Summary: Lucy doesn't listen one too many times and it leads to a situation she did not expect to end up in.
Masterlist
Word Count: 1.9k
Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle
Tags: fluff, pining, angst
Warnings: Mild spoilers for the books!
A/N: Another Locklyle fic for this lil fandom. Thinking of maybe doing a part 2 so let me know what you think.
Unfortunately, Lucy could remember every excruciating detail of the series of events that had led to her current situation. And it had all been her fault.
It had started a few weeks ago, when Lockwood had whisked through the door with a swish of his coat and a grin on his face. Lucy and George had been in the kitchen; George making the tea, and Lucy trying against all hope to ignore the Skull’s incessant nagging. Having given up on trying to persuade Lucy to let him out of the jar, he had instead tried a new approach.
“Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out…”
Even Lucy had to admit that it was certainly an effective tactic, for she had never wanted more than to hurl that jar – skull and all – straight out of the top floor window. Normally, Lucy would have just twisted the lever on the top of the jar to stop the Skull’s never-ending torment. But it just so happened that that very week, George had managed to get the lever stuck open during one of his infamous experiments on the Skull. The experiment had included a bath, a large bottle of resin and the house’s only pasta strainer. What exactly had occurred, Lucy had no interest in knowing.
Either way, Lucy had come to discover that a ghost truly never needed to sleep nor required to pause for breath. It was safe to say she was at her wits end when Lockwood came bouncing into the kitchen.
A twitch had developed in Lucy’s eye over the previous few days, partly as a tick from her constant state of annoyance and partly a product of her complete lack of sleep. She tried desperately to get it under control as Lockwood talked. Thus, between her preoccupation with her twitch and the Skull’s persistent chattering, the only words she heard from Lockwood that afternoon were “party” and “invited”. And whilst this would normally be enough to pique her interest to listen further, the only thing she cared about in that moment was finding somewhere in the house to put the Skull where his voice could not reach her.
It was only that night when Lucy finally got some peace and quiet after her and George had managed to drown out the Skull’s talking. They had wrapped it in a silver net, put it into another silver case and surrounded said silver case with three sets of iron chains. The words from Lockwood’s conversation that afternoon floated dully through her head, but she was too focused on making it all the way up the mountainous stairs to her bed before she passed out to pay them any thought. In the end, the words slipped from her mind just as her consciousness had: instantly and resolutely as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The second strange instance that had contributed to Lucy’s predicament occurred two days later. It was early in the afternoon when Lockwood returned home, a smile on his face and a garment bag slung across one shoulder. But in truth, Lockwood returning home with a garment bag was actually a far more frequent occurrence than one might have thought. He did ruin on average one coat a week due to their line of work; two if the week’s cases were particularly demanding. In hindsight, Lucy should have noticed the logo on the bag – not a store that Lockwood usually frequented for his coats – and queried him about it. But she had only just woken up and George had finished making her eggs on toast and, in all honesty, she couldn’t really bring herself to care.
The third and final event that should have clued Lucy in to what would become a disastrous event happened only hours before said disastrous event occurred. Lucy and Lockwood were sitting quite comfortably across from one another in their respective armchairs; Lucy going over their case book and Lockwood going through his tabloids.
‘I was thinking…’ Lockwood interrupted the silence, his voice oddly timid in the still air. ‘Maybe it would be a good idea to practice…you know…before the party.’
Ah yes, the party that Lucy knew almost nothing about.
‘Yeah,’ Lockwood continued almost hesitantly. ‘You know how I mentioned it the other day? I just think it would be a good idea to learn each other’s…rhythms.’
Lucy had furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and had been about to voice several questions, when something else came out of her mouth entirely.
‘Do you smell burning?’
The next thing both of them knew, two voices were yelling from the kitchen. Lucy and Lockwood both leapt from their chairs and raced towards the commotion. Pushing the door to the kitchen open, they were met with a wall of smoke, George in a frilly apron, and Quill Kipps holding a pair of oven mitts that were very much ablaze.
Later, when both the blaze and George’s anger at the house’s only oven mitts being destroyed had been extinguished – both an unfortunate byproduct of Quill’s attempt at making Yorkshire puddings – Lockwood had approached Lucy once more.
‘So, about the practice…’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Lucy said, too tired from trying to save the house from burning down to pay much attention to anything. ‘Can I just meet you downstairs in, like, an hour?’
Lockwood had stumbled out his agreement and Lucy had quirked an eyebrow at his uncharacteristically timid demeanour before retreating back to her room. She really had had no clue why Lockwood was acting so weird over rapier practice.
And so, an hour later, Lucy had learned of her grave mistake.
‘Dancing?’ she all but blurted out.
‘Yeah, for the ballroom party at Fittes,’ Lockwood said with a quirked eyebrow. ‘You know, we’ll have to sneak away to the Black Library to steal the manuscript since our Orpheus society stint went…badly.’
Now both of them were very obviously confused.
‘And that involves…dancing?’ Lucy asked.
‘Lucy, where have you been? We talked about this weeks ago. We need to make ourselves seen for as much as the party as possible so it doesn’t look like we’re up to anything.’
‘Can’t we just…mingle?’
Lockwood ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.
‘I really don’t see what the issue is. The dance floor will give us the best vantage point to scope out the party without looking suspicious so-’ Lockwood’s gaze shot back up to Lucy, something indistinguishable behind his eyes.
‘What?’ Lucy asked.
‘Do you…’ Lockwood paused, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. Lucy didn’t like where this was going. ‘Do you not know how to dance?’
Now it was Lucy’s turn to throw her hands up in exasperation.
‘Why on earth would I know how to dance? We didn’t exactly have balls up north! I was too busy fighting ghosts and trying to get away from my mo-’ Lucy stopped herself. Lockwood knew of her mother. At least enough to understand why Lucy wanted to stay out of the spotlight. But still, she averted her gaze to the floor and fought the urge to run away.
A silence grew between them then, something thick and heavy and filled with something Lucy could not name. She thought she saw Lockwood’s hand reach towards her, but then it was flicking upwards to run through his hair once more.
‘I could… I could teach you?’ Lockwood said, his voice far softer now, tentative even.
And so that was how Lucy found herself in one of the strangest situations of her life.
One of Lockwood’s hands was connected in hers, his other laying featherlight on her waist. She wished that she had not worn such a short top – she had thought it was rapier practice after all – for now, every so often, she could feel his fingers brush against her bare skin. He was avoiding the area, she was quite sure, for his hand was slightly higher than it needed to be. But every so often, his fingers would slip down and Lucy would blush.
And they were dancing.
Well, ‘dancing’ was probably too kind a word, Lucy knew. Lockwood was certainly dancing. Lucy on the other hand could not stop tripping on her own feet and stepping on Lockwood’s.
‘I’m so useless at this,’ Lucy said more to herself than anyone. But she did not pull away.
‘You’re just new to this,’ Lockwood said. ‘I couldn’t dance at one point either, you know?’
‘What, when you came out of the womb?’
Lockwood laughed, and Lucy realised she could feel the vibrations from his chest. They had started their practice as far away from each other as they could possibly get. But now it seemed that, somewhere along the way, they had gotten closer and closer until Lucy found her body almost completely pressed up against Lockwood’s. He was warm, she realised, and somehow smelled even better than he usually did. She turned her head quickly away as she felt another blush creep onto her cheeks.
‘My mother taught me to dance when I was little,’ Lockwood said, his voice soft. Lucy remained quiet, knowing that times like this, when Lockwood felt comfortable enough to open up, were a rarity that could not be interrupted. ‘We would dance around the living room whilst my father danced with my sister. It was more us just being silly rather than anything serious. But it was…nice.’
‘It sounds nice,’ Lucy said softly. ‘Sounds…homely.’
They were swaying softly to the music as they spoke. It was something classical, slow and delicate, from a CD Lockwood had procured. Lucy closed her eyes as she listened to it; the lightness of the piano keys slowly building to something grander. It was nice. To listen to something other than the moans and screams of the dead.
‘You like the music?’ she heard Lockwood say.
She hummed her affirmation.
‘It was my father’s, but I found it in my sister’s room. She always loved classical music.’
‘Well, she had good taste,’ Lucy mumbled.
Faintly, as if the feeling were far away, she felt Lockwood’s hand slip down once more, the warmth of his touch brushing against her skin. But this time, he did not remove them.
And Lucy did not want him to.
When she reopened her eyes, she found Lockwood staring intently down at her. Their faces were close now, close enough that she could hear the softness of his breath. Another blush crept up Lucy’s neck, and although she could feel it meandering onto her cheeks, she could not bring herself to tear her gaze away from Lockwood’s.
‘I think I’ve found my tactic,’ Lockwood said. Lucy furrowed her brow in confusion. ‘If I keep you distracted, you’re much less likely to kill my feet.’
Lucy could not help the laughter that burst from of her. She punched Lockwood lightly in the shoulder.
‘Prick,’ she said before she, truthfully, accidentally stood on Lockwood’s foot again.
‘See?!’ he said and Lucy laughed once more.
And that was how George found them some time later, dancing slowly in the basement, bodies pressed up against one another, as they laughed in each other’s embrace.
Summary: George is sick and tired of nearly dying because his friends can't admit they're in love with one another. And he's about to tell them as much.
Masterlist
Word Count: 1.9k
Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle
Tags: fluff, pining, angst
Warnings: Mild spoilers for the books!
A/N: Heyo, me again. Thanks to those who left such lovely comments on my last fic. I know this fandom is a lot smaller than the one's I normally write for so I'm absolutely loving the enthusiasm when it comes to our shared obsession with this lovely little pairing. Hope everyone is having a good week. Like always, let me know if y'all want to be added/removed from my taglist! Love you all x
George didn’t particularly consider himself to be one of the most observant people he knew.
He was smart, sure. Witty, resourceful, diligent, clever. But when it came to being observant to the other people of his species? Well, he could not quite summon the same enthusiasm he had when observing the dead.
