curiositydooropened

[curiositydooropened]

(touching your open wound) damn you’re so wet

[curiositydooropened]

Still the most insanely beautiful set of pictures, Matt Murdock in pain is one of the prettiest a man has ever looked on TV

[curiositydooropened]

It's kinda funny when you get a bunch of likes but no reblogs like I enjoyed your post but I'd prefer if no one else saw it

[curiositydooropened]

Okay, stop!!! This is so so so so kind of you! And what an honor to be held up with all of these incredible writers! Delightful.

Thank you so much, my dear!!!

ultimate steve harrington fic recs

hi everybody! i'm such an avid steve fic reader and wanted to share some of my GOD TIER steve fics for everyone. so strap in, and get ready to read some of the best steve fics! (most of these are x fem!reader fics, so beware!)

ALSO I love all of these fics, some will have some thoughts/descriptions but some might not, but I recommend you guys read them all and show some love to all of the authors (fanfic is free! show your support).

Many of these fics contain 18+ content

Tumblr Fics

Series

Chamomile (25k) & Lemonade (22k) by @curiositydooropened WOW! I adore this fic so much. I’m a sucker for angst, the insecure kind 🫣(i’m so sorry). Chamomile holds a special place in my heart because of the college setting, but I absolutely love the found family dynamic the reader has with the Hawkin’s crew in Lemonade. Sit back and read this fic and let it absolutely consume you!

Come Home Masterlist (stranger things series rewrite) by @stevie-petey Series rewrite that I love so dearly. Stug my loves. 

You Deserve Each Other (3 parts–32k) by @bimrwolf

Love You, on Purpose by @lovebugism - part 1—19k - Part 2–18k 

We’ll Call it Love (75k+) by @superblysubpar GOD TIER modern!steve series.I love fluff and angst

The King of the Ring by @rustedhearts Everything that Rolly writes is sooooo good, but especially the boxer!steve fics are so good. (you’re a og, if you remember the boxer!steve fics before they were deleted and made a bit less angsty imo).

Soon You'll Get Better (49k+) by @munsonsreputation max, steve, and reader’s relationship is soo good in this fic, I always read it when I need a pick me up.

don’t call me ‘baby’ (72k+) by  @katyswrites So good, rich (sugar daddy adjacent) Italy steve

I Think There’s Been a Glitch (91k+) by @munsonsreputation Just PURE fluff, absolutely tooth rotting. Baker & Artist!reader is actually just the sweetest person ever, and Steve is head over heels in love.

I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss (32 parts) by @andvys Heartbreaking angst, and eddie x reader is the endgame, but steve angst hits.

My Name is Whatever You Decide by @upsidedownwithsteve  Part 1 (14k) Part 2 (15k) Magnificent disgustingly rich country club Steve… that's all you need. Some angst, feelings of unrequited love, but it’ll be worth it.

Orange Juice (8k) by @sattlersquarry - Part 2; the great divide (12k)

right where you left me (3 parts–wc: idk) by @abibliophobiaa Runaway bride with bestie steve… need I say more.

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight (3 parts—10.8k) by @loveshotzz Eddie’s best friend!reader with steve ughhhhhh

late night feelings by @maroon-cardigan I LOVE THIS FIC, unfortunately it’s unfinished and on an indefinite hiatus

dancing with our hands tied (27 parts) by @andvys Finally an andvys fic that ends with steve x reader, some angst but a ton of fluff too! “Enemies” to lovers

I guess it’s never really over by @loveshotzz Exes to lovers with MECHANIC steve…what else do you need?

hot for teacher by @handful0fteeth Part 1: hot for teacher (13.6k) Part 2: i was made for lovin' you, baby (16.3k) Maybe the best steve smut i’ve ever read? Like this one LIVES in my head rent free…

pet names and looped pinkies by @stevesherdaddynowlover Part 1 (6.4k)  Part 2 (9.6k)  Stevesherdaddynowlover came out of nowhere during the summer (and a drought of steve fics) and quickly cemented themselves into the steve smut/fluff atmosphere

GUTS! (2 parts for now–8k)by @water-loos I'm waiting for this to continue so badly

The Shape of Family (39k+) by @skeltnwrites One of the best single dad steve fics I’ve ever read. Girl dad steve with the cutest little girl ever! (i’m very picky about the kids in fics, so this is high praise)

save room for us by @maroon-cardigan - Part 1 (24.2k) - Part 2 (20.2) Single dad steve? Christmas? Sign me up! (Boss-ish steve and fwb!au)

Cardigan series by @marwritesgood Heartbreaking father daughter relationship between hopper x hopper!reader (just beware) Based on the folklore love triangle… so angsty also not a full series rewrite but very closely matched to the show!

long one-shots (wc: 7k +) putting this out there now, I’m a SUCKER for a long fic (they’ll always hit for me, so a lot of these recs are longer, soz)

Itty Bitty Pretty (19.7k) by @t-lostinworlds Cute little fluff and smut fic!

do you think i have forgotten? (14.1k) by @headkiss

Right Where You Left Me (10.1k) by @berrystiles

the wrong side of the tracks (18.8k) by @schoopsahoy

i couldn’t be more in love (7.8k) by @ch3rrytales

it's a feeling that's fine (10.6k) by @sanguineterrain

always something there to remind me (wc: idk) by @carolmunson

This Love (14.1k) by @forevermoreharrington

the swindling of steve harrington’s heart (9.5k) by @stevebabey

Head over Heels (wc: idk) by @underoossss

wake up slow (wc: idk) by @carolmunson Barista steve harrington set in a bookstore??!! Yeah, immediately read it.

I Knew You (30.5k) by @radiosteve

Casual (11.3k) by @radiosteve

ain’t it fun? (29k) by @maroon-cardigan - Also a short little follow up fic in the same universe loudly, desperately, explicitly (5.3k) - enemies to friends with benefits to lovers, reader who feels like a loser/failure for being back in Hawkins

Touch Me Baby (21k) by @sweatervest-obsessed 

 dad!Steve (7k) by @theemporium

You Cling to Your Papers and Pens (Wait Until You Like Me Again) (16.4k) by @xspeter I don't think this one is finished but what i read lives rent free 

For A Good Time Call! (14.6k) by @chestharrington Just some great smut..and the vibes of working in an 80s mall (scoops steve!)

mint chocolate rewards (19.3k) by @stevesherdaddynowlover Modern college steve with tutor!reader… YUPPPPP

christmas affairs (26.7k) by @maroon-cardigan One of my favorite christmas fics ever, just everything i need, New york aesthetic & rich steve!

what's the name of the game? (25.6k) by @maroon-cardigan Ballet and skating!reader and lowkey enemies with former Hockey!steve, family friends type beat. 

lonely hearts club (11.9k) by @stevie-petey Rockstar steve needs no introduction. We need more of him everywhere. (M if you’re reading this PLZZ make a series for him..no pressure!)

shorter one-shots (wc:<7k) 

microscope (6.8k)by @poguesofthebau Just cute little fluff 

redamancy (5.2k) by @sanguineterrain

petrichor (2.3k) by @rosewaterandivy

Hearts are wild creatures by @bangaveragewhitewine This whole mom!reader au is so good and just straight tooth rotting fluff

yellow (3.9k) by @caxde

hardest of hearts (1.6k) by @taintedcigs

Cling (5.5k) by @say-al0e

It's cool in the shade of your shadow (6.3k) by @forevermoreharrington

FIX IT! (3.5k) by @lovebugism Disgusting angst that always hits the spot whenever i’m craving angst and a good cry - I feel like a lot of my angst recs are readers who don’t feel like they can live up to what steve x nancy had (I'M HERE TO SAY THAT I LOVE NANCY! But that type of angst is too good to pass up)

Be Mine (5.8k) by @tooearlyforthis

morning person (2.8k) by @dearest-nell

turning pages (wc: idk) by @pretentious-blonde

Sleeping Conditions (2.6k) by @forwhomthewordsflow

happy coincidences (wc: idk) by @chelseeebe Joe saying he thinks steve would have a swiftie girlfriend lives in my head RENT FREE, and this fic brings it to life. 

So high school (5.5k) by @forevermoreharrington The cutest fluffiest college steve fic ever!

happy xmas by @rustedhearts Part of their 70s!Steve series, this one is a bit angsty (Christmas buying for steve’s GF that isn’t the reader….im sorry i crave angst)

My Strange Lady (3.1k) by @cherry-smokes

AO3 fics

Confetti (59k) by kenobay

Rules Made To Be Broken (43k) by funnylittlelad

'tis the damn season (34k) by KatyWrites/ @katyswrites BEST TIS THE DAMN SEASON INSPIRED FIC! I reread it all the time. By Tumblr user katyswrites, I read this fic on AO3 more than on tumblr though…

how do I loathe thee? let me count the ways (19k) by prettyboyenthusiast I actively mourn this fic everytime i remember it… I’m shouting to the void–author plz come back! Based one of my favorite movies (10 Things I Hate About You)

the rust that grew between telephones (162k) by LunaLove4537/ @abibliophobiaa on tumblr  A GOD TIER steve fic, everything I look for in a steve fic, fluff and angst! Goes into season 4 and after season 4 as well, Mom!Reader.

Return Policy (19k) by funnylittlelad

Hold on Now (165k) by OopsFanfiction (need AO3 account to read this) 

some of my favorite authors (the accounts I STALK and wait for fics patiently like i’m a dog waiting for her owner)

Dr_Aculaaa -All of dracula’s fics are so good! My favs are  - Saturday Night (1990s!Steve Harrington x Photographer!Reader)  - Sunday Morning (Dad!Steve x Mom!Reader) the prequel series is Saturday Night!

