oh shut up, Grant. Look, this is about way more than a spelling bee, okay? That girl is a heartless, horrible devil-woman. I will not break bread with her. I will not fight alongside her on the battlefield. I won’t, I won’t, and neither will Eddie.” Gareth clapped Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Right, Eddie?”

The older boy flinched, looked up, and pulled the left speaker box away from his ear. “What?”

“We’re standing together, right? Against our common enemy?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

And now Scott Sloman had heard enough. “Are you guys even listening to me? Come on, this is a huge moment for us… for me, especially. I need you all to be on your best behavior today. No burping. No farting. Sit up straight and keep your elbows off the table, gentlemen. Today, we have a young lady gracing our party.” 

Gareth sneered. “She’s no lady. She’s a hellbeast.”  

Scottie slammed his fist on the table. “See, this is the kinda shit I’m talking about! You psychos are gonna scare her off before she even—” He saw that Eddie had already put his headphones back on, an act of subtle but profound defiance. Scottie’s jaw dropped. “Eddie… Eddie… Hey, Eddie, I’m talking here.” 

“Leave him alone,” Jeff said. “He’s getting into character.” 

Scottie scoffed at that. “Oh please… Eddie uses the same character for every campaign. If he doesn’t know his character by now, he never will.” 

He snatched the Walkman off the table and yanked it away, viciously ripping the headphone jack from the plug. 

Eddie’s head jerked up in startled surprise. “Dude, what the fuck—” 

“I’m doing this for your own good, Eddie. It’s about time you learn how to socialize with the fairer sex.”

Eddie glared at him, exasperated. “I know how to talk to girls.” 

“Really?” Scottie shot him a dubious look. “Okay, Eddie… how many words have you said to that cheerleader you think’s so cute?” 

“Zero,” Grant answered for him. “He’s said zero words to her.”  

Eddie just sighed miserably. “Can I have my Walkman back, please?”  

“No, Eddie, you can’t,” and Scottie set the cassette player on the shelf behind him. “See, this is exactly my point, you guys. We have a huge opportunity here. A girl is coming to play D&D with us. And not just any girl. One of the popular girls! Do you guys understand what this means? If we play our cards right, maybe she’ll start bringing her friends. Her popular friends. Her pretty friends.” 

“Is that what you think’s gonna happen?” Jeff asked. “You think a bunch of cheerleaders are gonna wanna play D&D with you?” 

Scottie shrugged and said in a waning voice, “Well, you never know…”  

Eddie put his head in his hands. “I knew this was gonna happen. I knew this was gonna happen. She’s not even here yet and she’s already ruining the game.” 

“Hey, where is she, anyway?” Grant said. “It’s already after ten. Are we sure she’s even gonna show?” 

“She probably won’t,” said Gareth. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied and smug. “Yeah, I bet she chickened out like the coward she is. Screw her, I say we start without her.”  

“We’re not starting without her,” Jeff said. “Look, she’ll be here, okay?”

“Spoken like a true traitor.” 

“Dude, stop calling me a—” 

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed. The sound echoed over their heads like a distant warhorn on a cold, fog-covered battlefield. Gareth reached for his newly sharpened pencil and held it like a knife. 

“She’s here.”

You stood on the front porch with your backpack hooked on your shoulder and your arms crossed tightly in front of you, shivering uncontrollably in the sunny, seventy-nine-degree weather. 

Almost a minute had passed and nobody was answering the door. This made your stomach flutter nervously. You looked around and wondered if perhaps you were at the wrong house, (and wouldn’t that be lucky? Oh well, looks like I better give up and go home…) but you weren’t. The number displayed beside the door matched the address Scottie had given you. This was Scott Sloman’s house. You were at the right place. And now you had no excuse to leave. 

You stepped forward and—oh, how your hand trembled!—rang the doorbell again. The sound made your heart jump in panic. It started bucking wildly in your chest, desperate to break out of your ribcage and escape. Excuse or no excuse, you wanted to get the hell outta there!

“Calm down,” you kept telling yourself. “Calm down. Calm down. You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be…”

(But what if it doesn’t work?)

“… fine,” you whispered, except now you only half believed it, and that half wasn’t strong enough to keep your feet on the porch.  

You shuffled back a step, then another, looked over your shoulder, and stared longingly down the street.

From here, the road seemed so endless, so… tempting. You could see yourself on that road, on your bike, peddling fast and far away. Back to your house. Back to your bedroom. Lying on your bed, opening your favorite book, and escaping into a safe, snug little world. You could spend hours hiding in there. It would be perfect. Then, eventually, you would have to face Chrissy. She would be a little frustrated and disappointed with you, but she would probably forgive you in a day or two. Chrissy was compassionate like that.

Yeah, Chrissy would forgive you. She would forgive you, and hug you, and tell you that everything would be okay. 

Okay… 

Okay… 

Okay, I’ll just go home then. It’s probably for the best, anyway. 

You fled down the stairs and ran to your bike. It was sitting on the front lawn with everyone else’s, Jeff’s standing upright on its kickstand, the others lying on their sides in the grass, their painted steel frames glimmering in the sunlight… all but one, anyway; one was too dull to properly catch the light. You had recognized Eddie’s bike as soon as you arrived at the house. His stood out because the frame was oddly bent and most of the paint had been scratched off. It was an old bike, purchased secondhand from secondhand at a yard sale two years ago. To you, it might as well have been brand new.

“He’s here,” you whispered, and felt your face get delightfully warm. 

Eddie was here, he was here, finally within reach. All you had to do was walk through that door. 

Excitement swept through you, girlish and unaffected, and now you were smiling ridiculously to yourself, all your fears forgotten… for now, anyway. You pressed your palms to your overheated cheeks and thought, This is my chance. This is my only chance. 

Nervous as you were, terrified as you were, you had to see this through. 

Determination burned inside you. You stepped away from your bike and—  

“Hey, you made it!” Scott Sloman was standing on his front porch with his hand raised high in a friendly wave. He frowned when he saw that you were beside your bike. “Where are you going?” 

You looked at your bike, then back at Scottie. “Oh, well… I was just, uh…” You forced a laugh and feigned embarrassment. “I'm so stupid, I thought I was at the wrong house for a second.”    

“Oh…” Scottie’s face brightened instantly. He laughed along with you. “Nope, you found us just fine. C’mon inside, everyone’s waiting for you.”  

Everyone? you thought for a second, hopeful, but then you realized that probably wasn’t true. Eddie wasn’t waiting for you. He wasn’t eager to see you. He didn’t want you there at all. But that was okay. 

You took a deep breath and started walking toward the house, Chrissy’s good luck bracelet dangling from your wrist. 

All right, I’ve got a huge uphill battle ahead of me. Now I’m probably gonna fail miserably, but… at least I’ll know I gave it my best shot. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said to Scottie. He was leading you through the house to the basement, where everyone else was waiting… where Eddie was waiting. You could hardly believe this was happening. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Scottie replied sheepishly. He was feeling a little awkward after his earlier faux pas at the front door. When you walked in, Scottie greeted you with this dramatic, over-the-top gentleman’s bow. Unable to hide your discomfort, you grimaced and drew away from him. Scottie’s face turned beet red. He said, That was really weird, wasn’t it? And you replied, Yeah, it was. Please don’t ever do that again. Now Scottie felt a little self-conscious around you. He could barely look you in the eye without blushing.      

“Of course,” he went on, “if it happens again, I’ll have no choice but to imprison you.”

That caught you off guard. You almost tripped over your own foot. “Wait, what?”  

Scottie’s eyes widened. His face flushed a deep pink. “Oh, your character, not you. Sorry, that sounded a lot creepier than I intended. Yeah, usually when someone’s late I punish them by having their character ambushed early in the game and thrown into some sorta prison. Then they have to find a way to escape on their own. It sounds really cruel, but it’s actually a lotta fun. Like last year, Gareth was late and I threw his character into the fighting pits and he had to fight for his freedom. He didn’t make it out, though.” Scottie laughed to himself, remembering. “Yeah, Gareth dies a lot in the game. You’ll see. His deaths are pretty legendary… Oh, hey, that reminds me, have you made a character yet? It’s no big deal if you haven’t. We can help you make one today.”  

“Thanks,” you said, “but I already made one.”  

“Oh, sweet, awesome. Wait, you didn’t make a magic-user, did you?” 

You shook your head. All those spells seemed too complicated to you. 

“Okay, good. I only ask ‘cause we try to keep the party as balanced as possible; otherwise, the story really suffers. Plus Eddie’s kind of our resident spellcaster, and he really hates it when people use the same class as him. He’s pretty weird about it, actually. But then again, Eddie’s pretty weird about everything. I don’t think I need to tell you that, though.”  

You smirked, understanding. “Yeah, sounds like Eddie’s a big baby.”  

(Shit, was that mean?)

Scottie looked at you in surprise. His face broke into a huge grin. “I am so glad you’re here,” he said, chuckling. Then he walked through the kitchen and opened the basement door for you. “Ladies first,” he said, and you moved past him and slowly began your descent. 

For as long as you lived, you would never forget that walk downstairs. You could recall every detail perfectly. The way the wooden railing felt under your fingers—smooth yet rough in certain places. The way the steps creaked as you put your weight on them. The hushed voices that emerged from below: Gareth’s, Jeff’s, Grant’s… Eddie’s. The scent of pine, pungent and overwhelming. It smacked you in the face as soon as you took your first step, and it only got stronger the further you went. It was such a strange smell. Initially, it made you think of those little tree air fresheners that everyone hung in their cars. Now it only made you think of that basement, that weirdly clean basement, and the first time you saw Eddie sitting at the table.

His dark brown eyes found you instantly, but they didn’t look at you—they didn’t see you—not really. Like always, his eyes just sort of hovered on you for a second and then darted away. Eddie was always running away from you. It was hard not to feel a little disheartened after that. 

So this is how it begins, huh? Wonderful. 

You found your seat next to Jeff and sat down. He turned to you with a smile. 

“Cutting it pretty close there, huh?” He was laughing, but you could hear the concern in his voice. “For a second, I seriously thought you were gonna bail.” 

“Honestly, I almost did,” you confessed quietly, keeping your head low and your hand cupped over your mouth. “I’m kinda freaking out here, Jeff.” 

Being seated directly across from Eddie certainly didn’t help. How were you supposed to keep your composure with him so close? The second he made eye contact with you—if he ever made eye contact with you—you were gonna blow like a geyser, like Old Faithful, and there was no telling what kind of scorching hot insults were gonna come spewing out of your mouth. You could already feel them bubbling inside you, dangerous and unpredictable. You were a powder keg of emotions right now. One good spark and, boom, you were gonna explode. Oh, this is gonna be bad. 

Jeff nudged your arm gently with his elbow. It disarmed you a little. “Relax,” he said. “You’ve got this, okay? Just, you know…” 

“Be nice,” you said. “Yeah, I know.”  

Jeff’s eyes softened. “I was gonna say be yourself,” he said. 

But what if “yourself” wasn’t all that great? 

Taking his words to heart, you leaned over and smiled at Grant, ignoring the image of Eddie that haunted the outermost edge of your vision. He wasn’t looking at you, anyway. 

“Hey, Grant.”  

“Hello,” Grant replied neutrally.

“I heard you got a perfect score on your English final. Very impressive, sir.”  

Grant shrugged modestly. Perfect scores didn’t excite him as much as they used to. “How’d you do?” he asked. “You usually test pretty well, don’t you?” 

“Eh, well enough,” you said, still very aware of Eddie’s presence. You were dying to have him look at you. Actually, you would have died if he looked at you. “I got all the multiple-choice questions right, but by the time I got to the final essay, I just really wanted to go home, you know? It was my last test of the day. My grade was pretty much set. I wasn’t in the mood to write this long, boring essay, so… yeah, I kinda half-assed it. Oh well. Still got an A.”

“God, you are so full of yourself,” Gareth said. His voice was acidic and dripping with disdain. 

Unbothered, you faced him with a smile. “What’s up, Gareth? Long time no see. How are you doing?”

“Stupendous,” he blurted out with a fierceness that was borderline comical. Boy, if you weren’t trying so hard to be on your best behavior right now, you would have had some colorful words for him… words he probably couldn’t spell.  

Smirking, you said, “So did your mommy pack you a juice box?”

Gareth scoffed. “Did your mommy pack you a…?” He closed his mouth, grabbed his sharpened pencil, and started violently hammering the tip into his notebook: WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Your eyes widened with surprised glee. Then you turned to Eddie and all your confidence splintered like Gareth’s poor pencil. 

Just say something to him. 

Say something.

Anything! 

Hey, Eddie, how’d your finals go? Are you excited for high school next year? I’m not. It’s gonna be the worst day of my life. I dunno how I’m gonna survive two years without you. In fact, I’ll probably cry every day. Please look at me. I’d give anything to have you look at me. You’re the weirdest, most fascinating person I’ve ever met in my life. I’m obsessed with you. I think I might even be in love with you. 

Shit. 

All of a sudden, your face felt unbearably hot. You hid it before anyone else could see and started digging through your backpack, pulling out all of your supplies and stacking them on the table in front of you: a leftover notebook from school, a purple folder containing your character sheet, a few pencils, an eraser, a slightly worn, dog-eared copy of The Players Handbook, and a small drawstring bag of dice. You grabbed that last and tossed it on top of your pile. When you sat up again, you found five pairs of eyes staring at you… including Eddie’s, which were suspicious but also curious. You didn’t know whether to be delighted or offended. 

You went with offended. 

“What?” you snapped, causing everyone to immediately look away. It was an instinctive reaction on your part. You didn’t like people staring at you. 

A voice spoke from your left. “The lady comes prepared,” Scottie said, smiling at you from behind his screen. 

“Huh?” 

“Eddie said you weren’t gonna be prepared.” 

Eddie jumped as if struck from the side. “What? I didn’t say that.” 

“Yes, you did,” Scottie told him. “You said exactly that. You said she wasn’t gonna be prepared and we were gonna have to let her borrow our stuff. Isn’t that what he said, Grant?”

“Yes, it is. That’s exactly what he said.” 

Eddie looked around, dumbstruck. Then he slumped back into his chair like a sullen child. “Hey, where’d you get all that stuff, anyway?” he asked, mumbling the words into the table.  

It took a second for you to realize Eddie was speaking to you. As soon as it clicked, your whole body froze with panic. “Umm, I borrowed it…?” 

“From who?”

“From whom,” Grant corrected, and Eddie just rolled his eyes. 

You crossed your arms protectively over your chest. You should have been happy that Eddie was talking to you. No, you should have been thrilled that Eddie was talking to you. Yeah, you should have been doing cartwheels and somersaults and sobbing with pure joy, but for some reason you weren’t—you couldn’t—because there was something in his tone that really rubbed you the wrong way. Already, you feel your claws coming out and digging into your bicep. 

“Are you seriously interrogating me right now?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, almost swallowing the word. “I’m not interrogating you, I’m just… I’m just curious who loaned you all that stuff, that’s all.”

“What difference does it make to you?” 

“It doesn’t make any difference. I’m just asking you a question.”  

“Well, you’re coming off pretty aggressive right now.” 

“She’s right,” Scottie said. “You are acting a little aggressive, Eddie.”

That, of course, was when Gareth decided to tag in. “What?” he cried. “He’s not being aggressive. She’s the one being aggressive!”

