#and the third part of the holiday hellfire fic

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

hi :) same anon who requested the eddie/wayne holiday traditions story. i loooooved it so much btw im sorry if i never sent that before! but i was hoping to request another holiday themed fic?

i was thinking maybe a couple of the school clubs like hellfire, drama, band etc come together for a holiday party. reader and eddie are just friends at this point but theyre secretly crushing on eachother ever since eddie got reader to stay after drama club to watch hellfire. and the whole time eddie convinces himself to tell reader he likes her but after misreading a situation between reader and another guy (maybe the is asking practicing how to ask someone else out and reader is helping him? idk if thatis too cliche lol) he gets sad and mopes the rest of the party even though his friends try to cheer him up. reader doesnt know why his mood has changed and he isnt his usual flirty self but she finally convinces him to talk and he admits his feeling and happily ever after <3

Request by anon 💞

Warnings; Insecure Eddie, tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, and fluff.

Likes or reblogs are always appreciated 💞💖 I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

💞💞

There was a party going on at Hawkins High and all the clubs had come together for one night.

Band, Drama club, and Hellfire Club had all come together to hang out for the night.

Merriment was in the air and everyone was enjoying the atmosphere and mingling. Robin had even brought Steve and there was much enjoyment all around.

Yn was part of the Drama Club but had been hanging out for a few Hellfire sessions after Eddie convinced her to stay for one of his big campaigns.

They were friends and she really liked him, if she was being honest she had a crush on him and would love to tell him.

It was hard to work up the courage as she usually got distracted by his pretty brown eyes and would forget what she was saying.

Tonight though she would tell him. Everyone was in a good mood and she smiled as she could hear Eddie excitedly talk about a D&D campaign with Robin.

Nerves fill her belly as she thinks about what she was going to do. Hopefully, her gut feeling was right about Eddie.

They flirted a lot and she wanted to ask him if he wanted to hang out.

💞💞

Eddie had spent the party full of nervous anxiety. Every time had was yn he would break out into a sweat and get tongue-tied.

Rarely if ever did he feel this way but this was the effect she had on him, he had a massive crush on her, and just being in her presence made his heart race and his cheeks flush.

Dustin rolled his eyes as he saw Eddie look over at yn for the third time.

"Dude, just ask her out. She likes you and you like her!"

"I don't know if she likes me Henderson" Dustin gives him a look that clearly said *are you being serious right now?*

Maybe the little butthead had a point. Not that he would admit that as Dustin would get a big head.

Buoyed by this he makes his decision.

He sees yn talking to Steve and his stomach drops as he moves closer and hears Steve ask yn out.

She beams and she says yes which makes his heart sink. Of course, she would want to date Steve. He was handsome, chicks loved him and yn was perfect, they were a great match.

Steve and yn were beaming at each other and he feels gutted. Obviously, he had misread the signs that she liked him?

Miserable he heads off to find the rest of the Hellfire boys.

💞💞

After helping Steve with preparing to ask Nancy out she decides to find Eddie.

Eddie had been acting strange. No longer flirty and kind of withdrawn, kinda mopey she was confused because he seemed fine earlier.

Determined to find out what was wrong she goes to find him and he is taking to his friends.

"Eddie, are you okay?" his friends give them some privacy, and he looks upset about something.

"I'm fine," he tells her but she can sense his hesitation.

"Eddie, please tell me" he sighs.

"I heard Steve ask you out and you said yes, the truth is I really am falling for you but I get why you would want to date Harrington...

"Oh, Eddie. You misunderstand. I was helping Steve work up the courage to ask Nancy out. You know like a role-play kinda thing? I'm falling for you too"

He grins.

"You are? So if I asked you out? Maybe we could go and see a film together? You would say yes?"

Thrilled she nods.

"Yes" beaming he fist pumps the air.

"Milady, would you do the honor of accepting my request for a date?" she giggles reaching up and kissing him softly.

He blinks rapidly looking at her dazed.

"I would love to go out with you Eddie" beaming he kisses her tenderly and he takes her hand leading her over to Hellfire.

Eddie ruffles Dustin's hair.

"I told you so" Dustin grins and says this to Eddie.

"You were right butthead, now don't get a big head about it yeah?"

💞💞

[simmerandwrite]

make believe days | eddie munson x reader

Pairing: Eddie Munson x drama club president!reader

Summary: Without a doubt, Eddie Munson was the most frustrating human in your goddamn life. But after his dumb board game club helps out with the final drama club production, you get a change in perspective.

Wordcount: 4.7k

Warnings: recreational drug use mentioned

Notes: spoiler free! This would take place a month or so before S4 begins. a lil self indulgent fic for the drama kids out there. In my brain, The Hellfire Club sets up in the drama room every week (but they used the full stage for their big event in 4.01, of course). First crack at Eddie, no beta, barely proofread, all mistakes are my own. This is my side blog for writing, you can find my regular blog @simmerandcry​. Thank you for reading!

---

Without a doubt, Eddie Munson was the most frustrating human in your goddamn life. This man wasn’t even your friend - but you had the distinct displeasure of dealing with him nearly every day and you were at the end of your rope.

The drama club had been working endless nights and weekends, squeezing in rehearsals after school and in free period and every second lunch hour and Eddie Munson’s silly little board game club was this close to ruining it all. 

First, there had been the third world war between you and the Hellfire Club king himself, mediated by Mr. Poole. Over which group got Friday nights in the drama room. Eventually, a truce and fair schedule had been drawn for each extra curricular.

Another day, you had come into the drama room early Monday morning - relieved after the success of the Holiday Festival. And your beautiful snowman sculpture had been decapitated, with an apologetic note scrawled on his discarded head about how they were going to fix it ASAP. The volcanic eruption Eddie Munson faced from you was worthy of its own adventure novel.

(He apologized profusely, explaining about the ‘heat of the moment’ and ‘an epic final battle to defeat’ some blah blah blah monster. You did not care.)

And now! You had walked into the room over lunch, lugging your sewing kit to finish off some hemming on the Queen of Heart’s dress, only to find a discarded bottle of rootbeer tipped over, soiling a pile of white tunics required for the card costumes.

Ditching your supplies and brown bag lunch, you grabbed the bottle and the top most garment and rushed to the cafeteria. 

You knew that being president of the drama club wasn’t the height of popularity when it came to high school. The only thing saving the theater kids from being complete losers was the fact that being involved gave participants some approved time away from the class when the productions were live and sometimes it crossed over as part of an art credit, too. But you knew the stereotypes when you joined. Frankly, you didn’t care much about your reputation when it came to school.

You were just waiting to graduate and move to New York.