@luveline - I love all of their steve fics but specifically these have my heart! - So fine so pretty (17.3k)  - Kisses Before Dinner series (Dad!Steve)

@superblysubpar - Love all of their fics, they’re soooo good, already recommended We’ll Call it Love, but also check out the Baby, I Can't Fight This Feeling series and their whole masterlist! 

@stevie-petey - Love everything they write, Stug stranger things rewrite will always hold a special place in my heart. And I WILL read anything they write.

@munsonsreputation - Also an automatic read author for me! Love everything they write, especially I Think There’s Been a Glitch and Soon You'll Get Better 

@maroon-cardigan - Another AUTO READ AUTHOR, everyone needs to devour their entire masterlist, it’s all so good and the perfect length fics for me (I LOVE a long fic, if you can’t tell) 

@forevermoreharrington - They have the sweetest Steve thoughts and write the PERFECT loverboy steve, everything is so wholesome and fluffy! Devour everything they write! 

ALRIGHT! those are all of the steve fic recs that I have for you guys! I hope you enjoy all these fics as much as I love and adore them! REMEMBER to show these authors all some love for these incredible fics! I've been reading steve fics since 2022 and am so happy to be recommending a plethora of amazing authors and fics (just as a little thank you, so it doesn't feel like they're shouting into the void---I am a bit guilty for not showing my appreciation as much as I should).

P.S: I'm so sorry if some of the links to either the fics or the authors don't work. I cannot for the life of me figure the formatting of tumblr out (the majority of them should be fine but I'm sorry if it's a bit annoying lol)

[curiositydooropened]

Hey is your wildfire series finished?

Hello, hello!

Wildfire is finished. Seven whole chapters. 68k words. That story was a labor of love, and it's probably my proudest achievement on here. Read it and let me know what you think! (And reblog to your friends, if you're feeling fancy!)

Thanks for reaching out! xo

[curiositydooropened]

EVERY. DAMN. TIME. You blow me away!!!!!! How do you do it!?!?!?

I wanted to highlight the entire beginning of this because I am SALIVATING at the description. I want it all. I’m so in love with it all. You make Hawkins so beautiful and so mundane and then beautiful in its mundanity. I want to eat it. 

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHEN WHY AND WHO GIRL AND IT’S ALL TO DO WITH A GUY WHO’S GOT WAVY BROWN HAIR AND HAZEL EYES AND HE-“

The screaming heartbeat is Me.

This is disgusting, I’m not reading this Harrington. 

I loled

worried you’ll say something stupid like: Wanna make-out?

Say it. Coward.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to find out this way…” “Oh fuck off!” He tosses the neon toy at your head, laughing as you dodge it.

HA! Yes.

“Ohhh, Dingus!” A voice loudly sings from his backyard, “You guys done making out now or what?”

YOU LITTLE COCKBLOCK, ROBIN. I’m gonna fight you!!!

“I’m picking up my coworker. She needs a ride home.”

😏 Yeah she does

“Shit! Sorry!” Robin yelps, sending you both into the darkness once more with a quick flick off and frantic footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

DEEP. DEEP. TROUBLE, MISSY!!!!

Thighs squeaking against diner booth seats until Robin’s co-worker came in, yelled at a guy in a letterman jacket, then dumped a shake on his head.

I’m in love with her

You both inhale, like you know you’re going to need the extra air for what comes next. 

YES YES YES YES YES YES

series masterlist | part two ->

📻tracks: 01-07

7,971 words // my blog is 18+ // please see masterlist for overall warnings - this chapter contains mentions and use of alcohol as well as kissing while intoxicated

📻 “But my life, my love, and my lady - is the sea.”

The familiar tick and spray of synchronized sprinklers dotted along Cornwallis mingle with children’s laughter. The wheels of skateboards and bikes glide over smooth road as the grind of a lawn mower wafts the scent of freshly cut grass through the open window.

Yellow curtains flutter in the warm breeze and the lilacs from the Harrington’s backyard wave to you, their late bloom lingers in the air as you dance past the open window while singing along to Looking Glass.

As you harmonize about a girl named Brandy and her locket that bares the name of the man she loves, your fingers fiddle with the gold heart around your own neck and ignore the tight feeling in your chest.

Instead, you focus on the almost finished sunrise that’s placed a cotton candy pink and sherbert orange filter over your childhood bedroom. It’s all a little perfect, like Hawkins knew it had to show up in a big way for you this Summer. Like it’s begging you to slow down, make a memory, capture this moment.

Maybe that’s the problem, though - it’s too picture perfect. In reality, the image of this June morning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Though beautiful, the golden light only shines a spotlight on the embroidered daisies of your comforter. They’re frayed, well worn, dulled pattern on full display. They’ve lost the silky shimmer they once had, a little like the girl turned woman who used to reside beneath them every night.

The dancing linen curtains blow big and beautiful across your walls, back and forth, slightly obscuring the baby blue painted backdrop for the posters from bands you no longer listen to and polaroids of best friends forever you’re not sure you really know anymore.

The click on of your lamps that house bulbs who’s lights have grown milky from minimal use the past few years is opposite the blinking off of the bright and new ones in the homes behind the sprinklers.

Little happy houses with little happy families on a little happy street doing the same little happy things, day in and day out…

Happily.

When did it change?

When did Summer shift from something you looked forward to - your chance to return to Hawkins and waste away too long days that are somehow not long enough with your best friend - to something you dreaded?

When did Hawkins become the thing you wanted to run from instead of the place you wanted to run to?

Maybe why did it change is perhaps the more important question.

Why can’t Summer in Hawkins be as fun as it’s always been? The town isn’t different. The people in it aren’t different.

Well…

Maybe who changed is the actual question.

Movement from the window directly across from your own makes your heart stutter in an alarming way - the sort of irregular pattern that basically screams “YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHEN WHY AND WHO GIRL AND IT’S ALL TO DO WITH A GUY WHO’S GOT WAVY BROWN HAIR AND HAZEL EYES AND HE-“

Steve Harrington’s smile busts through his open window before the rest of his head. His fingers flex then curl around the sill as he drawls, “Well, well, well, would you look what Summer dragged in.”

Despite it all screaming at you that it’s changed - you’ve changed, he’s changed, the town, your paths to your very different futures - all you can think is:

But how is it also true that everything is exactly the same?

Like the way Steve’s grin only widens when you roll your eyes but lean out your own window and say, “Hey stranger.”

Steve still takes this as his invitation, spilling out of his own window and onto the roof in a way that should look far more practiced than it did just then.

He edges towards the gutter, carefully placing a foot on the angled part of your roof that gets the closest to his while you note he’s still got jeans, a shirt, and shoes that match perfectly. Bright cobalt blue polo and light washed levi’s that, though are his typical uniform, stretch over thighs and biceps in a way they hadn’t last Summer.

It’s like each Summer he learns about a new muscle group that’s supposed to be more defined and delicious than the last.

The clothes are still wrinkle free though, and as he inches closer, you can tell still smell of the same detergent and cologne too. Their scent engulfs you as he clambers inside your window now, still all too broad shoulders and clumsy limbs that don’t match his athleticism but affirm he’s just never taken the time to figure out the best way to enter because he doesn’t really care how he does it, just that he does.

Steve dusts his hands off on his thighs, the glint of his watch and the same old worn brown leather band catch your gaze before he places his hands on his hips, satisfied. Even more so when the song ends and the radio crackles with the promise of an announcement.

“Good morning Hawkins, this is WSQK and I’m Max. That was Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl) by Looking Glass.” You smile at the sound of the red headed teen’s voice coming out of your speaker.

The early morning radio show and her sarcastic but facts are facts tone of voice and attitude was the best surprise you’d had that morning. Hearing her quietly introduce music the last few hours filled your chest with a proud swell - it suited her and you thought she sounded happier than she had in awhile.

“Our next song has a dedication: Missed you City Girl. I’ve been living in a lonely…oh, jesus,” Max moans and Steve frowns at the radio as she continues, “This is disgusting, I’m not reading this Harrington. Here’s Journey.”

The familiar opening bars of Don’t Stop Believin’ spilled out of the stereo then and you tried not to laugh, shoving his shoulder with an amused groan as you did anyways.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease, hating the way you sort of loved the feeling of his muscle flexing under your hand a whole lot more than a little.

Steve shoves your shoulder right back, though far more gently as he says, “You love it.”

The words you want to say aren’t quite on the tip of your tongue - more like stuck somewhere between your heart and throat - jumbled and unsure by the time they get there and ponder slipping off it.

So instead, you say nothing.

Steve looks at the floor and takes a step deeper into your room so he can rest against your desk. He raises his eyebrows at you as you both sit in the not quite uncomfortable silence. His large palms press to the wood top on either side of his hips, and his fingers drum along to the song along it’s edge as he looks around the room like he hasn’t been in it hundreds of times.

It’s never awkward exactly, this reunion between you and Steve every year, but there’s always something different about when you come home now.

When you were little, a simple few hours apart felt like the longest, most horrible time without each other. Like you hadn’t spent the entire day together, the time it took to have dinner in your respective homes was torture - and had you running towards each other shrieking about who missed who more, mouth’s full of dessert still.

Steve used to lift you just so your toes barely touched the ground when you came home for Thanksgiving in his hug hello, wrapping you up in his arms without a second thought.

Now, after months apart instead of hours, the air is stilted, like there are words hanging there for both of you to say or hear in the silence but neither of you do or can.

You don’t know if it’s all in your head though - the change to your relationship. Because it only ever takes a few minutes for your gears to line back up, a little oil in the form of jokes and awkward small talk until the two of you are the well running machine you’ve always been.