Grant said, “Honestly, you’re all being a little aggressive right now.” 

“Hey, Eddie’s the only one yelling here.” 

“I’m not yelling. I’m defending myself!” 

“You sure?” you said. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re yelling.” 

To your right, Jeff was rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Stop it,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Wait, why are you telling me to stop? He’s the one acting like an asshole!” 

Eddie’s face turned bright red. He threw up his hands and shouted, “How am I being an asshole? I’m asking a perfectly valid question and you’re biting my head off for no reason. Seriously, am I the only one hearing this? Oh my god, I feel like I’m going crazy right now!” His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “I… I just… I… I… I give up. I give up.” He fell back into his seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep, deep breath, nostrils flaring as he released all of his tension. “Can we just start the game, please?”

“Yes,” Scottie took over. “Yeah, let’s get started.” 

Your heart was pounding as you settled back into your chair. What the hell just happened? you thought, mortified. You felt like you had woken up to the aftermath of a violent massacre and discovered blood all over your hands. 

Across from you, Eddie was sitting with his forehead propped on his fist, still steaming from your brief but catastrophic interaction. Next to him, Gareth was glaring at you while he savagely sharpened his other pencil.  

“You proud of yourself?” Jeff asked. 

“Nope,” you said. “No, I’m not.” 

Scottie stood up and clapped his hands together. “Okay,” he said excitedly, “now that we’ve all had a chance to collect ourselves, I’d like to officially welcome everyone to The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs, my third annual summer campaign. Welcome, everyone.” 

Grant started rubbing his chin skeptically. “The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs… so that’s the name you went with, huh?” 

“You don’t like it?”  

“It’s not your best.”  

“Goddammit,” Scottie said under his breath, but he shook it off and carried on. “All right, whatever. We have a new player with us today! Welcome, Y/N, we’re all very excited to have you here.”  

“Speak for yourself,” Gareth muttered, and Scottie shot him a venomous glare that said, I will destroy you!

Then he turned back to you with a smile. “Since you’re still new to the game, I don’t want you to feel nervous or anything, okay? There’s no pressure here, seriously. We’re all a bunch of idiots, especially Gareth. So feel free to stop and ask questions whenever you need to. Take your time. Make mistakes. Make twenty mistakes. We don’t care. All that matters is that you have fun. All right?” 

Gareth leaned over and whispered to Grant, “Dude, why is he being so nice?” 

“Cheerleaders,” Grant replied. “Because of cheerleaders.”  

Gareth groaned and sat back. “Man, this summer’s gonna suck.” 

Scottie went on talking: “All right, before we officially begin, how about we go around the room and introduce our characters a little bit? Normally we would incorporate this into the beginning of the story, but I don’t wanna overwhelm you on your first day, so let’s just keep it casual and have a fun little meet and greet.”  

“What?” Eddie said. “Why are we doing a meet and greet? Just start the damn game.” 

“Eddie, I’m trying to ease her into it. I want her to feel comfortable.”  

Honestly, none of this was making you feel very comfortable, but after what happened earlier, you decided it was better to keep your mouth shut.

“Well, what about the rest of us?” Eddie said. “I don’t feel comfortable with this.”  

“Well, Eddie, you never feel comfortable. You’re uncomfortable in your own damn skin. Now shut up and stop undermining me!” Exhausted, Scottie turned away from him and said, “Jeff, how ‘bout you start? You’re the least problematic person here.”

“What am I doing?” Jeff asked. 

“Just introduce your character.” 

“Yeah, but you guys already know my character. What am I supposed to say?”

“Just say anything! My god, you guys make everything so damn difficult.” 

Jeff’s hands flew up defensively. “Okay, okay, jeez… I feel like I’m giving a book report. Umm, what should I say? I’m playing as Jaheem Evenstar. He’s a level six cleric, born into the church of Selûne—that’s the goddess of the moon, for the uneducated.” Jeff playfully elbowed you in the side as he said this. “He wears purple robes, silver-plated armor, and has a circle of seven silver stars tattooed on his forehead. The nature of his birth is surrounded by scandal, secrecy, and shame. His mother died on the birthing bed and her dying wish was that her son be raised in the temple. Being one of few males in a female-dominated religion, Jaheem spent most of his life feeling ostracized and is determined to prove his worth. At night, you’ll often him sitting under the moon and the stars. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the temple, so he’s a little naive in the ways of the world. Cities pose a special challenge for him because he’s easily tempted by vices.”

“Oh…” you said, grinning. “Looks like Jaheem needs to stay away from the brothels.” 

Everybody (except Eddie) laughed. Jeff’s ears flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said.  

“Oh, I think it is,” you replied, giggling. “Your character is a man born into a religion full of beautiful women? I see what you’re doing, Jeff.” 

By now, everyone except Eddie (Why wasn’t he laughing?) was in stitches. Jeff had both hands over his face as he wheezed. “Okay, I’m creating a new character now.” He pretended to crumple up his character sheet and throw it over his shoulder.  

Then Grant took his turn. “All right, I’m playing as General Gudrun Havenbrooke, former commander of The Last Legion. He’s a fighter, obviously, also level six. He’s an expert in two-weapon fighting and possesses a vast knowledge of swordsmanship and battle tactics. During his service in the military, he led countless victorious battles but remains haunted by his one crushing defeat. This is reflected in his wardrobe, as he still wears the same dented armor from that ill-fated battle, and his cloak is stained with the blood of his lost comrades. He keeps fighting because it’s the only way to appease his ghosts, and he drinks heavily after every battle because it’s the only way he can sleep.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. “Damn,” you said, awestruck, “you guys are hardcore.” 

That's when Eddie decided to interject like a referee on a basketball court. “Hey, you can’t do that,” he said. “You can’t make fun of other players’ characters.” 

Stunned (and a little irritated), you said, “I’m not making fun. I’m impressed,” but Eddie didn’t seem to believe you. His eyes remained guarded and untrusting. 

Was there no winning with this guy? 

Next, Scottie turned to Gareth. “All right, buddy, you’re up.” 

“Me?” Gareth blushed deeply, an uncharacteristically boyish gesture. “Umm, okay! My character is Brumnur Wildrock. He’s a dwarf and a master bladesmith. In fact, many of you are using his blades right now. As a bladesmith, he has a fondness for all weapons, but axes and hammers are his preferred tools. He fights to test the strength of his weapons, and he has yet to meet a worthy opponent. Brumnur is headstrong, battle-hungry, and easily provoked to violence.”  

“So basically you made yourself,” you said, snickering. 

Eddie shot you an annoyed look. 

What? you thought, secretly loving all the attention he was giving you. Come on, that was perfectly harmless…

Behind his screen, Scottie raised his eyebrows tauntingly. “So what level are you, Gareth?”   

“Level one,” Gareth answered, a little ashamed.  

“Why are you only level one, man?” 

Gareth sighed. “Because I had to make a new character.”  

“And why did you have to make a new character?” Scottie put his fist over his mouth in an attempt to control his laughter. Jeff and Grant weren’t so successful.   

“Because I died,” Gareth said, seeming oddly proud of this morbid feat. Then he started to laugh himself.   

“How’d you die?” you asked, enthralled. 

Gareth sliced his hand across his neck.

“Oh my god, you got decapitated?” 

“Yeah,” Gareth said, positively beaming with self-satisfaction. “It was so awesome. My body moved on its own for another turn and killed two more monsters.” 

(“He didn’t, really,” Scottie would later tell you. “We just said he did to make him feel better.”)

You sat back and smiled, amazed by everyone’s creativity. “Wow, what a motley crew. We have a bloodthirsty dwarf, a disgraced war general, and a lecherous priest. Yeah, this campaign’s gonna be fun.” 

Eddie lashed out angrily: “Oh, would you stop already?”  

“What?” you said, startled. You were glad for his attention, sure, but all this needless aggression was really starting to grate on you. Could he not recognize your effort? Was that too much to ask? I’m trying to be nice here, Munson, but you're making it really fricken difficult! 

And now he was doubling down. “You’re being facetious,” he said. 

“Facetious,” Gareth began suddenly, completely unprompted. “F-E-C-E-T-I-U-S, facetious.” 

“Not even close,” said Grant, and Gareth smashed down his fist in defeat.

Ignoring them, you glared directly at Eddie. “I’m not being facetious. I’m just having a little fun. You know what fun is, right? That’s what normal people do when they’re playing a game. They laugh. They joke around. They have fun. Maybe you should take that giant stick out of your ass and you'll have fun too, you self-righteous prick.”   

(Now that was mean. Yeah, you definitely took a few steps back with that comment)

(right off a cliff)  

God dammit, you thought, feeling utterly defeated. If you weren’t surrounded by so many people, you would have been crying right now. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You didn’t know why Eddie was attacking you so viciously every time you opened your mouth. 

Shit, maybe he just hated you. 

(Could you blame him?)

Scottie’s voice cut through the silence: “All right, Eddie, you’re up, man.” 

By now, Eddie had completely withdrawn into himself. He sat hunched over in his chair with his palm pressed against his mouth, looking more and more like he wanted to leave. “I don’t wanna go,” he said. 

Scottie breathed an aggravated sigh. “C’mon, dude, everyone has to go.”  

“Well, I don’t want to,” Eddie said, and you knew it was all your fault.    

Guilt turned in your stomach. Timidly, you raised your hand. “I’ll go,” you said. 

Anxious as you were, you figured it was the least you could do. 

You pulled out your character sheet. “Umm… okay, I’m playing as Elaria Quint. That’s not her real name, it’s just her most recent identity. Nobody knows Elaria’s real name. Honestly, I don’t even think she knows anymore.” You laughed a little as you said this. That wasn’t something you had originally written on your sheet, but it seemed to fit in a strange way. Clearing your throat, you continued: “Um, Elaria’s a thief and a con artist. She moves from city to city, from scheme to scheme, never really settling anywhere. Having spent her entire childhood in poverty, Elaria dreams of living a life of luxury, and she came really close once. Unfortunately, she was betrayed by her old partner and mentor, and he took every penny she ever stole, so now she knows better than to trust anyone. To be clear, Elaria’s in this solely for the money. She doesn’t care about anything else. She’ll use you until she doesn’t need you anymore, and if the moment should ever come, she’ll have no problem betraying each and every one of you. You’re all disposable to her.” 

“So basically you made yourself,” Eddie muttered spitefully. 

He thought you hadn’t heard him, but you did. 

Okay, you thought, wounded, I guess I deserved that. 

Beside you, Scottie was eagerly rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit, I love it! This campaign’s gonna be pure chaos, and I can’t wait to get started.” He made a motion toward Eddie. “Hurry up, Munson, introduce your character so we can start.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie said again, and that was Scottie’s last straw. 

He squeezed his hands into tight fists and yelled, “Oh my god, would you just go already! You know, the more you put this off the more time you waste, and you’re the one who was dying to get to the game, so… god, just fucking go.”

Scottie’s outburst made everyone flinch and go quiet. Eddie looked like he wanted to disappear. 

“Fine,” he said bitterly. He opened his binder, flipped to his character sheet, and started reading directly from the page, his voice flat and listless. He might as well have been reading from a textbook. “Uhh… my character is a level fourteen spellcaster named Castinus. He was born into a disgraced noble house that has since fallen into ruin. His father was once a well-respected wizard, but his quest for knowledge and power drove him to madness. One day, he mercilessly slaughtered everyone in the castle as well as the neighboring village. Only Castinus survived the attack. As he lay dying, he made a pact with a powerful demon. As a result, he was granted great power but lost his humanity.” Eddie shrugged and pushed his binder away.

You looked around the room, beside yourself with disappointment. “Wait, that’s it? That’s all you could come up with, Munson?”

Your comment was punctuated with a moment of surprised silence, as if an ancient taboo had just been broken. Everybody’s jaws dropped. Eddie’s eyes widened in baffled hurt.

Oh my god, stop talking, you thought. Stop talking right now. 

And yet you kept going. Like an idiot, you kept going.  

“So let me get this straight, Munson: your character is a spellcaster named Castinus. Castinus, the spellcaster.” You cringed out of sheer frustration. “God, you didn’t reach very far for that one, did you?”

Gareth dropped his pencil. 

“Oh shit,” said Grant. 

Meanwhile, Jeff was giving you a pleading look. “What are you doing?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know,” you said, sickened and ashamed of yourself. 

You put your head in your hands and tried to squeeze some sense into yourself, but it just wasn’t working. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t coming out right. I swear, I’m not trying to be mean or anything; I’m just so… so confused. I refuse to believe this is your character, Eddie. I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept it. Come on, a spellcaster named Castinus? A son getting vengeance on his evil dad? It’s just so unrealized and uninspired. I mean, my god, no wonder you sound so bored when you’re talking about him! Do you even like your character, Eddie? Because it doesn’t sound like you do. In fact, you know what it sounds like to me? It sounds like you started creating a really cool character, but then you hit a wall, gave up, and decided it was good enough. Except it’s not good enough, Eddie. For anyone else, it would be good enough. For me, it would be good enough. But you… I just know you can do so much better than that!”

Finally, you fell silent, panting. Eddie’s eyes narrowed into a hateful glare. 

“You know I can do better than that? You don't even know me!"

You winced at those words. They pierced right through your heart. 

Well, I’m trying to, you wanted to say, but maybe it wasn’t worth it. 

This wasn’t why you came here. You didn’t want to make Eddie hate his favorite game.

Now he was ripping out his character sheet, crumpling it into a ball, and whipping it at the floor. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you here,” he said, and that’s when you realized this was all a huge mistake. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

Quietly, you gathered your things, dumped them into your backpack, and went upstairs.

Scottie sighed heavily. “That wasn’t very gentlemanlike, Eddie.” 

“I know,” Eddie mumbled back, staring at your empty chair. 

How did you know he was struggling with his character?

You only made it as far as the front porch. 

Now you were sitting on top of the stairs, weighed down by guilt, drowning in grief, and fiddling with the rainbow bracelet Chrissy had made for you—the one she had probably spent days working on. What a lovely waste of time that was. 

Sorry, Chris, you thought ruefully, looks like all the luck in the world can’t save me from myself. 

A sad, surrendering sigh escaped your lips. You tried to take the bracelet off, but the strings were tied way too tight. It was as if Chrissy herself was struggling against you. You could practically see her beside you, wrestling against you, glaring at you with those bright blue eyes and urging in that sweet, sweet voice: You said you wouldn’t give up, remember? You pinky promised! Oh, curse Chrissy Cunningham and her annoying, unyielding optimism. Couldn’t she see the game was already over?

Desperate now, you put the bracelet between your teeth and started gnawing at the strands. You were prepared to chew off your own hand if you had to.  

Still, the bracelet wouldn’t budge. It was incredibly stubborn, just like its maker. 

You promised, Chrissy said. 

I lied! you yelled back. I can’t do this, okay? I tried and I failed and

That’s when you heard

“Uhhh…” 

a voice beside you. You turned toward it and saw Eddie standing in the open doorway with a look of bemused horror. You couldn’t imagine what he must have been thinking right now, seeing you sitting with your left arm locked in a tight vise grip, savagely chewing at the inside of your wrist like a coyote trying to escape a hunter’s snare. Why, he probably thought you were an absolute lunatic. 

(Was that better or worse than the Antichrist?)

Shame engulfed you. You spat the bracelet out of your mouth and lowered your wrist to your side. 

