Did It Even Mean Anything?
Words: 1682
Warnings: angst, breakup, being played, only dating someone on a bet, probably poor writing but whatever
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Request: "Gareth and Jeff make a bet with Eddie about not being able to get a date or a girl in general. Eddie asked out the quiet girl thinking it would be an easy bet, but realize they have a lot in common. Maybe the next day at school she finds out about the bet from over hearing it from Gareth and Jeff talking to Eddie. Ending of their reaction is up to you."
I have such a love/hate with this trope dude. Like, I love it, but I hate it at the exact same time.
I also hated making Gareth be the dick that he is in this. I love that guy so much man.
Anywho, enjoy
Eddie smirked at Y/N as he leaned against the lockers next to hers. She was quiet. Well, more reserved than most of the other girls that he knew of. And he knew that she had a crush on him. "So? What do you say, princess? Tomorrow, 7 o'clock? I pick you up at yours?" She stared at him with wide eyes before smiling softly and nodding. Eddie let out a small laugh, "You gonna use your words, darling?"
She felt her face heat up before letting out a soft, "Yeah." She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder, "Yeah, I would like that a lot."
He smiled, "Good. See you then." She nodded as he walked away.
And as he walked away, she turned to her locker and grabbed all of her books and piled them into her back. She couldn't believe it! Eddie Munson, the guy she had had a crush on since she met him her Freshman (his Sophomore) year, had just asked her out. She was ecstatic.
But she was also surprised. Eddie knew who she was? They had only ever spoken to each other 2 times. One was when he had asked her for a pencil. And the other was when he had asked what he missed in Mrs. Click's class because he had missed the past three days.
But that was 2 and a half years ago.
However, she stopped her worrying and walked out to her car. Excited that literally anyone had just asked her out. But she was also nervous because she had never been on a date before. So she had no idea what to do or wear.
However, unknown to her, Eddie was walking into the Hellfire room with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever had. He opened the door, and with his luck, only Gareth and Jeff were there. He slammed his hands down on the table. "You two boys now owe me a hundred dollars each."
Gareth raised an eyebrow, "Why's that?"
"Because I just got my ass a fucking date."
Jeff scoffed, "Yeah? With who?"
"Y/N Y/L/N."
His friends started laughing. "Y/N Y/L/N? The girl who had literally had a crush on you since she met you?"
Eddie smirked, "You didn't say it couldn't someone easy. So pay the fuck up." Gareth and Jeff looked at one another and Eddie groaned, "Now what?"
"Date her until the end of the school year and you'll get your money."
"That wasn't the original fucking plan!"
Gareth shrugged, "Yeah, but we realized that you'll just go on one lousy date with her. Maybe even try to sleep with her. Then toss her to the side. Because we all know that you can't commit."
Eddie groaned, "You guys are literally the fucking worst."
They both shrugged this time, "You chose to befriend us, Eddie."
Eddie rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He ran a hand through his hair, "So I just have to date her until May 25th?" The other two nodded, "Fine. I guess I can do that."
Unfortunately for him, he would realize just how much he would fall for Y/H/C girl he just asked out on a bet.
-
Eddie was sitting next to Y/N in the back of his van at the Drive-Thru. Neither were really even watching it as they were just talking to each other. He was surprised to find out that she liked a lot of the same things he did.
"Actually, Rocky Horror is gonna be showed a town over in two weeks. I was planning on going, maybe, if you wanted, we could go together." The smile on her face as soft as she asked him.
He returned the smile and nodded, "That would be fun." He leaned back, against the side of his van. "One question. Do you dress up?"
She laughed, "Of course I do! Usually I do Janet as that's all that I really have clothes for. But I recently found a old maids outfit that I'm gonna fix up to look like Magenta. Hopefully it'll be ready in time."
He grabbed a piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. "I bet it will be."
He laughed lightly and she smiled at him confused. "What?"
"I just...I don't get this. You're literally so...perfect. I mean. You're so nice, you like the same things as me, and you're hot." She felt her face heat up at the last comment. "You're like a dream come true Y/N Y/L/N."
