“This is where Joel is beginning to understand what’s happening inside him. It’s been 20 years since there was anybody in his life, like a Sam, that would ruin him if he were to lose them. And he doesn’t quite know how it happened, but it has begun to happen now with Ellie. When he sees what happens here, all he can think is, that’s going to be her and me. And it terrifies him.” - Craig Mazin
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.
i will never forgive the suffer brothers for not giving us anything including the byers family x eddie.
okay just humor me for a sec and imagine this:
jonathan would find out that eddie's the local weed man and go to buy from him but eddie knows jonathan's a photographer and he'd sell him weed in exchange of jonathan going to the hideout and taking pictures of corroded coffin and one night eddie's van breaks down so jonathan drives him to his trailer, which is vandalized by the basketball team. eddie gets to cleaning it up because he doesn't want his uncle to see it like that and jonathan decides to stay and help him.
they bond over being the town's freaks and not giving a fuck about it in their own ways, having screw ups for fathers and they find out they're not that different after all. then jonathan mentions that he needs to go home because he promised his little brother to play dnd with him even tho he knows nothing about the game because his brother's friends keep neglecting and ignoring him. eddie loses his shit because dnd is HIS LIFE and he can't believe nobody wants to play with jonathan's brother so he offers to teach him how to play but jonathan does him one better and offer eddie to go with him to the byers' house, have dinner and play dnd with his brother.
at the byers' house, joyce was shocked when she saw jonathan came home with a friend since he's never done that before and felt bad because the house was a mess and she wasn't the best cook but eddie told her that her christmas lights are very metal and her "smashed potatoes" were the best thing he's ever tasted.
after dinner, eddie says to will that he heard he's into dnd and will feels self conscious since he's been mocked for it even by his closest friends so he just shrugs it off until eddie tells him that he happens to know someone who is very into dnd too and pulls out his board and everything dnd related. will's speechless because he never thought he'd ever play again but they spent that whole night sitting on the floor, teaching jonathan and joyce how to create their character and playing.
it was one of the best nights of their lives for various reasons. for joyce, because her boys now have a friend they can relate to in different ways. for jonathan, because he finally found someone who understands him beneath "the freak" label. for will because after a summer of feeling like he has to change, to grow up and level with his friends even though he's not ready yet, he now knows that he doesn't need to. for eddie, because for the first time in his life he felt what being in a loving family feels like.
after that night at the byers', jonathan kept showing up at the hideout. he says it's just for the weed but he stopped buying weeks ago. will joined hellfire, eddie's older friends weren't impressed at first until will destroyed them during one of eddie's campaigns. eddie never doubted him for a second. joyce packed an extra lunch for eddie everyday and had her boys deliver it to him, in exchange eddie would pick out flowers from behind the school and give them to jonathan for joyce, he'd smirk and say "these are for you mom but don't get jealous i'll get some for you too next time cam boy". eddie would regularly go to the byers' house, whether it's to introduce jonathan to real music, play with will or just to hang out and talk with joyce. he was always there and they were all happy that he was.
the end. thank you for listening. also sorry or you're welcome depends on how you're feeling rn.
(i didn't proofread this so if you find any spelling, grammatical mistakes or anything, just be a good person and ignore them. thanks!)
Warnings: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly NSFW, but not much, & language.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
A/N: Back with another one! I’ve been working on this for a few days, and I’m really nervous, as I’ve channeled a lot of my energy into this fic, because I’ve not been in a good mindset—at all—so I added a little Eddie to help, and I hope it makes anyone who is going through something similar, to feel better, even if it’s just a morsel? My ask box is ALWAYS open if you ever need someone to talk to—that goes for anyone that reads this, and is feeling badly or lost, or even in general—I’m here! I understand and I hear you, and I’m not going anywhere!! Hope this is okay?