“You left your dice,” Eddie said, still a little wary of you. 

“Oh,” you said quietly. You hadn’t realized you’d forgotten it. 

Cautiously, Eddie stepped toward you and dropped the bag into your open palm.

“Thanks,” you said, and put it away.

You figured Eddie would head back inside after that, but he didn’t. Instead, he lingered pensively on the porch for a minute, his body hunched forward slightly, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” he began in a low voice, “for the way I’ve been acting today. I haven’t been very fair to you.” 

Eddie’s apology caught you entirely by surprise. You sat there speechless for a second, blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry for calling your character uninspired,” you said. “That was really mean, and I only kinda meant it… I mean, Castinus is a terrible name, I stand by that completely, but the rest of the character isn’t that bad.” 

“Right…” Eddie raised his eyebrow dubiously, unsure of what to make of your apology.

(if you could even call that an apology)

He sighed and shook his head. “Look, how ‘bout we just start over, okay? Clean slate.”

He leaned forward and extended his hand toward you. Blushing, you drew away from it, your hand instinctively rising to cover your face. 

He wants me to shake his hand? you thought, terrified and astonished. Eddie Munson, the boy who hated you, the boy who was always running away from you, was now standing in front of you and offering you his hand. The sight alone sent your mind into a frenzy. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage. What was going to happen when you…?

“Okay,” you said, and slipped your hand into his. As soon you did, your heart skipped a beat… but then it slowed unexpectedly, falling into this strong, steady rhythm that made you feel strangely, beautifully, at peace.  

Could he feel this too, you wondered? 

No, probably not. 

But when you lifted your eyes, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in Eddie’s stare. Maybe it was the same calm quiet you had experienced. Maybe it was just the sun catching briefly in his eyes. Whatever it was, it was gone before you could really see it. Then his hand disappeared and returned to the pocket of his jeans. 

“C’mon,” Eddie said. He went to the front door and held it open for you. “Let’s head back inside and start the game.” 

Nodding, you grabbed your bag and went with him, but before walking through the door, you stopped and said, “Dustin Henderson.” 

“Huh?”

“You wanted to know who loaned me all that stuff, right? It was Dustin Henderson. He loaned it to me.” You went inside.  

“Oh,” Eddie said as he followed you in. “I have no idea who that is.” 

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[loveangelic69]

Post Prom - “The Morning After”

Summary: A deleted scene from the epilogue of Dancing with Myself. This is unpolished and unedited. I just wanted to share it because I love Wayne. 🥺 Warnings: language Word count: 1,573

Morning arrived a lot faster than you expected, the events of last night fading away like a pleasant dream. You woke up with a slight headache and smelled bacon sizzling on the stove. 

Oh no, you thought, and felt your stomach churn with dread. You sat up on your elbow, expecting to find yourself trapped inside the painted walls of your own bedroom. Instead, you found yourself staring right into the piercing eyes of a frightening, fleshless monster, grinning at you with a mouth full of teeth. A quiet laugh escaped you and you smiled back. It wasn’t a dream. You were in Eddie’s house, in his room, in his bed, wearing his Megadeth shirt. You looked down at it and blushed. Then you felt a warm weight next to you and your blush deepened.

Shyly, you peeked over your shoulder and saw Eddie lying on his side, snoring softly with his face half hidden behind his forearm. He was still wearing the chain on his wrist, but his rings were resting on the nightstand beside him, all but one. He must have forgotten to take that one off. 

A look of wonder consumed your face as you stared at him, your cheeks still burning with excitement. Admittedly, you felt a little silly getting all flustered over something as simple as this. Hours ago, you had this guy’s tongue in your mouth, but this—this totally innocent moment—had you blushing like a schoolgirl flipping through her anatomy book. 

Silly as it was, somehow waking up next to him felt more intimate than anything you did last night. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it. 

Outside, the clatter of dishes brought you crashing back to reality. You were in Eddie’s house, in his room, in his bed, wearing his Megadeth shirt… and his uncle was cooking breakfast for himself in the kitchen!

You slapped your hand over your mouth, smothering a yelp of panic. What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to face him like this? Good morning, sir, I’m the floozy that went home with your nephew last night. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I drank your beer and made a mess of your kitchen. Also, I might’ve ruined your jacket.

Oh shit. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t an option. 

So now the only way out of this mess was through that porch door. It was well within reach, less than ten feet away. If you were really stealthy and really lucky, you could sneak out the door without him noticing you.

Quiet as a thief, as Elaria Quint, your old D&D character (who ironically enough was terrible at sneaking—yeah, her stats were absolute shit), you crept out of bed and searched for your clothes. You found your prom dress draped on the back of Eddie’s desk chair, but your shoes were nowhere to be found. Where had you taken off your shoes? You had them on when you left The Hideout. You had contemplated taking them off when you entered the house, but then you saw that Eddie had kept his on, so you left yours on too because you didn’t want to seem weird. Then they stayed on for most of the night even though they made your feet hurt, until… 

until things got a little heated and you two decided to move to the bedroom. Yeah, that’s when you had taken them off. You had tripped on your heels because you were a little tipsy from the beer (Wow, one can of beer made me tipsy. Damn, I’m such a lightweight), so you slipped them off and tossed them to the side, where they were now: 

on top of the washing machine, 

in the kitchen, 

where Wayne Munson was currently making himself breakfast. 

Fuck it, you thought. I’ll just go barefoot. Yeah, I’ll run out of here like Barney Rubble, I don’t give a shit. Yabba-dabba-no, fuck that, I’m not doing this right now. I’m not taking that walk of shame. No way!

You tip-toed to the door, took a deep breath, and poked your head out into the hallway. The coast was clear. The door was right there. A couple quick steps, a twist and a push, and you were out of there. 

You inched forward, stuck your hand out and… paused. 

What would Eddie think when he woke up and saw his bed empty? Would he think you left because you regretted staying? Would he think you were having second thoughts about him, about your relationship? Would he think you were being flighty and running away again?

He would. You knew he would. And it would absolutely break his heart. 

Oh shit, you thought. You couldn’t do that to him. Well, okay… This is how much I love you, Eddie. I’m taking the hit for you, just like in D&D. And you better save me when you wake up because I am not facing your uncle alone. 

You drew your hand back and—

“You don’t have to sneak around,” Wayne said from the kitchen. “I already know you’re there.” 

You sucked in a startled breath and felt your back straighten in surprise. 

“Oh,” you said. Well, great, I just had a moral debate for nothing. 

You shuffled down the hallway timidly while combing out your bedhair with your fingers. Eddie’s shirt went a little past your hips and his boxers stopped at the middle of your thighs. In hindsight, you should have changed back into your prom dress before leaving his room, but at this point, the jig was already up, wasn’t it? You could’ve been wearing a nun’s habit and he still would’ve made the same assumption about you. 

“Hi,” you said with a nervous tremble in your voice, “I’m Y/N…” 

“Hello,” Wayne replied with a deep drawl. He was standing in front of the counter in his work clothes, his eyes dull and tired. As soon as they met yours, you blurted out, “Nothing happened!” and he just nodded his head and grunted, “Mhm,” completely unfazed. 

“I noticed you’ve got a lot of mugs,” you said, gesturing toward them with your hand. “You must drink a lotta coffee.” 

“Mhm,” Wayne said, and raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Bit of a smartass, aren’t you?” 

“Only sometimes,” you said under your breath. 

Wayne’s eyes narrowed as you stepped closer. “I know you.” 

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Pretty sure I just have one of those faces.” 

“No, I do. You were yelling outside my house—pretty loud, too.” 

“Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that was me.” 

“You woke me up.” 

You cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that… Your nephew was being very stubborn.” 

“He does that,” Wayne said. Then he dropped his head and scratched the back of his neck for a few seconds. “Well, are ya hungry? I’ve got some bacon left, and I can cook you up some eggs, if you’d like.” 

Your face broke into a smile. “Sure.” 

“Have a seat,” Wayne said as he went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. You sat down at the table and made yourself comfortable. 

No words were exchanged as Eddie’s uncle fried up some eggs on the hot plate. You sat in your chair and nibbled on crispy slices of bacon. Wayne had his back to you the whole time, letting the pan do the talking for him. The kitchen was silent apart from the quiet sizzle and crackling of hot butter, but not awkwardly so. In fact, it felt rather pleasant… homey, almost. You settled into it and let out a tiny, happy sigh. Then Wayne set down your plate, poured you a hot cup of coffee, and sat down across from you. 

“Thank you,” you said, and broke the sunny yolk with your fork. 

You were halfway through your breakfast when Eddie finally emerged from his bedroom, rubbing his face tiredly, his hair half as messy as yours. 

“G’morning,” he said to his uncle; then he looked at you and said it again, his tone warm and soft. He grabbed a slice of bacon off the table, swiped it through your egg yolk, and ate it while leaning against the counter. 

“I tried to call you last night,” Wayne said to him. “I wanted to see how your night went.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Oh…”  

“You told me to fuck off,” Wayne said, and you blew a huge bubble into your coffee and almost started choking. Wayne looked at you briefly, then went on talking: “Then I tried to call again and you unplugged the damn phone.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I"m very sorry.”

“Mhm,” Wayne said. “Don’t ever do that again, m'kay? What if there was an emergency?” 

You brought the coffee mug back to your lips, simpering. “So irresponsible, Eddie…” and he shot you a playful glare. 

“I take it you had a good night,” Wayne went on, looking at the both of you. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a small smile. “Yeah, it wasn’t half bad…” 

“Well, I’m glad,” Wayne said. Then he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, took a single deep breath. “Now, would you care to explain how my jacket got so damn dirty?” 

You winced and shot Eddie a secret, pleading look. 

“Yes,” Eddie said. “Yes, I can explain everything…” 

As he turned to you, his lips curled into a loving yet vengeful smile. 

“She did it.” 

DWM MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[loveangelic69]

Post Prom - "Pillow Talk"

☆ REWRITTEN WITH ADDITIONAL CONTENT

summary: spending the night at eddie’s house sounded like a good idea… until you actually had to sleep.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 4,968 warnings: new relationship, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of teasing, some suggestive dialogue, reader has a slight hand fetish, eddie is happy to indulge her, they get a little carried away, but no sex, because they don't have condoms

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

When Eddie came inside and returned to his bedroom, he was instantly struck speechless.

He had fantasized about this exact moment countless times, in dreams so vivid they made reality feel like an unending, unbearable nightmare, but that did little to prepare him for the rush of emotions he felt when he saw you standing across the room in his Megadeth shirt.

A very good choice, Eddie thought, gratified, but honestly, between Slayer and Megadeth, there was no wrong answer. You could have chosen either shirt, and it would have fit just as perfectly as the other… almost like they were meant for you, like when Eddie found those shirts hiding inside a cardboard box in Reefer Rick’s garage last summer, when he tried to haggle for a good price and Rick said he could just take ‘em, when Eddie drove home, grinning, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, part of him always knew you’d be wearing one of those shirts someday. 

And this sweet, serendipitous feeling caught Eddie a little off guard… but not as much as he thought it would. Frankly, he expected to be dumbstruck by the sight of you. He expected to step back, shake his head, and think, Holy shit, this is really happening, isn’t it? But when he walked through that door, all he felt was this wonderful sense of wholeness.

After years and years of waiting, you two were finally exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe and observed you for a minute, unwilling to disturb you, afraid that if he spoke or moved in the slightest, this perfect moment would ripple away like a mirage. You were standing with your back to him, preoccupied with all the clutter on his desk. You weren’t snooping, though; no, you were just learning more about him, browsing through all of his junk like they were tiny sculptures in a fine art exhibit, handling each object so carefully, like you were scared you might break it. 

Watching you do this, Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

That’s when you glanced over your shoulder and caught him staring at you with gentle, adoring eyes. Your face flushed and your heart started beating a little faster. It was embarrassing to be standing in front of Eddie while wearing his clothes. 

Even more embarrassing was how long it took you to put them on.

You spent the first three minutes glaring at them from across the room, thinking (and you hated yourself for thinking this), 

What if they don’t fit? 

It was such a silly thought. You even laughed when it popped into your head. You weren’t that ugly, miserable twelve-year-old girl anymore, yet here you were, slipping back into those same bad habits: obsessing over whether or not certain clothes would fit you, changing with your back to the mirror because you were too disgusted to look at yourself.

It took you two whole minutes to convince yourself to turn around, and when you finally did, you were overwhelmed by this sudden surge of… joy? Relief? Those didn’t seem like strong enough words to describe it, but whatever that emotion was, it made you tear up as soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror. Then you spent another five minutes just looking at yourself with the goofiest, giddiest smile, mesmerized by how perfectly Eddie’s clothes fit you, how naturally they fit you. You felt stupid for even doubting it.

Of course, to be standing in front of Eddie now, to have him staring at you so deeply… well, that made you feel self-conscious in a completely different way. 

You had to break his gaze and turn away for a second to regain your composure. As you did, you noticed a plastic skull sitting on top of Eddie’s desk, half covered by an old denim jacket, and your eyes widened with recognition. You picked it up and spun around to face him.

“You know, sir,” you said while smugly showing off your latest find, “there’s a production of Hamlet that’s been missing this for about three months now.”

“Yeah…” Eddie replied guiltily, holding in a laugh. “But it’s not technically stealing. Mr. Carlson and I have an agreement, you see. He agrees to let me raid his prop room for my campaigns, and I agree to not crash his dress rehearsals.” He punctuated this with a self-amused grin, like he was so terribly clever.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Just admit you wanna be in theater, already.”

He returned your teasing smile with one of his own. “Pretty sure I just like bothering the girl in theater.”

Your face fell and warm blood flooded your cheeks. As the color deepened, you shyly tucked your chin into your chest and looked away. To Eddie, this was a sweet and irresistibly feminine gesture, its charm highlighted by your stubborn denial of its existence. You raised your chin proudly, as if nothing had happened, and placed the skull back on the desk.

While your back was to him, Eddie said, “Hey, how come you never try out for anything?”

The question made you pause, but only for a second. “Because I prefer to stay in the background and mock everyone.”

“Oh…” he said, “so it has nothing to do with your fear of public speaking?”

“Nope,” you said, and turned around. Eddie was looking at you with a skeptical frown, his dark eyes probing but patient. Frustratingly patient. He already knew the truth, but he wasn’t going to force you to admit it when you clearly weren’t ready. “I suppose I should be more like you, huh? Turn a simple English reading into a dramatic stage performance?”

“Well, no one else was committed. I had to do something.”

“Yeah, but did you really have to walk on top of the desks?”

“Uhh, yes,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “Besides, whose desk did I always end up on?”

The answer caught you both by surprise:

“Mine,” you whispered, and then you both went quiet for a minute, reflecting on all those little moments that now seemed much more meaningful than they initially appeared.

“You know what’s weird?” Eddie said. “I don’t even think I knew what I was doing at the time. In fact, I know I didn’t. Believe me, it’s not like I was trying to seek you out or anything. I wanted nothing to do with you, but my body just sorta moved on its own… like muscle memory or something. I’d look down and there you were, staring back at me.” He flashed a bittersweet smile that made your heart ache. “Then, of course, you’d shove me really hard and I’d fall off the desk and almost break my neck.”

You smirked. “Well, your foot was on my notebook.”

“Mmm, I think you just wanted to touch me.”