She smirked, "What? Did you think that I was gonna like a lot of popular stuff?"
"Kinda?"
She laughed, "I do like some of it. There are some chick-flicks that I love. Some music. I just like whatever I like."
He nodded, "What's your opinion on DnD."
"I've never played. But it seems pretty interesting. I don't really understand why people say it's 'satanic'. And that people who play it are 'devil worshippers' and 'evil'. Games don't make being evil. It's what they're surrounded by that do it."
He smiled, "I like your thinking."
For the rest of the film, the two of them continued to just talk about different things that they liked. And Eddie continued to be surprised that the two of them liked the same things as each other.
But the guilt that he just asked her out on a bet grew more and more.
-
The two had gotten together in January and now March was ending and April was starting. Eddie had truly started to fall for Y/N after a week. But he kept feeling guilty that this all started because of a stupid bet he had made with his friends. He had felt like he was using her this whole time. But he knew it wasn't true. Everything he had said and done had been true. And when he told her that he loved her. He had meant it.
But he knew he would have to tell her the truth at some point. Even if he knew that he would hurt the both of them. But he wasn't going to do that until after he talked to Jeff and Gareth and called the bet off.
-
Y/N walked down the hall to the Hellfire room. She had to ask Eddie if she had left her jacket over at his trailer. But she felt her blood run cold when she overheard a conversation that she knew she shouldn't have.
"-You can't do that dude! You calling off the bet means that you have to pay us! I thought that you hated losing!"
"Yeah? Well I didn't plan on actually falling for her! I can't go through with the fucking bet! It'll just hurt her!"
"That's your fault bro. You knew that this could happen, but you went through with it. You asked Y/N out on a bet, knowing that you easily could fall for her."
She hadn't realized that she walked into the room fully until she dropped the books in her arms and the three boys turned to her. Guilt covered Eddie's face when he saw her. And he was barely able to get her name out before she ran out of the room. He cursed under his breath and turned to Gareth and Jeff. "The bet is over. I'll pay you two tomorrow." And then without even giving them a chance to respond, he ran out to find Y/N.
He had a good idea where she would be. He remembered something she had mentioned once about a place in the woods. Different than the place he would meet people for deals. She had shown him it once. And when he made it to there, he felt his heart break. He heard her crying. And it pained him to know that she was crying because of him. Because of what he had done.
As a twig snapped under his foot, her head snapped around. She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Leave me alone."
"Princess-"
"No. No don't. Don't do that." She stood up, "Don't sit there and say 'princess' and act all innocent. Act-act as if...as if this isn't all a lie!"
He shook his head, "It isn't a lie! I do love you! More than anything!"
She shook her head, "I was nothing more than a fucking bet. You asked me out just so you could...could what? Get money? Prove that you aren't a fucking loser?"
"Y/N I-"
"Was any of it even real?"
"What?"
She walked over to him and poked his chest, "Any of it? Was. It. Even. Real. Did you mean any of it? Or was it all apart of the fucking bet?"
"I meant everything I said and did!"
She let in a shaky breath, "Why me? Why did you choose me to be the fucking victim?" She laughed, "Actually. No wait, let me guess. You asked me because you thought I would be easy. Because you knew I had fucking liked you for years. Am I right?" He stayed silent. She was right. He had originally asked her because he knew that she would say right. She let out a small, dry laugh. "I should have fucking known. It was all too good to be true. I mean, why else would Eddie 'the freak' Munson ask me out? Why else if I wasn't just supposed to be another notch on his belt?" She looked at him, "Well, go find yourself some other girl to fuck with. Because we're fucking done." She pushed past him, but not without saying, "God, I wish I never had been seen with the freak of Hawkins."
And he watched as she walked away and felt him heart tear into a million pieces. He knew he had fucked up. He knew he should have told her the minute he gained feelings. But he didn't and now he had fucked everything up.
And now the one person who he had actually fallen for, hated him more than anything.
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if yâall donât read this cute shit right nowâ iâll cry.