But that didn’t mean your last semester and last ever production in the Hawkins High School auditorium didn’t mean anything to you. In fact, that made it mean so much more. You were directing the show, with support from both Mr. Poole and the art teacher Ms. Baxter, and acting as the Red Queen, on top of designing posters and helping with sets and costumes. You and the rest of the club had poured your lives into this final show and you were dedicated to making sure it all went off without a hitch.

If there was one other thing you were certain of, you knew that being in the drama club was almost equally as embarrassing as being a member of The Hellfire Club. After basketball, football and cheerleading, most school teams fell further down the ladder. But being near the bottom? It wasn’t always easy. With both the drama club and The Hellfire Club sharing a similar social status, it should have meant some sort of understanding and respect, but Eddie Munson was ignorant to that, apparently.

With the sleeves of your oversized red blazer shoved over your elbows and your scuffed black converse slapping the tile floor, you headed into the cafeteria and set your targets on the table near the far windows - the one where Eddie was holding court with his round table of idiots.

“But our next mission, my friends, will take our journey even further. If you think we’re in the clear from the -”

“Munson!” You planted your feet beside his chair at the end of the table, reaching out to grab his shoulder and draw his attention. Although, given how the chatter at the table had already come to a halt, you had a feeling your piercing cry was enough of a distraction. “What the hell?”

“Well, hello to you too, Madam President.” The coy smirk on Eddie’s face vanished when he caught your scowl. “How are you already wound up about something? It’s barely noon and-”

“We spent hours on these costumes last week and your merry band of dorks managed to ruin them in one fell swoop.” You shoved the bottle of rootbeer at his chest and dropped the stained white tunic onto the table, covering his plastic tray. “The stupid Shared Room Agreement you made me sign specifically says no food or drink is to come anywhere near our stuff!”

Eddie narrowed his eyes for a brief moment, glancing from you to the soda bottle then to the costume. He sucked in a breath. “Gareth! Come on, dude. I made it very clear that all snack remnants are to disappear to save from this.” He jerked his thumb towards you, ignoring your huff and extending the bottle towards his team mate. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Uh,” Gareth’s face scrunched up, holding back his laughter while the rest of the table tried to keep their faces straight too. “My bad?”

“Your bad?” You sucked in a hard breath and pivoted to look at Gareth. 

Gareth, who you’ve technically known since elementary school and had probably still had a habit of burping the alphabet. Who sat two desk rows behind you in ninth grade science and nearly got kicked out of class for puppeteering his frog that was meant to be dissected. Gareth. His head was on the chopping block after Munson.

With a sharp inhale, you steadied yourself again and looked back to Eddie once more. “That’s it. I’m going to Mr. Poole. Your club is finding a new home.” 

You were stomping away just as quickly as you had arrived, ignoring the shouts coming from Eddie as he trailed behind you. 

Just as you were raising your hand up to knock on Mr. Poole’s door, feeling a tiny bit guilty about interrupting his lunch (the man avoided the faculty lounge in the lunch hour, enjoying his sandwich alone with a book), Eddie’s hand had grabbed onto your wrist.

“Wait, wait.”

You let out a quiet sigh as he released your arm. “Don’t test me, Munson.” You tilted your head to catch his stare. God, you were a good actress. Because damnit if Eddie Munson didn’t have the most beautiful, apologetic doe eyes.

Hold your ground, dummy.

“Listen, the drama room has become our playground for fantasy. Can’t we come to an agreement here?” Eddie pressed his shoulders back and pouted. “Please. Gareth already lost us our privileges in the music room and -”

“Let me guess, he left a bag of Bugles inside someone’s bugle.” 

Eddie smirked. “No, it was a noise complaint.”

“Shocking.” You controlled your bite and slid your tongue across your lips, head shaking side to side. “I’m tired of all this, okay? That room is our sanctuary and your round table of jesters has ruined our peace for the final time.”

“Listen, staining your little costumes isn’t the end of the world. You just need some bleach, I have a lot of methods for getting..” He paused to find his words. “..substances out of things.”

“Gross.”

“Like red wine and blood, sweetheart. Don’t be so dramatic.”

You hissed out his name, face scrunched up in frustration. “Listen, I was okay with the candles - although that is definitely a fire hazard. And I even let you have our old throne from the retired set pieces to do what you wanted with. But when your little board game-”

“D&D is not a board game. You wound me.”

“Whatever, Munson! Your reckless friend Gareth has ruined it for you!”

Apparently your own volume was worthy of a noise complaint now. Because before you could step back, the door at your side was opening and there stood Mr. Poole, brushing crumbs off his thighs as he looked between you and Eddie.

Your teacher let out his own dramatic sigh. “What happened now, Mr. Munson?”

You shot a glance towards Eddie once more, as you took a deep breath before explaining the entire situation. And that’s when you caught it - a look you had never seen from your nemesis Eddie Munson before.

His eyes were pleading without explanation - a silent request that you might choose not to throw him directly into the fire. That you might just hear him out once more, that the drama room could continue to serve you both. And despite all the rage in the pit of your stomach, the weight of the world you had put on your own shoulders, the level you held yourself and the amatuer production up to… despite all of that, the desperation in Eddie Munson’s eyes caused something to shift in you.

Instead of stoking the flames, it seemed to suffocate them to embers.

When Mr. Poole spoke your name - repeated it, in fact, you turned your attention to him. “Oh, uhm. Nothing happened, sir. Sorry to interrupt your ham on rye.. I just wanted to let you know that Eddie’s club has graciously decided to help backstage the night of the performance, so there is no reason to harass your sophomore English class for me. Now I have all the willing volunteers I need.” Slowly, you turned your head towards Eddie. “Isn’t that right, Eddie?”

You watched as Eddie’s jaw carefully clenched. Behind his rapidly blinking eyes - which, God, had those always been hidden behind such long eyelashes? - he was clearly making a decision. Then he stood taller, somehow, and flared out his fingers before neatly tugging on his vest. “Yes, right. That is.. Right. You are looking at the leader of the stage crew.”

---

Eddie hated to admit it but your tenacity was admirable. Annoying and cunning, sure, but damnit if he didn’t respect how dedicated you were to your craft. 

Honestly, a lot of your traits were just as excellent - like how you could command a room, how your smile could drop from charming to devilish in the blink of an eye. Not that… not that Eddie paid a particular amount of attention to your smile and how the muscles on your face behaved.

No, no. Your smile was nothing but a distraction, a tool used to hypnotize educational supervisors while you conned an innocent man in the hallway. Because Eddie was not the person you seemed to think he was - menacing, conniving, heartless, and messy. No, he was just passionate. 