Yet, next to Lockwood and Lucy, George could almost be considered the most perceptive person in the world. He could not understand how it was that the two of them were some of the smartest people he knew, and the dumbest.
Take Lockwood for instance. Just last week George had borne witness to Lockwood’s theatrical monologue as he recounted and solved each mystery of the case they had been on: the real reason of that strange man’s appearance on their doorstep, the true cause of death for the woman’s spirit they were fighting, and the unborn child in her belly. There had of course been some flourishing of his sword, some unnecessary swishes of his coat as he had danced with the ghost before Lucy had sealed the Source. But George was sure that everyone in that room – including Inspector Barnes who had arrived at the culmination of the flourishing and the swishing with a notable roll of his eyes – had been awed at Lockwood’s ingenious in that moment.
Sure, George had been the one to give Lockwood all the puzzle pieces in the first place. But even he had to admit that Lockwood had beaten him to the punch…on that occasion.
Yet, at the same time, it was a stray glance from Lucy that had nearly had Lockwood dropping his rapier mid-battle. A smile thrown his way that had him suddenly choking on his tea once they had arrived home afterwards. A whiff of her perfume that had him missing a step on the staircase and tumbling down to the landing.
And then there was Lucy. By all accounts, she was usually far more composed out of the two in any given situation. Her unparalleled Talent paired with her untameable curiosity made for an excellent co-worker. Even more so because of her lightning-fast reflexes and quick-thinking.
But she too seemed to suffer from the same affliction as Lockwood: idiocy when in the others’ presence.
Yes, it had been her that had saved all of their lives the other day when she had heard the Poltergeist creeping up behind them in the shadows whilst they had been distracted by the Cold Maiden. But it had also been her who had blushed profusely and stumbled over her words in her report to DEPRAC afterwards when Lockwood had casually complimented her. It had been her who had pulled Quill away from the grips of a Limbless that night. But it was also her who had quite unsubtly tripped Quill on his way out the door after he had thrown one of his usual snide comments back at Lockwood.
It was maddening, really, working with a pair of smart imbeciles.
Worse, even, since he also had to live with them.
And so George’s morning (early afternoon) went like every other as he made his way down from his bedroom. When he entered the kitchen, he had expected to be greeted by a round of applause for having remembered to put his pyjama bottoms on. But instead, he was met by Lockwood and Lucy mooning over each other like usual.
‘Mooning’ was likely the wrong word for what he witnessed, George knew. It could probably be better described as furtive glances thrown between them when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Either way, George was sick of it, and so dramatically rolled his eyes as he went to put the kettle on.
Whilst George would usually resign himself to eating his toast whilst fighting off his gag reflex as he looked upon the stupidity of his clueless friends, that particular morning saw him lacking in most of his patience.
The night before had held its usual amount of Lucy and Lockwood’s pining as the three of them, accompanied by Holly and Quill, had investigated a supposed Type Two in a very small and very cramped cottage. In hindsight, all five of them likely didn’t need to be there. But George’s research had uncovered the site to be built on the land of an executioner’s lot, so they had decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
In the end, it had meant that the working conditions that night had been exceptionally…close. Matters only worsened when Lockwood had the bright idea of pairing Lucy and Quill together for the initial sweep of the house. George had seen it, the very moment when Lockwood discovered his mistake as Lucy had to quite unceremoniously brush completely up against Quill to make her way out of the room. George could’ve sworn he had seen a vein nearly burst in Lockwood’s forehead a split second before the boy’s usual charming smile returned to his features.
What ensued that night could only be described as a complete shitshow.
George liked to think that their relationship with Quill was better now – not the best, but better. He did still consider Quill a massive tosser after all and that would likely never change. But even George had to admit that the night’s mishaps were not entirely Quill’s fault. Although the boy definitely did not help matters when he returned to the kitchen with Lucy laughing at his heel. George had turned back to Lockwood in that instance and had seen his jaw completely tensed.
Lucy was all but repulsed by Quill, and everyone in that room knew it. George knew it. Holly knew it. Hell, even Quill probably knew it.
And Lockwood knew it. George was completely sure.
Yet there Lockwood was acting the love-sick idiot for the rest of the night. He swiftly changed up the pairings, sticking Quill with a not-so-happy George instead. But things only seemed to get worse from there.
When the Type Two ghost did finally arrive – with a few unexpected friends – all hell broke loose. On most days, five agents should have been enough to deal with the situation, but Lockwood was seemingly anyone but himself that night. He was slow, his rapier movements lethargic. His orders came out stuttered, unsure of himself. His focus was distracted. Where he should have been looking at any of the ghosts that now surrounded them (he had quite the array to choose from after all), George could tell – even from beneath Lockwood’s sunglasses – that the boy couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at Lucy every chance he got.
So the night had been a long one, full of salt bombs, ectoplasm dodging and several bouts of running away. In the end, it had been Lucy who had screamed the order to find the Source. Lockwood had acted like the thought had never even occurred to him.
So George’s patience had been worn thin that morning, grains of salt still embedded into his hair. Lockwood and Lucy were sitting side-by-side at the table, quietly sipping their teas as Lucy’s bread toasted in the toaster. Neither of them had spoken to each other about the night before, the tension in the room was enough to tell George that.
“I’m sick of this,” George mumbled louder than he had intended.
“Sorry, what was that, George?” Lockwood asked, looking up as if he had genuinely not noticed George’s presence in the room.
“I’m sick of this,’ George said again, louder this time.
George did not particularly want to die because his friends could not communicate with one another, and so he decided in that moment that he had had enough.
“Of what?” Lockwood asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Lucy’s toast popped out of the toaster and, as if autonomously, Lockwood rose from his chair, placed the pieces onto a plate and began buttering them.
“Of last night!” George burst out. Lockwood and Lucy stood still before him, both of their eyebrows furrowing now. “Of every night! Of every moment of every day and how you two as so goddamn stupid!”
“I’ll agree that last night did not go according to plan,” Lockwood began. “But I would hardly say that that warrants this-”
“According to plan?” George said. “What do you mean according to plan? Last night was a complete shitshow. It took us five hours to contain three ghosts! And all because-”
“Well it’s hardly that simple-” Lockwood tried. He knew where this was going now and tried desperately to get George to meet his eye.
“Because you two can’t just talk,” George continued. “It really shouldn’t be that hard! But no, Lockwood, you’ve instead got to bottle it all up like normal and then get wildly jealous when Lucy talks to anyone of the opposite sex. We could’ve been out of that house in an hour last night if you had just focused. Quill repulses any girl within a mile radius. I don’t understand how you can possibly think that Lucy has lost all of her braincells and is suddenly interested in him!”
Lucy and Lockwood’s mouths were now resolutely hanging agape.
“You thought…” Lucy began, turning to face Lockwood.
“Oh, please,” George continued, seemingly unable to stop himself now that he had begun. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t exactly the same. I remember how you acted when Holly first joined the team. You practically brought Aickmere’s down on us with your outburst near that Poltergeist!”
Lucy’s mouth snapped closed as she averted her gaze to the floor.
“I get it,” George said with a sigh. “Life’s hard. Feelings are hard. But I’ve had to put up with the two of you pining after one another since Lucy first set foot in that door. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of it! We have dangerous jobs, we live dangerous lives. One of you could die tomorrow and then where would you be? So just…talk!”
George was breathing heavily now, his panting the only sound that filled the room. The tension in the air was thick; so thick that he could likely slice his rapier right through it.
“Now,” George continued. “I am going to finish my tea upstairs, alone. Then, I’m going to the archives and when I get back I don’t want to see any more pining one way or the other, please.”
And with that, George left. How he so wished to listen by the door and hear what was to come next. But he had done enough damage for one day and so retreated back to his room.
When George returned back home later that evening, he became nervous when he opened the door and was greeted by complete silence. There was no laughter, no talking, not even the kettle was being boiled and, at that time of day, that was a rarity.
A sense of regret washed completely through George as he closed the door behind him. What if he had only made things worse? What if he had ruined everything? What if Lockwood and Lucy had decided against finally getting together and putting George out of his misery?
His dread only got worse as he walked down the hallway. But as he passed the library, the door only barely ajar, he stopped in his tracks. Tentatively, so as to not make any noise, he pushed the door slowly open.
On the couch in the corner – laying in a position that did not look awfully comfortable – was Lockwood quite soundly asleep. And then there, wrapped within his arms, was Lucy, her head resting against Lockwood’s chest as she too slept.
George smiled to himself, left the room and went to put the kettle on.
Hey! I absolutely love Take A Chance on me but I remember reading it on AO3. I can't seem to find it there anymore, was it deleted? 😭
Hiya! Thanks so much!! No, I definitely didn’t delete it! Here’s the link if you need it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40460433/chapters/101361051 🥰
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Lockwood can't stop thinking about a conversation he overhears between Lucy and Holly.
Masterlist
Word Count: 1.1k
Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle
Tags: fluff, pining, angst
A/N: My sincerest apologies for my complete disappearance. Life has simply been lifing. But I'm back with a whole new hyperfixation so buckle in kids! Let me know if any of you guys are part of this wonderful fandom because Locklyle has taken my heart and ran away with it. My taglist are still those that said they wanted to be tagged in any of my work so let me know if you want to be added/taken off! As always, I hope you enjoy x
Lockwood had never really considered himself much of a Listener.
That was Lucy’s department, and he had always been content to leave that side of business to her.
But on that dreary day at Portland Row, it was as if the Talent had arisen within Lockwood by the utterance of a single statement. Perhaps the words were not said by a ghost. Perhaps they were instead spoken from the lips of his co-worker. But either way Lockwood had scarcely ever been so haunted.
He hadn’t been a part of the conversation, and in truth he didn’t know whether he would have liked to be. For if he had been in that room, it would have been quite the task to hide his sudden sharp intake of breath and quickly furrowing brow.
No, instead he had been in the next room, the one they usually reserved for important meetings with important clients. But no one had called upon Portland Row that day and so Lockwood had sat – lying quite unceremoniously upon the armchair so that his feet dangled from one armrest and his head lay against the other – wholeheartedly contempt as he flicked through the day’s tabloids. Lucy had been talking to Holly. He had heard their mumblings through the small crack in the door that separated them, had paid no mind as to what it was they were discussing.