Letâs Be Closer
(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)
Warnings: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly NSFW, but not much, & language.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
A/N: Back with another one! Iâve been working on this for a few days, and Iâm really nervous, as Iâve channeled a lot of my energy into this fic, because Iâve not been in a good mindsetâat allâso I added a little Eddie to help, and I hope it makes anyone who is going through something similar, to feel better, even if itâs just a morsel? My ask box is ALWAYS open if you ever need someone to talk toâthat goes for anyone that reads this, and is feeling badly or lost, or even in generalâIâm here! I understand and I hear you, and Iâm not going anywhere!! Hope this is okay?
Enjoy! - Kristen <3
~*~
Heâd tried calling you, fingers raw from the damned dial button, eyes blurry without sleep for what is the sixth night in a row. You never ignored his calls, you never missed a club meetingâdespite never playing the game, but bringing snacks and your branding charm, instead. You never explicitly dodged him in the hallways of Hawkins High, you never missed a chance to wave his Zippo lighter at his bandâs showsâtheir number one fan since founding, and you sure as shit never went a dayâhell, even an hour without seeking him out. He misses your hands pressing over his eyes, decorative bangles caressing his cheeks, how heâll never know what shampoo youâve decided to use this time brimming his senses. Eddie Munson needs you.
And youâre just⌠gone. Heâs seen you at school, sure, but thatâs not what heâs currently worrying a bitten down thumb nail over. Heâd bugged every friend he could talk to, running over all scenarios where he mightâve upset you somehowâno results produced. Your last night together was a movie and some burgers. Heâd treated you to a shared chocolate shake after, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.
You swore you would master the art of tying the stem one day, and damn it if Eddie didnât get his kicks from seeing you try to work that cute tongue to accomplish it. Youâd both sat on his favorite quilt your mom helped you sow him for Christmas a few years back, van doors open, drinking in the soft serenity of nightfall, overlooking Loverâs Lake. Perfection, peace, thatâs what the dayâs events contained. Eddie never noticed anything unusual about you, just extraordinaryâas always.
His very own confidant. Ride or die, as youâd promised him.
Except⌠apparently, not anymore.
Eddie is caught between anger at your automatic dismissal, treating him as most of your shared peers, to gnawing nausea that something is seriously wrong. And as his uncle asks him where you are, obviously confused at your lack of presence in the Munson householdâbeing angry wins out.
~*~
Rainstorms are always a bitch in any context, but Indiana seems to pack a solid punch when unpredictable Mother Nature is visiting. Eddie can barely see through his crappy wipers, windshield rain soaked and battered in pounding thumps. Your house glitters above the surface of heavy drops, visible by its glowing inhabitation. Eddie cuts his engine, fingers idle across the monogrammed skull charm keychain youâd gotten him, dangling from his key ring.
Fuck it.
Clambering from his rust bucket ride, he jogs his way up your empty drive, seeking solace on your small porch. Your parentâs cars are gone, yet the normal lamps cast their buttery glow through your windows. He isnât a man that prays, but heâll do anything if he can ask you what the fuck your problem is lately, and, you knowâcheck on your wellâbeing, or however the fuck itâs supposed to sound. Heaving in an exerted breath, Eddie presses a finger over your doorbell, legs bouncing back and forth in an anxious jolt as he waits.
And waits.
And waits some-fucking-more.
Anger vs. Anxiety: the Sequel
âHey, knock knock, Little Hellion. Itâs me, you know, the dude thatâs your right hand man, the one that lets you eat his pretzels at lunch, touch all his band equipment, entertains your enthusiasm towards the ear splitting garbage that is considered âhit musicâ. Think you owe it to the friendship masters that brought us together, to at least tell me whatâs goinâ on?â
Silence.
In a typical Eddie fashion, he begins to obnoxiously teeter the doorbell, each time birthing the same end scene. Humiliated, drenched, and tired, Eddieâs resolve has him pressing his hair-caked forehead to your front door.
Screw this.