Enjoy! - Kristen <3
~*~
He’d 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 meeting—despite 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 band’s shows—their number one fan since founding, and you sure as shit never went a day—hell, even an hour without seeking him out. He misses your hands pressing over his eyes, decorative bangles caressing his cheeks, how he’ll never know what shampoo you’ve decided to use this time brimming his senses. Eddie Munson needs you.
And you’re just… gone. He’s seen you at school, sure, but that’s not what he’s currently worrying a bitten down thumb nail over. He’d bugged every friend he could talk to, running over all scenarios where he might’ve upset you somehow—no results produced. Your last night together was a movie and some burgers. He’d 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 didn’t get his kicks from seeing you try to work that cute tongue to accomplish it. You’d 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 Lover’s Lake. Perfection, peace, that’s what the day’s events contained. Eddie never noticed anything unusual about you, just extraordinary—as always.
His very own confidant. Ride or die, as you’d 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 household—being 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 you’d 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 parent’s cars are gone, yet the normal lamps cast their buttery glow through your windows. He isn’t a man that prays, but he’ll do anything if he can ask you what the fuck your problem is lately, and, you know—check on your well—being, or however the fuck it’s 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
“Hey, knock knock, Little Hellion. It’s me, you know, the dude that’s 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 ‘hit music’. Think you owe it to the friendship masters that brought us together, to at least tell me what’s goin’ on?”
Silence.
In a typical Eddie fashion, he begins to obnoxiously teeter the doorbell, each time birthing the same end scene. Humiliated, drenched, and tired, Eddie’s resolve has him pressing his hair-caked forehead to your front door.
Screw this.
You’d 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 fun—he wasn’t about to mud his way around your yard and bust his ass on a whim. Well… unless the key wasn’t here, he can admit to that.
Luckily for him—the first hope of the night—it’s under your mom’s decorative address painted rock. He gains swift access, securing himself in your home. It’s not been but a week, but it feels eternities longer. As he figured, your parents aren’t 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 you’re 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.
~*~
There’s a soft blue hue merging with your hot pink lava lamp, bleeding underneath your door’s gap. You’re watching some B rated horror film, no reaction, no movement from the other side. And that’s when Eddie starts to panic. Dropping his Reeboks on your mom’s hallway rug outside your door, he doesn’t knock, doesn’t delay, pushing your door open so hard it smacks into your wicker dresser, knocking some trinkets over. He doesn’t know what he expected, maybe you having another guy here—a disgustingly bitter bite brims his esophagus at that notion—or new friends, maybe. He isn’t 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.
“What are you doing here, Eddie?” There’s a raw rasp to your tone, a clogged damage.
You remind Eddie of a wounded animal, a lost soldier in his dungeon. He’s 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. “Y/N… baby.”
He doesn’t call you pet names that intimate very often, not unless he’s voicing a concern or a sleepily muttered softness. You’ve always wondered if he called every fangirl that. The burning in your throat threatens to expose you, your limb shaking in Eddie’s vice.
“Please… Eddie, can you just leave? Be mad at me all you want, but I can’t fight with you right now.”
You’re spent, worried he’ll actually go, and not really wanting him to. But that’s how your mind works, isn’t it? Depression’s 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.
“And go where, Y/N? Can’t 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 chest—“
“Eddie, stop.” You’re head is swimming in static, body moving upright—a position you haven’t assumed in days, with the exception of taking a shower.
Still, you don’t toss his hand off you. He’s beckoned into hope. His middle finger caresses your jawline’s 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 you’ve 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.
“Eddie-Bear,” You breathe out wetly, languidly. The silly nickname you’d taken to calling Eddie since childhood, all because his curly hair, and he never stopped you from saying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
You hear him whisper a meek ‘fuck’, before he’s closing his arms around your blanket covered waist, squeezing you in so tightly to him that your air supply thrums against your ribcage. He’s more comforting than your favorite summer thunderstorm. Cigarette smoke lathers him in wafts, rainwater soaked skin, lavishly showered by his spicy cologne. You’re okay. It’s fine.