Lockwood was not one to pry upon his employees, and yet he could not quite help himself from wishing he had been eavesdropping on the conversation next door. For perhaps if he had not been so enthralled by the alleged scandalous affair of an up-and-coming actress, he might have learned the context behind the statement that filtered so casually through the door.
“I’m just plain.”
I’m just plain.
Maybe it was the sound of Lucy’s voice that had roused him from his reading, or maybe it was the simple absurdity of the statement. Either way, his attention had successfully been captured and so it was almost mindlessly that he stood gently from the armchair and made his way to the door. He did not open it. Instead, he pretended to look out the window beside it as his ears listened intently.
Holly did what any sane person would have done in that situation: deny the statement wholeheartedly. But her compliments fell on deaf ears as Lucy quickly changed the subject. Lockwood had no real reason to continue listening now that they were discussing Holly’s upcoming plans for Portland Row’s spring cleanout. In truth, he should not have been listening in the first place. And yet he remained in that spot, rooted to the floor as he faced the window, until George stumbled into the room sometime later and asked why Lockwood was standing in the dark.
Later that night, he found himself alone with Lucy as they sat around a dining room table. It was nice to get to spend a few moments alone with her like this, even if they were in what was likely an extremely haunted house. The two of them had completed their survey of the upper floors and had decided to retreat back to the kitchen to prepare the tea as they waited for Holly and George to return.
The lamp was flickering between them, its light casting a warm glow onto one of Lucy’s cheeks so that shadows seemed to dance across her skin. She was leafing through the articles George had procured from the library that afternoon. Something about a vengeful wife or a serial killer or some other kind of gruesome death that likely should have piqued Lockwood’s interest more than it had. In truth, his mind had been elsewhere that afternoon, too far away to pay close attention to anything as trivial as important facts about the case they were currently on.
I’m just plain.
He looked upon Lucy as she read: the warm glow of her skin from the lamp’s light, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the softness of her lips as she mumbled quietly under her breath – a habit of hers that Lockwood had noticed only occurred when Lucy was deep in thought. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. He saw the way her eyes flickered impossibly quick across each page and the subsequent thoughts behind them.
Thinking. She was always thinking.
He saw the way she cocked her head just infinitesimally to the side every so often, using her Talent as if it had become almost a habit to check for danger every few minutes. He saw the way her hair had come loose from the confines of behind her ear to hang down before her. He itched to reach forward and brush it away – actually felt one of his fingers twitch as if it intended to do so of its own volition – before he curled his hand into a fist and held it firmly in his lap.
Plain, he thought.
And then he found himself inhaling sharply, as if now his vocal cords were joining his finger in the fight against his cowardice and were preparing to speak for him. What laid on the tip of his tongue was a mystery to him – perhaps the profound adoration he had for the girl in front of him, perhaps a reminder that they needed to get milk on their way home. Lucy even looked up at him then, those eyes of hers staring expectantly upon him so that Lockwood became grateful he was sitting down when one of his knees suddenly gave out.
But the sheer unknown of those words had him scared, and so he swallowed them hurriedly, just as he always did, before they could make their escape. And for just a moment, Lockwood swore that he saw the slightest hint of what he thought to be disappointment flash across Lucy’s eyes.
She returned her attention back to the papers before her, her hand absentmindedly reaching for another biscuit.
Now was not the time, he told himself just as he always did. Not like this. Not when they were in a haunted mansion with what was very likely a dangerous ghost lurking somewhere around them.
Lucy deserved better than that: better than him.
“There better be some biscuits left for me,” George said loudly as he banged into the room, quite unceremoniously dumping his rapier onto the table between Lucy and Lockwood. Lockwood jumped slightly in his seat at the sudden and unexpected onslaught of noise brought by their co-worker and tried not to stare when Lucy’s lips upturned into that wonderful smile of hers as she snickered at him.
“I’m not making any promises,” Lockwood responded, trying and yet failing to slow his beating heart as he felt Lucy’s gaze remain upon him.
@gaysludge really out here commenting about my fic and making my heart explode! Im quite literally in love with you.
But yes, if any of you are looking for an Eddie Munson x 10 Things I Hate About You AU go and checkout my fic Take A Chance On Me! It certainly took me a long time to write but I still absolutely love it.
I literally finished tacom 2 weeks ago and I STILL CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT! I already left an ask telling you how much I loved it the day I finished it but I needed to come back and tell you that that series has changed my life it’s so amazing and probably the best fic I’ve ever read. Every once and awhile I’ll catch myself remembering bits and pieces of it throughout my day and it’s amazing . I’ve even picked up new songs from the fic. Like idk what you put in that but I’m addicted and it hasn’t left my brain since I love it sm and I love your writing 🫶🏻😭
Ok, I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to respond to this. I must have completely missed the notification!
You are far too kind. I actually think I'm gonna cry 😫. I'm so glad you liked some of the music I used! I spent so long on Spotify trying to find songs that fit well. I've been thinking of going back and editing the series a bit. I recently reread some of the first few chapters and nearly chucked 🤢. I just don't like how I've written some sections so might change them. Nothing major though.
I've also been thinking I might write something new. Just a one-off thing cause I can't commit to a whole series again. But I fear the fandom is all but dead by now. We'll see.
Anyway, sorry for my ramble. I cannot tell you how warm you have made my heart. I am so so so happy that you liked the fic and I truly cannot fathom how you consider this series one of the best you've ever read (have you seen some writers on this app? They're Nobel prize worthy).
Okay first and foremost you need to know we’re best friends now because I just binged TACOM and at this point you’re my favorite person.
I was going to comment when I’d gotten to my laptop but found your tumblr! I have to give you so many props for your absolutely amazing writing. You have such a good flow, your use of words, and ability to set a tone is unparalleled.
Also, love love love how true to character Eddie felt and the pining oh my christ on a goddamn stick the pining was just fucking majestic. Seriously, it is a masterpiece and I’m now forever motivated to get my own shit anywhere near yours.
10/10, can’t wait to see anything else you write!
Everyone is being so kind to me recently and my emotions don't know how to deal with it 😫
No, but seriously, you're my best friend now because you're too fucking nice. Thank you so much for spending the time to tell me all this, I cannot describe to you how warm you've made my heart. I really enjoyed writing TACOM (even if it did take up way more time than I expected) so I'm so happy people appreciate it.
And thank you so much for the comments about my writing! I use fan fiction as a way to improve so I'm glad you enjoy my writing style.
You're literally my best friend now. Deal with it.
Just wanted to give you a mental standing ovation for Take a Chance on Me!
There’s no better word to describe it other than breathtaking.
Honestly, that god damn story had me smiling from ear to ear and blushing throughout.
I found your blog around a month ago when scrolling randomly through my tags. I’ve just started writing my own fics after years and I can honestly say without thought, you were my inspiration to take up writing again! Hope that doesn’t make me sound too much of a creep. 🖤
I honestly cannot describe how elated this comment has made me. I am so wholeheartedly grateful for your support of my work and I'm so so happy that you liked the series!
And me being someone's inspiration to write? Stop, I'm literally going to cry. But keep writing, lovely! Fan fiction is honestly such a good way to improve your writing.
Also you sound no where near creepy. In fact, be more creepy next time please and thank you.
No but honestly I am literally fighting back tears with this comment. You've made my entire year! Thank you so much for taking the time to send me this. My heart is so warm.
I came here to say that you're truly a good writer, with a capability to engage reader's feelings and imagination (which I value very much) and I'm always so happy to see notifications for you <3 But, since you asked for it before the previous chapter of "Take chance on me", I've tried to read the last one more critically and not just for pleasure (and it's not easy since I'm not a native english speaker) and mayyybeee I can agree that your pacing is not always ideal. Chapter Ten was very, very slow but I guess it was okay, since the whole scene in the bathroom was really building up the tension. So I was irritated that it was slow but in a good way, if you know what i mean. But in the latest chapter there was this moment when Eddie was supposed to go on stage but was talking to the Y/N and that scene felt a little bit... dragged? Like, too much of a good thing, good thing being careful description of feeligs and reactions, but when it happens in very dynamic scenes like that when both Eddie and Y/N are on the move it slows down action too much, to my taste. I feel like a tendency for doing this has grown gradually with the story, like you're started faster and are now slowing down, but to really evaluate this I would have to re-read everything from the beginning and sadly I don't have time for that rn. I hope I made myself understandable XD And as I said, I love your writing and I believe you are truly talented. Keep up the good work <3
Ok but like this is so informative and I love you so much for putting the time and effort into telling me this!
I agree, that scene backstage in chapter 10 did feel hella slow and I was fully aware of that before I posted it. I just have problems with killing my darlings and can never seem to bring myself to delete huge chunks of my work.
I feel like as the series has gone on my pace has really slowed down and I think that's because I've started to go into more detail with my writing. This can be both a good and bad thing and I think the fact that my chapters have gotten insanely long is making me lean towards the latter.
It's constructive criticism like this that I really love. I use fan fiction as a way to improve my writing (and also as a way to feed into my hyperfixations) so I really appreciate you spending the time to analyse my work and helping me to improve my work.
SCREAMING I just binged take a chance on me in one sitting and I am foaming out the mouth, sobbing, omfg it was so good. I literally have no complaints it’s one of the best series I’ve read in awhile and I recently had a dream about Munson that was so similar to that plot so I’m so glad you were able to put it into such an amazing story. My favorite thing tho, was the fact that you included the awful misogynistic ideology that was super relevant back then. You never gave readers band a name, the articles never referred to them with a band name, they were constantly just called “the girl band” and her they managed to win. That was the one thing that really made me so happy like yeah obviously I’d want the main character to win, but the fact that they won while the competition, judges, and articles always viewed them as slightly less just bc it was the only girl band. God it was so relieving. Tho I was half expecting Ed’s band to win with a slight comment from the judges that the music industry just didn’t have room for girls wanting to play pretend or something along those lines but i think that would have killed me inside. Overall I loved every moment of this fic, had me squealing like a schoolgirl the whole time.