Youâd told him many times where your spare house key was, so he could avoid having to climb in your window, because really? Though, you adored watching him struggle into an endearing shuffle through your window frame, and Eddie found it funâhe wasnât about to mud his way around your yard and bust his ass on a whim. Well⌠unless the key wasnât here, he can admit to that.
Luckily for himâthe first hope of the nightâitâs under your momâs decorative address painted rock. He gains swift access, securing himself in your home. Itâs not been but a week, but it feels eternities longer. As he figured, your parents arenât in their usual living room spots, the television off. The kitchen light above the sink is on, the hall light above your stairs, and he knows youâre bound to be awake. Ever his favorite night owl.
Yanking his shoes off, he carries them in one hand, ascending your stairwell and venturing to your bedroom.
~*~
Thereâs a soft blue hue merging with your hot pink lava lamp, bleeding underneath your doorâs gap. Youâre watching some B rated horror film, no reaction, no movement from the other side. And thatâs when Eddie starts to panic. Dropping his Reeboks on your momâs hallway rug outside your door, he doesnât knock, doesnât delay, pushing your door open so hard it smacks into your wicker dresser, knocking some trinkets over. He doesnât know what he expected, maybe you having another guy hereâa disgustingly bitter bite brims his esophagus at that notionâor new friends, maybe. He isnât ready for the gut twisting sight of you, back to him, curled in a fetal position, pink cotton throw around your midriff, tear soaked eyes staring at your baby pink wallpaper, unmoved.
Eddie Munson is speechless.
He takes hesitant footsteps into your sanctuary, easing the door latched behind, as to not startle you. However, you beat him to it.
âWhat are you doing here, Eddie?â Thereâs a raw rasp to your tone, a clogged damage.
You remind Eddie of a wounded animal, a lost soldier in his dungeon. Heâs never heard you sound so fucking lost. All his hostility dissipates, leaving him with a protective possessiveness. He pulls off his vest and leather coat, laying them over your desk chair, forgoing sitting to your backside and pathing his destination to your front. Your murky vision forces his form out of view, body automatically flinching to move away.
Eddie catches your wrist with a cool hand, thumb tapping the bone, pinching a small portion of your skin in reassurance. âY/N⌠baby.â
He doesnât call you pet names that intimate very often, not unless heâs voicing a concern or a sleepily muttered softness. Youâve always wondered if he called every fangirl that. The burning in your throat threatens to expose you, your limb shaking in Eddieâs vice.
âPlease⌠Eddie, can you just leave? Be mad at me all you want, but I canât fight with you right now.â
Youâre spent, worried heâll actually go, and not really wanting him to. But thatâs how your mind works, isnât it? Depressionâs tricks of the trade; mindfucks, self-doubt, confusion, isolation, emotionless, feeling too much, not enough. His rings are chilled in their brisk brush, sliding along your pulse point, tracing all the way up you arm until they reach your jaw, where he presses a swipe, ever-so-gently. The dam is cracking, about to burst, explode.
âAnd go where, Y/N? Canât exactly perform up to my full potential without the Cher to my Sonny, the Eowyn to my Faramir, that nice bit of leather that holds my sweetheart across my chestââ
âEddie, stop.â Youâre head is swimming in static, body moving uprightâa position you havenât assumed in days, with the exception of taking a shower.
Still, you donât toss his hand off you. Heâs beckoned into hope. His middle finger caresses your jawlineâs expanse, pushing a bop at your nose, breathing winded, posture patient.
Yeah, that does it.
The levee gapes, flooding itself wide open. Eddie is bringing you into his chest, your fingers fisting into his Hellfire shirt, temple resting against his exposed collar bone, his pick chain tickling your cheek, and you sob. Harder than youâve remembered doing this week, guilt wracking you at your ignorance towards how your bestfriend might be effected by your distance, that hopeless abyss caverning your chest from the inside out.