Passionate about his friends and his club and his music. And the journey The Hellfire Club had been going on this year had been Tolkien level of adventure. The beasts were bigger, the missions heavier, the reaped rewards even greater. And he couldn’t let anything jeaporize the ending that was approaching, which means they could not lose their home. The drama room was his safe haven too and if he had to lug around oversized chess pieces for your silly little production for one night to appease the Drama Queen herself, to ensure they didn’t lose their playing space, whatever. He could give up one night.

What he didn’t expect was the annoying chorus of whines coming from his club members.

“Can you explain to us again why we have to spend our night here if Gareth was the rootbeer bandit?” Mike Wheeler, ever the tall and wise, lamented as he pushed a spotlight across the floor. “Shouldn’t he be doing his own community service?”

Dustin Henderson, ever the little shithead (and truthfully Eddie’s favourite, though he’d never admit it out loud), chimed in as he unraveled an extension cord. “Oh. Isn’t it obvious? Eddie loves whatshername.” 

“Boys, we are mere mortals in the daylight.” Eddie walked towards them, lending yet another hand to push the heavy lighting fixture into place. “And sometimes, we need to pay our dues. Besides, Gareth’s doing his own repentance.”

Dustin’s commentary had been loud enough that Eddie certainly heard it before he approached to assist them. But it felt easier to pretend he hadn’t. First, because arguing with Henderson could be both grating and gratifying, but he couldn’t always find the right words. And second, that annoying little freshman wasn’t really wrong.

Love was a complicated word, of course. Eddie threw it around without caution usually. Because damnit, he loved his guitar. And he loved the way playing it made him feel, how it helped him escape. He loved fresh strawberry jelly, like his mum used to make in their tiny little kitchen. He knew what love was.

But did he love you? Doubtful.

Truthfully, Eddie wasn’t new to your orbit. You had been fighting over the drama room exclusively since your reign as president had started two years ago. But before that, you still existed in his life. Maybe you didn’t remember him and his recollection of you was foggy at best, but you had grown up on the same street. A long time ago, in the before times of Eddie’s life. Before his mom died, before he moved in with his uncle, before his lunchbox was filled with an assortment of illegal substances for sale, before life sort of cracked beneath his feet. 

It was your brother, actually, who Eddie had known best. They had played knights together in the treeline every day after getting off the bus and sometimes you’d trail along, watching carefully or joining in to act as their damsel in distress. You’d ask questions about the story and your brother used to quickly dismiss you, that it wasn’t a story. It was just playing, it was just fighting, it was just dreaming.

Clearly that didn’t stop you from your own dreaming. Cause look at you now. Making an entire Wonderland come to life in your time between classes. Even when most people didn’t care about the drama club or their performances, you carried on. You weathered the storm of rolled eyes and name calling. You persevered, like you had something to prove.

Eddie switched school districts when he moved to the trailer park and although your paths were crossing again at Hawkins High, the leftover memories of your shared past didn’t matter much. But that didn’t stop him from looking forward to arguing with the girl who liked to daydream and play make believe, who liked to command the room and make her ideas come to life. 

Yeah, it definitely couldn’t be love. But Eddie Munson certainly let you live in his mind more often than he liked to admit.

 ---

“That was quite the speech, Madam President.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned in the kitchen, finding a grinning Eddie leaning against the countertop, a fresh plastic cup of beer in his hand. It was the right thing to do - inviting your reluctant laborers to the cast party. Because it was for the crew too and they had worked hard. 

The parties weren’t always this raucous, but seeing as there were half a dozen other seniors in the club who were mourning their final school performance, it seemed appropriate to escalate the entire event. What you hadn’t anticipated was Kelly Campbell, the wicked talented sophomore who had stolen the show as Alice, volunteering her house as the location. Once word got out from her cheerleader sister Monica about the event, the invitations had gotten a bit out of control.

But whatever, you couldn’t let yourself care about it. The living room had overflowed with people hanging on your every word as you celebrated the play, standing on the coffee table and delivering your greatest farewell, sending out personal thank you notes to everyone for tolerating how insane and passionate you had been all year. 

You relished because you knew it would all be over soon. But that’s what you had been waiting for, right? To let this chapter close so you could start again, somewhere else? Somewhere new? Somewhere far away from small town politics and annoying classmates and irritable, long haired, doe-eyed dungeon masters?

“I mean it.” Eddie continued as you scanned his face, searching for a crack in his honesty. “I’m glad I got to see the show.”

“Got to see the show… had to move sets for the show…” You smirked and tipped your own cup up towards your mouth. “Same thing, I guess.” Your gratitude for The Hellfire Club certainly outweighed your annoyance now. The little sheep had been especially helpful with the lights and Gareth even got a laugh when you made him play one of the pawns in the garden scene. You’d be hard pressed to say it out loud, but the show might not have gone on without the enemy and his team coming to your aid.

And you had successfully bleached the soiled costumes, too.

With a deep breath, you took a small step towards him and extended your hand to knock your cups together. “I’m not sure I expressed my gratitude to you yet, Eddie. All walls down, white flag raised - this is serious. Thank you.”

“Wow.” His smirk grew and his eyebrows shot up, hiding behind his shaggy brown bangs. “How difficult was that for you to say out loud? Have you been practicing all day?”

“All week, even.” Oh god, your wall had entirely dismantled itself apparently. Because when you met Eddie’s gaze again, you could have sworn your heart flip flopped a handful of times. With another deep breath and second of courage, you kept going. Because, hey, this was all going to be over soon right? Your new life awaits. So why not just… “Hey - did you bring your lunch box of tricks with you tonight?”

You watched as he studied you, as you did him. His posture tightened for a brief second, as something flashed across his face. He nodded once. “My inventory overflows with items, my drama queen.”

My drama queen.

You finished off your beer and motioned your head to the staircase. 

 ---

Eddie would have wound up at this party anyway. He made the rounds every Friday night, popping into these little get-togethers and making all the transactions and trades he needed to call it a successful evening. But a personal invitation to one of these parties wasn’t usually something that happened. 

Somehow he couldn’t resist this time. Especially when you bounded off stage after the final curtain call and almost ran him over before getting out of your costume.

‘Not sure what the curfew is for the kids but it’s a cast and crew party. Hope to see you there, Munson.’

What was it about your attitude that made him both incredibly annoyed and attracted to you at the same time? 

He couldn’t let himself think too hard about that, because he needed to stay present. Right here in the present, where he was following you up the stairs. Right behind your - no, no. He stopped himself. Was it appropriate to objectify someone of such high political ranking? Even if your acid wash jeans hugged your waist perfectly. Even if he was dying to see you wearing just that deep purple corset, instead of hiding it behind that boxy blazer. Even if he wanted to kiss that leftover stage lipstick right off your -

“This way!” 

Get it together, Munson. With a straight head, he turned down the hall the same way you did. And when you pushed into a bedroom door, loudly announcing your entrance - he couldn’t stop himself from applauding the way you strode right past the couple making out to climb through the far window instead. 