I'm legit sobbing right now. I honestly cannot tell you how happy this makes me. Thank you so much for taking the time to write this!
I honestly didn't really give much thought to the misogyny which is kind of sad now that I think about it. I guess it's just so ingrained within our society that I didn't think twice about including it, I just knew it was a likely thing to have occurred back then.
Anyway, again, thank you so much for this. I'm always trying to improve my writing so that one day I might get something published and it's comments like this that really renew my passion for it all. I literally love you!
Take A Chance On Me - Chapter Thirteen (Eddie Munson x Reader Series)
Series Summary: Corroded Coffin is lacking only one thing that could help them win the upcoming Battle of the Bands; original songs. So when a new band comes to town with a lead singer that looks all too familiar and a repertoire of original songs up their sleeves, Dustin concocts a plan that will get you to spill all of your songwriting secrets to Eddie. It’s just a few dates, right?
Previous Chapter
Masterlist
Word Count: 10.7K
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, 10 Things I Hate About You AU
A/N: Here we are: the ending. I literally never thought this day would come what with me getting shadow banned a million times. This fic turned out way longer than I ever planned and it honestly brings me so much joy to have the few of you still here reading my work. I don’t know how much I’ll be writing going forwards since my life is getting a bit busy but please send through your request! I don't know how promptly I’ll respond to them but I like to try and write a little bit everyday to try and improve my writing, so my silly little fics help with that. I cannot thank you guys enough for being so supportive of my work! Just know that every like, reblog and especially every comment has my heart absolutely soaring. As always, I LOVE YOU ALL!!
In all honesty the sheer multitude of glances you were sneaking out towards the crowd was getting quite pathetic now, and you were perfectly well aware of that fact. Yet their frequency only grew with each passing minute, your embarrassment flourishing with each one, knowing the action wholeheartedly pitiful and yet finding yourself unable to stop. It was almost involuntary now, your head turning of its own volition whenever new footsteps entered the space only to find unfamiliar faces attached. In the end, you told your band that your tardiness in starting the set on time stemmed from an issue with your amplifier, yet their knowing smirks betrayed their disbelief.
With a resigned sigh, you finally traversed the last few steps across the small stage to the microphone, forcing a smile onto your features as the crowd cheered. It was nice being back in the Hideout, the space small and yet friendly as familiar faces cropped up amongst the sea of bodies. Your eyes scanned the crowd once more, hoping that you had just missed his arrival, and yet knowing the truth before you had even finished your search.
Eddie Munson was not there.
The thought caused something to hurt within your heart; a resurgence of every feeling of betrayal and pain you had felt over the last few weeks hitting you all at once. Back at the finals of the competition the invitation you had offered to him had seemingly come from nowhere, the proposition surprising you just as much as it had Eddie. But his smile had grown wide and his eyes had become alight and something warm had blossomed in your heart at the sight of his clear elation. So the thought that he would not show had, in truth, never once crossed your mind; and it made the reality of the situation all the more painful.
“Hello everyone,” you called out into the space, allowing yourself to revel in the cheer that they responded with.
“Tonight we’ve got a few classics for you-” You paused for just a moment as the front doors opened once more, the familiar faces of Dustin, Mike and Lucas entering hurriedly. And then right on their heels was an all too familiar figure; his hair slightly frazzled and his brows knitted into a look of annoyance as he whispered something to the boys and as they downturned their eyes to the floor, looking almost ashamed. Eddie sighed as the boys eventually mingled into the crowd, his mane of hair slightly more unruly than normal, his eyes wearier as he finally turned his attention to you. He seemed to still as he realised you were watching him, and the sheer look of panic that flooded his features almost had you wanting to laugh.
“Sorry,” he mouthed, looking more exhausted than you had seen him in a while, and so you thought it quite pertinent that you offer him a small smile in understanding. At the sight of it, Eddie seemed to relax just slightly, resigning himself to standing by the back wall, the crowd far too thick now for him to attempt to make his way any closer towards you.
“This first one is a personal favourite of mine, and I’m sure most of you know it. I mean, who doesn’t love ABBA?”
Eddie pretended to gag and you had to force yourself to turn away for just a moment lest a laugh escape from your throat. When you turned back to look at him, a soft smile was situated on his face, and you could not help the quickening of your heartbeat at the sight of it.
“This one’s called Waterloo.”
The plan was a simple one.
And yet now, at the prospect of actually seeing it through, you felt almost like throwing yourself from the stage and simply running away. You swallowed thickly, struggling to meet Eddie’s gaze now when you were about to admit everything to him, when you were about to pour your heart and soul into the familiar lyrics and hope that he understood.
“My, my,
At Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender
Oh, yeah
And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way
The history book on the shelf
Is always repeating itself.”
Eddie looked unperturbed by the lyrics, and you could not quite tell whether it was because he had simply never heard the song before or whether he wasn’t quite understanding the meaning behind it all.
“Waterloo
Couldn't escape if I wanted to
Waterloo
Knowing my fate is to be with you
Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Waterloo
Finally facing my Waterloo.”
It was the latter you decided; he wasn’t understanding the deeper meaning. His features were cool, nonchalant even as he leaned himself against the back wall, his arms folded lazily across his chest. He knew that you looked at the people you were singing about, had even admitted to it when the two of you had been lying beneath the stars. And yet even though your gaze remained unwavering with his for the entirety of the song, he merely continued to offer you a kind smile in return.
In all honesty, it made you want to laugh.
Because it wasn’t long before the song was coming to an end and Eddie still appeared none the wiser. You chuckled to yourself lightly before turning back to your bandmates and shaking your head. Robin groaned, Meg rolled her eyes and you had to swallow down your own annoyance. But when you turned back around Eddie was still smiling softly at you, and you felt your frustration slip away all at once.
“This next one is by Billy Joel.”
Eddie’s eyes became alight at the name, and you could tell that he was reminiscing about the very same thing that you were. That night seemed like so long ago now, a different time with different people. And yet remembering the way that Eddie had held you against his chest, how gently he had swayed along with you to the song, made butterflies erupt within your stomach and a small blush escape onto your features. And whilst it could have just been a product of the growing heat in the room, you thought that you saw the slightest tinge of red appear upon Eddie’s cheeks.
“This one’s called A Matter of Trust.”
Two love songs in a row and the message still had not clicked for Eddie as he continued to rest nonchalantly against the back wall. But in a way you supposed you could not blame him. Technically you had not written the lyrics, and where usually Eddie listened with rapt attention during your original songs, he likely correlated the covers with background music that stemmed from his radio.
“Some love is just a lie of the heart
The cold remains of what began with a passionate start
And they may not want it to end
But it will it’s just a question of when.”
Now he wasn’t even looking at you, too busy responding to whatever it was that Dustin had said to him, and the sight made you want to growl in annoyance. Because here you were, having spent the past week trying to curate a set list that would communicate everything you felt within the depths of your heart. Cassettes and records littered every square inch of your room, your Walkman having been glued to your hip all week. It was entirely infuriating having it all wash so easily over Eddie’s head that it made you want to jump down from the stage, to grab a hold of Eddie’s shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses.
“I’ve lived long enough to have learned
The closer you get to the fire, the more you get burned
But that won’t happen to us
‘Cause it’s always been a matter of trust.”
It would have been easier just to tell him the truth of it all, you knew. To sit him down and communicate clearly the decision you had painstakingly come to the conclusion of. You were willing to try again, as scary as it was, the only thing left to do was let Eddie know. And yet as terrifying as the prospect of telling him had been, you could not quite pass up the opportunity to make a slight spectacle of it. You had communicated much of your feelings to each other via song, so it seemed only apt to continue the tradition.
“It’s hard when you’re always afraid
You just recover when another belief is betrayed
So break my heart if you must
It’s a matter of trust.”
You felt almost like turning away as you sang the lines, remembering all too quickly why it was you had chosen this song in particular. It resonated perfectly, too perfectly perhaps so that now you felt wholeheartedly embarrassed as you bared your heart out for Eddie and as he didn’t even notice. But maybe in the end his obliviousness would be a good thing, for it gave you time to change your mind if you wished to do so. There was the very real possibility that your heart would get utterly broken, and where once you had prepared yourself for that possibility, now it loomed over you menacingly.
As you finished, the final notes of the song reverberating around the room, a lingering feeling began to grow in the pit of your stomach. You pushed it aside, knowing that the thought would only distract you from your performance.
And yet, three songs and an oblivious Eddie later, the feeling continued to linger, its presence only growing with each passing minute.
Perhaps Eddie was aware of the message you were trying to convey. Perhaps he understood the meaning behind each song and was simply not showing it out of a sense of pity, for there was of course the very real possibility that he no longer felt the same.
That final night at the competition had changed so many things, had resurged an abundance of memories of how wonderful things had been before the truth of it all had been revealed. It was Eddie’s presence that had done that, his eagerness to seek you out and linger by your side enough of a message for you to assume he still wanted whatever it was that the two of you had had. But Eddie was kind, so inherently kind that maybe you had assumed wrong, maybe he had already moved on.
So as the final notes of the song reverberated around the room your gaze fell away from him, a shyness overcoming you now.
“Maybe we should skip the next song,” you turned to say to your bandmates, ignoring the cheer that erupted from the crowd. Your eyes met Meg’s first, then Vicki’s before coming to rest on Robin, and the roll of her eyes was enough for you to know that she had peered into your thoughts and was having none of it.
“We’ve only got one more cover and then the original to go. He’ll definitely figure it out by then.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you mumbled, although it was clear Robin heard you.
“If he doesn’t run up here and instantly make out with you, I’ll do it myself,” she whispered, and you could not quite stop the surprised bark of laughter as it erupted from your throat. So when you turned back around, a smile fixed firmly in place, you found your heart feeling just slightly lighter. For even if Eddie were to reject you, there was still a show to put on.