“No, I think I wanted you off my desk,” you said, but there was no denying a small part of you had enjoyed it. Back then, you relished even the briefest touch. They were so rare, practically nonexistent. “I wasn’t really aware of it either, to be honest. I mean, I think there might’ve been a couple times where I thought maybe… but, I dunno, I guess I just didn’t wanna get my hopes up.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, well… I guess we were both pretty oblivious.”

“You especially,” you said, simpering at him, “you know, considering I made it annoyingly obvious that I was obsessed with you back in middle school. Seriously, how did you not figure it out? Everyone knew except you… well, you and Gareth, but that kid lives on another planet. He never knows what’s going on.”

Eddie chuckled bashfully. “Y’know, when I think back on it now, it was really obvious, but I swear I had no idea at the time. I definitely should’ve known, though. I mean, you sat outside the school every day, waiting for a chance to talk to me.”

“And some days I had to wait a really long time. In the rain and the snow. I was freezing my ass off.”

That brought a small smile to Eddie’s face. “Well, you don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, and let that sink in for a moment.

You didn’t have to wait anymore. After six long years, your suffering was finally over. Thank goodness.

“Are you ready for bed now?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” you answered, shivering a little.

While he closed the door and walked to the other side of the room, you climbed onto the bed and started crawling toward the middle. As soon as your palms touched down and your right knee sank into the mattress, you froze, looked up at the pillows, and thought with a sudden flush of excitement, Oh my god, we’re gonna be sharing the same bed. How the hell am I supposed to sleep tonight?

Nervously, you dragged your limbs a little further, rolled over to a sitting position, and scooted your hips back a bit more. When you looked up, Eddie was rubbing his face and staring at the bed with a gravely conflicted expression.

“What?” you said.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m just not sure how to go about this.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Just do what you always do.”

“… yeah, I don’t think I should…”

“Why?” you asked, grimacing. “Do you sleep nude or something?”

“No, it’s just…” He scratched under his chin pensively. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Eddie gave you a pleading look, like you were supposed to read his mind and instantly know what great conundrum was plaguing him. Unfortunately, you weren’t that far into your relationship yet, so you were lost in the dark.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. “Just sleep how you normally do.”

“Okay…” Eddie said with a cautionary tone. Then he crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands.

Your entire upper body flinched with surprise. Eddie was taking off his shirt right in front of you. Were you supposed to act all coy and innocent? Avert your eyes? Blush and cover your face? Look up awkwardly at the ceiling and whistle “Yankee Doodle” until the coast was clear? You’d never seen Eddie shirtless before. Naturally, you were a little curious. But was that okay? Was it ladylike to look? To actually want to look? Mrs. Cunningham would have said, Absolutely not, young lady. Now you go sit in the corner and pray those sinful thoughts away, but screw that! You weren’t a kid. This wasn’t sex ed (which Mrs. Cunningham did not let her daughter attend because it went against her religious values, and then she banished you from the house for like three days because she thought you were “unclean” and you would tell Chrissy everything… even though you already had, literally as soon as you got out of class). Why should you feel embarrassed? If you wanted to watch Eddie take off his shirt, you were going to without feeling any shame.

So you did watch, respectfully.

You watched him bunch up the fabric until his entire abdomen was exposed. Admittedly, you blushed a tiny bit when you noticed the faint line of hair that trailed down his belly button and disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. You weren’t searching for it; it was just there. But you kept your cool. You stayed calm. Even while your stomach fluttered and flopped, even while Eddie’s muscles flexed gorgeously as he rolled the shirt over his shoulders and pulled it over his neck, his head, while he dragged it off his arms and let it fall to the floor, you stayed perfectly calm. Yeah, up until that point, you had been doing very well.

But then, god dammit, you saw the tattoos on his chest and devolved into a horny monster of a girl.

God, I wish we had condoms right now.

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie said, cracking a smirk.

That’s when it hit you:

“Oh my god!” You gasped and clapped your hands over your mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie replied, unblushing, now standing before you with a full-on grin. “And thank you, by the way. Glad to know I’m not the only one struggling here.”

Yeah, you were struggling, all right. Struggling to hide your embarrassment. Succumbing to it, you drew in both your legs, grabbed a fistful of Eddie’s blanket, and buried your blushing face against it.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Eddie asked, bemused. “If I saw you topless, I’m pretty sure my jaw would be on the floor right now.”

You seriously doubted that. “Eh, they’re not that impressive,” you said, and Eddie’s brow wrinkled with utter bewilderment.

“Uhh, I humbly disagree… and to avoid sounding like a total creep, I’m gonna leave it at that.”

That made your face flare up again. Emboldened by his words, you poked your head out and said with a kittenish look, “So you’ve been checking me out, huh?”

“Oh, constantly,” Eddie replied with a playful, unabashed smile, setting your warm cheeks ablaze. 

This time, however, you didn’t hide your face or look away. You wanted to, but Eddie’s deep brown eyes held you captive. Like two beautiful black holes, they sucked you right in and you got lost in them, hypnotized, while he slowly undid his belt, unzipped his jeans, pushed them down, and kicked them away. A flicker of desire twitched through him. Your eyes fell and your breath hitched in your throat.

With a long, tortured sigh, Eddie said, “We really didn’t think this through, did we?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head, and Eddie’s face scrunched up with indecision.

“Do you want me to just take you home?” he asked. “I don’t want you to feel weird and not be able to sleep.”

“I’ll be able to sleep,” you said. “Yeah, I’m one of those people who can sleep anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

That was actually a lie, but…

“Look, I really don’t want you to take me home,” you said, wincing as you heard the fragility in your voice. God, you felt so pathetic. You hugged your knees to your chest and laid your forehead on top of them. “I swear I’m not gonna be one of those annoying, clingy girlfriends or anything. It’s just… I’ve had to go years without you, Eddie, and right now the thought of leaving you just cripples me. I don’t… yeah, I don’t really how to explain it.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head and saw Eddie staring at you with a soft, empathetic smile

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I get it.”

He flipped the wall switch and the bedroom fell into darkness, the covered windows glowing with a soft, silver light. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you watched Eddie cross the room and climb into bed. He came toward you slowly, wrapped his hands around your ankles, and tugged on them gently, dragging your feet across the mattress, extending your bent legs one by one.

“You can be clingy if you want,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie moved closer, planted his palms on either side of your hips, and hovered over you. Speechless, you raised your eyes to meet his. As soon as you did, he leaned down, tilted his head, and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss that made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. You closed your eyes and surrendered to him. Pleasure prickled up your spine. Goosebumps broke feverishly across your skin. Timidly, you lifted your hand to his bare chest and began tracing your fingers over his tattoos. Eddie shuddered at your touch, pulled away, and let out a low groan.

“What’s wrong?” you asked breathlessly. “Are my hands cold?”

“No,” Eddie answered, “I just, uhh…” He laughed under his breath. “I dunno how I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.”

“Me either,” you confessed quietly. “This was a really bad idea.”

“Oh, it was a terrible idea.” He placed another kiss on your lips and drew back with a smile. “Now move over, crazy, you’re in my spot.”

You scooted over and Eddie settled into the space beside you, sitting upright in bed with the blanket draped loosely around his naked waist. He looked so beautiful like that, ethereal almost, his silhouette softly illuminated by moonlight. Meanwhile, you sat with the blanket pulled all the way up to your chin. Underneath it, your body felt hot and tense and your heart was hammering wantonly in your chest. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, yet you were wide awake. How could you be expected to sleep with Eddie lying half-naked next to you?

Yeah, this is gonna be a huge problem, you thought, nervous and a little excited.  

(Because wasn’t this a wonderful problem to have?) 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and released it in a noiseless sigh. Then, just to be safe, you moved a bit closer to the edge of the mattress. 

That didn’t help much, either.

Funny, you thought anxiously, somehow the bed seemed much smaller now than it did before. Not uncomfortably smaller, just noticeably smaller. Eddie was inches away from you, close enough to feel his heat mingling with yours, close enough to feel the vibrations of every little move he made, close enough to drive you absolutely fucking crazy. His last kiss still lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. Feel his soft, smooth skin underneath your fingertips. Feel his strong hands on your hips, gripping you, guiding you. Feel deep brown eyes piercing into yours while you…

Oh boy, you thought, shuddering, I’m having a lot of thoughts tonight, each more dangerous than the last.

Eddie, unaware of your inner turmoil, switched on the lamp and started taking off his rings one by one: pinching the band between his fingers, gliding it over each of his knuckles, first one, then the other, pulling it off his fingertip and dropping it onto the nightstand beside him. One. Two. Three. Each ring clattered as it landed on the table. The soft rattling sound made you groan. 

Dammit, Eddie…

Did he have to take them off so slowly? So teasingly? If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. Couldn’t he sense the torment he was causing? You were teetering on the edge right now, both metaphorically and literally. You couldn’t move any further away from him. It was physically impossible… unless, of course, you wanted to end up on the floor. If he didn’t yank off that last ring quickly, you were gonna—

“What?” Eddie said, staring at you. “You okay?”

His deep voice jolted you from your libidinous thoughts. You looked up at him, blinking, your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Huh…? Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“You sure?” Eddie asked. He sounded concerned but also, vaguely, amused. The final ring—a fanged skull—still clung loosely to his left ring finger. Eddie had started to remove it, but stopped when he caught you looking at him. Now you could practically hear it taunting you as Eddie said, “You seem a little… agitated right now.” 

Agitated, huh? 

Sure, Eddie, let’s go with agitated. 

“I’m just tired,” you said. Then, in an obvious and pathetic act of bad theater, you covered your mouth with your hand and pretended to yawn.

Eddie’s face wrinkled with teasing suspicion. “Well, you should go to sleep,” he said, and started gently tugging on his ring again. This time you were certain he was doing it on purpose. Helplessly, you followed it anyway. Your mouth hung open as you watched the fanged skull move slowly up his finger, past his first knuckle, past his second knuckle… then slide all the way back down. A frustrated huff blew through your lips. As soon as it did, Eddie’s expression brightened with surprised fascination.  

“Wait,” he said, smirking, “do you have a hand fetish or something?”

His accusation startled you. “What?” you said. “I don’t have a hand fetish.” That sounded creepy and perverted, albeit true. “It’s just your hands… and those rings.” Those damn rings. “You’ve been playing with them all night, Eddie. Do you even realize you’ve been doing that?”

“Yeah,” he answered bashfully, “it’s kind of a nervous habit of mine.” 

“It’s fucking torture is what it is.” 

Your eyes widened. Eddie’s widened, too. Then they drifted back to the skull ring on his hand and settled there for a moment, as if enchanted by some marvelous discovery. Eddie had just found himself some buried treasure and you led him straight to it. You had drawn up a map, marked the X, handed it over, and said, Here ya go, Eddie. Here’s some lovely ammunition to use against me for the rest of our relationship. Did you really expect him not to pull the trigger? 

“Interesting…” Eddie said to himself, his voice dropping into that pondering yet provocative tone that meant nothing but trouble for you.      

“Oh, don’t do that…” 

“What?”

“Don’t say ‘interesting.’ It’s not interesting, it’s just…”

Embarrassing, extremely embarrassing.

Another loud huff escaped you. You turned away from Eddie, lay down, and threw the blanket over your shoulders. 

“It is interesting, though,” Eddie went on, chuckling to himself. “In fact, it’s very interesting.” 

There was a soft click behind you and suddenly the room collapsed into darkness again. Eddie had turned off the lamp and was now coming over to you. You knew because you could feel the bed shifting underneath his weight, closer, closer, and the closer he got, the deeper the mattress sank behind you. Eddie’s gravity was pulling you backward, drawing you into him. You gasped as you felt your back press up against his bare chest, and gasped again when you felt his right arm slip under the covers and settle snuggly around your waist. Instantly, your face flushed and your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t try to pull away from him… as if you even could. You lay quiet, captive, waiting.       

Eddie lay behind you with his elbow resting on your pillow, leaning against it as he said, “I’m learning a lot of new things about you tonight. I’m learning some things about myself, too.” 

A curious smile dragged up the side of your face. “Really? Like what?”

“Like… for instance…” He leaned down and whispered throatily against your ear, “I really like the sound of you begging.” 

All the blood rushed to your face. You buried it into the pillow and said, “Okay, now you’re just being mean…”    

Eddie laughed at that. The sound rumbled deep in his chest and sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. 

“I’m not, I’m not,” he said. “Listen, just hear me out, okay? I have a point, I promise. Now, this is kinda embarrassing to admit, but… honestly, I always kinda thought you would dominate me.” 

“What?” you blurted out, beside yourself with shock. “You thought I would dominate you?”

“Well, kinda, yeah.” Eddie smiled in abashment. “Shit, how could I not? I mean… I mean… Look, it’s like this, okay: for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had this really strong, intimidating presence. Naturally, I assumed that would carry over into the bedroom.” 

His words made you blush furiously, but they also filled you with a strange sense of confidence. Encouraged by them, you sat up on your elbow, looked over your shoulder, and raised your eyebrows playfully. “So, what, Munson? You want me to climb on top of you, pin you down, and have my way with you?”  

Eddie’s brown eyes bulged in the darkness, bigger than you had ever seen. “Do you wanna do that?” 

You stared at him for a second, speechless. “Honestly…? I don’t know.” 

It was hard to imagine yourself doing something like that. 

And yet… 

Your confidence fizzled again. Frowning, you sank down and laid your head back on the pillow.

Eddie smiled down at you, impressed by your unexpected boldness, short-lived as it was. “Well, that’s what I thought you’d be like, anyway.” He nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his warm breath tickling you as he spoke. “But… not gonna lie… seeing you reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess, well… yeah, I kinda like that, too. I like it a lot, actually.”

He swept your hair out of the way and began planting light kisses along your skin. The feeling of his lips made you sigh. 

“We should stop talking about this.” 

“You’re right, we should,” Eddie said, but his kisses only got hotter and hungrier. Meanwhile, his right hand had slid down from your waist and started caressing your inner thigh, nails dragging, fingers curling, uncurling, occasionally stopping to tease the bottom hem of his boxers. “… except now you’ve got me a little curious.” 

“Oh yeah?” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy, delirious with pleasure. “About what?”

“About this little hand fetish of yours…” But honestly, you were hardly listening to him. You were more focused on the warmth of his hand and the deliciously rough texture of his skin. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. As you did, you felt Eddie’s lips graze the outer edge of your ear. His voice sent a delightful tingle down your spine. “… so, tell me, in all these little fantasies of yours… what exactly am I doing with my hands?” 

His question coaxed a moan out of you. You placed your hand on top of his, intending to push it away, but as soon as you felt his hard knuckles underneath your fingers, you became possessed by savage, carnal desire. Your hand started moving on its own, rubbing across Eddie’s skin, scratching it lightly, sliding down and trapping itself in the soft webbing of his fingers. Pleasure rippled through you. All at once, images exploded through your mind like flashes of a camera. Turning around and smashing your lips against Eddie’s. Grabbing his face. Pulling his hair. Pushing him down on the bed and straddling his hips. Dragging your nails down his bare chest. 

That knocked some sense back into you. “Eddie,” you said weakly, “may I remind you of the situation we’re in?”

Eddie chuckled against you, unbothered. “Yeah, see, I’ve thought about that and…” He pressed a kiss to your ear, drew back, and whispered, “We don’t need condoms for this.”  