“What’s happening, baby? Stay with me, yeah?” He’s peppering your forehead with the softest kisses you’ve ever felt, each one conveying his care towards you—fragile, 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 Eddie’s shirt in desperation, needing it off. You’re whispering and he’s in a state of confusion, arms having no choice but to untuck from you, spreading out. “Y/N…” It’s a questionable warning, a caution against what this action implies.
Something hums, throbs deep inside you—a beast needing satiated—one that Eddie doesn’t know you keep caged. You’ve 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. Eddie’s 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 isn’t on you. But Eddie Munson isn’t everyone, and even your fucked up, depression filled brain can admit to that.
He has some otherworldly effect…
“Y/N?” He’s begging a question. And he wants to sob in relief when your beautiful y/e/c irises meet his own.
Your answer isn’t within words, it’s a slip of your hands off his body, pushing up your own baggy white band t-shirt—a comfort shirt you reserve to usually wear. Eddie’s eyes widen when you’re not even clad in a bra, bare breasts a perfect (to him) swell. The softest of actions, yet Eddie is swallowing, confused. He can’t not be so transparent in front of you, he never has. That’s not your dynamic and won’t ever be. “So, you don’t want to see me and now you’re… what, flashing me? Y/N what is this? You’re scarin’ me here.”
“I can’t tell you if I don’t even know, Eddie.” 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 isn’t wanting to allow himself to realize that he recognizes your entire mood, as he’s 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 you’re asking, here, your body exposed to him, another vulnerability he wasn’t prepared for—he finds he can’t deny you.
Whether it’s that cosmic connective bullshit, or his own self-afflicting mindset to be in constant companionship with you, he nods. “Only if you try and talk to me about all this. You gotta promise.” His chocolate brow raises, expectant.
“I’ll… try, as best as I can, okay? Is that good enough?” You’re 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. It’s a small echo, but something else completely significant.
He’s inhaling sharply, his creamy inked skin this burning layout you seek to travel. He’s Eddie. He’s beautiful. The neon setting of your lava lamp, the reflection of your television still going as a backtrack—it 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. “Eddie. S’ okay to look at me if you want to.”
His reaction will forever be burned into your retinas. It’s a heated swirl, dark eyes creating a crest across your chest, almost as if he’s strumming you the way his fingers pluck at his guitar’s strings. His tongue sucks against teeth, perks, focused. He looks. You can tell he’s fighting every forsaken and forbidden urge that you are… to touch. To feel.
To know…
“Baby…” 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 other’s lips.
There’s more here…
“I just need to fucking feel you, Eddie. I can’t… I…” 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 breast—his first touch. You finally escape your throw, your black panties the only thing that remain. Eddie has to fight every fantasy he’s ever pictured, his own guilty conscience staring him down. You shake your head, reading him.
He’s actually looking at you in the ways you’ve dreamt of. It gives you a bravery to start a revealing, fingers sliding up and down his ribcage. “It’s been so fucked in my head lately. I just want to disappear, so I tried to… as much as possible.” You hope it makes a little sense, because it’s enough to scare the shit out of you, expecting this scrutiny.
Eddie’s 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. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know how my mind works, Y/N. This is the resident freak you’re talking to here. Not exactly a stranger to the dark side of the human mental state.”
“I know, Eddie. I should’ve, but I didn’t want anyone around. Fuck, I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you forced your way into my house—“
“Uh, I rang the bell, Y/N. And technically, I didn’t force my way. I used your spare key.”
“Oh, Eddie,” You sing-sigh, tears docked. “Crazy boy.”
“Y/N…” He’s closer now, bolder to grip your naked waist, your muscles moving beneath his touch. “I’ve been there. You’ve been right fucking beside me. Did you really think I wouldn’t come over here and ask you what’s going on? That’s a coward’s retreat. I can’t let you feel like shit alone, not gonna happen.”