And when you extended your hand back towards him, to help him climb through too, Jesus - Eddie felt like he had crossed over to a brand new reality.

“Should we check on that dude? Seems like she might be stealing all the air from his lungs..” Eddie’s mouth provided commentary without even thinking, slowing down his pace as you led him towards a small part where the roof met a parallel peak. At the right angle, you could both sit - side by side, without risk of falling or really being discovered.

It was strangely intimate. Surely you could have just gone to the basement with the rest of the stoners or hidden out in the backyard. But here you both were, high above the ground, just a tiny bit closer to the universe above. 

“Maya works as a lifeguard in the summer. She’s good at mouth to mouth, I know from experience,” you replied to Eddie with a smirk, carefully extending your legs out as you sat and scooching to invite him to join you. “He’ll be okay.”

Eddie fiddled with the pockets of his vest once he was situated, then slowly his head turned. There was that smirk again. “You’ve kissed her?” His thumb pointed back in the direction they had journeyed, blinking a lot more than necessary as he brain tried to compute.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it,” you teased, nudging your elbow gently into his side. “The whole drama club sort of..” You trailed off, as if these weren’t your secrets to share. “We can be a very cuddly group.”

Eddie could see the mischievous shine in your eye. He let out a breath as his jaw moved side to side. Did his heart rate just pick up? Focus, focus.

“So, what’ll it be?” Eddie retrieved a small plastic bag from his pocket, laying it out flat in his hand. “I think I have a few fancy pills out in the van, too, if you want to-”

“Oh no, just pot. Something classic, slow and smooth.” You were quick to reply, drawing a very real cautious boundary that you hoped he recognized. “Safe.”

He opted for the most traditional strain in his pre-rolled set up, with an understanding nod and a wave of his hand to dismiss any of his other suggestions. “You got it.”

The entire set up was a bit awkward, clumsy even. Once his zippo finally stopped acting up and the joint was at his lips, trading it back and forth with you became an easy pattern. You leaned back eventually, declining any additional inhales and stared up towards the sky. Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what happened now so he just, well, did the same as you. His back hit the shingled roof and his eyes travelled upward.

He closed his eyes. “So, you happy?”

“I dunno if my brain is strong enough for a question so heavy,” you mumbled back.

“I meant with the play, how it all turned out. When our band performs, I always look back at our shows and nitpick so I just wonder if you do the same about your ..whole thing.”

“Oh. Well, that makes more sense now, doesn’t it?” Did you just giggle? Good lord. This was his regular stuff?. “Yeah, I think it was a nice way to finish off my final act at Hawkins High School.” It felt so real saying that out loud but you were staring your future in the face. Of course it was going to feel scary. “I’m happy with it, yeah. Sure.”

“Even though my.. what was the phrase you coined - my ‘round table of jesters’ - even though my jesters were involved?”

“Yes, you and the jesters made a big difference, even.”

“Really? Even though you can’t stand me?”

“When did I ever say that?”

“The words never left your mouth,” he choked out a laugh. “But oh, I can tell. Your energy is alarmingly potent with anger when I’m in your zone. You radiate irritation.”

You pushed yourself to sit up, turning to look at him. “I do not radiate irritation.”

“She says with a scowl on her face,” he smiled, raising his eyebrows up and down. 

“How do you know I’m scowling? Your eyes are still closed,” you shoot back, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Radiate irritation. You make me sound nuclear or something.”

He laughed harder now. “You are nuclear, baby.”

You can’t help but laugh along with him now. You figured it was time to let it all go. “Sorry if I’ve been a nuclear bitch all semester, Eddie.” The tingles across your skin grew even stronger as the weed caught up to your mind. You tried to resist it but you laid back down again, head tipped to the side to look at him.

Eddie’s face has already turned to look at you, eyes wide, searching. “You’ve come so far from your damsel in distress days.”

“Oh my god!” Your eyes lit up at his commentary. “You do remember me from the old neighbourhood. I wasn’t sure - here I thought we were too grown up to talk about those old make believe days.”

“You’re the president of the drama club and I’m a dungeon master. We never left the make believe days, my lady.”

You couldn’t pinpoint where the affectionate terms of endearment had started but for some reason, you didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want it to stop. Because damnit, there you were, falling down into Eddie Munson’s eyes in the moonlight.

“And where did my brother in arms end up? I know he graduated on time, unlike myself.”

“My brother and his Camaro headed east. He’s up in Brooklyn now, very broke but living the dream, so he says.” You lifted your hands up above your face, stretching your fingertips up to connect the faded stars above. “He’s very excited for me to move in and cut his rent payments in half.”

“You’re going to New York?”

“As soon as I get that dumb piece of paper in my hand, I’m out of here.” You pointed a single finger up towards the sky. “Goodbye Hawkins, hello… to future.”

“Hello to future?” Eddie laughed again. “The drama queen, master of all linguistics.” 

You laughed too, turning and burying your face into his shoulder. Wait. Had you two always been this close - side by side? Was it cold all of a sudden? “Sorry, sorry. Drama club.. We’re cuddly.”

“Right, right. Well, I lugged around all those stupid sets for you - am I part of the club now?” The register of his voice sounded lower, smoother,  

Your hand dropped down and landed on his chest, that determined pointer finger finding a button hole to inspect. “Absolutely not. Well, not officially. You aren’t in the yearbook photo.” You peeked upwards to look at him. He was staring again. “Unofficially, yes. Jester of the drama club, as declared by the queen herself.”

“An honour, my queen.” 

Your conversation carried on and off. You stayed tucked right into Eddie’s side as he asked you more questions about your plans for New York. He said the big city was on his list too, if he could make it out. A very real part of you knew he would make it out and you tried not to overthink about that. Maybe you were nothing but a tiny footnote in Eddie Munson’s big life but at that moment in time, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He mumbled against the shell of your ear. “Well, what do we do now?” 

You were sprawled across his chest, the thump thump thumping of his heart keeping you awake. “Are you asking in a real life, what-about-the-future kind of way or a very non-serious, make believe sort of way?”

 “I’m asking in whatever way inspires your best answer, sweetheart.”

“In a real life sort of way, what happens next is we crawl back inside and part ways with a handshake. But in the make believe side of this story, we stay right here and talk about our dreams and eventually I get the courage to slam my lips against yours...”

Well below you both, the party was still in full swing. You could be down there, making some final memories with your stage comrades and trading plans for the summer. Or, you could stay right where you were - tucked into Eddie Munson’s side, hot breath on your neck.

His hand trailed down your side, underneath the fabric of your blazer. You felt the cool metal of his rings against the sliver of skin above your waistline. You held your breath when he opened his mouth to reply. “I definitely prefer the make believe sort of way.”