You bit down hard on your lip, holding in a moan as temptation tore through you. “Yeah, but do you really trust yourself to stop?”

Silence for a minute. 

Eddie knocked his head against yours and grunted in defeat. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

You frowned, equally disappointed. “Yeah, I don’t either, so…” 

His hand went limp, fell, and died on your thigh. 

“Aw shit,” Eddie hissed through his teeth. Guilt-stricken, he pulled away from you, rolled onto his back, and ran his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear, I normally have way more self-control than this, it’s just… shit, it’s just you, y’know? You’re here, you’re in my bed, and you look really good in my Megadeth shirt. Plus I’ve got like, y’know, four years of pent-up sexual frustration that’s just dying to burst outta me, so…”  

You turned over, sat up on your elbow, and smiled at him. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” 

Staring at each other, you both shared a deep, content sigh. 

“C’mere,” Eddie said, beckoning you with his hand. You moved closer and laid your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tighter against him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead. 

You lay quiet for a few minutes, feeling his chest rise and fall, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“What are you thinking about right now?” you asked dozily. 

“Honestly…?” Eddie asked, his voice a low mumble. “I’m wondering how long it’ll take me to drive to the gas station and back.” 

Laughter bubbled up from your throat. You buried your face against his chest and snickered.

“Well, shit,” you said afterward, “I’d probably go with you… and then we’d end up having sex in the parking lot.” 

Eddie’s face broke into a grin. “Really?” he said humorously. “Well, in that case…” 

He moved like he was trying to sit up. Giggling, you put your hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

“Easy there, buddy.” 

“I’m just kidding,” he said, smiling. “I’d never dream of taking your virginity in a parking lot… well, I would dream of it, have dreamt of it, but I’d never actually do it.”

You laughed quietly and laid your head on his chest again. Humming softly, Eddie started tracing his thumb across your back slowly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. With each stroke, your eyes got heavier and heavier, until…  

“Hey,” Eddie began suddenly, with dull, drowsy panic in his voice “you’re not going anywhere, right? You’re gonna still be here when I wake up?”

You sat up and looked at him, confused. 

“Sorry, I know this sounds really weird, but…” He frowned deeply, struggling to make sense of his tired, jumbled thoughts. “It’s just, I finally got you back in my life. If you left now, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

Your heart dropped at those words. You picked it back up, leaned down, and gently pressed your lips to his. 

“I’ll be here,” you said. “I promise.”  

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[loveangelic69]

DANCING WITH MYSELF: MASTERPOST

MAIN STORY

Summary: Eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, Chrissy Cunningham. Instead, he spends the night stuck in the women's restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music Parts: 10/10 Word Count: 43,565

EPILOGUE - Part I & Part II

Summary: After leaving prom, you and Eddie go to The Hideout to reminisce and listen to music. One thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer. Two-part story.

BONUS CONTENT

Pillow Talk - "Post Prom" bonus chapter

The Morning After - a deleted scene from "Post Prom" [unedited]

Out of the Loop - Eddie went home with someone after prom, and Gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

Bad Omens - [middle school fic] After experiencing the most unlucky morning of his life, Eddie is convinced that doom is on the horizon. All his friends think he's just being paranoid, but then Jeff receives an unexpected request from you, Eddie's little harbinger of misfortune.

The Shrieking Queen's Catacombs - a collection of fics set during the summer of 1980 — Session 1

MORE COMING SOON!

▶️ PLAYLIST: SPOTIFY

💭 FUTURE FIC LIST [GOOGLE DOC]

[loveangelic69]

I wish that I had Steve’s girl - E.M

Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends and he would never do anything to hurt him but god he’s in love with his girl. Inspired by:

Steve is a friend Yeah, I know, he's been a good friend of mine

Steve and Eddie had been best friends since that one night in the upside down, Steve had come back to save him and ever since they’ve been inseparable. They work together, they live together, they go shopping together, hell they even flirt with girls together. They’re worse than max and that Walkman of hers so that’s saying something.

But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define

Eddie knew something was up when Steve distanced himself a bit from him. They stopped going out together every weekend and Steve stopped flirting with girls with him and that was very unusual. Steve was always up to flirt with anyone, usually girls would brush him off but when they didn’t he’d get a real kick out of it. So when Eddie and Steve did eventually go out one Saturday night and Eddie noticed Steve not doing his usual rounds around the bar to flirt with any woman in sight he finally asked him what was up.

Steve’s got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

It made total sense now. Steve was always loyal when he was in a relationship and now Eddie wanted to meet her. They met the next weekend, Steve decided to host a party at his and eddies shared apartment and he invited his girl. Eddie was polite per the request of Steve, his new girl was shy and quiet despite her metal look, the complete opposite of what Steve’s type usually was. She was Eddie’s exact type to a t. Eddie was fucked.

And she’s watching him with those eyes, And she’s loving him with body, I just know it

Eddie stood in the kitchen, as far away from Steve and his new girl as he could get without it looking like he was avoiding them. The way she was looking at Steve made Eddie jealous, she looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, why couldn’t she look at Eddie that way? A couple hours had passed and everyone was filtering out of the shared apartment, Eddie didn’t miss the way Steve and his girl quietly snuck into Steve’s room. After the last few people had left, Eddie sat on the balcony deciding to light up a cigarette and turn on the portable radio they kept out there trying to drown out Steve and his girl’s noises he could hear coming from Steve’s room.

You know, I wish that I had, Steve’s girl

Eddie was hopeless. It had been weeks since he first met Steve’s girl and he still couldn’t get over her. She was staying over more often recently and it was killing Eddie. She was so sweet and played such good music whilst she was dancing around the apartment and god when she gets out of the shower and walked through the apartment in just a towel has Eddie running off to his room hiding his obvious hard on. He didn’t miss anything that Steve and his new girl did except the fact they both looked at him the same way he looked at them.

[loveangelic69]

[loveangelic69]

[loveangelic69]

[loveangelic69]

drake?

[loveangelic69]

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist - OBRIENGF

NSFW marked with *** | Other masterlists HERE

Fic Recs for Stiles Stilinski ♡

BABBLES

Fics :

EMPATHEIA - TW REWRITE (MASTERLIST)

TWENTY-FOUR (MASTERLIST)

SUNLIT LOVERS (MASTERLIST) discontinued

PARENTAL GUIDANCE 

WINGMAN

REVELATIONS ***

FREAKY FRIDAY

A LITTLE OVERDUE

SWEET LIPS XMAS21

DINNER & A SHOW

SUDS & SPONGES

ONE, AND ONLY VALENTINES23

FORBIDDEN CLOTH XMAS23

Blurbs :

THE AFTERMATH

RAIN (one)

RAIN (two)

CHECK

BEDSIDE

CLOSE / CONFESS

MAKING A CHOICE

STAY WITH ME

“DANCE WITH ME?”

"I MISS YOU. I MISS YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS."

"DID I BREAK YOUR HEART?"

"WE AREN'T FRIENDS, FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS KINDA THING."

"ACTUALLY, I THINK WE HAVE TO GO AGAIN..." ***

"YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT? THAT ASSHOLE DID NOT ASK YOU OUT!"

SAFEGUARD

DO YOU WANT ME TO HELP? (MICRO BLURB)

DO I KNOW YOU? (MICRO BLURB)

HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT (MICRO BLURB)

Headcanons :

INJURY 

SLEEPING

JEALOUSY 

BREAKUP

WHEN YOU AND STILES WATCH PORN… ***

WHEN STILES LIVES OUT HIS DREAM....

[loveangelic69]

A full moon. A bitten boy. A girl who feels. A lionhearted friend.

Beacon Hills is anything but your ordinary town; the shadows speak, they scare. They are ruthless as they creep around every bend and bicker. The shadows bare sharp teeth and large eyes that hold such vibrancy, shades that will haunt your even deepest nightmares. This town is not safe - and if history had a thing or two to say, it never was. A home for monsters and men, a signal for those that go bump in the night. Beacon Hills billeted creatures of all sorts, but, didn’t stand a chance when a group of determined and peculiar teens had anything to do about it. 

And it all started with a single bite.

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐀 ✽ Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Physical affection. Passion. Partiality. State of emotion.

Series masterlist (under the cut):

Keep reading

[loveangelic69]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[loveangelic69]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited feelings, sexual tension, reader teasing Steve sexually, not giving away anything else

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: After you and Steve cross a line, you are the one to take things to a whole new level — driving Steve insane with your never ending teasing.

Word count: 7.4k+

Author’s note: I know you keep yelling at me but anyways -- shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, especially the uh last part hehe.

Also, @prettyboyeddiemunson talked about a little crossover thing, and I love her girl in gods & monsters so she's making a little appearance here for Eddie hehe, all credits go to my bestie of course, the character belongs to her! If you haven't read the story yet, go check it out, it's one of my faves!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve sinks deeper into his pillows, finding more comfort in his bed than usual, he takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his face. He should feel content, knowing that he’s got the day off but instead he feels tense and frustrated in a way he had never felt before. 

His mind could be anywhere right now, he could think about the new tapes he stacked up at work last night, he could think about the show he watched before he went to bed, he could think about the mixtape Eddie had made for him, he could think about the girl that so obviously tried to flirt with him at work the other day, his mind could take him to any place, his imagination could be limitless but no, his mind is somewhere it shouldn’t be, his mind is with you. 

Nothing he does, nothing he tries to think about can drag his thoughts away from you. You occupy every space of his mind, reminding him of how much control you had taken over him ever since you both crossed a line that changed things between you both. 

Steve may have been the one who started it at all, but you are the one who took the game to a whole new level. 

The little accident in his kitchen that happened weeks ago, was only the start of it all. 

Steve wasn’t exactly subtle when he kept checking you out before the fiasco with the broken lever, and he wasn’t subtle with his touches either. He was treading on thin ice, he knew that, he knew that his slight teasing could have easily backfired if you reacted differently but it didn’t, and your reactions were everything that he was hoping for. You grew flustered, you started blushing, you stuttered and you looked at him the way he was hoping you would. 

But, what he didn’t expect was for you to tease him back, especially in a way that had him blushing, stuttering, and staring at you in shock. 

You were so innocent and shy at first, doing everything as subtly as possible. It started with gentle touches on his arm or his hand, soft whispers during dinner whenever he sat beside you, or long eye contact. Then, you realized just how much power you had over him and things quickly developed into something more, something so much deeper.

Your teasing was no longer innocent and your shyness seemed to have slipped away more and more, little by little. 

The look in your eyes was no longer a shy one whenever you looked at each other. There was a fire behind your eyes that he had never seen before. The smirk that tugged at your lips wasn’t the same one you usually looked at him with, it was different, mischievous, and very suggestive – a little too suggestive for someone like you because if someone else had looked at him the way you do, he’d think that they’re flirting but you don’t do that and certainly not with him. 

The only explanation for your behavior is that you are teasing him, playing with him just the way he did with you but not because you want him. He started something that night when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement. It was harmless at first, his teasing was light and playful, he loved to see those sweet reactions of yours but Steve didn’t know that it was a dangerous game that he had started, he didn’t know that he’d be playing with fire the moment he’d touch you. 

Because you are far from harmless, and your teasing is not light and playful in the slightest. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling like this right now; frustrated, agitated and filled with pent up emotions that he can’t even make out in his own head. 

He closes his eyes again as a groan falls from his lips, he shakes his head at himself, cursing inwardly for thinking about no one other than you. 

Has it always been that way? 

Have you always been on his mind? 

Or is it something new?

An unspoken deal was made between the both of you when you two started this. There are no rules, just a winner and a loser – whoever breaks first loses and so far, it seems like Steve won’t even get close to winning, even though he was the one to start it all so confidently. 

You clearly have taken over, because the moment you looked at him with innocent big eyes and a pout on your lips while pressing your chest against his arm when you tried to squeeze past him, your boobs nearly spilling over your cute little top, your voice sounding raspy from all the weed you had smoked that night, he was done for. 

It wasn’t the first time that a girl had done something like this to him, plenty of girls have given him those innocent eyes, have pressed their boobs against him, in much less clothing… but something about you drives him especially crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that you both hate or dislike each other or maybe it’s the fact that he is just extremely frustrated – sexually frustrated. Maybe that is the only reason why you get to him in that way… why he feels the want to continue this little game or why he feels the intense need to fuck you and get you out of his mind, once and for all. 

Another groan falls from his lips when he remembers that Robin bailed on him after she called him in the middle of the night, telling him that she wouldn’t make it to lunch today, meaning that it will be just Eddie, you and him. 

A part of him even looks forward to seeing you, the other part doesn’t because he already knows how he will feel afterwards, while you will probably go home feeling satisfied after teasing the hell out of him. 

Every time before you leave, you look at him as though you had done nothing wrong, which sometimes leads him to believe that you’re not even aware of all the teasing you torture him with and that he was the only one playing this game, all this time. 

Steve drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the water can heat up while he brushes his teeth. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, rolling his eyes at the mess on his head, he brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it. 

As he thinks about what to wear, he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about you, wondering what you will wear. Are you going to wear a dress? Another short skirt to drive him crazy with? 

He rolls his eyes, cursing inwardly at himself for thinking about you again. 

He needs to get this out of his system. 

He needs to get you out of his system. 

And there is only one way to do it and he knows it, but he’s not even sure where your feelings stand, if you’d be down for what he’s longing for or if you’d laugh in his face if he even tried to suggest something like it. – Your reaction would probably be the latter, and just the thought of it is enough to bring the grumpiness out in him. 

He begrudgingly starts getting ready, all while his mind keeps him occupied with thoughts about you. 

He doesn’t know what caused all of this, he doesn’t know how it happened, how his mind is incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but you these days. 

He feels as though he had been cursed. You are haunting him, in his mind and even in his dreams, and seeing you all the time doesn't help at all… and yet, he wouldn’t want it any other way because this little thing between you both makes him feel a thrill that has been missing in his life. 

By the time Steve pulls up into the parking lot at the diner, you and Eddie are already there.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, hands folded in your lap, sunglasses low on your nose, a smile on your lips as you’re nodding along to whatever Eddie is telling you. You look good… too good for just a simple breakfast at the diner. 

He parks the car and after a few deep breaths, he pulls out the keys and gets out, trying not to stare at you as he walks towards the two of you. 

“Hey guys.”

Eddie turns around, a mocking smile on his face, he crosses his arms over his chest, “took you long enough, big boy.”

Steve chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes you from the side, “yeah uh, I missed my alarm this morning and Robin woke me up in the middle of the night to bail on us, took me a while to fall back asleep after that.” 

You groan at his words, sliding off the car, you smooth down your jean shorts and push your sunglasses up into your hair, “so she keeps ditching us.” 

“She’s in love, Sweetheart,” Eddie winks at you, wiggling his brows, “she’s got better things to do.” 

You roll your eyes at his words and look over Eddie’s shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time today. You lick your lips as your eyes move down up and down his body. 

“Hey, Lego head.”

Lego head. The silly nickname doesn’t quite suit the look in your eyes. 

“Blondie,” he nods. 

Eddie chuckles, playing with the keys in his hand as he nudges his head into the direction of the diner, “let’s go eat, I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving, Eddie,” you snort as you are the first to start walking. 

“Yeah man, you’re always eating and you’re still starving,” Steve chuckles, walking beside Eddie, “you’re like a raccoon or something.” 