You reach for his belt, an agreeing nod of your head. He starts to move and grab your hands. “It’s not right, not like this.”
Not like this? So… then, when? He really does want it too.
“I know,” You whisper. “Just want to feel your skin on mine.”
You rest your forehead to Eddie’s, 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. “Please, please.” You aren’t 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 you—blue 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 you’re drunk on the caress. It’s so fucking intimate, so open and vulnerable. It’s as if you’ve torn open your chest and handed your bestfriend your modesty and your heart.
They’re already his…
Eddie breathes you in, your shampoo— strawberries and cream this time, your skin silky beneath his touch. He’s got you and you’re still here with him, trying.
“Promise me you’ll try and tell me someway, somehow, even if you can’t say it—that something is wrong, Y/N. From here on out, you gotta promise me.” 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.
“I wish we could…” You trail off, mouth puffing a breath. So close.
Eddie’s honey coated voice is rasped. “We can. All you’ve ever had to do was ask me to go to bed with you, and I’d give you whatever you fucking wanted, Y/N,” He breaks, nose nudging yours, slowly edging back enough to comb your hair behind your ear. “But right now, I won’t.”
It’s 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. It’s all… too much. You don’t have to say anything else—he already knows. His tone is light, airy, as he sings along to the lyrics of your favorite drunken karaoke song. “They say we’re young and we don’t know… We won’t find out until we grow…”
He bumps your shoulder, making your eyes glisten, heart lurch, your own voice joining in. “Well I don’t know if all that’s true… Cause you got me, and baby, I got you…”
You both share a nostalgic smile, a melancholy settling into your chest, joining in together.
“Babe… I got you babe, I got you babe…”
“There’s my girl,” Eddie squeezes your shoulder, his other hand on the back of your neck. “Can’t do this shit without you.”
“My favorite dungeon master.” You quip.
Eddie feigns a dramatic look. “Better be the only one.”
“You are. Always.” There’s a new sensitivity forming—banter aside—a 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. He’s 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 through—a response beyond your control—skim 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 arms— quiet, warm, safe, sleeping through the night for the first time in a month.
~*~
It hadn’t been but a few days since you and Eddie were together, and the next morning when he snuck out, he was terrified you’d 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 hadn’t seen you thus far, and the day’s end meeting was approaching.
~*~
He can hardly stomach being still on his throne, knee bouncing. Everyone’s voices sound staged, louder than usual. Eddie is barely aware until Gareth shakes his shoulder—hard. He nearly snaps, a stressed groan leaving his mouth, flat. “What?”
“Dude,” Gareth exclaims, waving the folded piece of notebook paper in his face. “I said, Y/N left a note for you earlier. Said she was doing something for her mom, to call her later.”
Eddie snatches it from his friend, ignoring whatever else he says, nearly tearing the paper to get to its contents. He can’t help but to grin like a fool, teeth bared, almost a proud pose, your scribbled handwriting clear.
How does one make friends around here? I can barely complete any ST mutuals. Only a few authors in the fandom share my stuff. It’s hard to feel welcomed, and then you end up feeling bad about yourself when no one seems interested in your work or you. What happened to everyone appreciating each other and not just their friend groups?
What happened to feedback on content and ask box interactions? This place is an escape, one that can get really vulnerable at times. I just don’t get it… I really don’t. I wanna give up on my work and my blog so bad, and the worst part is — who is gonna care? :/
I don’t think I’ve ever related to anything more than this right here.
Even then sometimes I get intimidated to reach out to certain blogs when I see that they have so many people giving them feedback or requests or so on.
Kas the Bloody-Handed was the vampire lieutenant of Vecna and the original wielder of the Sword of Kas. After years of loyal service to Vecna, he became Kas the Betrayer. It is said that the sword itself whispered to Kas, convincing him to slay his master and usurp his power.