Steve clears his throat, he crosses his arms and the flex and bulge of his upper arms has your thighs pressing together. As you cross your own arms he uncrosses his, ruffles his hair in a way that has you jealous of his hand.

“Can we…” he hesitates, blinks at you and smiles like you’re an alien he doesn’t know how to greet, “Hug?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” you startle, scrambling towards him, toes catching on your rug and causing you to fall into his open arms.

Steve laughs as he catches your wrists gently. “What are you apologizing for, dork?”

His arms wrap around you as you hum instead of verbally replying - voice and words untrustworthy now that you’re in his embrace, worried you’ll say something stupid like: Wanna make-out?.

Your palms wrap up and underneath his arms, pressed just under his shoulder blades. His envelope you, so your face lies against his chest. It’s easy, like riding a bike, and it’s always the first piece of the machine that starts working again - or maybe it’s the only piece that never breaks.

A deep inhale against the soft fabric over his chest relaxes your limbs even more.

There’s something about a hug from him that you wish you could keep in a jar, pulled out while away at school on the really bad days until everything felt right again. They were warm, safe, and reminded you of a boy who’d protect you. A boy who’d trade you his grape for your cherry popsicle at the block party, who’d offer you a hand to hoist you up onto the tallest part of the roof and wouldn’t let it go as you wished on stars that shot across the sky.

It was like coming home.

Your nose nuzzles against the collar of his polo as he squeezes you and you inhale again, like it might be the last chance you get to figure out how to duplicate his smell and literally bottle it - keep it on the shelf next to the hug.

Spearmint toothpaste and expensive things like leather, but there’s more. Rain right before a sunset, the woods you explored as kids. You’ve never been able to put your finger on the exact scents, it’s just Steve, and no other boy has come close to smelling as good.

Steve clears his throat.

Your entire body warms with the realization that your nose is pressed between his pecs, and you’d been inhaling his smell like a police hound about to be set loose on a trail.

Steve’s arms hang loosely at your sides, not quite embracing you anymore as yours fall too quickly and you step back. You look anywhere but him as your fingers become restless, interested in the frayed hem of your shorts.

“Sorry, just…missed…you smell good.”

Your eyes close, figuring that if you just don’t open them, you don’t have to face the reality that you just said that out loud. To your best friend. Who you’re not in a relationship with.

Fingers tug on your belt loops, towards him then back, easily guiding you to sway, moldable putty under his command. You can hear the delight and tease in his tone as he asks, “You missed how I smell?”

Your hands swat at his as you open your eyes and see his cocky smile.

“Please,” you huff as you turn towards your suit case laying open on the floor, half unpacked. You wonder how long it’ll take him to realize you only have the one, no boxes of all your stuff shipped home like originally planned. “Don’t flatter yourself Harrington. I just missed your detergent. I see Viv’s still got the good stuff, think she’ll notice if I steal a bottle?”

Steve laughs at that, and flops onto your bed, profile grinning in a way that tells you it’s not that funny when he says, “No, no, I’m sure she’ll probably think whoever’s sleeping with my dad took it.”

Your heart squeezes inside of your chest, shrinking and twisting until nothing is left while simultaneously trying to bust out, like it’s swelling to a size too big as you think of all the ways to make him laugh or smile again after the exhausted way he says this.

He fiddles with a bright bubblegum pink and bold green Koosh on your nightstand, so you hover over him and wince, biting your lip.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to find out this way…”

“Oh fuck off!” He tosses the neon toy at your head, laughing as you dodge it.

But at least he’s smiling.

The two pieces of your suit dangle in your fingers as you stand and shrug your shoulders.

“I mean, your dad’s not unattractive…”

Steve’s body shoots upright, voice hoarse as he begs, “Stop.”

Your smile can’t be held back as Steve’s ears turn red as you continue, “One time, he had on a pair of jeans, which is weird for your dad, ya know? And I remember thinking: huh. Mr. Harrington’s butt is-“

Steve’s hand is over your mouth, his other looped around your waist and pulling you down onto the mattress with him. Warm fingers slip against the bare skin of your spine, your hip, your ribs in the tangle of movement and steal the breath from your lungs as he rolls on top of you.

He hovers over you, not quite pressing the full weight of his body against yours, though you’re painfully aware of where your chests heave against one another, hips pressed to hips, ankles knocking, his fingers still on your ribs, just beneath lace you wonder if he can feel the edge of.

His own mouth fights a smile, twitching as his eyebrows furrow over eyes that sparkle with something that makes your heart stutter. Greens and golds shimmering in the morning sunlight streaming in through your windows.

Steve leans closer, mint breath that comes too quick for being so fit fans over your cheek as he whispers, “If you care about me at all, you will never, ever finish that sentence.”

Your stomach somersaults as his gaze roams over your face, his thumb slides back and forth against your side and you nod.

He removes his other hand from your mouth, pressing it against the mattress next to your head, eyes glinting playfully in a warning.

Something in your gut aches as he swallows and looks at your lips, as your hips adjust beneath him and your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth.

There had been two times a what if had been taken past a thought. Only one actually, if you didn’t count the practice kiss when you were thirteen, and it hadn’t been discussed since last New Year’s Eve because of some invisible line you both drew in the sand when you were kids. But since January, that line has been kicked and blurred - all those what if’s you never dared to let yourself think are all your brain likes to day dream about lately.

Like if you just tilted your chin up, you’d feel his lips on yours again. And maybe that kiss would lead to a deeper, longer one, and your fingers would tangle in his hair, he wouldn’t be afraid to let his weight press into you, to let you feel everything-

“Ohhh, Dingus!” A voice loudly sings from his backyard, “You guys done making out now or what?”

It’s wishful thinking, to discern the look on Steve’s face as one of disappointment and not annoyance as he clears his throat and starts to remove himself from your bed.

You sit up slowly, a little dazed and lost in all of the what could have beens if not for Steve’s other best friend - and also what she insinuated, like it’s clear to everyone how you feel except Steve. Or worse, Steve does know, and he just doesn’t know how to let you down easy.

But that’s a dangerous place to stay in for too long, especially when you haven’t even told him this is it, your last Summer, and you weren’t coming back as often, certainly not for entire months at a time.

That you were potentially going to lose him altogether with this decision to stay away, because how would the already semi-failing machine work without regular visits, without the time of Summer to reset and fix the broken or rusty parts?

Steve lifts the strings of the red bikini that fell in your scuffle on the bed, as he coughs into a fist and hands them to you.

“New suit?” He asks, walking towards your door, seemingly to take the mature exit out of the room.

“Uh-huh,” you admit as you walk in he opposite direction, backwards towards your window and sit on the sill, deciding that now isn’t the time for big discussions or grand reveals.

You wait for Steve to glance back up at you to smirk, throw a leg over the sill and ask, “Think your dad will like it?”

The glimpse of his horrified face vanishes with his gasp as you tumble out the window quickly, laughing as you go.

“Please for the love of god, take it back!”

“Never!” You shout right back, scrambling over the roof, taking a bold leap across and waving to Robin Buckley who stands with her hand against her forehead to block the sun in Steve’s backyard, already in a black one piece next to the pool, “Hi Robin! Missed you!”

Steve’s right behind you, but you manage to heave yourself over his sill, jump up and slam the window closed. Grin opposite his pout as you reach up and latch the lock.

You stare at one another, chests rising and falling in sync, the thin pane of glass the only thing between you.

Maybe that’s what makes you brave as you reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra, letting it fall out beneath your shirt.

Steve swallows, mouth parted as you unbutton your shorts and pull down the zipper, heart in your ears and making the room blur as his fingers twitch against the locked window.

You step out of the shorts, your over-sized band tee just covers the black lace cutting high on your ass as you turn and yank his curtains closed with a smirk and a shout, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, perv!”

Your palms press to your cheeks as you stare at the closed plaid curtains and wait for your heart-rate to return to normal, wondering if Steve is still on the other side doing the same.

📻 “Hold on to sixteen as long as you can, changes come around real soon - make us women and men.”

Steve is not into you the same way you are him, and what’s worse, even if by some miracle he was, it would only end in disaster.

It’s clear, after the pool day with Robin, the looks on Steve’s face whenever New York was mentioned, whenever he or she got excited about what the kids were up to, where they were going to school if they were, that Steve Harrington was never going to leave Hawkins.

His dream was and still is to stay in this town, make a bunch of babies, have a nice little house on a nice little street and have a nice little life.

He smiles at Robin as he squeezes limes over the juicer, her arms waving around as she tells a story he’s most definitely heard and you haven’t.

You take a large gulp of ice water as you watch the veins in his forearm twitch, follow the lines up tanned taut skin dotted with freckles and moles that disappear under a white shirt. It’s enough to make you consider throwing away your own dreams and staying in this town just so he can have his.

Which is crazy. Which is why you decided to only come home for the Summer and not permanently like originally planned. Certain that more than three months with Steve would make you take all of your plans and turn them upside down.

Steve glances at you and you lick your top lip as you set your glass down, catching a drop of water while you go back to looking at Robin, struggling to focus on her long winded and bounced around story details.

Part of you can’t help but think that maybe a disaster ending is worth it - if you just have this Summer together, it’ll be okay, because you aren’t going to be in each other’s lives much longer anyways.

Steve will hear you’re staying in New York, you will confirm he wants to stay in Hawkins, and the calls, the visits, that are already pushing their limits will continue to decrease in frequency until they stop altogether, you’re sure of it.

The doorbell rings and Robin hops off the counter and shouts something about pizza.

Steve licks his thumb free of juice as he tosses the last lime into the trash and you chug your water, draining the glass.

He was going to meet a wife, here in Hawkins, one who wouldn’t appreciate how close the two of you are - were - who wouldn’t tolerate your longing looks at Christmas and would flash a giant gaudy ring around to make you jealous.