“This is the last cover we’ll be doing for tonight and it’s something a bit different than the stuff we normally do.”
Eddie was still standing by the back wall, his smile lazy, his posture relaxed and his head cocked just slightly to the side, intrigued. You smiled warmly at him, trying to rid yourself of the remnants of the sinking feeling that still lingered. When Eddie’s smile widened in response you felt more of the feeling dissipate.
“This one’s by The Chordettes who I’m sure most of you haven’t heard before. They’re a bit old but they’re still good.”
Now your smile was widening, upturning into something more devilish and you could tell that Eddie noticed, his head cocking just slightly further, his brows furrowing now.
“This one’s called Eddie, My Love.”
You watched on as Eddie’s posture stiffened, as his breathing stopped altogether, and as his figure stilled completely so that he looked almost to have become a permanent fixture upon the wall.
---
Eddie was quite certain that he was going to pass out.
It was a hallucination he was quite sure, merely a fabrication of his vivid imagination that had somehow seeped out of the realm of his dreams and into his waking life. Because he had dreamed of this moment; frequently and repeatedly, in any and every scenario that his mind could conceive.
You had said the title of another song and Eddie had simply misheard, he was quite sure, his mind having extracted whatever it was that you did say and replaced it with what he wanted you to say. So Eddie remained where he was when the song finally began, half expecting to hear something he had heard from the radio instead.
“Eddie my love, I love you so
How I’ve wanted for you, you’ll never know
Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.”
The likelihood that Eddie would pass out grew exceptionally larger now that he appeared to have stopped breathing. And yet although his lungs were starting to burn and his head begun to grow dizzy, it was as if his body had simply ceased to function, too in shock to continue what had once been automatic processes that were essential to the continuation of his life. But in truth, Eddie barely noticed, too busy watching you.
Your gaze wavered from his constantly as if you had to build the courage to look at him whilst you sang. But it only made the situation all the more endearing, all the more real, for if you were nervous about singing lyrics that you had not written there had to be a reason why.
And yet still Eddie scarcely let himself believe it.
“Is this…” fell from his lips, his mind too distracted by your figure upon the stage to finish the sentiment.
“Real?” Dustin finished for him. “Yep.”
In truth, he hadn’t even noticed the boy’s reappearance beside him, and Eddie’s sudden awareness of his presence had him jumping slightly. When he turned to look at him, Dustin’s smirk was devilish, a glint of mischief behind his eyes that led Eddie to believe he had known about this plan.
“Oh Eddie, Eddie, I love you so
Eddie, please, just write one line
Tell me your love is still only mine
Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.”
Seemingly of their own volition Eddie’s legs began moving beneath him, traversing the tightly knit crowd as he began to make his way towards you. His advancements were slow, accompanied by glares from the people he squeezed past even though he was quite sure he was mumbling apologies along the way. But it was easy to bump into a shoulder or step on a foot when he refused to take his eyes off of you.
“Oh, Eddie, Eddie I love you so
Eddie my love
Oh, Eddie, Eddie I love you so
Eddie my love, I love you so.”
Your gaze was unwavering now as you said the words that Eddie had dreamed of you saying, the very same three words he had first uttered at the video store. In truth, he had not come into the store that day with the hopes of confronting you. He had in all honesty only gone to rent a movie in the hopes that he could distract his mind from you for a moment. So when he had heard those three words leaving his lips he had been just as surprised as you had likely been.
And yet he hadn’t regretted saying them.
As the last few notes of the song reverberated around the room, it was as if, along with the music, your confidence had faded, your eyes quite obviously looking at anything but at Eddie as he cleared the last few rows of people and made it to the front. He was so close to you now, close enough that if he were to reach out slightly his hand would brush your leg. So he connected his hands to the lid of the stage and forced them to stay there, slightly afraid any unwanted advances would have you changing your mind about everything.
When the song had finished, you ignored Eddie as you turned to say something to Meg, and Eddie couldn’t quite manage to contain the small growl that left his lips. You were toying with him, he was quite sure, if the devilish smirk that upturned your lips had anything to say about it.
Eddie knew that there was still one song to go; an original that he had been looking forward to hearing for the entire night. And yet he could not quite fathom having to wait for the entire length of a song to talk to you.
“Finish the set there,” Eddie whispered up to you and saw as your smile grew wider even though it was clear you were trying to suppress it. It made his own smile grow and his hands itch to reach out and grab you.
“We’ve got one last song for you guys,” you said to the crowd, your eyes locked firmly with Eddie’s. The smile upon your lips looked almost devilish now, as if you were well aware of Eddie’s torment and revelled in prolonging it. He groaned dramatically and you had to turn your head away in an attempt to hide your laughter.
When you turned back to brush your lips up to the microphone, Eddie thought that he saw a slight hesitation as you did so. The smile across your lips faltered just slightly, and Eddie could not quite help the furrow in his brow, for although the change in your disposition was miniscule, it was there nonetheless.
“This one’s called Lonely No More.”
You were avoiding his gaze now, Eddie was quite sure as he desperately tried to catch your eye once more if only to offer you a reassuring smile. Your gaze flickered to his only once before the song started, and it was so fleeting that Eddie nearly missed it. The song meant a lot to you, Eddie could already tell, and so he leaned just slightly closer even though the sound of your bands’ instruments was almost deafening this close already, if only to show you that he was listening.
“Now it seems to me that you know just what to say
But words are only words, can you show me something else?
Can you swear to me that you’ll always be this way?
Show me how you feel more than ever, baby.”
Your gaze only returned back to Eddie during your delivery of the last line, and yet it was with every word that Eddie found himself completely mesmerised. This was it, everything that you had to say to him, everything that your relationship could be or would be going forwards wrapped up in a remarkably catchy song. You needed more, he knew, more than just words. You needed proof that whatever still lingered between you could work, and Eddie was sure as hell going to give it to you.
“But I don’t wanna be lonely no more
I don’t wanna have to pay for this
I don’t wanna know the lover at my door
Is just another heartache on my list
And I don’t wanna be angry no more
You know I could never stand for this
So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure
I don’t wanna be lonely anymore.”
A range of emotions seemed to hit Eddie all at once as if his brain was unsure which one he should be feeling and so felt them all instead. Elation had his heart soaring within his chest. Happiness seemed to course through his veins alongside his blood. Relief had his muscles relaxing all at once as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But there was the hesitancy that lingered behind the words, your fear of trying again that had his heart breaking slightly. But then again, Eddie could not blame you. He had been the one to hurt you in the first place. He had been the one to ruin the perfect thing that the two of you had shared and so he could not condemn your fear that he might do it again.
“Now it’s hard for me, with my heart still on the mend
Open up to me, like you do friends
And you sing to me and it’s harmony
Boy, what you do to me is everything
Make me say anything, just to get you back again
I think we can try.”
He would show you, Eddie had decided. He would show you just how much you meant to him the very moment the song was over. He would allow no room for miscommunications, no action or word that would make you question the validity of his feelings. He would give you everything that you deserved and more. Eddie would not squander this second chance, for he was well aware of just how valuable it was.
“What if I was good to you, what if you were good to me?
What if I could hold you ‘til I feel you move inside of me?”
Eddie seemed to choke on nothing at all, catching the sly smirk that upturned your lips. You were going to be the death of him, he was quite sure, and he would enjoy every minute of it. Your gaze turned away from him as you continued, your eyes closing and your hips swaying in the tell-tale sign as you got lost in the music.
“And what if it was paradise, and what if we were symphonies?
What if I gave all my time to find some way to stand beside you.”
You were picturing it, Eddie was quite sure, picturing everything that could be between the two of you, and Eddie was picturing it along with you. He would go to every one of your shows and you would go to every one of his, lingering in the front row where he had an unencumbered view of you whilst you danced to his songs that he would inevitably write about you. About the way that you took his breath away every time you smiled at him. About the way you were so completely mesmerising upon a stage. About the way that he so wished to take you back to his bedroom and devour you completely, the way he would pleasure you until your breathy pants and your guttural moans became a new kind of music to his ears.
“I don’t wanna be lonely no more.”
And you wouldn’t be, Eddie vowed as you played the final chorus of the song. Eddie would not allow you to ever be lonely again for as long as you allowed him to stay by your side. He would erase the memories of your past with his stupid jokes and featherlight kisses. He would treasure you as the boys that had come before him had not, their stupidity in not doing so almost incomprehensible to Eddie as stared at you suspended before him, ethereal in the glow of the stage lights.
The last notes of the song trickled from the strings of your guitar, echoing around the room until they were eventually drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Eddie watched on as the people around him erupted, as your lips brushed up against the microphone one last time as you said your goodbyes to the crowd, and yet he heard none of it. Instead, he waited until the stage lights dimmed, until the crowd turned their attention away from you and began to meander from the venue, until you became distracted by something Robin was saying to you as you unslung your guitar from your shoulders and placed it gently away, before he finally made his move.
He jumped up onto the stage, the movement swift and quick so that it startled you slightly. But before you could react to Eddie’s newfound proximity, he was bending down and leaning forwards until his shoulder was connecting with your stomach. In one swift motion he pushed upwards until you were being lifted from the ground and onto his shoulder.
“Eddie!” you squealed in surprise, and Eddie could not stop his lips from curling into a smile when he heard the laughter laced within your voice. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
The action was awkward and at one point Eddie feared that he might drop you when your weight tipped unevenly to one side. But his grip tightened around your waist to steady you, and although you squealed in surprise and punched lightly at his back in protest, you made no move to extract yourself from his embrace.
“I’m showing you how I feel,” Eddie said back, his words low so that only you could hear him as he turned to face your bandmates instead. They were staring at him now, he quickly realised, Meg unrelenting in the death glare she always seemed to be sporting these days and Robin with a knowing smirk of approval.
“Sorry ladies,” Eddie said, throwing a smile at each of your bandmates. “I’ll need to steal your lead singer for the rest of the night.”
“We had an appointment with some milkshakes, Munson,” Robin said jokingly.