âEddie-Bear,â You breathe out wetly, languidly. The silly nickname youâd taken to calling Eddie since childhood, all because his curly hair, and he never stopped you from saying it. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to.â
You hear him whisper a meek âfuckâ, before heâs closing his arms around your blanket covered waist, squeezing you in so tightly to him that your air supply thrums against your ribcage. Heâs more comforting than your favorite summer thunderstorm. Cigarette smoke lathers him in wafts, rainwater soaked skin, lavishly showered by his spicy cologne. Youâre okay. Itâs fine.
âWhatâs happening, baby? Stay with me, yeah?â Heâs peppering your forehead with the softest kisses youâve ever felt, each one conveying his care towards youâfragile, beautiful. It causes you to reign enough strength back in to meet his gaze, under eyes burning and sore, puffy from your tears.
That undertow overwhelms you, cutting off your momentary serenity, making you begin to tug on Eddieâs shirt in desperation, needing it off. Youâre whispering and heâs in a state of confusion, arms having no choice but to untuck from you, spreading out. âY/NâŚâ Itâs a questionable warning, a caution against what this action implies.
Something hums, throbs deep inside youâa beast needing satiatedâone that Eddie doesnât know you keep caged. Youâve always wanted your bestfriend (a rather cliche thing to you, but alas), and it seems your avoidance did nothing to improve it, signifying a tenfold magnitude of want and craving, a desperate having to have. Staying away from Eddie is catching up to you, a new anxiety settling in, a warped panic. Eddieâs eyes are closed in contemplation when you face him, mapping out the expanse of his chin, across his jawline, right over that jugular. Your brain is such a jumbled heap, wanting him to be away from you, everyone to leave you by yourself to drown like you think you deserve, to collapsing if Eddie isnât on you. But Eddie Munson isnât everyone, and even your fucked up, depression filled brain can admit to that.
He has some otherworldly effectâŚ
âY/N?â Heâs begging a question. And he wants to sob in relief when your beautiful y/e/c irises meet his own.
Your answer isnât within words, itâs a slip of your hands off his body, pushing up your own baggy white band t-shirtâa comfort shirt you reserve to usually wear. Eddieâs eyes widen when youâre not even clad in a bra, bare breasts a perfect (to him) swell. The softest of actions, yet Eddie is swallowing, confused. He canât not be so transparent in front of you, he never has. Thatâs not your dynamic and wonât ever be. âSo, you donât want to see me and now youâre⌠what, flashing me? Y/N what is this? Youâre scarinâ me here.â
âI canât tell you if I donât even know, Eddie.â You mumble, knees knocking into his own, his ripped jeans causing a radiating warmth from bared skin through your blanket piled lap.
Eddie is silent, mulling over your words. He isnât wanting to allow himself to realize that he recognizes your entire mood, as heâs felt it all too much many times before. That hopeless, wayward, black hole of gloom and goddamned doom. It makes too much sense, and Eddie practically tastes that anxiousness coming off you in tower-high waves. But what youâre asking, here, your body exposed to him, another vulnerability he wasnât prepared forâhe finds he canât deny you.
Whether itâs that cosmic connective bullshit, or his own self-afflicting mindset to be in constant companionship with you, he nods. âOnly if you try and talk to me about all this. You gotta promise.â His chocolate brow raises, expectant.
âIâll⌠try, as best as I can, okay? Is that good enough?â Youâre weak, tears drying, new ones forming.
Eddie nods, starting to reach to brush his hand across you, hold you, not stare at this intimate part of your flesh. He hears a little hushing embarkment, another request. He grants it, finally watching you under an intensity so precious your lower lip wobbles. He tucks his fingers underneath his shirt, pulling and shimmying his upper torso from the damp fabric, letting it drop behind him on your hardwood. Itâs a small echo, but something else completely significant.
Heâs inhaling sharply, his creamy inked skin this burning layout you seek to travel. Heâs Eddie. Heâs beautiful. The neon setting of your lava lamp, the reflection of your television still going as a backtrackâit highlights both your forms. Settled and paused on your bed, Eddie looking everywhere but your breasts. This gives you your first smile in over a week. âEddie. Sâ okay to look at me if you want to.â
His reaction will forever be burned into your retinas. Itâs a heated swirl, dark eyes creating a crest across your chest, almost as if heâs strumming you the way his fingers pluck at his guitarâs strings. His tongue sucks against teeth, perks, focused. He looks. You can tell heâs fighting every forsaken and forbidden urge that you are⌠to touch. To feel.