He smiles at you as he reaches up above the fridge and rummages around, glass tinkling from pushed around bottles of liquor as he grumbles about how his mom hid the good stuff again.

So isn’t this your chance? To risk the friendship? To at least have him for the Summer? To avoid spending the rest of your life wishing you knew what it was like to be with him, even if it was just for a short while? What would you regret more: getting Steve Harrington for a brief moment in time, just not forever, or not at all?

“You okay?” He asks as he turns back towards the counter with a bottle of tequila. His eyes more brown in the low kitchen light and softer with concern.

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you reach for your empty water glass, “Just too much sun I think.”

“You need more water,” he goes for the glass at the same time as you, fingers brushing over yours as he does and making you shiver.

“Do my eyes deceive me?! Is it really you?” Eddie Munson shouts from the entryway of the kitchen, smiling widely at you.

“Eddie!” You shriek, jumping up from the counter and running towards him for a hug.

He laughs and catches you around your middle, squeezing tightly, your toes lifting off the ground ever so slightly. It’s a hug that’s achingly familiar, just from the wrong guy.

Eddie’s chest rumbles beneath you as he laughs quietly, lips pressed to your ear so only you can hear him over the music playing loudly on the radio and Robin yelling the titles from the stack of rental’s he’s brought with him from the living room.

“Don’t look now, but I think loverboy is jeeaalous.”

He spins you, your face half hidden in his shoulder as he sways you in a hug so you can peek at Steve frowning at you, then quickly back down to the pitcher of margaritas he’s been making.

Eddie twirls you out of his arms with a flourish and a wink, as he pats your butt towards the living room and mouths: ‘You’re welcome’ before turning into the kitchen and loudly shouting, “Harrington! What can I help with, man?”

You bite your lower lip as Steve grumbles something you can’t hear, stomach fizzing like you’ve already had a sip of tequila from the thought of his jealousy. You’re certain it’s from a place of brotherly love on his end, a protectiveness over you and nothing more. But if there’s a chance…

The rest of the night is a blur of lime and salt and jump scares that fling popcorn all over Steve’s living room. Hands to your knee that give gentle squeezes when you hide behind your fingers, his forehead against your shoulder as he falls over from laughter when you switch the genre finally.

You’re waving the Dirty Dancing rental in Steve and Eddie’s face, Robin’s snores softly muted against the couch cushion her cheek is squished against.

“I’m afraid you’re on your own with this one,” Eddie pats Steve’s shoulder as he stands.

“Wh-what?” You ask, looking at the sleeping Robin and the boy sitting on the floor shoving fistfuls of popcorn in his mouth. Not expecting the opportunity to make your move to happen so quickly.

“I have to…” Eddie looks like he doesn’t want to say but then eventually mumbles, “I’m picking up my coworker. She needs a ride home.”

Steve grins. Eddie points a finger at him with a verbal warning too, “Don’t.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve bows awkwardly over the coffee table and you snort.

“You didn’t do shit Harrington,” Eddie narrows his eyes then smirks at you. He makes a big show of coming over and kissing your cheek, “Come see me at work this week? You can have free fries.”

Steve throws popcorn at him, acrobats are now taking up a residency in your stomach from the deeper confirmation of his jealousy.

“Free fries?” You bat your eyelashes and giggle, body warm from the drinks and the way Steve’s jaw twitches.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie winks again as he rounds the corner towards the front door and calls, “Be good! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

The front door slams and Robin doesn’t even flinch, her snore louder than ever in the lack of Eddie noise.

Steve swallows as he stares at you from the floor, you stare back, tongue licking salt from your lips like you can taste it as he downs the last two sips of his drink. It’s knock against the wood on the coffee table too loud as it joins the graveyard of candy wrappers and an open cardboard box showing off forgotten crusts.

You hum “Dun, dun, dun”, taking a breath and getting ready to start singing Time of Your Life while doing a grapevine as you wag the rental in Steve’s face once more.

His lips twitch, but he sighs, like it’s the worst thing he’s ever had to do.

“Fine, put it in.”

“Yes!” You spin triumphantly, hips still swaying to the unsung song as you shove the VHS into his player. It’s when you turn back around that your confidence starts to falter.

You’re now realizing you were all talk - taking the leap is easier said than done.

Steve’s eyes are on your thighs and your frayed denim shorts, their gaze takes too long to glance up at your face. It can’t be in your head, there’s no way he’s trying to figure out how to let you down gently. He wants this too.

He clears his throat and squints at the TV then runs a hand through his hair.

“Lights?” He asks, looking anywhere but you.

“Right,” you shuffle over to the switch on the wall awkwardly, flipping it and sending you into shadows and blue tv glow.

When you sit down next to him, both of your backs are rigid against the couch behind it. His wrists droop off of his bent knees as you both stare at the flickering screen not really seeing the action past the moving lights and shapes.

Your glass lifts to your lips only for you to realize yours is empty too.

“Want another?” He asks, already grabbing his empty glass and going to stand.

“I’ll get ‘em!” You say too eagerly as you take his glass.

Your heart thuds in your chest along with the music in the movie as you stand on shaky legs and pad across plush carpet towards the kitchen. Past photos of baby Steve and toothless boy Steve, past the one of you and him together with grape and cherry smiles on the curb on fourth of July.

The glasses hit the counter a little too hard as you fall onto the weight of your elbows, palms pressed to your face as you take a deep breath.

Is this how it will always be if you don’t do anything? Rooms that fill with tension and unsaid things that balloon and push on the ceiling and walls but never burst? And how do you do something? How do you make your move? What happens if he doesn’t make one back?

You stand up straight again and roll your neck as you open the fridge, startling when you turn back around to find Steve on the other end of the kitchen island.

He takes a timid step, path illuminated by the golden triangle of fridge light until it swings closed behind you, returning you both to the darkness.

As Steve continues to close the distance, distracted by his serious face cast in shadows from the moonlight spilling in through the window, you realize you’ve taken steps away to try to keep it open, back now pressed to the counter behind you.

The pitcher of almost empty margaritas in your hands sits between the two of you like a bodyguard as he swallows, looks at it, then your eyes.

“You okay?” He asks just like earlier, except this time it’s all low and raspy and sexy.

You think Steve is sexy - when did that happen? How did that happen? Why did that have to happen?

You’re tempted to take a large gulp directly out of the glass jar in your hands when your thighs press together and the action causes a shaky breath to rattle out of him.

“Yup,” you manage to hiccup, looking at his mouth and wishing he’d just put you out of your misery.

It’s like he can read your mind.

Steve shakes his head only once from side to side, slowly, mouth twitching in a smirk as his hands meet yours on the pitcher and tug gently, making you release it.

He sets it on the counter behind you, lime and tequila sloshing inside it the only sound competing with your heartbeat as he leans around you. His arms cage you in as he rests more of his weight against the counter with them.

Arms brushed against yours, mouth too close to your skin as he pulls back and murmurs, “You’re lying.”

You’re not proud when you whine that slips out too easily from the alcohol in your system. It’s unavoidable from the feeling of the words against the shell of your ear, the touch of his lips whispering something there a tease you never even imagined in your wildest day dreams.

Steve curses at the sound, an almost kiss dragging down across the apple of your cheek softly, timidly, as your hands twist in the hem of his shirt.

“Tell me what’s wrong, honey,” he begs against the corner of your mouth, breath shallow as his nose nudges against yours and you know you’re not alone in feeling the tension ballooning, that Steve has to have been feeling this way for months too, all from a barely happened drunk kiss.

“Fuck, Steve,” you gasp, back arching against the counter as your hands find warm skin at his hips.

It’s like the air around you pulses with your heartbeat, mouth tipped up to gain more points of contact with his brushed pass over them, a hand rests against your back to guide your bodies to press into each other in more places. Neither of you pushes it any further, sitting in the space of the breath before the kiss for as long as you can, like a roller coaster sitting at the top of the drop and never ever falling.

His hand glides up your spine till it cups your neck, lips brushing over yours as he whispers, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. That stunt you pulled in my room this morning.”

“I-“ you start an believable lie, but he keeps going.

“That bikini,” he practically growls it into your mouth, fingers lacing into your hair and causing a shiver to trickle down your spine.

Your head is dizzy, largely from the margaritas you’re sure, but the way he’s talking to you, the things you never thought he’d say have to have a hand in the feeling as well, you’re just sure of it.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps against your mouth, “Is…”

Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair tilt you more, adjusting your head just how he wants you, hips pressing you back into the counter harder. Blown out pupils of his gaze swallow you like a black hole, one you jump into willingly when his brow furrows against yours.

“Harrington,” you beg softly. Your smile bumps your lips closer at the low moan he gives his last name coming out of your mouth, at the way he nudges his nose against yours.

He nods, like all he was waiting for was your permission and that’s what you’ve just given him. His hand skates around to your jaw, cupping it to pull you in to meet him halfway. Steve’s eyelashes flutter as your head tilts, gaze meeting yours, your mouth, then your eyes again.

Then the light turns on.

“Shit! Sorry!” Robin yelps, sending you both into the darkness once more with a quick flick off and frantic footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

Steve takes a step away, you straighten, knuckles popping from their grip of the countertop edge when his palms press to his face and he groans.

“I shouldn’t have…” he lets his hands drop. Eyes blinking dazed and sad, like he was waking up from a dream he really didn’t want to leave. “That was not cool. We’re drunk. I’m sorry.”

“Steve-“ you start, trying to catch your breath, to wrap your mind around what just almost happened and what he’s saying now.

He rubs the back of his neck, continuing to put distance between you - literally with his steps backwards and his words.