“I’ll make it up to you!” Eddie called, before he was swiftly leaving, traversing the few lengths of the stage with his eyes glued to the floor lest he trip on a wire and drop you. All the while you seemed incapable of halting your laughter, the sound loud and slightly breathless as he felt the vibrations of it through where your body was draped over his.
The night air was cold when Eddie opened the back door of the Hideout, and he wondered for just a moment whether he should quickly return inside to see if you had brought a jacket. But as he lowered you from his shoulder, his movements gentle and precise so that your feet barely made any sound at all as they landed upon the ground, you lingered in the close proximity that the action had left you in, and so Eddie could not quite bring himself to depart from you. Your hand had brushed down his chest in an attempt to steady yourself within your newfound upright position, and Eddie could not help but notice when you did not pull it away. So he allowed his own hands to remain where they were still connected with your waist, his grip light just in case you wished to pull away.
When Eddie noticed the way your skin had become speckled with goosebumps, it was almost begrudgingly how he unslung his own jacket from around his shoulders and draped it across yours if only because it meant that he was no longer touching you. But the soft smile and the small blush that arose upon your cheeks at the action made him bolder until his hands were returning to your waist once more.
The two of you stayed like that for some time; your breaths slightly visible as they intermingled in the air before you. There was something palpable between you now, something that made it hard to speak and hard to breath and hard to fathom doing anything else other than lingering within the moment.
“I’m sorry if I…” Eddie began, the thickness of the air making it harder to speak. “All the songs. I didn’t realise and-”
“No, I should have been clearer,” you interjected. “I don’t know…I just thought it would have been…cute or something. But it was kind of stupid and I should have just told you outright, but I guess I was scared-”
“You were scared?”
“Yeah,” you hesitated. “I thought you might not…feel the same anymore.”
The sound that erupted from Eddie’s throat was so loud and viscerally raw that the bark of laughter echoed in the emptiness of the carpark. It startled you slightly and Eddie could feel you jump in surprise as you shifted against him.
“I may have been dumb enough not to understand what you were trying to do in there but I’m not that dumb.”
“You’re not dumb at all,” you chastised. “It wasn’t exactly all that clear now that I think about it. I mean, a cover of ABBA? No wonder you didn’t think anything was different.”
Eddie barked out another laugh and when his gaze returned to you his heart warmed slightly at the sight of a soft smile placed gently across your lips.
“Let’s do something,” Eddie said, his voice far softer than he had intended it to be. “Anywhere you want to go and I’ll take you.”
“Eddie I-” you began, and Eddie could tell from your tone that you were going to reject the proposition. The two of you were close, your hand still placed delicately against his chest as your breaths intermingled in the air before you. And yet Eddie needed to get closer to you still, to feel you against him in any way that he could. So he leaned down, connecting his forehead gently with yours as he closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of you, the scent of you.
“Let me show you,” he interjected, and the desperation in his voice surprised even him.
You had closed your eyes as well now as the two of you lingered in the silence of the carpark, Eddie’s scent engulfing you completely as his jacket sat perched across your shoulders. Something passed unsaid between you, an understanding of sorts that made the air somehow easier to breathe.
Somewhere close by a cricket persisted with its chirping and then, further away, a dog was barking as if neither of them were quite aware of the silence that the situation demanded. And yet Eddie heard nothing but your breath so close to his now, his heart beating so rapidly that he was quite sure you could feel it through where your hand was resting upon his chest.
He wanted to show you everything; the depths of his desire for you, of his need for you. He would show you how you took his breath away whenever your lips upturned into that beautiful smile of yours. He would show you how every morsel of his being burned for you, how he yearned for your touch at every hour of the day and then dreamed about it every night.
And yet as he pulled away to look upon you once more, there was something behind your eyes—a spark of sorts—that led him to believe that you knew. How could you not, after all, when he had confessed the very depths of his heart to you back on that day at the video store. Yet he would show you anyway, he resolved. He would show you just in case there was any part of you that still doubted him. He would show you to quell any reservations you might still have about it all.
“Okay,” you relented, your lips upturning into a smile that had Eddie’s heart somehow thundering faster. “I want to go with my friends and get milkshakes.”
“Oh.” Eddie could not quite quell the disappointment that seeped through him, but he tried to catch his features before they became too crestfallen, forcing his lips into a smile that he thought even the cricket knew was fake. He had asked you what you wanted to do and he could not resent you when those plans did not include him.
“And you as well, dufus,” you said with a laugh, punching his chest lightly. “I want to go get milkshakes together.”
“Oh,” Eddie said again, his tone lighter this time as his smile became genuine. “Yeah, anything you want,” he hastily added.
“But I’m expecting a second date,” you continued, your voice light-hearted. “And I want ample warning of it this time.”
“Anything you want,” he repeated, and his tone was softer now, more gentle, more serious.
His smile was soft, his eyes even more so as he looked down upon you, the light from the moon reflecting in your eyes. And although he knew it highly improbable, Eddie could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat. This could not be real, he thought to himself, you standing here before him, allowing him the pleasure of touching you, of basking in the closeness of your presence. And yet your touch felt so very real against him, your bodies so close now that as the gentle breeze wafted past your hair shifted along with it until it was brushing up against Eddie’s neck and tickling his skin.
“I really want to kiss you right now.” Eddie heard the words fall from his lips, powerless to stop them as they reverberated in the stillness of the air. A blush escaped onto his features and he bowed his head forwards just slightly to try and get his hair to hide it. But his attempts at concealment were in vain for your smile only grew at the sight of it.
“Well then maybe you should,” you responded, and your voice was just as breathless as Eddie felt.
You were close now, somehow even closer than you had been when Eddie had first extracted you from his shoulder so that your body was pressed flush against his and your lips were mere inches apart. He had pulled you closer towards him from where his hands were still connected to your waist, he realised, and yet you seemed to almost fall into the movement. His touch was light, the pads of his fingers barely skimming across the curve of your waist and yet although he wanted nothing more than to dig his fingers into the flesh of your body and crush you against him, he refrained, allowing you the option to pull away if you so wished.
“I’m scared that if I do, I’ll wake up.”
It was his running theory at the time, for how else was it that all of his dreams seemed to be coming true? He was asleep, he was quite sure, his mind reimagining the very dream that had been haunting him for the past few weeks, unrelenting even in his waking life. This reality was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, for surely it was too perfect to be real.
And yet you were so warm and so solid within his grasp in a way that his dreams could never seem to replicate; your perfume so pungent, your skin so soft. So he allowed himself to revel in the moment, for whether it was a dream or not, for just a second you were his.
The moon and the stars sat reflected within the depths of your eyes and although Eddie was so wholehearted captivated by them, he found himself momentarily distracted by the soft curve of your lips, the way they parted slightly in the middle and the soft breath that left them and danced across his cheek. And maybe it was because the more he touched you the more hopeful he became that he was in fact within the waking world or maybe it was because the sight of you like this before him was a miracle in itself, but either way Eddie watched on as one of his hands departed from your waist and came up, his fingers brushing lightly against the curve of your jaw as if he were afraid the touch would shock him. But you simply leaned into his hand, and the action had his breath hitching within his throat.
There was something within the air now, something almost palpable, something that fizzed and crackled and raced along with Eddie’s heart. It made it harder to breathe and yet Eddie forced himself to inhale anyway if only to revel in the scent of you so close before him.
In the end it was you that closed the final distance and Eddie found himself immensely grateful for the action for he was quite certain that if the final push had been left to him the two of you would have remained in your created limbo all night. He had been scared, he realised, so very scared that you would pull away or that you would regret the action or that he had somehow managed to completely misread the situation altogether and would only succeed in pushing you further away should he connect his lips to yours.
But where Eddie had expected the kiss to be gentle, timid almost, he was pleasantly surprised when he was met with something more fierce; you were so very fierce as if you were a woman starved as your lips crashed against Eddie’s. He could find no hesitation in the action, no inclination of regret anywhere in your movements so that in the end it took Eddie only a second to respond back with just as much fervour, having to refrain from completely devouring you. The hand that had come up to brush against your jaw came around to cup your neck, as if Eddie were trying to somehow pull you closer. Your own hands came up to grip at Eddie’s hair, and he was thankful when you did not mention the small moan that left his mouth when you tugged slightly at his roots.
With the hand that was still connected to your waist, gripping it fiercely now, Eddie manoeuvred you until he felt your back connect with the wall of the Hideout. He pushed you against it and then crowded himself against you, careful to leave enough room should he feel any hesitation come from your ministrations. But instead, your hands left his hair, coming down to connect with his waist before pulling him flush against you. Eddie couldn’t help but smile into the kiss at the action.
But just as quickly as the kiss had begun you were pulling away, dragging Eddie along with you as he chased your lips. He let you go with a small sigh, revelling in the sight of your reddened lips and wanting desperately to worsen their condition. Yet he refrained from doing so, feeling slightly lightheaded anyway. You were better than any drug, Eddie realised, and he was an addict chasing his high.
Although the kiss had been fleeting, it had left him breathless all the same so that for just a moment it was only the sound of his pants that filled the air. He was leaning over you, caging you against the wall and yet you made not move to pull away from Eddie, one of his hands was still fixated firmly to your waist, the other coming up to rest against your cheek instead. He brushed his thumb lightly over the curve of your cheekbone as if confirming to himself that you were still there, that you were still real. Your lips upturned into a gentle smile at the touch, and Eddie found himself incapable of looking away from it.
“How are you real?” Eddie heard himself ask, and as the words seemed to echo in the stillness that surrounded you a deep blush invaded his features. Your smile grew at the sentiment and Eddie tried to hide the reddening of his cheeks underneath his mane of hair.
“Well when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much,” you began and Eddie could not quite seem to stop the bark of laughter as it escaped from his throat.
When the silence settled over the two of you once more, Eddie knew that the moment was coming to an end. So he allowed himself to pull you somehow closer against him.
“We should head back inside,” you said, and Eddie could not quite seem to quell the disappointment that coursed through him at the statement.