To knowâŚ
âBabyâŚâ A whimpering confusion disorients your bestfriend into that pet name. That secretive thing you both have pictured, hands on yourselves at night right after you hang out, scents clinging to one another, names tipping off each otherâs lips.
Thereâs more hereâŚ
âI just need to fucking feel you, Eddie. I canât⌠IâŚâ That embarrassingly swift panic stampedes your windpipes.
Your palms splay across his tattooed skin, fingertips tracing its unique outline. He finally reaches out when you can barely stand the anticipation any longer, his finger hooking underneath your armpit, thumb-pad brushing the underside of your breastâhis first touch. You finally escape your throw, your black panties the only thing that remain. Eddie has to fight every fantasy heâs ever pictured, his own guilty conscience staring him down. You shake your head, reading him.
Heâs actually looking at you in the ways youâve dreamt of. It gives you a bravery to start a revealing, fingers sliding up and down his ribcage. âItâs been so fucked in my head lately. I just want to disappear, so I tried to⌠as much as possible.â You hope it makes a little sense, because itâs enough to scare the shit out of you, expecting this scrutiny.
Eddieâs throat is on fire with a settled worry, a dawning thought, a knowing sigh. His thumb caresses your breast, an ache unable to stop its responding throb between your legs. He traces your ribcage, pressing, dancing shapes along, rubbing, his voice light when he speaks. âWhy didnât you tell me? You know how my mind works, Y/N. This is the resident freak youâre talking to here. Not exactly a stranger to the dark side of the human mental state.â
âI know, Eddie. I shouldâve, but I didnât want anyone around. Fuck, I didnât realize how much I needed you until you forced your way into my houseââ
âUh, I rang the bell, Y/N. And technically, I didnât force my way. I used your spare key.â
âOh, Eddie,â You sing-sigh, tears docked. âCrazy boy.â
âY/NâŚâ Heâs closer now, bolder to grip your naked waist, your muscles moving beneath his touch. âIâve been there. Youâve been right fucking beside me. Did you really think I wouldnât come over here and ask you whatâs going on? Thatâs a cowardâs retreat. I canât let you feel like shit alone, not gonna happen.â
You reach for his belt, an agreeing nod of your head. He starts to move and grab your hands. âItâs not right, not like this.â
Not like this? So⌠then, when? He really does want it too.
âI know,â You whisper. âJust want to feel your skin on mine.â
You rest your forehead to Eddieâs, letting your fingers trace that demon head tattoo above his pectoral, scraping the barest brushes. He shivers, pulling away, holding in. Finding the curvature of your spine, Eddie taps an invisible beat, making you croon. Your left hand winds around his neck, draping across his lower back, threading through his curls, calming him. âPlease, please.â You arenât sure you can look at him again if he rejects your last advance, your letter to a lifeline.
In a revamped silence, Eddie slides off your bed, wood floors creaking underneath his feet. Your eyes widen, posture frozen.
Is he leaving?
But he gives you that smitten Eddie Munson smile and he sheds his socks, unbuckling his belt and jeans, shoving them down to his ankles and kicking them away, his decorative buckle clattering across the flooring. He lowers his brows at you, shy, pursing his lips as he knees his way into a crawl across your bed, meeting youâblue checkered boxers all that separate him from you. His chain sways in his movement, his hand cupping your cheek and bringing you up and into him, mouth hovering, lips ghosting, so close youâre drunk on the caress. Itâs so fucking intimate, so open and vulnerable. Itâs as if youâve torn open your chest and handed your bestfriend your modesty and your heart.
Theyâre already hisâŚ
Eddie breathes you in, your shampooâ strawberries and cream this time, your skin silky beneath his touch. Heâs got you and youâre still here with him, trying.