“No, seriously, you don’t have to say anything. I’m an idiot and that was a mistake. It won’t happen again, okay? I’ll…see you for work tomorrow?”

“O-okay,” you stutter, still gripping the counter.

Steve turns quickly and vanishes up his staircase, bedroom door too loud in the suddenly quiet house.

Is it worse to be kissed and never talk about it, or almost kissed and told it was a mistake?

📻 “Everybody needs a second chance, oh. You want a piece of my heart? You better start from the start.”

Your locker closes with a slam, shirt wrinkled and hair limp, fingers raw from cleaning products, head pounding from too bright fluorescents, the smell of bleach, and a hangover that seemed to have not left since it’s arrival six days ago.

You fall onto the ratty couch while you wait for him to finish out front, arm thrown over your eyes as you take a deep, calming breath, willing the memories away.

But a kiss and an almost kiss from Steve Harrington aren’t things that are easily forgotten. They demand to be felt, tasted, heard - remembered in vivid details that will continue to haunt you forever.

His breath hitching against your forehead after a brush of his lips there after you asked who he was kissing at midnight.

His hands tangled in your hair a week ago and the ache in your stomach that’s been there since you were interrupted.

Your mouth goes dry at the lingering champagne and cherries. The almost brush with tequila and lime.

You scrub at your face with your palms, heels of them digging into your closed eyes as you let out a frustrated groan.

“You good?” His voice startles you from the doorway.

It takes a second, vision blurred and spotty, to see him leaning against the frame of the breakroom’s open door. His lips pursed around a red straw, sucking up cherry slurpee.

Your heart thunders in your ears, not from want or desire or lust or any other word to describe how you were feeling moments ago, but from anger. That kind of all consuming frustration and hurt that makes your blood boil, makes you want to stomp your foot like a toddler and yell at him like he’d just cheated in a game of chutes and ladders.

“No. I’m not good, actually. Thanks for noticing finally, though. A plus observational skills, Harrington.”

Steve blinks at you, perplexed by your tone and words. Like he has no clue why you’re so upset. Like he’s not well aware of the fact that he’s basically been giving you the silent treatment all week. That each morning he’s barely said more than five words on the drive to work. Pretending like he doesn’t know that at said work, he’s been keeping you busy and far away from him on purpose. Like he didn’t hand you a list of tasks each morning as he flipped on lights and machines.

His eyes continue to blink at you under furrowed brows like he’s not well aware that as he flirted with customers and listened to the trailers for new movies and told kids not to shove fries in the arcade games, he had you in the storage room, alone, or doing the nasty cleaning procedures. Things that you both would make a new, younger employee who was there just for the Summer do so the two of you could be up front together and goof off. Play pac man and toss popcorn into each other’s mouths for points in between rushes.

“Seriously? Are we thirteen again?” You stand with your hands on your hips, voice hoarse and cracking in a way that made you nervous - like you were about to start sobbing over something so stupid.

You knew you were going to lose him at the end of the Summer, you’d made your peace with it. You didn’t think you’d lose him at the start, maybe the feelings really were one sided - and if kissing him, being with him in any way other than his best friend meant that the timeline of that loss was sped up, you didn’t want it. You could pretend you didn’t have feelings if it meant things would go back to normal.

Or as normal as they could be between best friends who’d kissed and clearly wanted to kiss again.

Steve stands up straighter at the hurt in your voice, slurpee abandoned on the wobbly table as he takes a step towards you.

“I don’t know-“

“Steve,” you hold up your hand, interrupting him. “Can we just be normal? We kissed, big whoop. We almost kissed again. But you’re right, it was a mistake. Can we just be adults about this, please? I want to work with my best friend, not be bossed around by Steve Harrington my manager and isolated all Summer like I’m some embarrassment or thing you can’t look at it.”

“I…you’re not…I didn’t…” Steve stutters, waving his hands around like he doesn’t know how to start apologizing.

“It’s fine,” you quickly offer up, “But…can we? Please? Be normal?”

Steve’s mouth clamps shut, lips smashed together in a hard line as he nods. He rubs at the back of his neck, as he asks, softly, sincerely:

“Apology burgers and shakes? On me?”

Your shoulders relax for the first time in six days.

“I think I should be compensated for cleaning the toilets with onion rings.”

Steve smiles, grabs his keys from the wall and spins them on his pointer finger.

“Deal.”

📻 “Home, is where I want to be, but I guess I’m already there.”

“I still can’t believe that she just…” you trail off, eyes staring ahead at his garage door, lost and still in the diner.

Steve whistles and motions with his hand, turning an invisible shake upside down, before he crosses his arms again.

You’re leaning against the hood of his car, listening to the radio spilling out of his open windows, sitting in his driveway and unable to go home. Now that you’re in the groove of a conversation, neither of you is ready for it to be over.

Steve and you had been silent until you ordered, both of you fidgeting with straw wrappers and drinking half of your cokes. Thighs squeaking against diner booth seats until Robin’s co-worker came in, yelled at a guy in a letterman jacket, then dumped a shake on his head.

Steve tilts his head to look at the stars and laughs. “I can. She’s very…”

Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he searches for the word and only comes up with a sighed, “Different.”

“Wow,��� you force out, tone fighting to sound light and airy, “You sound like you wish that shake had been dumped on your head, Harrington. Is she your ‘the one who got away’?”

Steve looks at you and shakes his head, features of his face and tone of his voice soft and serious, “Not by a long shot.”

It’s like all of your organs forget how to function properly then. Lungs deflate and never inflate again. Heart is suddenly in your throat and pumping like it’s trying to get out so it can be with him and not stuck inside your chest. Your stomach churns, like it wants to spit out every closely kept secret feeling or thought about him.

Instead you clear your throat, breathe through your nose and ask, “So you didn’t date her?”

Steve swallows and looks down at his sneakers, toe scuffing at a crack in the driveway as he frowns. “Nah, I wouldn’t call whatever we had going dating.”

“Ah,” you say, mouth dry as you nod.

Steve’s turn to clear his throat.

“What about you?” he asks after too long of a silence.

“What about me?” You curl one of your legs up onto the hood and hug it, scooting so you can face him more.

“Have you…” he trails off and looks up at you, waiting.

“Had sex?” You tilt your head and laugh. “Yeah. I’ve had sex before Steve. You know this. I told you when I lost my virginity to Elliot after prom.”

Steve frowns at that but rolls his eyes, “I meant recently. And not sex,” he waves his hand around and closes his eyes, “I mean that’s cool too, I just meant, are you seeing anyone. What’s dating like in New York?”

“Probably the same as dating here, Steve,” you laugh and he shoves your knee, but keeps his hand there when you say, much softer, “But nah, there’s nobody. At least there hasn’t been for awhile.”

He stares at you with too much care and love and attention, an intensity and commitment you can’t handle, so you look at his hand on your knee instead.

“I should go inside. Big day tomorrow. First movie in the-“

“What’s awhile?” Steve asks, standing up and turning his body so he’s in front of you. Your leg drops back to resting against the hood slowly.

“What?” Your brain short circuits from the way he’s looking at you. Like the answer to this question depends on if he’s going to eat you or not.

“You said there hasn’t been anyone in awhile. What’s awhile?” He licks his lips.

“Since…since November,” you say quietly, it’s so much worse when you hear it, like saying it out loud makes it real.

Pathetic to admit that since you laid in between his legs, leaned against his chest in the back of Robin’s dad’s pick up at the drive in, all curled up with him and your friends in too thick of flannels and blankets, that you hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. That you’d thought about that night during your intense finals before winter break that it made you courageous enough to ask about kissing him on New Years.

“Why?” Steve asks, like he already knows the answer.

That you were scared that he could make you want to stay in this town forever and want to leave it all in the same breath.

Steve places his hands on your thighs, pushes them apart gently so he can step between them. They find a home easily on your hips as he stares down his nose at your mouth and shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“Tell me why, honey,” he practically begs it.

“Steve,” you swallow, fingers itching to leave the hood of the car and pull on his work polo that matches yours till there’s nothing left of it.

“Tell me why you haven’t been with anyone since November. Why you kissed me on New Years. Why you’re so upset I didn’t kiss you on Saturday, huh?” His thumb brushes across your bottom lip and you swear the touch sparks and fizzles across every one of your nerves - you feel warm from your lip all the way to your knees that are suddenly weak.

“You…you said this was a mistake,” you remind him.

He shakes his head no.

“Steve,” you laugh, “Yes you-“

“I meant kissing you then was a mistake. This isn’t a mistake. And I don’t think you think so either. Or you wouldn’t have said what you said in November and you wouldn’t have asked me to kiss you in January.”

The soft rasp of his voice, the vanilla shake you can still smell on his breath makes you melt like a popsicle. The only thing keeping you up right, your popsicle stick, is his hands on your waist.

“We…” you tilt your head, tip of your nose tracing the bridge of his as you swallow back the real words you want to say, “Shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t and can’t are two very different words,” Steve persists, fingers scratching up your side and making you shiver.

The radio spilling out of his car still starts playing a familiar song, and his lips twitch in a smile. He cups your jaw as your brain swims with visions of him twirling you and dipping you to this song despite it not really being fitting. The laughter and the forehead pressed to yours and your breathless question.

“I have a proposal,” Steve’s thumb now grazes your cheek bone.

A not so distant countdown shouted by Eddie and Robin and the kids from inside.

“I’m gonna kiss you, like I should have then. Like I want to. Like I have wanted to. Not drunk. Not because it’s New Year’s and it’s a tradition.”

A brush of his lips against yours.

“And then you can tell me if you still think we shouldn’t. Deal?”

A yelp and a shove and a gasp for air as you found the surface of the pool and blinked at him as the others canonballed around you.

“Deal,” you whisper.