“Let’s just meet your friends at the diner,” Eddie pleaded, hoping that he could prolong his time with you in any way.
You laughed, and Eddie revelled in the sound of it as it echoed into the stillness of the night.
“I have a very expensive guitar that’s still sitting on that stage. So as much as I would like to, Eddie, I can’t risk losing it.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Eddie said with a smirk and the laugh that followed was somehow even better than the first.
“Come on,” you whined, your body pulling away. Your warmth and your scent were leaving along with you so that Eddie could not quite help the desperation that shot through him to remain by your side. But your touch did not leave him completely, your hand departing from his waist to instead travel down and intertwine with his. You dragged him along behind you as you began to make your way back into the Hideout, Eddie in no way trying to hide his disdain for the change in the situation so that you had to pull forcefully in order to move him.
He begrudgingly followed only once it was clear that you would leave him behind if he did not, Eddie rushing forwards momentarily in an attempt to get to the door before you so that he could open it. But before he could, he found your hand tugging lightly against his as you hesitated.
“Eddie?” Your tone was serious now, and so Eddie turned back to face you with an expression that he hoped mirrored how much he was listening.
“Yeah?”
“If this is going to work…if we’re going to work…you can’t ever lie to me again.”
Eddie stilled, his hand coming to grip yours more tightly as he racked his brain for something to say, for some way to comfort you and to eradicate the hint of pain that had flashed behind your eyes as you had remembered it all. So when he moved he did so slowly, making sure that you were comfortable as he grew closer towards you once more. His actions were tentative, hesitant almost as he brought the hand that was not confined within your own upwards, his heart thundering as he gently brushed his fingers against your cheek. You closed your eyes to the touch, leaning into it just slightly in such a way that had Eddie hoping that he was helping to ease your reservations.
“It nearly killed me last time I lied to you,” he said, his voice so soft that it came out as barely more than a whisper. “I don’t think I could survive doing it again.”
The corner of your lips upturned ever so slightly as you reopened your eyes, your gaze coming up to bore into Eddie’s own. And if it was not for you pulling away once more, your attention turning instead to the door that led back inside, Eddie thought it likely that—with the light of the moon and the stars and the sheer beauty of them anyway—he would have gotten lost within your eyes forever. So he let himself be pulled along behind you, slightly more willing to follow this time as he leant forwards to open the door for you.
“But what if, like, you ask my opinion on a new song or something and I think it’s shit. Can I lie so I don’t hurt your feelings?”
You punched him in the shoulder.
“I’m already starting to regret this.”
Eddie’s bark of laughter echoed out into the emptiness of the night.
---
Whilst Eddie had honestly not thought that this day would ever come, that you would ever forgive him enough to let him try again with you, he could wholeheartedly say that within the multitude of fantasies that he had had about of getting you back, none of them had included the scene that was laid out before him.
A couple sat towards the back of the diner looking thoroughly annoyed at the ruckus of children that had just walked inside, Dustin, Lucas and Mike’s loud conversation continuing as they piled into the booths. Gareth and Jeff shuffled in beside them, their presences having gone completely unnoticed by Eddie back in the crowd at the Hideout due to his inability to look away from you. Gareth had only smiled when Eddie had returned back inside with his hand intertwined with yours, and something unsaid had passed between them, an understanding of sorts.
Eddie could not quite blame the couple as they got up from their table and promptly left, for the group that followed behind the children were not any less quiet even though the majority of them were older. Robin was chatting away enthusiastically to Steve and Vicki, Meg lingering silently by their side as they followed you into the second booth, Eddie hastening to take the seat beside you. He blamed the lack of space that the seat provided for why he had to sit so close to you, your side pressed up flush against his even though Meg had more than enough room to claim the space on Eddie’s other side. But if you noticed his proximity, you said nothing, and for just a moment Eddie thought that he felt you lean just slightly more against him.
“Vanilla milkshake?” Eddie questioned as you barely even glanced at the menu before you. When you turned to look up at him, Eddie felt his breath still at the sight of the delicate smile placed across your lips.
“I think I’d prefer Triple Choc Fudge.”
“I knew it!” Eddie called in triumph, ignoring as the kids turned around in their booth to glance quizzically at him. “Admit it, triple choc fudge is better than vanilla.”
“It’s not better,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I just want that one tonight.”
Eddie’s smile turned into something more devilish as he leaned down, his lips brushing faintly against the shell of your ear.
“I thought we weren’t lying to each other,” he whispered.
You punched lightly at his chest as a deep blush engulfed your features. Eddie chuckled at the sight.
“I’m not lying,” you whispered back, your own smile slightly toying now.
“I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another,” Eddie said, his voice coming out lower and slightly raspier than he had expected, revelling in the sight of your blush deepening.
“If you guys are going to continue being this insufferably cute,” Robin interjected. “I’m going to throw myself off a bridge.”
Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush as he looked up to realise that every pair of eyes were on him, including all of the occupants in the other booth who had only continued to stare at him, Dustin wiggling his eyebrows completely unsubtly. Eddie sunk slightly lower in his seat under their gazes and became immensely grateful when the waitress appeared at the end of the table, her pen and pad at the ready.
“Do you want to share?” Eddie mumbled down towards you, unwilling to bring the attention of the group back upon him should he speak too loudly. The smile that upturned your lips at the proposition had his heart beating faster, and he thought it likely that you were thinking of the very same thing that he was; that night that felt almost like another lifetime, where the two of you shared words over a milkshake, where Eddie had pulled you tight against him and stolen you from the diner, where you had spilled long forgotten secrets to each other in the silence of his bedroom.
You nodded, and Eddie’s heart soared.
The waitress left and the ruckus continued, Mike and Lucas fighting over something in the next booth as Steve leaned over to scold them. And yet although the noise of it all was practically deafening, Eddie could not quite bring himself to focus on anything other than the feeling of your body pressing against his. He felt like reaching out and grasping your hand within his, or perhaps resting his palm against your thigh. Nothing too high as to make you uncomfortable, just anything at all that would get him just slightly closer to you. In the end, he settled with resting his arm on the backrest of the booth behind you, not quite brave enough to go all the way and wrap his arm around your shoulders as he had originally intended to do with the movement.
But you had always been able to read him so well, to peer into the depths of his mind and see right through him until there was nowhere for him to hide. And so in truth he should not have been so surprised when you reached up, grabbed his hand and pulled it downwards until his arm was draping across your shoulders. He stilled at the touch, his breath pausing along with it as you turned up to look at him and flashed him a devilish smirk. You knew the affect you were having on him, he was quite sure, and you were revelling in his complete lack of composure because of it. The milkshakes arrived, and yet still Eddie could not quite seem to pull his attention away from you; from the way your back was pressed just slightly up against his chest now, the way you seemed to relax into his touch and continue on with your conversation with Steve as if nothing were awry, as if Eddie’s heart were not about to rip right out of his chest.
He could not quite believe how he was experiencing this moment, how he was allowed to sit within a booth sharing a milkshake with you as you chatted away idly with your friends, your body pressed up against his. It all seemed so mundane, so normal in a way that his relationship with you had only ever managed to be within the depths of his fantasies. He had dreamt of the day where actions like this—the simplicity of you leaning against him—would become autonomous, the movement so practiced that it felt natural and did not cause an eruption of butterflies to explode within his stomach. But then, looking upon you leaning so comfortably within his embrace, Eddie could not quite fathom ever having you within his arms and not feeling like his heart was going to explode, and the thought was oddly exhilarating.
And so Eddie allowed himself to revel within the moment, maybe tightening his grip around your shoulders just infinitesimally to make sure it was all real, his gaze fixated on nothing but you. He watched the way you talked animatedly, periodically leaning forwards to take a sip from the milkshake before turning back and offering the drink to him. He watched the way you laughed and you smiled, the sight still managing to have his heart beating faster. He watched the way his jacket still sat perched across your shoulders, the clothing looking somehow out of place and yet wholeheartedly breathtaking upon you in such a way that made him want to rip it straight off you.
He relaxed back into the seat, seemingly unable to wipe the soft smile that lingered across his lips, his gaze pulled from you only when he was roped into the conversation he had not been listening to.
And when the night was coming to an end—Eddie wholeheartedly depressed by this realisation—he made sure to bask in the time he had left within your presence, slipping his hand into yours when the two of you shuffled from the booth and tugging you quickly out of the restaurant before you could protest when he left some bills upon the table.
The night air was cold when the group of you finally dispersed into the carpark and yet the sky was void of any clouds, making the dark space remarkable easy to traverse and allowing Eddie to see you clearly in the glow of the moon. He barely even noticed as Steve chastised the kids for something or another, pulled only from his reverie when your hand slipped from his—the action paired with a quick turning of your head and a flash of a smile up towards him—as you went to say your goodbyes to your friends.
Eddie watched you go, flexing his hand as your warmth left it, refraining from reaching out and pulling you back into him. And because he seemed incapable of not staring at you within that moment, he wholeheartedly failed to notice when Dustin shuffled up to him, the sudden presence of his voice having Eddie jumping in surprise.
“You’re welcome,” Dustin said.
Eddie rolled his eyes.
“For what?”
“For this,” Dustin said and his gaze followed Eddie’s until he was looking at you as well. Eddie looked between you and the boy, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“What-” Eddie began, and as if Dustin had been anticipating the question, he answered it before it had even been asked.
“This was my plan all along. You were practically foaming at the mouth when we went to her first gig and I knew you would be too much of a chicken to do anything yourself.”
“Hang on, I was thinking about doing something. I-”
“You never would have spoken to her if I hadn’t made you drive to the record store that night she was closing.”
“I-” Eddie tried again, but he knew the fight was futile. Dustin was right. There was no point in disputing what was obviously the truth. So Eddie sighed in defeat, turning away from the triumphant grin that he knew Dustin was sporting. “Could have done without the whole plan though. I nearly lost her because of you too.”
“Yeah, I didn’t really think that all the way through. But, hey, it all worked out in the end.”