You didn’t know what the final scene was going to look like between you and Eddie, but for now, under the promise of nothing and beneath the safety of the night sky, you stayed. Because without a doubt, Eddie Munson was the most surprising person in your life.

---

Any feedback is appreciated!! Thank you so much for reading!!! If you see me out in the wild, I’m @simmerandcry​

[myfavoriteficss]

Marvel Angst Masterlist

This Masterlist includes all of the Marvel angst I have reblogged. The angst will range from very light to heavy depending on the fic. Enjoy.

Updated: 07/17/2021

Marvel Masterlist's

Masterpost

KEY:

Genre: (F) = Fluff, (A) = Angst, (D) = Dark, (J) = Jealousy, (V) = Violence, (H/C) = Hurt and/or Comfort

Trope: (ER) = Established Relationship, (EL) = Enemies to Lovers, (FL) = Friends to Lovers, (FE) = Frenemies, (FD) = Fake Dating, (F/B) = Friends with Benefits, (BU) = Breakup/Already Broken Up, ( C) = Cheating, (UL) = Unrequited Love, (SB) = Slow Burn, (P) = Pregnancy, (BS) = Bed Sharing, (SR) = Super Reader

Type: (AU) = Alternate Universe, (18+) = Mature/NSFW, (HC) = Headcanon

1. Wanda Maximoff

Written by: @aaron-despair

Not your fault (ER, F, A)

Written by: @abimess

It only takes the holidays (AU, A, F): (1) It only takes a commercial - (2) It only takes a pothole - (3) It only takes a lunch - (4) It only takes a party - (5) It only takes a Christmas tree - (6) - It only takes an unexpected visit - (7) It only takes a weird noise - (8) It only takes a fund-raising event - (9) It only takes a starry sky - (10) It only takes a Christmas gift - (11) It only takes a decision - (Epilogue) It only takes a deed

Too familiar, too hurtful (EL, A, F)

Marry me (A, F)

Written by: @aestethick​

Roses (A)

Written by: @allyouthought​

always (F, A)

Written by: @aphrodite-made-me-write-it

Cast A Spell (On You) (AU, A) 

Written by: @badgerfic

the serum (A, V): Part 1

Written by: @buckyssoldat

(UL, A) (1) Not in that way - (2) Gone

Written by: @c-is-writing

gaze into my mind (A, F) 

good enough (A, F) 

Written by: @cantcontroltheirfear​

Odds (AU, A): (1) Another One - (2) I’m Ready - (3) Bar With No Name - (4) That Much Is True - (5) Still - (6) Second to Last Last - (7) Even

Written by: @captainhotch

Cat and Mouse (A) 

Written by: @certifiedskywalker​

Waiting for Home (A) 

Written by: @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba

Je Te Laisserai De Mots (A) 

Written by: @delfiore​

i sunk in all the memories (A) 

better than losing you (ER, A) 

Written by: @desparadowrites

The Very Awful Not Good Bad Day (SR, A) 

Written by: @empyreanwritings

Almost Lost You (FL, A, F) 

Written by: @fallinforevans

you have me (FL, A, F) 

Written by: @forever-your-soldat

(ER, A) (1) Too Much - (2) Her Love 

I Can’t Hurt You (A, V) 

Written by: @frostedfaves

All Too Well (ER, A) 

Written by: @harringtons-imagines

Monster (A, F) 

Written by: @helloalycia

just a kid (ER, A, V, D): [one] - [two]

Written by: @hiiraya

(A, F) (1) one last dance (rewrite) - (2) one last chance (rewrite) - (3) with you

loving you had consequences (rewrite) (BU, A) 

you are my sunshine (rewrite) (A)

Written by: @jabbagabba

La La Land (A): Prologue

Written by: @jbbarnesnnoble

(ER, C, A) (1) Out of Everyone Else - (2) It's Me You're Gonna Miss

Written by: @kingsmanandqueens

Winsome Enigma (A, F) 

Written by: @lesbian-lilo​

Mission Mishaps (H/C, F, A) 

Written by: @lowkeyerror

I Have To See Her Again (A, V)

Written by: @m-lesmxrales

Safe & Sound (ER, A) 

Written by: @marvel-wlw

Somewhere to Run (A) 

Written by: @marvels-writings

Broken Sense (UL, A) 

Dreams that Come True (F, A) 

Always Safe (A) 

Scared (A, F) 

Hurting You (A, F) 

Wanted More (ER, C, A) 

Written by: @marvelsdc22

What We Thought We Lost (AU, FL, A, F): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @may-fanfic​

I Just Want You (A, F) 

Written by: @mcuwritin​

Mission gone wrong (A): Part I - Part II

Frenemies? (FE, A, F): Part I - Part II

Written by: @missmonsters2

About You (A): Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X

(ER, A) (1) Under the Light - (2) You Found Me

Find Your Way (BU, A) 

Last the Night (ER, C, A) 

Written by: @mymymarvel

Never Is Enough (A) 

Written by: @nermalina

so in love. (A, F) 

Written by: @nervoustrack

We're out in the open sea (A)

Written by: @nothingbutimagines

Last Christmas (UL, A, F) 

Written by: @procrastinatingsapphictrash

The pact (FL, F, A) 

Written by: @queenxxxsupreme

1950 (A) 

Written by: @randomshyperson

Sorry for your loss (FL, A, F): (1) I will grieve - (2) I will try - (3) I will get better. - (4) I will move on - (5) I will love again (18+)

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy (AU, FL, F, A): (1) The First Year - (2) The Second Year - (3) The Third Year - (4) The Fourth Year (Part I) - (5) The Fourth Year (Part II) - (6) The Fourth Year (Final Part) - (7) The Fifth Year (Part One) - (8) The Fifth Year (Part Two) - (9) The Fifth Year (Part Three)

Left Behind (FL, A, V, F): (1) Muddy Waters - (2) R.I.P to My Youth - (3) No Time to Die - (4) Save Me - (5) Someone You Loved - (6) Once a Promise, Always a Promise. - (7) Start a Riot - (8) Fine Line - (9) Please Notice - (10) Atlantis

Road to Healing (FL, A, F, 18+)

Drivers License (AU, FL, F, A)

The One (AU, A, F)

Written by: @rebeliz777

August (C, F/B, A): Part I (18+) - Part II (18+) - Part III

Again (A) 

Crumbling down (A)

Written by: @reminiscingtonight

(BU, A) (1) Better By Now - (2) Run Into You - (3) Still the Same

(FL, A) (1) Through The Dark - (2) If I Fall - (3) Breaking Point

(ER, A) (1) Cellophane - (2) Apologies

(AU, ER, A) (1) Break My Heart Again - (2) Burn It All Down

(FL, A, F) (1) Last Kiss - (2) All I Know - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - (6) Breathe (It’s Out Of My Hands)