He inhales, you exhale.

Steve glances down at your mouth, he leans, he pauses.

Like he’s begging time to slow down. Like he’s making a memory.

Like your best friend is capturing the moment with a camera, his lips the press of a shutter as they meet yours - slow enough to focus on the image but fast enough to get the picture.

It’s a taste of a kiss, and Steve leans away, just enough, that the loss of his mouth on yours has your hands finding his shoulders and pulling at him. Your neck craning up so you can chase his lips. Your eyelids flutter open as his seem to as well.

You both inhale, like you know you’re going to need the extra air for what comes next.

[curiositydooropened]

First of all stop, I’m crying. Second of all, yes. This is fully him. So much sass and so much intentional destruction. I love him.

Give this flailing drama queen a 20ft wingspan and he’s knocking everything over, taking out everyone’s ankles

[curiositydooropened]

[curiositydooropened]

Throwback to when I took painkillers and woke up with Photoshop open on my computer to this image I had made

[curiositydooropened]

This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.

👏 comment 👏 on 👏 old 👏 fics 👏

[curiositydooropened]

The many adventures of Dana Scully

[curiositydooropened]

heart - shaped scallion found In pho . reblog for good luck & yummy soup 500000 forwver

[curiositydooropened]

me, having deeply fallen out of the practice of writing poetry: I can’t write any more, I am now a Talentless Hack

the voice of my 11th grade journalism/12th grade creative writing teacher who rly did know everything: if you stop writing for a while the words will build up and stagnate. to clear the water, you will have to open the dam completely, and accept the fact that what initially comes out will not be palatable

[curiositydooropened]

“what’s your dream job” im so glad you asked. picture this. i am the lone employee of a strange and mysterious tchotchke/bookshop in the middle of nowhere, full of fun and interesting things that i am allowed to take for the low low price of free of charge. i get one, exceedingly interesting, customer per hour. i work no more than twenty hours a week and am salaried 3 million dollars

[curiositydooropened]

[curiositydooropened]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[curiositydooropened]

series masterlist | part two ->

📻 tracks 01 - 07

5,786 words // my blog is 18+ // please see the masterlist for warnings - this chapter contains mentions of cigarettes, weed, sex dreams, and a troubled home life for reader

Her hands tremble as they reach out to him. His eyes close from her gentle cup of his cheeks, though the tender sweep of her thumb across the apple of his right one has them fluttering open.

He wraps an arm around her waist at the sight of her distress, clutching her skirt in fistfuls as he pulls her closer and graces a gentle kiss to her jaw, catching the singular tear fated to drop with his lips before it can.

“I’m gonna be fine.”

His gruff voice against her skin doesn’t sound like he believes it, nor does the way he savors her beneath his mouth, kissing down the side of her neck like he knows he’ll never taste her again.

“You don’t know that,” she whispers into his temple before granting a kiss of her own to the same place.

Her shaking hands lift his jaw so he must look at her, unwaveringly, as she commands, “If you die-“

“I’m not gonna-“

“If you die,” she begins again, stronger, louder, clear in her decision. “I die.”

He knows she means it, her severe gaze promising and threatening and so unbelievably hot-

“Boy!”

Eddie blinked awake, finding his uncle shouting above him and smacking two pot lids together.

His alarm clock flashed red, 12:00 over and over again and he yelped, shooting out of bed as he shouted, “What time is it?!”

Wayne started to retreat down the hall, yelling over his shoulder, “Seven thirty!”

“Fuckfuckshit!” He scrambled out of his room, slipping on open notebooks and campaign books he fell asleep with as he went. Knocking over Old Spice and knickknacks on his dresser when he used a steadying hand against it.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?!” He accused his uncle as he squeezed too much toothpaste on the brush. He pushed the glob of paste back onto the bristles and shoved it into his mouth and began running the shower.

“Boy,” his uncle came into the doorway just to point a hand holding a pack of cigarettes at him, “You know damn well I go to the diner after my shift. And you’re jus’ lucky I got home when I did, Fran was real chatty this morning.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at the sink as he spit, then muttered, “Fran’s always chatty.”

Wayne leaned against the doorframe like he needed it to hold himself up. He shook his head. “You don’t have time for a shower, you’re already late.”

Eddie threw his arms out wide as if to say look at me, then actually said, “I smell like an ashtray.”

His uncle scratched at his chin, then suggested, “Quit smoking.”

Eddie pushed past him, flicking the pack of nearly empty Malboro’s in his hand as he went. “I’ll quit when you quit, old man.”

That got him a flick of his own to the back of his head and a gruff, “Don’t let the water run! We can’t afford it, especially since you’re getting fired today.”

“Har-har,” Eddie grumbled as the water turned off behind him. He jogged back into his room and scanned the contents of his floor for the clean pile.

He lifted a turquoise and black polo and sniffed it, recoiling from the garment and tossing it over his shoulder as a metal screech of the screendoor echoed down into his room.

Not the clean pile.

He quickly found a new one that didn’t smell as bad and pulled it on as he raced towards the laundry basket in the hallway in search of clean boxers and socks because he at least washes those on a semi-regular basis.

Fully dressed, he shoved his feet into his dirty sneakers and snatched the keys from the bowl by the phone, moving so fast he’s sure he’s created enough wind to actually stir up a cyclone to explain the mess he’s left behind.

His feet stamped against the rickity steps and crunched the gravel beneath them as he spun to yell back at Wayne.

“Thanks for waking me,” he nodded towards the trailer as he walked backwards to the truck, “Casserole in the fridge. And stuff for a salad.”

Wayne’s nose scrunched up at that, smoke billowing of of his mouth as he grumbled something under his breath while Eddie hopped in, rusty blue door protesting the whole way to closed.

“Salad!” Eddie pointed a finger out the open window of the truck at his uncle who waved it away before tapping at his watch. But there was a smirk of a smile on his lips wrapped around the burning cigarette.

The truck rumbled to life on the first try and he kissed the center of the steering wheel, “Good job, baby.”

Balled tires kicked up dust as he spun the wheel and whipped out of the gravel lot and onto the highway. He fumbled with the steering wheel, knee keeping her steady as he pulled a hair tie from around his wrist. He held it between his teeth as his hands worked at the mess on his head, pulling into something manageable as he sped down the two lane blacktop.

And then red and blue lights swirled to life behind him and a siren chirped out into the air once.

Eddie groaned as he spit the tie into his lap and grabbed the wheel with two hands, hair falling limp again. He guided the truck to the shoulder and turned the key. He let his head fall to rest on the steering wheel while he waited, forehead furrowing against the cracking leather.

This girl was good, but he missed his van.

Footsteps stomped towards his open window as a voice too eager to be pulling someone over greeted, “Good morning Mr. Munson! You know why I pulled you over today?”

Cause you’re a dick.

“I haven’t the slightest clue, officer.” Eddie lifted his head to look out the open window at Callahan’s smug face.

He pointed a meaty finger in Eddie’s face, “That’s sheriff to you, Munson.”

“Sorry, sir,” Eddie gritted out, wrapping his fingers around the wheel tighter so he wouldn’t lean out the window and rip each hair of Callahan’s mustache out one by one just to watch him suffer.

Callahan looked amused as he asked, “Were you aware of your speed leaving the park this morning, Mr. Munson?”

“Dude, were you just sitting outside the trailer park waiting for me? I could have you written up for stalk-“

Callahan tapped the roof of the car twice, making Eddie’s teeth grind together in silence again.

“I could have you written up for a number of things, Mr. Munson,” Callahan started. “Calling a member of the police force, dude, for one.”

Eddie stared ahead through his windshield and thought of all the places he’d rather be.

“Or maybe write you a ticket for speeding. Or how about that taillight you haven’t fixed yet?” Callahan crossed his arms, but lifted a finger and pointed like he was onto something, “Or maybe, if I search the cab of this…” he trailed off and gave the truck a grimace before continuing, “Fine vehicle, I’ll find some illegal drugs you have the intent of selling.”

“I don’t do that any-“

His volume and argument quick to die off when Callahan raised his eyebrows like he was just waiting for an accuse to arrest him.

“Please, man,” Eddie tried to get an ounce of patience squeezed out of himself to continue, “I’m already late for work. Can you give me whatever ticket you’re planning to give me so I can just be on my way?”

Callahan glanced at the logo on Eddie’s wrinkled polo and clicked his tongue. “Such a heartwarming thing to name such a fun place after such a nice girl. It’s a shame what happened to her though…”

Eddie’s hands twitched on the steering wheel with the thought of what Callahan was insinuating. Like he had something to do with the mall fire too somehow.

“I thought that the Chief told you that if you made any more comments about the rumors about me somehow being involved in that-“

Callahan raised his arms in surrender, “Woah, woah, woah,” he pressed a hand to his chest, “Mr. Munson, nobody is making any comments here. You have an alibi for that night, as we’re all well aware of.”

Just one mustache hair would be satisfying. No harm, right?

“Well,” Callahan squinted at him, pleased smile on his face, like he was god’s greatest gift to this earth for what he was about to say, “I’ll let you off with a warning today, how ‘bout? No need to make all the kiddos at Holloway’s wait for their fries and skates, right?”

Two mustache hairs. And a punch to the face.

Callahan’s grin widened, like the look on Eddie’s face was all he wanted out of the interaction. “But if you don’t get that tail light fixed and learn to slow down, maybe get to work on time, I’ll have no choice but to bring you in.”

He tapped the top of the truck, grimaced, then rubbed his hand on his pant leg.

Eddie saluted two fingers at him and watched him walk away in his side mirror, rolling his eyes at the way he whistled and walked like he was in a John Wayne movie.

“Prick.”