You look over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, “oh he’s definitely a little raccoon.” 

Eddie’s lips part in surprise, he looks between you both, “did you just… agree on something?” 

You scoff at his words, turning back around without another word while Steve looks down, shaking his head. The weight of Eddie’s arm around his shoulder makes him look back up, though not at you, but at Eddie, whose eyes are filled with amusement. 

“You’re not trying to steal my girl are you?” 

Steve doesn’t know what is about the words ‘my girl’ but he feels himself clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. By the tone in Eddie’s voice, he should know that he is only teasing, but apparently his mind isn’t able to comprehend that right now. 

He feels a fire in his chest that he can’t even explain, one that only grows even more intense a few moments later, when a guy who was just leaving the diner, steps aside for you after opening the door. 

Steve can’t see your face or the looks you are giving to the man who is staring you up and down with nothing but hunger in his eyes, but by the way you walk past him without even turning your head or looking back, he knows that you’re giving him nothing. And yet, it doesn’t stop his anger when the guy keeps checking you out, shamelessly, following you with his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at your ass. You’re not even aware of it as it seems and it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Steve saw you at Big Buy’s the other day, you were strolling around the aisles in your cute little dress, throwing food items into your basket, completely unaware of his eyes on you. He couldn’t look away from you… even when everything you did was riling him up, whether it was the way you bend down to reach for something on the lowest shelf, the way you touched your hair or the way your dress was moving by your sides as you walked. As he caught himself staring at you, at your effortless beauty, he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – and his suspicions were confirmed, when he looked into the other aisle only to see another guy, not past his 30s staring at you, something that you weren’t aware of in the slightest. He also caught himself rolling his eyes and clenching his fists… but that’s something that he easily ignored. 

Unlike today, he can’t even help it when he passes the guy who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you with a deathly glare on his features, feeling anger for how shameless and disrespectful his ogling is, it’s disgusting. 

“Perv,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, glaring the same way Steve does. 

The guy doesn’t even spare them a single glance, moving past them after taking another long… too long look at you before he walks out of the diner. 

Steve and Eddie roll their eyes, following you to the table that you have already picked, completely unaware of what just happened. 

You sit down in the booth, sliding over to the window. You put your sunglasses down on the table and instantly reach for the menu. 

Eddie sits down beside you, while Steve takes the seat across from you. He tries not to look at you, sinking deeper into the leather seats as he reaches for the menu, as well. 

“What are you guys doing afterwards?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothing, just gonna go back home and watch movies or something,” Steve mumbles, peeking over his menu and at you, to find you looking at him already. 

“Perfect, why don’t you two have a little bonding moment and have a movie day together?” Eddie grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you. 

Steve sees the way you scrunch your nose up at his words, scoffing and shaking your head at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing that you have ever heard, like it’s something that you don’t even want to think about. 

“We’re getting along just fine, no need for bonding time.” 

Right. Steve had been so focused on all your teasing, he almost forgot about how much you two are supposed to dislike each other. 

“Exactly,” Steve winks at Eddie, “Blondie and I are doing just fine.”

He looks back at you, his eyes meet yours, you raise your brows at him, smirking as you tilt your head. 

“Are we?” You ask softly as you blink at him. 

Steve leans closer, licking his lips, he opens his mouth to speak but Eddie cuts him off, clapping his hands. 

“Yeah, you are getting along! Now shut your mouths before you start a fight.”

You both snort at the metalhead, leaning back in your seats, neither of you saying a word, you both just look back at your menu’s, focusing on that… for now. 

The busy waitress stops by your table, telling you that she will be back to take your order in a minute, seemingly catching Eddie off guard after placing her hand on his shoulder before she scurries away again. 

He no longer looks at the menu, he finds something more interesting to look at. 

Steve’s eyes flash with amusement as he looks over at his friend, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are red, an awestruck expression all over his face. He can’t help but nudge your foot under the table, tilting his head towards Eddie when you look up with a frown.

You turn to your best friend. Your features soften, eyes flashing with surprise, you bump your shoulder into his, clearing your throat, “hey Ed’s, before you fuck this up again, don’t you want to tell Lego head about what happened?” You ask, snickering. 

Eddie blinks, turning back to you, “h-huh?” 

“You have a man to give you his opinion of what you did wrong.” 

Steve furrows his brows, looking between your amused face and his confused one, when Eddie’s eyes flash with realization and he groans in annoyance. 

“Sweetheart, he’s gonna be on my side.”

“What opinion?” Steve asks. 

You turn back to your menu, scoffing at Eddie and rolling your eyes before you glance at him, “you’ll want to kill him.”

Eddie groans, shaking his head, his curls bouncing a little. 

“You’ll understand, Harrington. You’re a man. She is… looking at it from a feminine side of things.”

Steve gives you a quizzical look, almost laughing at the exasperated look on your face. 

“Alright shoot,” he says to his friend.

Eddie presses his lips together, taking a deep breath before he folds his hand on the table and looks at him with squinted eyes, “okay so, I saw this girl at the hideout yesterday, Jeff told me to go talk to her, you know… so I did. We started talking, she was funny and all that, and you know, I always like to be a little mysterious.” 

You snort, making Eddie roll his eyes again, “shut it, Sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyways,” Eddie sighs, glaring at you, “so, when she asked me if I was there with a girl, I just said ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’” 

Steve draws back a little, raising his brows and pursing his lips, looking perplexed. 

“Uh huh..” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Steve. 

“Eddie,” Steve shakes his head, “just uh… did it… what happened then?”

Eddie sighs again, “well, she rolled her eyes and left, but you know, she may not have a sense of humor so… it’s whatever.” 

“Munson, that girl had a sense of humor, you just have a lack of fucking tact,” Steve says, shaking his head at his friend, in pure disbelief. 

Eddie’s jaw drops at his words, while a laugh falls from your lips as you turn to look at your best friend with nothing but satisfaction on your face. 

“Told you.”

“Seriously!?” Eddie gasps, frowning. “Harrington, you were always mean to girls in the past, and you still slept with them!” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. 

“That was in high school, Munson! You are a grown up now, why the hell would you do that? Just tell her you were there alone or with friends!” 

Eddie’s jaw drops again, he slumps back in his seat, throwing his hands up. 

“I just thought that a mysterious persona would work better than… you know… bubbly, happy, go lucky guy, desperate to get his dick wet persona…” He whines, “no one wants to fuck me.” 

You giggle, hiding your face behind the menu. 

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, he points a finger at you, “I’m gonna have to agree with Blondie, again, you’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Don’t worry, Eds. I’ll help you,” you say, smiling, “I’ll teach you how to flirt.” 

“How are you gonna do that, Blondie? Do you even know how to flirt?” Steve snorts. 

You may be a tease, a good one at that, but a flirt? No. You’re too rough, too mean, too harsh to be a flirtatious person, you can barely hold a conversation with someone without going off at them about something, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with, unlike him. 

He is a flirty person, he has charm, he knows how to wrap a girl around his finger with just a few simple words. 

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he surely didn’t expect for you to smile at him, to shrug and give him nothing more than a glance that tells him how wrong he is. 

After the waitress comes back to take your order, leaving Eddie a blushing mess, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back with your hair now free from the scrunchie that kept it together and another coat of gloss on your lips, something that instantly catches Steve’s eyes. 

You place your elbows on the table, putting your chin into your palm, blinking at him innocently. 

The look in your eyes tells him that you’re up to no good, but he can’t look away. He leans closer to the table, licking his lips as he raises his brows at you. Both of you are unaware of Eddie, who is basically drooling over the pretty waitress, too distracted to notice the looks you are giving to each other.

“The waitress, is she from Hawkins? Never seen her in my fucking life,” Eddie murmurs in awe. 

Steve turns his head to look at the woman, a gasp nearly tears from his lips when he feels your foot on his calf and you pull his attention back on you, he stares at you with wide eyes. 

Smirking in satisfaction, you pull your foot back and look down at your nails.

“I-I don’t know, Munson, not familiar.” He stutters without looking away. 

Steve knew that this would happen, that you would tease him in one way or another, but he didn’t know yet, just where you would take this today. 

When your milkshakes arrive at the table, both you and Steve watch Eddie with amusement as he stares up at the blonde waitress, eyes moving back and forth between her face and her chest, not knowing what to look at first. 

His eyes get stuck on the dainty cross necklace around her neck, seemingly growing more intrigued by her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones. 

Steve narrows his eyes at you, almost laughing when you look at him, at the same time. 

Eddie’s cheeks are even more flushed than before now, his eyes wide, lips parted. The girl presses her lips together, trying not to giggle at the look on his face. 

“Your food will come right up,” she says, looking between you all before her eyes meet Eddie’s again as she takes the last milkshake off the tray, putting it on the table and sliding it towards him. 

He clears his throat, wrapping his fingers around the glass before she can even let go. 

Both you and Steve watch the way she smiles down at Eddie and at the fingers brushing against hers. 

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smirks at her, surprising both you and Steve with the confidence in his voice. 

The girl smiles in surprise, before she turns around, walking away from the table but not without giving Eddie another glance, his lips curl into a bigger smirk and he waves his fingers at her.

Your mouth drops and so does Steve’s, both of you, looking at each other again, with stunned and puzzled expressions on your faces.

“Dude,” Steve mumbles, slowly turning to face his friend, “tell me… how did you fuck this up again… at the hideout, I mean?” 

Eddie only looks back when the girl disappears into the kitchen, “the girl at the hideout just wasn’t the right one.”

“Oh, and this one is?” Steve chuckles, pointing his thumb to where the waitress walked off to. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dreamily. “She’s so…”

“Hot?” You ask as you reach for your milkshake, grabbing the red and white straw between your thumb and your pointer finger.

“Gorgeous,” he blushes. 

Your lips tug into a smile, you bring your hand up to his face, pinching his cheek, “aw, look at you.” 

He swats your hand away, snorting. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to flirt, you’re doing such a good job, keep it up, Eds.” 

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Eddie winks at you before he looks away, eyes searching for the waitress again. 

“He doesn’t need your help after all,” Steve laughs, tilting his head, “not that you’d be much of a help anyways.” 

You squint your eyes at him, shrugging at his words, and you surprise him with your silence. 

He watches the way you lean forward, placing your elbow on the table as you finally wrap your lips around the straw. Your eyelashes flutter and you tap your red fingernails against the glass, a moan falling from your lips. 

“Mmmh, that’s so good.” 

Steve nearly jumps from his seat, the sound making his stomach flutter, he clenches his fists, staring at you with wide eyes. 

There’s no smirk on your lips, no mischief behind your eyes, nothing but innocence is etched into your features – you’re not even teasing him, it was nothing but a genuine reaction to the sweet drink. And it’s something that frustrates him even more. 

You reach for the maraschino cherry next, popping it into your mouth before you lick the whipped cream off your finger. 

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, he shifts in his seat, trying to look away from your lips… that are still wrapped around your finger but he can’t, his eyes are stuck, his body is stuck, he can’t move, all that he can do is watch you.

And then, you look towards him, eyes flashing with surprise when you find him staring. He hopes to see you blushing but instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you release your finger, scooping up some more whipped cream before you bring it up to your lips. 

And this is where the real teasing begins. 

Steve nearly gasps when you hold eye contact this time as you lick the cream off your fingers, letting out another, softer moan. 

Holy fuck. 

Steve’s eyes darken, he swallows harshly, clenching his jaw in anger. 

Eddie is too busy with his own milkshake, ogling the waitress as she talks to customers at the bar, completely unaware of how you both eyefuck each other, the way Steve can’t take his eyes off of you. 

By the look in your eyes, Steve knows how much fun you’re having with this, you know how much it frustrates him, you know what you’re doing to him. 

And as though, all of this wasn’t bad enough already. You then accidentally drop some of the whipped cream on your chest. 

“Oops,” you purr, giving him an innocent look through your lashes. 

The warmth in his chest only grows more intense, spreading across his whole body, filling him up with need and a deep hunger that keeps growing and growing, one that can only be satiated in one way – he needs you, just once, he needs to have you, he needs to taste you, he needs to fuck you, he needs you out of his system for good. 

He had enough of this, of all this teasing. 

He would fuck you right there on this table if he could.

But, despite your teasing, despite the look in your eyes, despite your little act, he is still not sure about where you stand. He knows how you react to his touches, to his teasing, but a part of him fears rejection if he does make a move. 

You are barely even friends, and the thought of making a fool of himself, in front of you, makes him want to crawl into a hole. 

You are both playing this game, but while he knows what he wants, he doesn’t know what you want. 

Maybe you just enjoy this little back and forth, waiting for him to break first before you move along and pretend like nothing ever happened. Maybe you don’t even expect anything to come out of this. Maybe you don’t even want him the way he wants you. Maybe you just like to tease him because you know that it's riling him up. 

So what is left for him to do? 

Stop this game and move on? Or… keep going and wait for something more to happen? 

He’s had enough of your teasing, but he’s far from losing, there is still some power left in him… some. 

He won’t sit here and let you get away with this. 

So despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants, despite the burning in his skin, he plasters a smirk on his blushing face and reaches forward, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he mimics you, he grabs his glass and he reaches for the cherry on his milkshake, purposely dropping some whipped cream on the table as he puts the cherry in his mouth. He chews slowly, licking his finger tips while he watches you slowly, the way your smile slowly falls, the way your eyes widen a little. 

He bites back the smirk as he scoops up the whipped cream off the table, with both his middle finger and ring finger, bringing them up to his lips, he looks back into your wide eyes as he places them into his mouth, watching the way you break eye contact to look at his lips. 

Your throat bobs as you swallow, tightening your grip on your glass as you watch the way he licks his fingers slowly. 

He can see the way you shift in your seat, the way your breathing gets heavier and your eyes darken, the way you lick your lips and how flustered you get as you look back into his eyes. 

You are pressing your thighs together, he just knows you are. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, smirking at you in satisfaction while you still sit there, frozen in place. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his vanilla milkshake as though nothing happened.

“You gotta give this one a ride home, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at you without tearing his eyes away from the bar, “I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer.”

You clear your throat. 

Steve expects you to be more… nervous, to hear your voice wavering, but instead, it sounds confident, filled with yet more teasing as you open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh, I would love a ride home with Stevie,” you smile at him innocently as your foot touches his calf again, but this time, it doesn’t just stay there, you move it up, just a little, but enough to nearly make him choke on his drink. 

“So you can keep getting on his nerves?” Eddie chuckles. 

You lick your lips, smirking as you nod your head slowly, “exactly.”

Yeah, you don’t really do this anymore, getting on each other’s nerves, you both have found something so much better and much more interesting to do to one another. 

“You know I always win, Blondie,” Steve says so very confidently, like he isn’t slowly losing his mind because his want for you is beginning to consume him entirely. 

You tilt your head at him as you bite your lip, the sleeve of your blouse slowly sliding down your shoulder, making him gulp. 

“Do you?” You ask, batting your lashes at him, provoking him with the look on your face. 

He bites the insides of his cheeks, nodding at your words, “mhmm.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you shrug and lean back, “we’ll see.”

Eddie doesn’t know that you’re talking about something entirely else now, but he couldn’t care less, when he’s got his eyes set on someone that stole his breath away. 

He uses every second he gets with the pretty waitress to flirt, whether it’s through glances when she passes by or through his charming words when she delivers the food to the table. 