A Different Corner (A) 

Need You Now (A)

Let’s Hurt Tonight (ER, A)

Ghost of You (A)

Lego House (AU, FL, A, F)

Not Ready For Goodbyes (ER, A, F)

Hold On (ER, A)

Twilight Time (ER, F, A)

Feel It Twice (A)

I’ll Never Love Again (A)

Written by: @rogue-barnes-16

I’m A Monster (FL, A, F) 

Written by: @saintprinsessa​

Feeling You (A) 

Written by: @sapphicshots

to grow old in (ER, A, F) 

falling (FL, A, F) 

Written by: @shesaidnomaam

Witch & Wound (A, F): Part 1 - Part 2

Two A.M, Two Bottles In (A) 

Written by: @somewhatgreatexpectations

Love Goes (FL, C, BU, A, F): (1) Latch - (2) One Day at a Time - (3) Fire on Fire - (4) Like I Can - (5) Breaking Hearts - (6) Another One - (7) Palace - (8) Writing’s On The Wall - (9) For The Lover That I Lost - (10) Leave Your Lover - (11) Nirvana - (12) Lay Me Down - (13) To Die For

Love Me (Or Let Me Go) (AU, A, F): (1) Leave, Then Go - (2) If you need me, let me know - (3) Walk Away - (4) In the Middle - (5) Love Me, or Let Me Go - (6) Don't Go - (7) Separate Ways - (8) Set You Free - (Alt. Ending) Home

Written by: @spoopy-imagines-writer

Behind These Hazel Eyes (A) 

Written by: @starshipsofstarlord

Two Beds, One Home (A, F) 

Testing. Testing. (A) 

Written by: @subtlebucky

she lives in daydreams with me (A, F) 

Written by: @thenatashamaximoff

Dangerous Love (C, BU, A, V, SR): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Epilogue

Broken Love (C, A): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin

Guilt is an Ugly Mistress (ER, A) 

Of Love and Of Loss (ER, A) 

Written by: @waiting4inspiration

Why? (A, F) 

Written by: @wandaownsthisass

If You Need Me (A) 

Written by: @wandaromanova​

Should’ve Been You (ER, A) 

Written by: @wandsolsen​

Champagne Problems (ER, A) 

Written by: @wellsayhelloaagin​

Cross My Heart (ER, A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @wokeupinawalnut

(ER, BU, A) (1) Six Degrees Of Separation - (2) Wherever This Goes

Save The Best For Last (FL, A, F) 

Written by: @young-and-bitchy (deactivated)

Here You Come Again (BU, A) 

Written by: @8plasma

children of tragedy (A): [part 1] - [part 2]

2. Natasha Romanoff

Written by: @aestethick

Last Kiss (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @allfiguredout

Home (A) 

Written by: @aphrodite-made-me-write-it

To Mend (A, F) 

Written by: @c-is-writing

untangled (F, A) 

Written by: @crimsonspy

Don’t shut me out (FL, SB, A, F) 

Written by: @demxters

bluebird (A) 

Written by: @femreader

Don’t Go (H/C, A) 

Written by: @higherfurther-romanova

Then Finish It (A, V, D): Part 1

Written by: @hiiraya

(A) (1) didn't know what I had - (2) you were good to me - (3) what I want

closure (A) 

Written by: @jbbarnesandnoble

Rainy Season (A)

When We Were Young and Naive (AU, A) 

Written by: @jumbojamba47

Guest Room (A) 

Written by: @lesbian-deadpool

New Surroundings (A): (1) Glad You Are Back - (2) Glad To Be Home

(A, F) (1) We Were On A Break! - (2) I’ll Be Home For Christmas

A Fresh Start (A, F) 

Written by: @lilxberry

I Watched You Die (A): Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Written by: @lndlover

Somebody else (C, A) 

Written by: @lonelyandlovelorn

Loophole (F, A) 

Written by: @marvels-writings

(ER, C, BU, A) (1) Used To - (2) World Turned Upside Down - (3) My Forever

Not Meant to Be (A) 

A Reason to Leave, a Reason to Stay (A, F) 

Perfect (A, F) 

Past Come to Life (A, F) 

Piece of Your Heart (A, F) 

Make it Right (ER, A) 

Can’t You Tell? (A) 

Written by: @marvelouslytrekking

Finding You (A, V) 

Written by: @marvelsbanner

Someone to You (A, F) 

Written by: @may-fanfic

Because I love you (A, V): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @missmonsters2

Lead Me Astray (ER, A) 

Leave Me Lonely (ER, A) 

Stars Falling (A, F) 

Written by: @natasha-danvers

Oh (A, F): Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Longing (A): Part 1

Written by: @pietrosgf

the sweet escape (A): (1) what died didn’t stay dead - (2) you’re alive in my head

Written by: @pigeonp0st

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #2 (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Can’t get over her (A, F) 

The rest of my life (A, F) 

A little help from the team (A, F) 

Doubt (A, F) 

Drunken confessions (A, F) 

Written by: @quickpiet

Walk it off (A, F) 

Written by: @rebeliz777

You saved me (A) 

Written by: @roger-that-cap

(ER, C, A) (1) cardigan - (2) tolerate it

peace (A, F) 

Written by: @romanoffswifey

Point Blank (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @saltybaltic

Come Back To Me (A, F) 

Written by: @sapphicshots

i can’t live without you (A, F) 

Written by: @satxnsupreme​

Welcome home (A) 

Written by: @shesaidnomaam

Natasha x Reader (A): Part 1

Written by: @startrekkingaroundasgard

“I didn’t mean it.” (A, F) 

Written by: @thenatashamaximoff

Dangerous Love (C, BU, A, V, SR): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Epilogue

Broken Love (C, A): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin​

All That Matters (A, F) 

Written by: @vanillann

real or not real? (A) 

Written by: @vulpe-fox

Seeing You (A) 

Written by: @wandavixen

Hurt (A) 

Written by: @wannabe-fic-writer

Old But New (A, F) 

Fed Up (A) 

Written by: @wildhoney323

Moving On (C, A, F) 

Written by: @winedrunkbarnes

Roses and Regrets (A, F) 

Written by: @wisewidow

Gunshot Roses (A) 

Written by: @wokeupinawalnut

(ER, BU, A) (1) Talks That Break Hearts - (2) Talks That Mend Hearts

Written by: @yourmcu

Bloodlust (A, F, V)

3. Carol Danvers

Written by: @hiiraya

stay a little longer (rewrite)

the one (that got away) (rewrite)

get well soon (rewrite)

until the end

Written by: @missmonsters2

Move Me Along

Written by: @wlw-imagines-blog

We Don’t Talk About It

4. Yelena Belova

Written by: @a-simple-imagine

Left Behind

Written by: @empyreanwritings

Old Habits Die Hard

Written by: @marvels-writings

Stay

Written by: @nermalina

mild interference.