Once Callahan drove away in the opposite direction, he slammed the stereo on and cranked the tape he had left in, and started to dig around for his pack of Camel’s he swore he wouldn’t break into today.

His tires screeched when he peeled onto the road again, speedometer quickly going much higher than ten over now.

📻 “I’d spend my days alone. I used to stay at home. Lost in seclusion there, like I was in a cell.”

The Judas Priest that had been on in the car was quickly taken over by Top Hits, and his shoulders hunched as Madonna started to play.

Again.

He spun around and handed two pairs of skates to two teens and dully said, “Enjoy.”

One smacked her gum as she pushed the scuffed up pair back over the counter and said, “I said sixes. And these smell.”

“You-“ Eddie bit his tongue as the teen blew a bubble and popped it loudly. He rubbed at his temple, “You said six. So I gave you sixes. Then you said they were too small. So I gave you sevens.”

“Yeah but these are too big,” she put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes.

“How do you know?” He held his hands out to the pair he had quite literally just slid across to her.

“I just know.” She snapped her gum again and his eye started twitching.

“You just know?” He grit out, closing his eyes as Madonna sang about it being time for the good times and he hated that he knew the next lyrics.

When he opened his eyes and his lips parted to say something he hadn’t thought through, you slid up next to him behind the counter.

“Hi there!” You greeted the girls, bubbly and tossing your hair as your hip bumped his. “How about we try a different pair of sixes then? Those other ones might not have been broken in yet.”

“That’d be great,” the teen smiled at you and then let her features fall slack again as she looked at Eddie.

His fist balled on the counter and you slid a shiny pair over to her and exuberantly told the girls to have fun.

Your features shifted as you turned your back to the rink. Your face now turned from perfect customer service ‘pleased to be here’, to more of a dulled delight as you looked at him and gestured to the snack bar with your head. “Go take a break, Mr. Sunshine.”

He shook his head and started grabbing skates for the boys who came up to the counter practically drooling over you and unable to say anything other than their size without taking their eyes off of your profile.

“No way, I was late, I don’t deserve a break. Plus my shift is almost over anyways. You should take one.”

The skates rolled across the glass countertop and the boys continued to blink at you until Eddie flicked one of their foreheads and pointed to the rink, “Beat it, pervs.”

“Be nice,” you laughed, glancing over your shoulder at the boys retreating, causing one of them to trip and take the other down with him.

Eddie gestured to them, “Me? You’re the one out here taking down innocent men without even trying.”

“Shut up.” You knocked his shoulder with yours as you spun around, but smiled at the counter.

He leaned on his forearms and you did the same, and he stared at your profile for a little too long as he said, “Thanks again, for covering for me for being late.”

“No problem,” you smiled at him and then turned to look at the rink again, chin in your palm as you hummed along to the end of Holiday but then added, “I should have came and knocked when I didn’t hear your stereo this morning.”

Eddie looked down at the counter and grimaced, painfully aware of your bedroom window that faced his bedroom window and he mumbled, “Sorry, I’ll keep it down.”

Your shoulders shrugged, polo sleeve catching his as you turned to look at him again, “I don’t mind. I’m not a huge fan of silence anyways.”

He stared at your eyes, something in them duller from the words you’d just said.

Eddie didn’t know much about you yet, it’d only been about a month since your family had appeared next door one morning and you’d waved with a small smile on your face to him and Wayne. Came over and introduced yourself that evening with a plate of brownie squares.

He did know that you rode a bike with a little basket to work every day, that you sat outside at the picnic tables doing something for hours on the days you didn’t work. That you hung up pale yellow sheets on the clothes line in the moonlight as your radio trilled quietly next to you and your parents voices carried over into his open window.

So he swallowed and asked, “Any requests?”

Your eyes lit up again as you nodded and held up our fingers to list your demands.

“You gotta get some more Hall and Oates in your life, Munson.”

Eddie shivered and you laughed, adding on, “Oh and Queen. Fleetwood Mac! Whitney Houston!”

He moaned until your laughter subsided and you continued, “Oh, and you.”

“What?” He blinked at you as you smiled warmly at him. Looked at him in a way that made him think he’d never actually been looked at before, suddenly all too aware of the wrinkles in the shirt that smelled like weed and his hair all pulled into a low bun and frizzy.

“You, I request more of you,” you tilted your head, as you clarified, “Your guitar?”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat and blinked at the counter, “Right, yeah-“

“Are you in a band? I saw you hauling all sorts of…” You trailed off and stood up and nudged your hip against his and hissed, “Save yourself. Take your break.”

“Wha-“ The teen with the gum and size sixes was returning, and he didn’t need to be told twice. “I owe you. Big time.”

“Yeah you do, I like strawberry milkshakes and really expensive shoes,” you pointed at him but then smiled and waved him away. You turned your attention to the counter again and put on your best older sister kind of voice, “Darn it! Those didn’t work either?”

He was fairly certain you were an angel, sent down to earth to somehow outweigh the devilish goings on of his life.

So when he was sitting at the snack bar and watching you, thinking about how he was rudely woken up this morning before anything good could have happened in his dream, it was even worse when he was knocked in the back of the head and told he was drooling.

Steve flipped a chair around and straddled it, sitting across from him and yanking a fry out of the tray. He spoke around the hot potato, “You ass her out yeb?”

“Quit it,” Eddie groaned, yanking his fries back over to himself while he risked a glance back up at you. Watched as your hips swayed behind the counter while you put skates away and sang along to the music playing in the rink.

“God,” Steve snorted and pulled at a loose fry, “You’re down bad. I feel for you, man.”

“I know,” he moaned, head hitting the tabletop in defeat. He sat up and crossed his arms, watching you pull a teddy bear down for a kid who approached with four tickets and he knew you were giving it away for less than what was needed. He quietly admitted, “I had a dream. Last night.”

“Yeah?” Steve sat up eagerly, munching on a fry as he raised his eyebrows.

“You’re such a perv,” Eddie flicked his straw wrapper at him.

“You sicko,” Robin concurred without evidence as she sat next to Eddie with a large lemonade and a boat of popcorn.

Steve frowned when she smacked his hand away from the popcorn as he defended himself, “I did nothing, here. He’s the one who had a sex dream!”

“Shh!” Eddie swatted at him as Robin perked up, straw between her teeth as she asked, “Oh?”

“I didn’t-“ Eddie rubbed at his forehead, Steve and Robin together somehow worse for his head than the teens or pop hits, “It wasn’t like that. It was…a campaign. I fell asleep working on it, and she just happened to be…in my dream about it.”

“Yeah?” Robin asked eagerly as Steve frowned and asked, “That’s it? Did you even kiss?”

Eddie shrugged, “Not like, on the lips. I was going off to fight this…” he waved his hands around as Robin’s lips split in a grin and Steve’s nose wrinkled, “It doesn’t matter.”

“What was she wearing?” Robin asked, chin perched on her interlaced fingers as she batted innocent eyes at him.

“Don’t…” Eddie moaned, covering his eyes as his ears turned red.

“Was it…Return of the Jedi like?” Steve asked quietly, then added, “Because if it was like that dream, then you get a few more points back.”

Eddie opened his eyes to glare at him, “I didn’t have the Leia dream. Robin did.”

Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Listen. You both are nerds okay, I’m just trying to keep up.” He grabbed a fry and waved it around, “Is your warrior elf princess or whatever coming to the party tonight?”

“Is your lady coming tonight?” Eddie threw it back at him with raised eyebrows.

Steve rolled his eyes, perfect little curl over his forehead bouncing as he shook his head. “She’s not-“

“My lady,” Robin and Eddie chimed in together, loudly as Steve sighed.

“And bold of you to call her your lady, when you can’t man up and ask her to be,” Steve poked his forehead with a fry. “No guy who looks at a girl like you look at her should be over here talking to us when he could be over there, with her.”

You seemed to time it perfectly, coming onto the intercom just then, “Happyy Fridaayy! Don’t forget that here at Holloway’s we get that everybody is just working for the weekend. So grab one of our punch cards today! Every ten weekday punches you get a free snack pass! We also know that, everybody wants a new romance - well, Holloway’s is now pleased to offer Skate Date! Saturday nights from five to eight is couples skate. So to grab a piece of her heart, bring her to Holloway’s! We’ll get back to our regular skating, now, but don’t forget! No street shoes on the rink, laces must be tied at all times, kids under the age of five must have an adult with them, and no jumping over the walls. To skate here at Holloway’s, you gotta start from the start!”

Your voice crackled over the speaker, then a cowbell loudly played overhead and Eddie grinned.

He watched as you spun away from the mic and pointed directly at him, mouthing the words along with Loverboy.

📻 “Everyone’s watchin’ to see what you will do. Everyone’s lookin’ at you, oh. Everyone’s wonderin’, will you come out tonight? Everyone’s tryin’ to get it right, get it right.”

Steve stood up abruptly and said, “Let’s go. You’re asking her out.”

“Wha-“ Eddie sputtered as Steve yanked him up under his arms. “Get off me, man!”

“This is pathetic. She’s clearly into you too. Ask her out.” Robin snorted at Steve’s words while Steve straighted out his polo for him, spun him towards you and called out, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

Eddie glared at him over his shoulder as he stumbled back towards the counter.

He stood on the opposite side though, like he was a customer, hands sweating at his sides as you smiled at him.

“I think that one was my best yet, what’d you think?” You asked before slipping your lips around the straw of your coke.

“Ye-yeah, it was good,” he cleared his throat, wincing at the squeak of it as he watched your cheeks hollow.

“I think Loverboy should definitely be on your evening rotation.”

Eddie winced, playing along and grateful you were easy to slip into conversation with, no matter how nervous he was. “I draw the line at leather pants, sorry.”