He happily eats his burger and his fries, eyes following the blonde wherever she goes, completely blind to what’s happening right next to and in front of him. 

You and Steve keep staring at one another, eyes filled with intense need, hands itching to reach out to the other. 

Steve feels the longing inside his chest, intensifying as the minutes go by, driving him insane. It gets to a point where he can’t wait to get the hell out of this diner so he can go home and take care of himself. He is not sure if he had ever felt this desperate before – he surely never had to rush home to jerk off, but that’s what he feels like now, like he’s going to explode if he sits here any longer. 

The moment you decide on leaving, Steve nearly throws himself out of his seat, feeling no patience left inside of him. 

“I got this covered,” Eddie announces, pulling out his wallet as he gets out of the booth so you can get out, “you two can go.” 

You grab your sunglasses and get up, putting your hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I see what you’re trying to do, you wanna get rid of us so you can flirt with the hot blonde.” 

He wiggles his brows, smirking at you proudly, “gotta score a date with my dream girl.” 

Steve chuckles, grabbing the car keys from his pocket, he smirks at Eddie, “just don’t mess it up again.” 

Eddie shakes his head, “nah never.” 

“Alright casanova, call me and tell me how it went.” 

“Call you?” He frowns, “I’ll be there to raid your kitchen tonight, sweets.” 

You step away from him, brushing past Steve, “alright raccoon, I’ll see you later then.” 

“See ya,” he chuckles. 

With a sigh, Steve looks at Eddie, playing with his keys and giving him a nod. 

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie winks, “and don’t kill each other!” He jokes, ignoring the weird looks he’s given from an older couple two booths away. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not at that point anymore.” 

You’re at a whole different point now, one that doesn’t make him angry, not exactly, just one that drives him up the wall. 

Steve stares at your hips, at the way your shorts hug your body so nicely, the way your ass looks so good in them. He forces his eyes away, feeling a little startled when you turn around to face him before you open the door, a friendly smile appears on your face and he realizes that you aren’t looking at him, but at Eddie’s ‘dream girl’, waving goodbye at the girl before you step out. 

He feels the sudden need to talk, hoping that you won’t tease him any further in the car, because if you do, he isn’t sure if he will manage to control himself the way he did, the whole time at the diner. 

He rubs the back of his neck, walking down the steps, he clears his throat. 

“Do you think he will manage to score a date?”

You slow down as you put your sunglasses on, “yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. 

“She seems nice, and she’s pretty,” you say.

So are you. Steve thinks to himself. 

“She’s got the kind of blonde hair you wanted when you ruined your hair with the blonde dye, huh?”

Steve can’t see your eyes behind your sunglasses, but he can see the amused look on your features as your lips curl into a smile. 

He ignores the way it feels when you step closer to him, when your hand brushes against his knuckles, sending chills throughout his whole body. 

“Actually, I wanted it even lighter, and how would I know that the pictures on the box dye were lies, it said it lightens up any hair color to that specific color!” 

Steve laughs at you, “what color were you hoping for?” 

You shrug, stepping away from him again when you walk around his car to the passenger side. 

“I wanted like a Dolly Parton or uh… Heather Locklear kind of blonde.” 

He unlocks the car and opens his door, raising his brows at you, “wow, you should have gone to a hair salon, Blondie.”

You lift your sunglasses, rolling your eyes at him, “it was a spontaneous decision, I thought I could handle that myself, I’m definitely never touching hair dye again.”

“Just call me, next time,” he winks at you as he gets into the car, “I’m a pro at doing hair.” 

You laugh at him as you get in as well, “didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Harrington.” 

“They don’t call me ‘the hair’ for nothing.” 

“Oh wow. I wouldn’t trust you with my hair, who knows what color you’d dye my hair to.”

“Maybe I’d get it to the Dolly Parton blonde that you wanted.” 

“Yeah, right!” You scoff at him, “cause you’re such an expert!” 

A smile tugs at his lips, it almost feels normal, sitting here in his car with you, talking like this, it almost distracts him enough from the strong tension between you both, from the pull that is dragging him towards you, more and more. 

Despite the frustration that he feels from all your teasing, he cannot help but want to keep playing the little game. 

The sun is shining brightly, pulling down the sun visor won’t be enough – how convenient it is that he keeps his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He could ask you to get them but instead, he moves closer, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before he places his hand on your knee as he reaches forward so he can get his ray-ban’s. 

Satisfaction rushes through him when he hears you sucking in a sharp breath. 

But, his longing intensifies when he gets a whiff of your perfume and feels how soft your skin actually is. 

He clearly never thinks things through, his little plans always backfire. 

The want to wrap his hand around your thigh and keep it there is so strong… so goddamn strong, but he pulls away begrudgingly, holding back the smirk when he feels your eyes on him. He puts the sunglasses on, and finally starts the car. 

Your silence surprises him, but he knows that it’s something that won’t stay for long. 

Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran starts playing and Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony, this is exactly what he feels like right now, hungry like a fucking wolf, hungry for you. 

If you had been any other girl, he would’ve made a move on you, a long long time ago. He would have flirted more obviously, he would’ve taken your hand in his, he would’ve brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you.

But you’re not just any girl, you’re… you. 

You love this little game, and no matter how flustered you get, no matter the looks you are giving him, he still struggles to read you, he still struggles to figure out whether you want what he wants or not. 

He is waiting for a sign, but it’s almost like he’s blind to anything you give to him. 

He holds the steering wheel tightly, keeping his other hand on the gearstick, dangerously close to your thigh. He keeps sneaking glances at you, at your soft skin, at the way you press your legs together, at the way your fingers play with the loose string on your shorts. 

Steve’s face grows hot, his heart beating faster in his chest. 

He almost feels relieved when your house comes into view, and he pulls up into your driveway. 

“So… what are you doing today?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “besides having a movie day by yourself.” 

You turn your body towards him, not making any moves to get out of the car yet. 

“Uh… I don’t know,” he lies, his cheeks glowing red. 

He already knows what he’s gonna do the moment he walks through his front door. 

You take your sunglasses off, biting your lip as your eyes move up and down his body, making him shift uncomfortably, yet again. 

“Well, I’m going to lay out in the sun, in my new red bikini.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, and he almost starts drooling at the images that start forming in his mind. 

Images of you… half naked. 

“We should have a pool party at some point,” you smile, blinking at him as you start inching closer to him, looking down at his lips. 

“Uh huh…”

“But anyways, I should get going,” you sigh, catching him by surprise when you place your hand on his thigh, so dangerously close to where he needs you the most, “thanks for the ride, Stevie.” 

And as though that wasn’t bad enough. 

You almost cause his heart to stop beating, when your face is only inches away from him now, and you press your lips against his cheek, kissing him, completely shocking him, leaving him a stuttering mess. 

He lost all ability to speak, all he can do is stare at you, as his skin tingles and his heart races. 

You smirk at him, eying his red cheeks. 

“Who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever blush for me,” you say smugly, before you pull away and get out of the car, giggles falling from your lips. Without another word, you close the door and walk away, looking over your shoulder one more time, still giggling. 

Fuck. 

His frustration turns into anger when the realization starts creeping in slowly. 

The smug look on your face, the smirk and your stupid giggles prove his point, that you did all of this not because you wanted him, but because you wanted to win this fucking game. 

That’s all it is, that’s all it ever was. 

A game. 

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is, whether it’s the feeling of annoyance or rejection, but it only irritates him even further, especially when all he can think about is still you. 

You in your stupid red bikini, lying under the sun, looking pretty and hot… looking like someone he can never have, not even for a single night. 

He is angry, angry at himself for still wanting you, for needing you, for wishing that he could feel your bare body underneath him, for wishing to hear your moans, your voice calling out his name, your hands clinging to his body, fingers tugging at his hair. 

Despite the rejection, he feels his stupid jeans getting tighter, his dick straining against the fabric, making him feel uncomfortable and so needy to a point that the moment he gets home, he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom. 

He slams the door shut and presses his back against it, hastily unbuckling his belt, the clinking and his heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the room… for now. He pushes down his boxers and his pants, just enough so he can pull his dick out – his tip is an angry red, already leaking with pre cum, he spits into his hand before he wraps his hand around his aching cock. 

That is all that it takes for a needy whimper to fall from his lips. 

He closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the door as he starts jerking off slowly. 

Images of you curse and bless his mind at the same time. 

He wonders what it would be like to feel your hand around his dick or what it would be like to feel your lips on his neck, your whispers in his ear as you take care of him. 

He furrows his brows, lips parting as his moans get louder and he begins to move his hand faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He pictures you on your knees for him, your hands replaced by your lips as he shuts you up with his cock in your mouth, silencing you once and for all, while tears stream down your cheeks.

“Oh fuck…” Steve whimpers, getting lost in pleasure. 

He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table when you started teasing him with the stupid whipped cream, but all he can think about now is you on your knees worshiping him. 

His muscles tighten as he increases the tempo, using his thumb to rub the slit as he imagines it being the tip of your tongue as you look at him with big and teary eyes. 

And he doesn’t know for how long he was imagining you like this, but it doesn’t matter because he is soon spilling in his hand, a loud groan escaping his lips as well as a shaky breath, the back of his head hitting the door as he tries to ease his breathing. 

Maybe three minutes passed, or twenty, but it didn’t matter. His cum is already on his hand and in your honor. 

But this didn’t satiate his hunger, nor his lust for you in the slightest. 

Nothing that he could possibly do will. 

He can imagine you and take care of himself all he wants, but it won’t change the way he wants you, the way he craves you. 

He knows that there is only one way to get rid of this.

Tomorrow he will put his frustration away. That’s all it is, frustration. He just needs to let it out. He needs to fucking breathe again. 

Yeah. Tomorrow. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

[loveangelic69]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Warnings: weed consumption, mentions of death, mentions of sex, allusions to smut. this is mostly written from reader's pov, Steve's pov is only at the ending

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You step into a new territory and test the waters that Steve had already been dragged into.

Word count: 5k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult I know you're sick of me constantly saying this BUT thanks for working on this series with me hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The lights that hang above the shelves in the living room illuminate the darkened room, casting a soft yellow glow on everything. The TV screen lights up brightly as the killer in the movie shows up dramatically again. The sound is low and no one is paying attention to the horror movie that you have all seen multiple times already. The rain paddles against the windows and the lightning crashes through the sky every few seconds or so, though no thunder has rumbled yet, making you feel relieved. The room smells like takeout and weed, dirty plates litter the coffee table but no one cares about that yet. 

A big cloud of smoke lingers in the room as Eddie and Robin pass the joint back and forth, the latter talking his ear off about the date she had gone on with Vickie the night before, while your eyes are stuck on Michael Myers on the screen, taking the joint from Eddie when he offers it to you, you place it between your lips, squinting your eyes as you take a drag and inhale it deeply. 

You can feel his eyes on you, you can feel them everywhere, on your face, on your upper body, on your bare legs, they’re burning into your skin and you’re now not as blind as you were days back when you thought that you were imagining things, that every slightest glance and touch from his were feeding you lies – that his touches were accidental and his glances meant nothing. But you were wrong, so very wrong. 

For days, your mind has been plaguing you with thoughts about him, and it’s nothing new, really, but it was different than usual. Because before the dinner at Joyce’s and Hopper’s place, he had never given you anything to overthink about, to make yourself feel delusional over. Steve had never touched you before, at least not like that. He had never placed his hand on your waist, he had never brushed his knuckles against yours, he had never looked at you the way he did that night and he certainly never commented on the clothes you wear. 

It drove you crazy, and it made you believe that he somehow figured you out, that he found out about your feelings and decided to torture you by teasing you with touches that he knew you wished had a deeper meaning. But he wouldn’t do that, especially not after your conversation weeks ago, not when he was doing everything to keep the peace. He wouldn’t do that – maybe King Steve would’ve done something like this, but not this Steve – not even when he still holds hatred for you. 

Steve teased you, not accidentally, not unintended. He did it openly, because he wanted to for whatever reason and you only realized it today, when you walked through his front door behind Eddie who held the bags of takeout, you were met with the same teasing look in Steve’s eyes you saw that night. He licked his lips and let his eyes run up and down your body so shamelessly that it almost threw you off because where was this all coming from? 

When did he go from hating your guts, from arguing every chance he got to whatever this is. 

Not only did he look at you like he was ready to flirt, he also placed his hand on your lower back when he led you into the living room earlier – and as though that wasn’t enough to make you crumble, he also leaned in to whisper ‘cute skirt, Blondie.’ 

Cute skirt!? His husky voice and those words kept repeating themselves like a broken record ever since they fell from his lips, they made you think so hard that you dissociated while eating the fries that you’ve been craving all day, missing the conversation between your friends and half of the movie that you watched before Eddie put on Halloween. Only the touch of Steve’s hand pulled you back into reality, you almost jumped from your seat when you felt his hand on your knee when he very obviously pretended to reach over you to grab the bottle of ketchup with a smirk on his face. That was evidence enough for you to realize that all his touches were intended and he did want to tease you, but not for the reason you thought. 

Why? You still don’t know. 

You’re pretty sure that he isn’t attracted to you, at least not in the way you are to him. 

But if he wants to play this game, then you certainly won’t pass up on the opportunity to tease him back a little, though testing the waters first – because you absolutely won’t make a fool of yourself in front of him. 

You have to take it slow until you’re completely sure that he is doing what you think he’s doing. 

You glance at Eddie, his eyes are rimmed with redness, a lazy smile plays on his lips, his eyes are stuck on the screen but he is so far gone in his mind, he is not paying attention to anything anymore, not Robin’s rambling, not the movie and certainly not to you and Steve. 

Robin’s hair is sprawled across the pillow, she looks up at the ceiling, the joint now back between her lips but she’s still rambling. 

They won’t notice anything. 

You take a sip of your drink, eying Steve from the side, and he is already looking at you, he is looking at you in a way that would drive your teenage self up the wall – you’d be a blushing and giddy mess thinking about it for the rest of the day, daydreaming about things that would never even happen. But you’re not a teenager anymore, his glances and touches still make you blush – but you’re not stupid and you certainly don’t daydream about things that aren’t even there. 

You still don’t know why is he looking at you that way but the little sweet voice in your head is telling you that he might have harbored a tiny little crush after seeing you in a stupid dress while the other voice is telling you that Steve Harrington wants to fuck you. These voices might belong to the ghosts of Chrissy and Billy because in no way would you ever think that Steve could ever feel anything more than hatred for you. 

How will he react if you tease him back a little? 

You don’t even have to make it obvious, you can play it off, you can play anything off. 

“Do you guys want something sweet?” Steve asks, “I got ice cream in the freezer.” 

“What else do you have?” Eddie slurs, something that makes Robin giggle.

“Uh, M&M’s, Reese’s, Sour gummies,” Steve mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks up, thinking of what else he got in his cabinet, “I got some chips too.”

Eddie looks at Steve, pointing at him with his ringed finger, “I want it all.” 

Steve snorts at him and at the dazed look on his face, “alright. I’m just gonna clean this up first,” he points to the mess on the table. 

Perfect.

“I’ll help.” 

His eyes meet yours, a slight smirk tugs at his lips, “you sure you wanna get your hands dirty, Blondie?” 

“Oh, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” you smirk and break eye contact, rising up from the seat and swallowing down the nervousness. 