Written by: @rogue-barnes-16

Braids

МОЯ ЛЮБОВЬ

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin

Promises

5. Michelle Jones (MJ)

Written by: @borntobewondering

& Ever

Written by: @heckin-good-holland

In Her Arms

Written by: @leiasfanaccount648

Good Times

Written by: @sensestinging

Curious - Unfolding

[stedes-black-bonnet]

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 7

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: ongoing fic and all that

Warnings: highly suggestive innuendo and near-heavy petting??? The word “penis” shows up once?

Abstract: Everybody play the game...

Roger was a bucket of cold, glass-shattering water, splashing over the company before him. He heard what you had said, and he had no desire to interrupt whatever Deacy’s reaction would be. This tender display, however, had been anathema to him. He felt like he had walked in on something desperately intimate. He had the urge to look away, even. So, instead, he did the next best thing in his book, which was to make light of the situation. Everyone, rather than looking at you and Deacy, turned their attentions onto him, the Blond God. Besides liking the attention, he knew Deacy wouldn’t have wanted all eyes on this stolen moment. Annoying, maybe, but Roger was undeniably shrewd and possessed a high emotional intelligence reserved, typically, by those of the female persuasion; it was Roger’s firm belief this innate skill of emotional intelligence was the secret to cracking the female code, and was precisely why he was so effortlessly adept and knowledgeable with any and every woman he came across.

Leaning against the door frame like the coolest person in the room, Roger threw his arms into the air, spilling part of his cocktail on the floor. “The party has arrived! Fashionably late, but always ready to play. I’m guessing I lost the game?”

You and Deacy had let go hands, but were still lost in each other’s eyes.

Lydia snaked between you and Brain out of the bed and into Roger’s arms. He slid his empty hand up her back, taking in the scent of her straw-colored hair. “You’re intoxicating, love.”

“Better than being intoxicated,” Lydia said, raising an eyebrow at Roger.

“Oh, this is nothing,” Brian said sliding out of the bed himself. “You should have seen him at the New Orleans party…”

“You should have seen all of us at the New Orleans party.” Deacy said to the room at large, his eyes still on you.

“Oh?” You questioned, curious where this was going.

“If you ladies had been there, maybe we’d have someone who could tell us what happened.” Brian said straightening his jacket and brushing errant hairs from it.

“You were all at a party of which none of you recall?” You asked somewhat impressed, though not sure you should be.

“Oh, you know, it was a holiday, and one thing led to another.” Deacy explained embarrassingly, slithering over to you on the bed.

“One drink led to another, more like.” Roger smirked.

“And another and another,” Brian said, turning on the lights.

The room was the largest bedroom you had ever seen. Half of your apartment could fit in it, you thought. The bed was the centerpiece. An ornate black headboard accented the lust red bed. A dramatic mirror, encircled with lights, like actors usually had backstage, you thought, rested across from the bed. The vanity had an elegant claw-foot bench in front of it. A walk-in closet and master bathroom wasn’t far from this, but obscured from view by a gauzy curtain. A seating area, with a chaise lounge, sofa, arm chairs, and sleek glass coffee table took up a corner of the room. Stills from black and white movies adorned the walls. A pair of french doors led to a balcony. Plants hung from the walls in large canopied holders. Hoyas, you thought? They certainly enjoyed the dramatic skylight that took up half the ceiling. Dark wooden floors and a Japanese-inspired dressing screen rounded out the room. It was modern and an antique throwback all at once; it was Freddie, you thought: forward-looking with one glance over the shoulder looking back just to make sure, if nothing else, that nothing was out of place.

“I seem to remember costumes; though, who was wearing what is beyond me, darling.” Freddie stood, and offered a manicured hand to Jim. Jim took it, savoring the touch. He wanted to reach out and touch a bit more, being in their bedroom, it was somewhat difficult to remind himself not to. Jim settled for sending Freddie a knowing look that said, quite clearly, “I am having you later tonight, and there is simply nothing you can do about it, Mr. Mercury.”

Freddie responded to this look by licking his lips at Jim, and smacking his ass loudly, noticeably, and without a care in the world.

This seemed fairly par for the course for the men in the room; none of them batted an eye; in fact, Brian, Roger, and Deacy all had fond smiles on their faces regarding this display.

Brian carefully chose one of the armchairs, sat down, and looked up through the skylight at the stars above.

Roger was leading Lydia over to the sofa, he put his arm around her. The silky satin of her dress draped over Roger’s legs. He kept pawing at it, trying to see if she was ticklish; she wasn’t giving him an inch though.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rog.” She whispered in his ear, breathing in his blond hair.

Freddie led Jim to the chaise lounge, where they sat comfortably.

You and Deacy sat on the end of the bed together. This was another compromising position. You didn’t want Brian to feel like a third wheel, well, a seventh wheel. However, you didn’t want to move from Deacy’s side, or give him the wrong impression. The wrong impression here would be that you didn’t want him--that you weren’t interested in him. Would moving away from him now and going to one of the armchairs give this impression? How could you communicate your need for Deacy and your need to be gracious of Brian’s sensibilities and situation?

You pursed your lips and slowly smiled at Deacy. It was a calculated smile. It said, I’m not done with you, I may never be done with you.

Deacy knew you were trying to communicate something. He wished then that you and he had been together as long as Jim and Freddie; they could say whole novels to each other in flicks of their wrists, and the rhythms of their breath, with looks, with eyes, and sighs. Deacy took a centering breath and took your hand in his again; he had decided to lay his cards on the table, to slide the curtain of paradox aside ever so briefly so you could glimpse the truth.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

“Speak up for the rest of the class, will you, mate?” Roger shouted from the sofa.

Jim glared at Roger with the wrath of hellfire behind his usually kind brown eyes.

Freddie reached for a decorative pillow and tossed it at Roger’s head; he had surprisingly accurate aim.

“Very butch of you, love.” Jim remarked.

“Y/N,” Deacy repeated, ignoring the chaos.

“Yes, Deacy?” You whispered, curious and concerned all at once.

“I want to know everything about you. As important as your most sacred goal, as intimate as your most crippling fear, as inconsequential as your second favorite ice cream topping. Just simply everything.” He paused. You were breathing as one, studying each other intently. He licked his lips and continued conspiratorially, “So whatever is going through you head right now, know I’m not going to spread my wings and leave in only seven days, as if I’ve grown disinterested. I am interested. You are interesting. Arresting to me. You have my attention, complete, undivided.”