“Not a fan of leather,” you nodded, slipping your drink under the counter again, “Noted.”

His mind started to melt thinking about you in leather. Like in his dream. Leather battle vest laced up the back and corset like and-

“I mean…you, if you were wearing it, I’d…” He stumbled over the words and felt a billion degrees warmer than the eighty degree day when you grinned at him all knowing.

“Noted,” you said again, though this time you tilted your head at him before glancing down at the counter.

“Um, so you-“ Eddie tapped the counter, he spun his rings and rocked on the back of his heels before spitting out, “There’s this party tonight and I was wondering if you’d want to go?”

He watched your eyes sparkle, your mouth parted to answer when a customer came up and interrupted.

You apologized to him with a smile and helped the kid with their tickets and prize for the small arcade attached to the rink. He risked a glance back at the table to only find Robin and Steve sharing her popcorn and out right starting. He waved them away, mouthing for them to get lost when your voice made him freeze.

“So…” you drew it out, “This party…is it like a date?”

Eddie spun back to face you, face heated from the smirk on your lips and your gaze cutting to behind his shoulder. He had no doubt in his mind you were watching Robin and Steve do something insanely stupid like pretend to read invisible newspapers or have a wildly animated and over the top “conversation”.

He closed his eyes, and winced, “I mean, not if you…I’m not sure…”

“You’re not sure? If it’s a date? ” You asked and he opened his eyes to find you smiling sincerely at him.

Maybe you weren’t a princess or angel, but a witch, casting a spell on him, determined to have him make deals with the devil instead of preventing them.

“I’m sure that…” He swallowed and took a step closer to the counter, “I’m sure that I don’t think you deserve a shitty house party for a first date so no, it’s not a date. But I’d love to get to know you more. And I’m going, and I know you haven’t met too many people probably so maybe you could do that. And also just have fun. With me. There.”

He stared at you, watched you seem to inflate and deflate in a matter of seconds.

“I have a shift at Family Video after this,” you whispered to the counter, fingers fiddling with the hem of your polo. When you looked up at him, you seemed like a smaller version of yourself as you asked, “Maybe if it’s not too late and I’m not too tired, I could meet you there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, suddenly feeling like a thousand rocks were in his stomach. He had no idea you worked two jobs. “Do you…you ride your bike home after that shift? At night?”

“I get the car at night,” you shook your head no, explaining, “I bike home, drop the bike off, my dad gets home from work and I take that to Family Video.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie gestured to you, “Well if you ever need a ride…I have a semi-reliable truck.”

Your smile was mind meltingly sweet as you looked down at the counter then back up at him again. He swore there was a choir singing when you made eye contact that time.

“Noted,” you said it softly, the third time the best of all. Like you were really taking little facts about him and noting them down.

“So,” he drummed his fingers against the countertop then started to back away, “I’ll see you tonight…hopefully?”

“I’ll be the one in leather…possibly,” you offered and flashed him an even more dazzling smile and he stumbled, turning his back to you as he tried to hide his grin.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He spun to face you, too fast, cheeks warm as you laughed.

“Where’s the party?”

“Oh shit!” A mom walked by with a small child, frowning and he bowed from the to pass, “So sorry, ma’am.”

You laughed as he returned to the counter and quickly scribbled the address on a ticket you passed over.

“Have a good rest of your day, Eddie,” your fingers brushed his as you took the ticket and slipped it in your back pocket.

He offered a discreet thumb’s up to Steve and Robin as he faced them again, and they fist pumped, and he floated back to the table on the sound of your laughter.

Maybe this Summer, working this shitty job, wouldn’t be that terrible after all.

📻 “She didn’t know it was his last cigarette.”

Eddie’s face, hopeful for you to come to the party that night, was all you could think about. Butterflies cracked out of cocoons in your stomach as you remembered how flustered he got from the mere mention of leather.

Allowing the hot Indiana summer night and boy making your sheets cling to your skin wasn’t worth lying in, you decided, especially just to do so while listening to them argue and ruin the giddy hope filling you.

So you climbed out of your window, as you’ve done most nights since moving to this odd town, sketchbook and pen in your hand and the image of Eddie’s hair all tied up today itching to come out of you and onto the paper.

The wet grass clung to your bare feet as you quietly snuck out towards the picnic table in the back field, the moonlight, crickets, and bats your only company.

Or so you thought.

Your hand flew to your chest in shock, your body warmed even more as you became increasingly more aware of what you were wearing and who was sitting in your spot to see you in it.

“Hey,” he spoke first, all shadows and a smile that looked sleepy even from far away, an acoustic guitar on his lap.

You didn’t know much about Eddie Munson yet, but you wanted to. He’d filled more of the pages of the book in your hand than anyone had in awhile. He had a story, one you were desperate to draw out of him, literally on the page, as well as to learn from listening to him tell it in a way only he could.

You knew he had two very close friends in the boy everyone called Harrington who worked at the theater and the girl, Robin, who loved to chat with you whenever she came in. Knew he had a group of boys that followed him around that he pretended to be annoyed by. Knew he brought food over to the girl Max and her mom. Knew he listened to music you didn’t necessarily care for, but loved when he plucked things out on his own guitar, even if you didn’t know for what genre. You’d heard of some rumors surrounding him and the town that you didn’t really believe, because of the things you already knew.

The most important thing that you’d learned about him, was that if he already intrigued you this much, he was dangerous - a risk to all of your plans that you weren’t sure you were willing to take.

So each step forward was a timid one, the summer breeze drifting by fluttered the hem of your shorts, and from the quick glance he gave down at your chest then back up, it seemed to have peaked your nipples as well.

“What’re you doing out here this late?” You asked quietly, though you were far enough away, and they’re loud enough, that you weren’t sure why you bothered to lower your volume.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he offered just as softly.

Now that you were closer, you could see he wasn’t wearing his typical uniforms - his literal uniform or his almost imperceptibly different daily outfit of a different but similar shirt and the same jeans. Tonight it was a cotton white shirt, that ached to be wrinkled by your fingers. There was something about it that made you long for your pencils, to sketch him for hours, like this was the most vulnerable you’d ever get to see him.

“Can’t sleep,” you shrugged, holding up your sketchbook.

“Same,” he nodded to his guitar he laid across the tabletop gently, his notebook, scribbled words taking up a majority of the page.

“You write your own lyrics?” you asked, eagerly taking more steps to close the gap between the two of you to catch a glimpse and Eddie promptly folded the notebook closed as you got within sight.

“Oh come on,” you teased, reaching past him for it, “Can’t I read it?”

Eddie looked up at you, down at your sketchbook, then in a low tone of voice that should be illegal, asked, “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Your thighs pressed together when, despite his confident delivery, the tops of his cheeks turned pink, daring you to take a bite out of them. You didn’t have a doubt in your mind anymore:

Letting yourself have Eddie Munson was dangerous.

“I don’t know you that well,” you shrugged, like you were sorry, taking a step back.

“You could,” Eddie offered.

It sat like a bubble waiting to burst between the two of you. His hopeful eyes and your butterfly infested stomach, waiting for the other one to blink first.

He looked back at the trailers when a particularly loud slam of a door made you flinch.

“How was work?” He changed the subject, body shifting to face you fully and smiling. “I mean your other work?”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter sandwiched between the sticks and he leaned forward. His elbows on thighs covered in gray sweatpant material, cut with little care and revealing black ink on one of his thighs that dared you to get closer and inspect him.

“It was,” you cleared your throat and looked up at the stars, “It was fine. Typical Friday night rush. How was the party? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

Eddie shrugged. “A party.”

“Not a fan?” You spun slowly, looking at the sky.

Eddie inhaled sharply as you turned slowly, your profile to him and his gaze on the hem of your shorts as he forced out a quiet, “Drunk idiots playing truth or dare and spin the bottle as adults, cheerleaders dating the jocks, still? No, not really.”

You hummed, head on the stars as you got an idea and timidly asked, “Truth or Dare?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I just hung out in the basement with Steve and Robin for most of it.”

He placed the cigarette between his lips and started to fiddle with the lighter. Your heart thrummed as you spun to face him fully and nervously laughed, “No, Eddie, truth or dare?”

You inched closer to him as he looked up at you, unlit cigarette between his lips still, and asked more than said, “Truth?”

Your stomach swooped a little, hoping he would have said dare but a little glad he hadn’t, not sure if you could have followed through. Your knee knocked his as you took a step closer, then closer.

Eddie’s hands caught your waist as you leaned forward and pulled the cigarette from his mouth. His breath grew shallow, chest rising and falling fast in front of you when his hand slipped between the thin shorts and thinner top, resting against your skin. You were close enough to see few freckles across his nose, smell mint on his breath and something woody and spicy in his hair.

Despite knowing it was dangerous, you were starting to not care.

His fingertips buzzed along your hipbone, sending shocks all the way up your spine, like a lit sparkler was cracking and fizzing inside your chest.

Eddie swallowed thickly as the tip of your nose brushed down the bridge of his, his hands flexing on your waist and the way his legs spread to make room for you to wedge between gave you a confidence you hadn’t had before.

“Do I make you nervous, Eddie?” Your question whispered in the centimeters of space between his lips and yours.

“Jesus,” he breathed it out through a rough chuckle, “More than you know, sweetheart.”

Your smile pressed your top lip to his bottom, a quick brush of your mouth against his that he sighed into.

“Good,” you murmured against his plush and pouty bottom lip that was ready to catch you and keep you there.

Then you turned and promptly walked back towards your trailer without looking back at him.

Your tingling lip caught between your teeth suppressed your giddy grin as he called out, “Don’t I get to ask you now?”

Maybe this Summer, in this town, wasn’t going to be so bad after all.