âPromise me youâll try and tell me someway, somehow, even if you canât say itâthat something is wrong, Y/N. From here on out, you gotta promise me.â Fuck, he really wants to kiss every bit of that panic from you, lay you down, take you in your bed, and hold you until the moon vanishes underneath the horizon, and the sun sprays its peachy hues all around your bedroom walls. He is startled to revel in the fact that you want it just as much.
âI wish we couldâŚâ You trail off, mouth puffing a breath. So close.
Eddieâs honey coated voice is rasped. âWe can. All youâve ever had to do was ask me to go to bed with you, and Iâd give you whatever you fucking wanted, Y/N,â He breaks, nose nudging yours, slowly edging back enough to comb your hair behind your ear. âBut right now, I wonât.â
Itâs so strange, how Eddie was worried about you, angry with you, thinking you hated him, and now he knows you want him inside you just as much as he wants to be there. And you, your brain is a scrambled mess, still swimming in the darkness, yet revealing your secrets to your bestfriend, and hearing his shared truths. Itâs all⌠too much. You donât have to say anything elseâhe already knows. His tone is light, airy, as he sings along to the lyrics of your favorite drunken karaoke song. âThey say weâre young and we donât know⌠We wonât find out until we growâŚâ
He bumps your shoulder, making your eyes glisten, heart lurch, your own voice joining in. âWell I donât know if all thatâs true⌠Cause you got me, and baby, I got youâŚâ
You both share a nostalgic smile, a melancholy settling into your chest, joining in together.
âBabe⌠I got you babe, I got you babeâŚâ
âThereâs my girl,â Eddie squeezes your shoulder, his other hand on the back of your neck. âCanât do this shit without you.â
âMy favorite dungeon master.â You quip.
Eddie feigns a dramatic look. âBetter be the only one.â
âYou are. Always.â Thereâs a new sensitivity formingâbanter asideâa place you and Eddie have just discovered.
He senses those gears shifting inside you, that mood threatening to flood you. Eddie lays a kiss to your cheek, lingering, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him, breasts smashing into his chest. You both let out a ravished whimper, body heat shared, radiating. Your nipples harden, soaking in the affectionate stick of Eddie. Heâs starting to move backwards, taking you with him on your bed.
You let him guide you, unable to let go if hurricane winds threatened you both. He brings a hand underneath your ass in a slide, sheets rustling, gripping where your thigh meets a cheek, lifting, sloping your limb over his lower waist. Your panties, drenched throughâa response beyond your controlâskim over his happy trail, where all those freckles are resting, waiting for your mouth to trace. He shushes your apology, tilting his body to lay an arm underneath your head, his pick necklace dangling across your bosom, and he lets you rest on his forearm, his other outstretching to wrap around your waist, that thick arm hair stimulating your broke out goosebumps. He rests his chin overtop your head, content, swollen between his legs, but managing to control it to a minimum.
You fall asleep in his armsâ quiet, warm, safe, sleeping through the night for the first time in a month.
~*~
It hadnât been but a few days since you and Eddie were together, and the next morning when he snuck out, he was terrified youâd bolt on him again. He treaded lightly when he showed up at school, trying to focus on getting his final set list together, and interviews for new members of Hellfire Club, pushing distractions. The day crept on and on, but he hadnât seen you thus far, and the dayâs end meeting was approaching.
~*~
He can hardly stomach being still on his throne, knee bouncing. Everyoneâs voices sound staged, louder than usual. Eddie is barely aware until Gareth shakes his shoulderâhard. He nearly snaps, a stressed groan leaving his mouth, flat. âWhat?â
âDude,â Gareth exclaims, waving the folded piece of notebook paper in his face. âI said, Y/N left a note for you earlier. Said she was doing something for her mom, to call her later.â
Eddie snatches it from his friend, ignoring whatever else he says, nearly tearing the paper to get to its contents. He canât help but to grin like a fool, teeth bared, almost a proud pose, your scribbled handwriting clear.
Letâs Be Closer
~*~
Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson
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