No one had ever made such a declaration to you before. You weren’t quite sure what to say. No one had ever been quite so upfront with you before, and it was refreshing and new and an enormous relief. You didn’t have to guess what Deacy wanted, in this respect anyway. What he wanted was you. You found yourself unable to distinguish one passing second from another. This was a moment you could happily be lost in forever. Other people were in the room, but they didn’t exist for you now. Was this real? Too good to be true? This man had swagger, charm, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sincere. You searched his face for a con, for a signal he was playing you like a game of scrabble.  

“It’s been a full minute.” Jim was delicately checking Freddie’s wristwatch, “If she doesn’t say something soon should we send in reinforcements?” Jim whispered to Freddie, sending a look Lydia’s way.

You decided to pinch your arm with your other hand. You then pinched Deacy’s arm next.

“Ow,” He said, raising a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Just checking,” you said smiling faintly.

“I assure you, he’s quite real.” Brain said, sending you a smile.

“Yeah, a real bore.” Roger yawned, slinking a hand up Lydia’s leg playfully.

Jim made to stand up, and Freddie yanked hard on his arm to return him to the chaise.

“Reciprocity,” you said, finally.

“What’s wrong boys?” Roger said grinning from ear to ear like a jackal, “It’s all in good fun!”

“You’re such a tosser, Rog.” Brian said shaking his head at his oldest friend. Everyone was laughing, even Deacy.

Deacy pulsed a rhythm with his hand that was holding yours. He turned his attention back to you, and said, “Is that your only request?”

“It is for now.” You admitted simply.

“I will offer you reciprocity always. In everything.”

“In everything?”

“Everything.”

“Well, at least I have the opportunities to toss, Bri.” Roger patted his crotch, challenging his friends.

After one more longing glance at Deacy, returned to you by another quick pulsing rhythm from his hand, you stood and threw yourself into one of the fancy wingback armchairs. Deacy followed suit, dancing over to the other remaining chair.

You recalled Freddie telling you how competitive everyone in the band was. You sensed the temperatures turning towards some never-ending grudge match. Sure, it was something all families did, you reassured yourself; for them, you figured, this kind of sparing was on par with any other game they might play while on tour?

“Cheesecloth,” Brian said, answering the challenge.

“Excuse me?” Roger said with a condescending laugh, “that supposed to be a threat? Do try to impress our guests, Mr. Astrophysicist.”

“Actually, I concur with Brian; cheesecloth, you are Rog.” Deacy winked at Roger. It was, you thought, the only threatening wink you had ever seen. You had no idea how Deacy could turn a cheeky, seductive gesture into a sinister, aggressive expression, but he could. You were, without question, and without sense, suddenly turned on by this ability of his.

“In what sense of the word, Johnny?”

“Well, Mr. Grease-gun,” Deacy countered skillfully, “correct me if I’m wrong, Bri--”

“Oh, no need there; you’re never wrong,” It was simultaneously a compliment and a deadly jab to the ribs, as if Brain were playing chess and setting up the next attack.

Deacy chuckled to himself lightly, “It’s apt, if you really thought about it.”

“Though Rog barely thinks through anything,” Freddie added.

“Facts, all facts, gentlemen.” Jim responded.

“All in good fun?” You questioned Roger.

Roger winked at you. Completely different from Deacy’s. That wink told you all you needed to know. This was a game, purely a good time. Though a game built around venting feelings that were perhaps too hard to say not in jest. This was their therapy disguised as a game, you thought. Very clever. These four men were brilliant, and entirely different from each other yet compatible. More paradoxes, you sighed.

“Masochists, the lot of you!” Lydia shrieked in mock-disgust. She ineffectually tried to push Rog away with one hand, while pulling him closer with her other.

“Cheesecloth?” Roger said, impatiently. “Give me your best shot, boys.”

“You’re always wet and any true, enduring knowledge tends to slip right through your notice.” Deacy reasoned. “That fit the bill, Bri?”

The silence was broken by a resounding, joyous laugh. And Roger was the one laughing. It clanged around the room like one of his gongs. Tears were tracing down his cheeks. His honest laughter made you and everyone else in the room laugh, too. His laugh was infectious.

You and Deacy briefly locked eyes while laughing, and it was transcendent bliss. Absolute joy.

“That’s terrible!” Roger said, between laughs, clutching his gut for affect.

“What, your feelings hurt on round one?” Brian asked disappointingly.

“I think he’s referring to your punchline, Deacy dear.” Freddie said.

“Not quite the stinging barb I was expecting.” Roger wiped the tears from his piercing blue eyes, “Though with such a weak start…”

“It doesn’t matter how you start, but how you finish.” Lydia said, smiling suggestively at Roger. She was snaking a hand down his chest, now. All the way down.

Roger coughed, and placed his hand on top on hers, which had made its way to his inner thigh. She was toying with him. Teasing him, in her own patient way. Her hand was close enough to his penis to cause Roger excitement related to nothing more than anticipation, yet far enough away to appear demure and shy. So close, yet so far away, Roger thought.  

You immediately thought of earlier in the evening when you and Deacy had first held hands at the bar. It seemed ages ago to you, like it had happened to another person in another lifetime. Your own laying on of hands and been innocent by comparison, yet that had been a game too.

Roger leaned into Lydia, and gave her a garish kiss. He was showing off his prowess and enjoying himself immensely. There was something about kissing Lydia in a room full of his friends that excited him greatly. A bright exhibitionist streak ran through his life, and at every turn he was curious how he could subtly, or not so subtly, bring it to light.

“Lydia,” Roger pulled away from her calculatingly. “I never,” Roger turned and suddenly winked at Deacy, “misfire.”

Everyone, besides Roger and Lydia, exclaimed at Roger’s perfect punchline.

“Checkmate that one,” Jim said, shaking his head at Deacy, laughing good-naturedly with everyone else.

“Check my mate? If you insist!” Deacy said, twinkling at you. He did a little dance in his chair with his hands and shoulders. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but you were a sucker, and he had you hook, line, and sinker.

Meanwhile, Roger was returning his lips to Lydia’s, “Goddess in Red...” He said, biting her lip between words. He paused, pressing his lips to her ear, and moaned deeply, lewdly. Something in that moan said he wasn’t yet done playing the game; he had one more parting shot. “You ready?” He said in Lydia’s ear.

Lydia, the siren, pulled away from Roger, and said, loudly, “I’m always ready. Are you ready for a ride, Daddy?”

Her wink was a whip crack.

Tag List: @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @obsessedwithrogertaylor @groupiie-love @richiethotzierz @partydulce @sophierobisonartfoundationblr @psychostarkid @teathymewithben @smittyjaws @just-ladyme