“You’re a little shit.” But just before Eddie could tackle Dustin into a headlock and hopefully pull his underwear high enough to elicit enough pain for the boy to learn a lesson, Steve Harrington smelt the beginnings of the ruckus and promptly appeared before Eddie could lay a hand on the boy.
“Stop tormenting the guy and get in the car,” Steve ordered, and Dustin, who looked as if he was about to talk back, took one look at Steve’s hands placed upon his hips and thought better of it, shuffling away with one last backwards smirk at Eddie.
“Don’t listen to him,” Steve said, watching carefully to make sure that Dustin followed his orders.
“He’s a good kid,” Eddie said. “But sometimes I just wanna kill him.”
“I know the feeling,” Steve said with a sigh.
A silence blossomed between them, and Eddie thought it pertinent that he fill that silence lest it turn awkward. He liked Steve, liked him far more than he ever thought he would, but he was yet to interact with him without you beside him and something about that thought made him nervous.
“I can take some of them home if you want,” he offered.
Steve only smiled.
“I appreciate the offer and on any other night I would definitely take you up on it,” Steve began before turning his attention away from where the kids were bickering inside of his car to look towards you instead, enamoured in a conversation with your bandmates. “But I think you’ve got to focus on her tonight.”
Eddie knew that Steve was right, following his gaze until his eyes were resting upon you also. There was a part of him that sighed in relief at Steve’s rejection of his proposition, so wholeheartedly grateful that he felt almost like turning and engulfing the other boy in a hug. A wide smile spread across Eddie’s lips as a laugh escaped from your throat, the sound echoing out into the empty carpark. Eddie could feel Steve’s gaze turn towards him briefly, but it was as if, now that he was looking upon you, your very figure had hypnotized him, your laugh and your smile and your entire being so very captivating that he could not pull himself away.
“If you-”
“I know,” Eddie interjected.
And with those two words it was as if something unspoken passed between them. Steve had no need for threats anymore, no need for warnings of the pain he would inflict upon Eddie should he break your heart. Because it was almost like Steve knew. Almost like he could see the way that Eddie was gazing upon you now—with a fire burning deep behind his eyes that admitted the very depths of his desire and adoration and devotion to you—and was set at ease with what he saw. So with a quick slap to Eddie’s back which might have been slightly harder than was strictly necessary, Steve made his departure with a smile upon his face that quickly disappeared when he noticed the kids fighting in the backseat of his car.
Eddie barely even noticed the slap, barely even registered when Steve left his side, for he was watching with rapt attention as you finally said your goodbyes to your bandmates and they began to make their own departures. His strides towards you were quick as Meg and Vicki finally traversed the rest of the carpark to their vehicle, Robin giving you one last hug before she skipped after Steve.
He felt almost awkward now presuming that he had the right to touch you and so refrained from outstretching his hands towards you as he so itched to do. But then he remembered the way you had reached up and grabbed his hand so that his arm rested upon your shoulders back in the booth, and the thought made him momentarily bolder. So when he finally reached you his hands connected lightly with your waist, allowing you the room to pull away should you so wish.
You turned your gaze up towards him at the touch, and the smile that spread across your features when your eyes found his had Eddie’s heart soaring within his chest. In the end you did not pull away, but instead leaned backwards until your back was connecting with Eddie’s chest and your head was resting lazily against the crook in his shoulder. Something warm erupted within him at the action, at the sheer comfort that your body seemed to be exuding within his presence so that his grip tightened upon your waist.
“Can I drive you home?” Eddie asked into the silence of the carpark as Steve’s car backed out of his spot, the kid’s waving at you from the backseat as they left. Dustin flashed him a devilish smirk through the window and Eddie only rolled his eyes in response.
“I suppose I could allow you the honour,” you responded, and you could feel the slight vibrations of Eddie’s chest as he chuckled.
Once the sound of Steve’s car had dwindled away into the distance, there was nothing but the sound of your breaths intermingling into the air as the two of you remained in your position, simply basking in the warmth of the other, neither of you willing to pull away just yet. But then you were turning so that now it was your chest that was pressed up to Eddie’s. He thought the change in positioning a vast improvement, for now he could see the gleam in your eyes and the way the moon illuminated your smile.
“Tomorrow,” Eddie found himself saying, and he could not quite blame the small furrow that grew between your brows. “For our date,” he continued. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.” And then because he thought his tone slightly presumptuous, quickly added, “I-if you want to.”
Your smile grew.
“Someone’s impatient,” you said, and then after a second’s hesitation, continued. “Okay.”
The silence settled between you once more. Slowly, you removed your hands from where they had been pressed against Eddie’s chest and instead rested them lazily around his neck. The movement somehow brought you closer to him, so close that Eddie couldn’t quite figure out how he had managed to keep himself from devouring you. Your lips were inches from his, a smile still placed delicately across them.
“Can I kiss you?”
Eddie remembered the last time he had uttered those words, how hopeful he had been that your proximity had been an indication that you had wanted him just as much as he had wanted you. But body language was a fickle thing, and Eddie was not going to assume that the closeness of your lips was any semblance of consent. You would want to take things slow, he was quite sure, and he would ask you that very question. But not now. Not after a perfect night that did not need to be ruined by serious conversations. But although Eddie would in all honesty get down on one knee tomorrow if you so asked him, he would travel at the pace of a snail if it meant that he got to call you his.
Your smile grew wider at the question as Eddie waited with bated breath for your response.
But your response never came.
Instead, you shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes and connected your lips gently to his.
But unlike the kiss the two of you had shared only hours before where Eddie had pressed you up against the wall of the Hideout and you had let him, this kiss was different. Eddie’s lips moved slowly against yours now, almost languidly, and yet the passion behind each movement was somehow just as fierce.
Eddie was taking his time.
He did not rush for there was no need to. He was mapping you out, taking note of every blemish and crease upon your lips and then delving further to explore the depths of your mouth. In that moment there was only you and him standing in the silence of the carpark, and to Eddie, it felt almost as if it were only you and him in the entirety of the world. Eddie could have quite happily spent all night with you like this, your breaths short and sharp, your scent engulfing him completely. Your taste was intoxicating, somehow even more so than he remembered it being when he had first kissed you back in his trailer and the thought had a moan escaping from his throat. Your hands flew up to tangle within his hair almost as if you were trying to get him closer, Eddie doing the same as his grip upon your waist tightened.
But he needed to feel more of you, even when your tongue started to explore his mouth and so one of his hands departed from your waist and came up to cup your jaw instead. His thumb stroked against your cheek, his grip firm as if he needed to feel every inch of you that he could. You inhaled sharply at the touch, and the sound of it had something stirring low within Eddie.
It was you who pulled away first and Eddie thought it quite the sensible thing to do for he had come to the conclusion that he would sooner pass out than pull himself away from you within that moment. But your forehead remained against his, your pants intermingling into the silence of the night. Your lips upturned into a smile when your gaze met his, and Eddie could not stop himself from smiling back.
And then you were shifting, your hands coming down to rest once more around his shoulders as you leaned forwards and buried your head into the crook of his neck. And then, as if it were instinctual, as if the action were so practiced it had become autonomous, Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you back, having to refrain from squeezing you too hard.
Yet somehow the hug was even more intimate than the kiss had been, something heavy and fierce lingering behind it, something unsaid passing between where your bodies were intertwined with one another so that neither of you could quite bring yourselves to pull away. Your scent engulfed him completely, your warmth so welcoming so that Eddie came to realise that he had not hugged anyone like this in a very long time.
And Eddie thought that this must have been why.
All of the loneliness and the rejection and the pain that his life had borne so far had all been worth it if it meant that this was what was waiting for him at the end of it.
Oh. My. GOD. I have spent the entirety of my evening reading chapter 1 to 11 of take a chance on me, I was on edge by the end of chapter 1 and I haven’t stopped for the last almost 3 hours.
Your writing has made me FERAL. I literally was beaming and blushing by the end of chapter 11. I am hooked by this fic (10 things I hate about you being one of my favourite movies) the subtle quotes and characteristics from it made me grin even more.
I am obsessed. Thank you so much for making my day🫶🏻 and to you I say *chefs kiss* well f*cking done🤌🏻 much love x
Why am I so bad at checking my inbox? Sorry for the late response, lovely 😫
Thank you so much for supporting my work. It makes me so happy to see people are still here reading my work after so long. I’m also so happy that you picked up on the few quotes I sneaked in there!
hi! after you drop the last take a chance on me chapter are requests open? love your work xx
Don’t think my requests were ever closed 🥰. But most definitely send through your requests! You can send them through now if you’d like since the last chapter is practically finished. I might not be too prompt with getting back to them since I’m going through a few big changes in my life atm but I’d love to have something to work on!
im so happy to see you back🥺 its a lil emotional that the fic is soon to be done!! im so in love with those two and the way you wrote them is just so perfect!! thank u so much for sharing ur amazing writing with us!! i will now go lay in my bed and read chapter 12 🫡
Ahhhhh my heart is so full! 🥰🥰🥰
It makes me so happy to hear that you like my silly little fic. The amount of support I’ve gotten from my writing has honestly been so heartwarming and so unexpected. Thank you so much for supporting this fic! 😘
hi! i absolutely love 10TIHAY!!! it’s definitely my favorite fanfic i’ve read so far EVER! congrats on such talent, can’t wait to read more of your works!!!
Thank you so much, lovely!!!! Sorry it's taken me so long to reply. I was banished into the realm of the shadow banned for a little while there. But your support of my work honestly means the world to me! I'm so happy you like the series!
Oh my gosh you’re on part 12? I feel like I haven’t seen you update in forever!! I’m going to catch up this weekend!
Can you tag me when you post? I think we may be on opposite sides of the globe. I’m not usually up this early 😂
Well I have been shadow banned a few times so maybe that's had an affect on you seeing my posts. I'll add you to the taglist for the final chapter!
Also it's 7:20PM for me here in Australia so I think it's safe to say that we are definitely on opposite sides of the globe. I think that's such a cool concept though! Like someone so far away is as passionate about the same things as I am.
Thanks for supporting my work, lovely!
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