The space between the coffee table and the couch isn’t exactly big, and it gives you the perfect opportunity to make the first little step. With an innocent look on your face, you glance at him one more time, before you turn your back to him, bending over in front of him to pick up the dirty plates. Your heart is pounding and your cheeks are already burning but you pay no mind to that. 

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, you can hear it.

Should you even be surprised? His eyes almost bulged out of his skull when your skirt rode up after you just sat down earlier, his eyes were glued on your bare thighs the whole goddamn time and you saw it and yet your heart skips a beat at his reaction just now. 

You’re aware of how short your skirt is and that all it takes is for you to bend down a slight bit more for him to see more than just your thighs, a little further down and he will be able to see your ass and your panties. 

You bite back the smirk as you stack up the dirty plates, taking your sweet time with it. You can feel his eyes on your body and it takes everything in you not to turn around to look at his face but your little plan backfires when you suddenly feel his hands on your hips and his breath on your shoulder. You freeze. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, “it’s so tight in here.”

Blood rushes to your face and your stomach fills with butterflies. His touch and his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

This is bad. This is so very bad. 

You heard the mischief in his voice and his touch still lingers, he doesn’t need to take that long to squeeze past you. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into him or you, it might be the weed in your system or just the spur of the moment but as you pick up all the plates, you take a step back and press yourself against him, only for a one… or two seconds but long enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours, long enough to feel his hand squeezing your hip for a single second, long enough to hear him sucking in another sharp breath. 

And then, you step away from him like nothing happened, with innocence in your eyes, you look over your shoulder, “you’re right, it is really tight.” 

You see the way his lips part a little, the way his eyes darken and the way he clenches his jaw. He is angry that you are not falling for his teasing, that you are doing the same to him that he does to you. 

You walk into the kitchen and carrying the dishes over to the sink, you put them down and place your hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes, only now noticing how fast your heart is beating and how clammy your hands are, you give yourself a moment to calm down before you reach for the dish soap and the sponge after you turn on the water.

Flirting is nothing new to you and you’re certainly not shy about it, not anymore. 

Billy was your best friend, and if there’s something he was good at, then it was flirting and taking home girls. He taught you how to be more confident, how to embrace your sensuality and he taught you how to flirt. 

Losing your best friend took a toll on you and you couldn’t stand to be in Hawkins when every place you had gone to, reminded you of him, so you left for a little while. You spent two months in Indianapolis and stayed with your sister. You started going out, parties your sister had dragged you to, clubs and downtown bars and you had fun. For the first time in your life, you were approached by men, they flirted with you and that felt… good. You let your guard down when you were with them, you didn’t feel the need to hide yourself from them, they wouldn’t stay in your life for longer than a night, you didn’t have to fear them leaving or hurting you, there was no attachment, no connection or anything deeper between you than lust, you could be yourself in those few hours you spend with them. 

They made you feel something other than grief, sadness and heartbreak. They were nothing but strangers to you but you felt something in those nights you spent in their beds, their touches brought you back to life… even if only temporarily. 

You are used to flirting, you are used to teasing, it’s an easy game to you… with strangers. But Steve Harrington? He makes you nervous, he makes your heart race like crazy, he burns you with only his glances, and his touches make you feel like you have been kissed by something out of this world. He is different, he is no meaningless man in your life, he is not someone you would kick out of your bed after taking from him what you wanted, he is not someone you could easily leave behind and never look back to again. No, Steve holds your heart in the palm of his hand, he left a tear in your soul, he is the someone you would do anything for and that changes everything. You can’t treat him like you treated them because he is special, every little interaction with him, sets your heart on fire. 

“Jesus, Blondie!” Steve’s voice sounds through the kitchen, making you flinch in surprise, “use less dish soap, one drop is enough!” 

With furrowed brows you look down at all the foam in the sink. It’s not even bad. 

You turn around, glaring at the man and the tone in his voice. 

He shakes his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest as he walks towards you. 

“Are you washing the dishes or me!?” You growl at him, ignoring the tension that still lingers between the two of you. 

Steve chuckles as he stops beside you, raising his hands up in surrender, “you didn’t have to do it, don’t blame it on me.”

You turn back to the plate you were washing, scraping the sponge against it harshly as you try not to look at him, which turns out to be just another challenge – he inches closer to you, breathing down your neck and staring at you. You throw the sponge down and reach for the lever, not noticing the way his eyes widen a little or how he reaches his hand out. 

“Wait careful with t–” he gets cut off by the water that starts streaming from the broken lever. 

“Fuck!” You curse loudly, followed by a gasp when the cold water sprinkles all over your neck and your chest, you throw the plate into the sink and reach for the lever again but Steve grabs your hand, not letting you turn it off the way you want to, he is trying to move to it into a different direction, it only confuses you even more and his touch doesn’t help either.

“Hold still!” Steve snaps at you. 

Your whole chest is already wet from all the water you have been hit with and his angry voice irritates you. 

“Why don’t you get drenched huh!?” 

With a loud sigh, he lets go and you almost start raging. You lean forward, grabbing the lever with both hands when you suddenly feel him behind you, his chest against your back, his whole body pressed against yours as he reaches his arms around you, placing his both hands on top of yours, the water now getting all over the both of you as his now wet fingers handle the broken lever. 

You hear his groan as the water hits him in the face when he leans over your shoulder and he grips your hand tighter. 

And then, the water stops sprinkling and the only sound that continues to fill the room is the rain that still rolls down the windows and your heavy breathing. 

Your chest is rising up and down heavily and so is his, you can feel it against your back, and you can feel his breath on your neck and your shoulder, and you now feel it all by tenfold, thanks to your wet skin, it sends chills all over. You can still feel his hands on top of yours, his much bigger hands that cover yours fully. Your eyes are glued on them and the way their fingers trace your own for a very short moment. 

Your heart is beating so wildly in your chest that you fear that he might hear it. 

You can feel the water dripping down your shoulder, not the one from your hair but the water from his face. 

Despite the nervousness in your chest, you slowly pull your hands away and turn around to face him, only for a gasp threatening to fall from your lips when you notice how close he actually is, how close he had never been before, not even in Joyce’s kitchen, last week. Your chest is almost pressed against his, his face only inches away, lips so close that you can feel his breath on yours. You’re surprised when he doesn’t move his hands away, letting them fall on the counter and your sides. 

His hazel eyes stare into yours so intensely that it almost knocks the breath out of you, the look in them making you feel hot all over your body that you don’t even feel the cold water seeping through your white shirt any longer. 

Strands of his hair hang in front of his eyes, water dripping from them and rolling down his cheek, your eyes follow the drops that lead to his lips, making you gulp when you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him or even just to touch his lips with your fingers – you dig your nails into your wet palms.

You don’t even notice how Steve grips the edges of the counter so tightly to the point that his knuckles turn white, but you notice the way his eyes move down to your chest and to your now see-through shirt, the lacy black bra being on full display now… almost. 

You are both breathing heavily, still, whether it’s because of the shock or something else now – you feel the tension, it’s so heavy, heavier than before and it’s making your insides churn in a way that weakens you. 

Neither of you say anything, you are too busy staring at each other, you are too busy wanting him more and more. 

This is not enough. 

How could this ever be enough? 

You have always wanted this, to be this close, to feel his touch, to find out what it’s like to kiss him, to feel him. 

This isn’t fair… This isn’t fair to you. Because this is only making things so much harder for you.

You know you have to snap out of it, even when he makes no move to pull away, to stop staring, to let go of the counter and step away from your body. 

You have to snap out of it or else you will do something that you will regret for the rest of your life. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, you ignore the beating of your heart, you ignore the shakiness in your hands and you blink as you tilt your head up, looking back into his eyes again.

“Lego head,” you whisper shakily, “the water stopped.”

He snaps out of his stupor, blinking and clearing his throat as he averts his gaze. 

He steps away and you make a move to escape this, to escape him but neither of you have noticed just how messy the situation has actually gotten – the water didn’t just sprinkle all over the both of you, it soaked the ground beneath your feet, making the tiles slippery enough for you to lose control and almost take the fall. Almost. 

A gasp tears from your lips when Steve’s hand grabs at your waist and the other reaches for the counter behind you again. Out of instinct, you lift your hand and grab his arm to hold onto him, steadying him as well as he slipped too. He lets go of your waist, gripping the counter with both hands just like he did seconds ago, caging you in completely. He isn’t only close anymore, he is pressed against you completely – his chest flush against yours, his nose bumping into yours causing you to let out another soft gasp. 

And then, you both freeze again. 

You blink. He blinks. Neither of you make a move. 

He looks down at your lips, causing your heart to skip so strongly that you feel it in your whole chest and even your throat. 

“Shit, Blondie.” 

His voice is so low and deep that it makes you shudder, your blood rushing to more than just your face now. 

“I didn’t know you were such a clutz,” he murmurs, shakily as his eyes get stuck on your chest again. 

He is nervous, just like you are, you can tell by the sound of his voice. 

You stare at him, struggling to find your words.

How can you when he looks at you that way? 

As you stand there, caged in by his strong arms, staring up at the man that is much taller and bigger than you, something that makes him all the more attractive, you feel yourself not only longing for his heart but also his body… on top of yours. His much bigger hands on your bare body, his lips on your skin, him inside of you… You are fucked. You are so utterly and completely fucked. 

Steve Harrington could do anything with you, and he is not even aware of the powers he holds over you. 

Footsteps echo through the hallway, causing yours and his eyes to widen and he quickly pulls away from you, careful not to slip again. You pull your hands back, now holding onto the counter yourself. 

Eddie and Robin come rushing into the room just as Steve steps far enough away from you. 

They both halt in their tracks, gasping at the sight of the two of you all soaked from the water. They stare with wide eyes before they turn to look at each other, holding back only for two seconds before they burst into laughter. 

You’re not sure if the sight is really that funny or if they’re just high enough to laugh about anything. 

Eddie bends over, holding his stomach as he continues laughing while pointing between the two of you, Robin holding onto his shoulder as her giggles sound through the kitchen. 

You press your lips together and clench your jaw as you look over at Steve, who nods at the both of them with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What the hell happened!?” Eddie asks through his laughter. 

His voice snaps you out from the daze you were just in… and thank god. 

With a glare, you keep your eyes on Steve, “this fucker didn’t tell me that his sink was jammed and that a little bit of a force can break the lever.”

Steve groans, though not looking at you, he wipes his face as he steps away, “right, blame it on me for your sudden force.” 

He walks out of the kitchen, brushing past Eddie and Robin who stop laughing when he gives them a deadly glare, the one you’re throwing at his back as he leaves to go upstairs, probably to get changed while you stand there with your soaked shirt. 

You carefully step away from the puddle of water in front of you, making your way over to the kitchen island to grab some of the napkins. You dry your face off first, not even bothering with your shirt. 

Despite their amused faces, your friends walk over to you, wanting to help. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles as he grabs a napkin, he gives you a smirk, “who got you this wet, Sweetheart?” 

You raise your head up, glaring at your best friend who starts chuckling again. 

“This is porn material right there,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you as he points at your white shirt, but he is not even looking, even though your bra is very visible through the material now – what a gentleman. 

Robin chuckles, “should’ve kept the bra off, babe.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare at them with a stunned expression on your face, “pervs!” 

Robin keeps on chuckling as she walks over the cabinets, searching for clean kitchen towels. Eddie steps closer to you, patting your face dry with the napkins, which only makes you giggle when his brows knit together in concentration. 

Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement as he keeps pressing the napkin against your cheek, shaking his head at your laughter. 

“What’s so funny, smiley?” 

You snort at the nickname, and open your mouth to reply when Steve walks back into the room, his face now dry, hair still wet but no longer dripping. He’s wearing a different shirt now and he holds towels and a sweater in his hands, halting in his tracks, he looks between you and Eddie – his eyes flash with something that you can’t read, his face hardens and he clenches his jaw, you don’t know why but the expression causes your laughter to die down.

“Here,” Steve mumbles, tearing his gaze away from the both of you, he looks at the ground as he makes his way over to you, “those napkins won’t do much.” 

He hands you the towels and then his sweater. 

“And take your shirt off, Blondie,” he orders, “you can wear my sweater.” 

Your chest warms at his words and your heart flutters, and it only makes you feel irritated – this means nothing, this isn’t special, you aren’t special. He’d give his sweater to anyone under these circumstances. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you put the sweater on the counter, using the soft white towel to dry yourself off first. 

Eddie steps away from you, throwing the napkin into the trash before he makes his way over to Steve’s snack drawer, completely ignoring the puddle of water. 

“Dude, you could clean this up,” Robin mumbles, pointing at the mess on the floor. 

Eddie scrunches his nose up, “why don’t you clean it up?” 

Steve rolls his eyes at them, “I got this, I’ll clean it up.” 

Eddie starts rummaging through the drawer, picking out snacks as Robin turns around to look at you, and at Steve who stares at you with his hands on his hips. 

The shirt sticks to your body uncomfortably, goosebumps litter your skin from the cold water that seeps through the thin material, you want it off immediately. 

You take the sweater, still holding the towel close against your chest, you look up at Steve, “I’m gonna go change…” 

He nods, “yeah, you can uh… use the bathroom downstairs or mine, whatever you want.” 

You ignore the burning in your cheeks, the pounding in your heart as you brush past him and leave the kitchen, making your way into the bathroom. Your friend’s chatter fades away as you close the door behind you, locking it, a shaky sigh falls from your lips as you press your back against it. You close your eyes, giving yourself a moment to just breathe. 

What the hell just happened? 

With shaky legs, you walk towards the sink, dropping the towel and the sweater on the counter before you finally take a look in the mirror, only to gasp when you see just how much you can actually see through your shirt. You grow flustered knowing that Steve could see you like this. 

You groan in embarrassment, reaching for the hem of your shirt, you peel it off your body, replacing it with his sweater – something that fills you with warmth the moment the soft material touches your skin, your heart skips a beat when you look back at your reflection, taking in the sight of his sweater on your body.

You swallow the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by fixing your hair – you won’t let your mind go there, you won’t let yourself think too deeply about anything. This is just a sweater. And yet, your heart won’t stop racing and you can’t deny how such a small thing can make you feel so… comforted. 

When you return into the kitchen, you find it empty, the water puddle on the floor already gone but the dirty plates are still in the sink – you surely won’t risk getting wet again. You turn around and make your way over into the living room, where Eddie and Robin are back in their previous positions, snacking on Doritos. 

Steve is lying on the couch with his arm behind his back, the remote in his hand as he flips through the channels. 

You tug at the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly feeling shy as you walk into the room, wearing something of his. 

You don’t look at him as you walk past him, you also don’t look at him as you sit down on the couch, all that you’re focused on is the pounding in your heart and the nervousness that you still feel after everything that happened minutes ago.

You don’t notice the way he freezes when he takes a look at you, the way he stops flipping through the channels, the way his cheeks flush red when he looks at the sweater on your body – he knows that the only thing underneath the blue sweater of his, is a black, lacy bra and it makes him feel… flustered.

He sees the way you tug at the hem of his sweater when it rides up, pulling your short skirt along, he sees the way you bite down on your lip, he sees the way you glance at him nervously and suddenly Steve feels his blood rushing south. 

He swore to himself that he would never do what he did last week, and he really tried to resist you.

But how can he? 

How can he resist when you so clearly are doing it too now? 

Or is he reading the signs wrong? 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore