#and we already saw Eddie having a panic attack

[makorragal-312]

Manifesting Buck holding Eddie's hand when they're in the helicopter and Eddie putting his thumb on Buck's pulse when they're on the ship.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.��� Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[sibylsleaves]

some things fall when they're meant to fall

25k (COMPLETE) | rated T | read on ao3 Eddie’s gaze drop to Buck’s lips—pink, like his birthmark. Eddie wants to taste those lips, and he wants it with a fierceness so sudden it shocks him. “I’m, uh,” Buck stammers. “Last night. When you saw me and Tommy…we—we were on a date.” Everything inside Eddie goes still. If his heart is a kite, then this is the moment it plummets back to earth.

or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

written for @burnthatbridge

Chapter 4/4 now up on ao3

Eddie spends the next two days talking himself down from a panic attack and convincing himself that everything’s going to be okay. He doesn’t reach out to Buck. He doesn’t hear from him either, which is probably the longest they’ve gone without at least a text in…Eddie doesn’t even know how long.

But it's going to be okay. It has to be. This is Buck. They’re best friends. They’re partners. They’re always going to be okay, in the end.

Besides. Eddie’s already gotten through the hard part. He’s already detonated the bomb. He’s already smashed his heart to pieces at Buck’s feet. And yeah, things are going to suck for a while. It’s going to be hard, and painful, and awful but they’ll get through it. They same way they get through every hard, painful, awful thing.

This is what Eddie’s telling himself as drags himself into the fire station for their first shift since his confession. He ducks into the locker room, changing briskly into his uniform and trying not to startle every time someone enters. Trying not to be too obvious that he’s bracing himself for when it’s Buck.

The thing is, as much as he’s dreading him walking in, dreading Buck either trying to talk to him or awkwardly avoiding him, he also really can’t wait to see him. It’s been two days and he already misses him—the way he always skips into the locker room with a smile and a stupid joke or a fun new fact he’s learned, how his eyes inevitably find Eddie, and how he’ll always fall into step with him as they start to assemble for Bobby’s morning briefing.

But by the time Eddie’s finished changing and closed his locker, Buck still hasn’t shown up. Chim and Hen have already come in, changed, and filtered back out to the app bay for the morning briefing. Eddie trails after them, off-kilter without Buck’s shoulder knocking against his.

Bobby’s announcements are quick and to-the point. Eddie’s barely paying attention to them, his gaze darting around, searching for Buck.

But he’s not there.

(continue reading on ao3)

taglist

@remembertheskittles @myao3library-blog @sorryimlatecapt @swiftiesisters14 @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual

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@buckleybabyblues @andavs-main

[rip-quizilla]

We Could Be Beautiful: Dead Girl Walking

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

🔹An AU in which you and Eddie are both actors in a community theater production of Heathers: The Musical🔹

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: Just an idea I’ve had rolling around in my head for a while. This will probably become a series of short blurbs within this AU, taking place between the auditions and the cast party following the final performance of the show.

Tags: mutual pining, unconfessed feelings, allusions to sex, passing mention of suicide (pertaining to the plot of Heathers), references to Heathers: the Musical, song lyrics

If you’d like a visual for the scene described from the original musical, click here

🔹divider made by @k1ssyoursister 🔹

You took your role as Veronica’s understudy seriously. 

You’d copied down every stage direction, every line, every director’s note- you’d made sure you were prepared. Now, the ultimate test would determine just how prepared for this you really were.

Barb, the actress playing Veronica, had warned you that her sister might go into labor early, and that had been exactly what happened. That meant she would be in the delivery room on opening night, and every program in every audience member’s hand would have a little insert with your picture on it, alongside your name followed by “-will be playing the role of Veronica Sawyer.”

Already, you had managed to make it to the first quarter of the show. “Beautiful” had gone without a hitch, and you’d gotten through “Fight for Me” without your voice cracking. But next was “Dead Girl Walking,” and you were just about ready to fling yourself in front of a bus. Or drink some drain cleaner. 

You hadn’t rehearsed this song with Eddie yet; you knew the words, knew the blocking, knew exactly which note you were expected to sing and every riff you had to hit. But standing behind that velvet curtain as you waited for your cue, you were practically on the verge of a panic attack. When you finally had to enter the stage, you channeled it all- the panic, the nerves, the terror of what comes after tonight.

I need it hard

I’m a dead girl walking

I’m in your yard

I’m a dead girl walking 

You’d watched him sing this song with Barb so many times, and each time you’d wished it was you- now, you had your chance. 

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I’ve decided I must ride you ‘til I break you

Tonight I’m yours, 

I’m your dead girl walking

Get on all fours, 

Kiss this dead girl walking

You knew Eddie’s wide, wet eyes were those of an actor. The eyes of JD as he watches the girl of his dreams. Still, the heat and want you felt right now wasn’t Veronica’s- it was purely yours. So you let it feed Veronica’s words as you held his face in your tender hands and told JD the things you wished you could say to Eddie.

And you know, you know, you know

It’s ‘cause you’re beautiful

You say you’re numb inside

But I can’t agree

You were the one in the blue blazer now. Tonight, he was your JD, and you were scared shitless that when your lips hit his in a stage kiss that was supposed to have so much fire it set the stage ablaze, it might feel a little bit too real. 

So the world’s unfair

Keep it locked out there

In here it’s beautiful

Let’s make this beautiful

Eddie- JD- gazed at you with all the wonder and adoration of a man on his knees for a generous god. His head shook gently, bewildered by his luck as he delivered the next line. “That works for me.”

Then your lips were on him, and for a second you let yourself pretend he was kissing you back and not Veronica. His mouth was warm, his hands hungry as they roamed over your clothes and subtly squeezed until you felt your blazer’s polyester pucker.

When you pulled away for your high note, you gazed into his eyes and saw nothing but truth looking back at you. That fire you’d been feeling all this time was reflected in his eyes tonight. Sure, maybe it’s the stage lights. Maybe he’s just a really good actor. Maybe you’re fucking obsessed with him- but whatever it was, you felt wanted in those eyes. So yeah, you let yourself believe it. You let the script burn you alive.

Full steam ahead, 

Take this dead girl walking

Let’s break the bed,

Rock this dead girl walking

You were drunk on the awe in his gaze, the way he looked up at you like he wasn’t sure if you’d really just barged in through his window to ride him until he was a broken mess, or if you were a fantasy his mind had conjured to fuel his desire to belong to someone who would cherish all he had to give. 

Again, Eddie was a talented actor. You knew that was his interpretation of how his character felt about your character. Still, you let yourself fall into the script as you straddled his tense, shirtless body, his abs crunching under the blue stage lights in a way that made you salivate. You wondered what your spit would look like on his skin. 

You were far too horny to be professional. At least you weren’t so far gone that you couldn’t remember your blocking. 

No sleep tonight for you,

Better chug that Mountain Dew

Your heart fell into your core upon hearing Eddie’s whimpered ‘okay, okay’ in character, needy and submissive beneath you. 

Get your ass in gear,

Make this whole town disappear

His eyebrows pulled together, voice stronger and raspier as it ripped from his chest. ‘Okay, okay!’ His fingers snuck underneath your skirt, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your ass. You wished it was real. 

You eyed him like a predator eyes a kill, determined to stay in his head until he needed you for real. You ran your palm over your cheek, brought your other hand up to fist in your hair, and pretended both hands were his.

Slap me,

Pull my hair,

You grabbed his wrists forcefully, bringing them up one by one to grope each of your tits. 

Touch me 

There (left tit)

And there (right tit)

And there 

To punctuate the final syllable, you couldn’t stop an involuntary writhe of your torso into Eddie’s hands as he grasped your white button down (which was actually a snap-up) at the chest and pulled hard, simultaneously pinching your nipples through your bright blue bra and ripping open your blouse to showcase the swell of your chest for the whole audience to see. You didn’t notice them, though- you noticed the way he looked at your chest like it was the second coming of Christ. You witnessed that fractional widening of his eyes, the way he was entranced by every move you made as you writhed in his lap. 

And no more talking

Love this dead girl walking

Eddie’s voice was lightning in the wake of thunder, bright and jagged and beautifully raw with power as he crooned a harmony to your lead as the song drew to a close. This song wasn’t an easy one to sing; had you not been so distracted by how it felt to have Eddie’s hips between your thighs you might have been nervous that you’d flub your high notes- but you didn’t. In a moment of sheer improvisation you did what just felt right, and that meant grabbing Eddie by hair at the base of his neck and wrenching his head back as you rolled your hips into his.

You knew your blocking was to arch your back away from him, but instead you brought your face close enough to his that it’s possible his mic picked up your perfect, clear falsetto as you pleaded, ‘Love this dead girl walking’ with the cadence of a lover asking, begging their beloved ‘don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop’. Eddie’s eyes registered your improvisational choice, and maybe you imagined it but behind those big brown button eyes he seemed to come alive with you, sitting up even further and digging one hand into your soft, hot skin while the other flexed against the stage floor to keep him balanced. His little ‘whoa, whoa, hey, hey, yeah yeah’s were short and breathy, sounding more like moans and whimpers as he rolled the sturdy bones of his hips into you as you matched his rhythm. 

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend. If you didn’t have blocking to follow, you might have kissed him again, might have bitten his lip, might have reached for his belt buckle with reckless abandon and let a summer’s worth of pining win over in your mind. Instead, you channeled that passion into the way your hips ground into him with the fervor of a woman with nothing to lose. 

Together the two of you finished out the song with heavy breaths and belted lyrics. You writhed. He thrusted.  ‘Love this dead girl,’ your voices intertwined in a desperate dance for release from the tension between you that, at some point, had grown thick as two oak trees planted near enough to forget where one ends and the other begins.

‘Yeah!’

Your hand on his chest splayed out over faded ink. Your hips swiveled against his groin.

‘Yeah!’

His hand fisted in the plaid fabric of your skirt. That wasn’t in the blocking- had they added that? Was this improv?

‘Yeah!’

Using the grip on your skirt, he tugged you further into him as his hips bucked up just enough to bounce you on his groin and shake your exposed cleavage. Without thinking, your hand flew into his hair, grasping the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck and tugging sharply back. You weren’t supposed to do that. 

‘Ow!’

It wasn’t supposed to be a moan, but that was definitely what you would call the sound you pulled from Eddie’s mouth. A soft yet sharp, breathy moan that existed somewhere in the valley between pleasure and pain and definitely sounded more sexy and less funny, which is how it was supposed to sound. You saw Eddie’s eyes go wide as he too came to this realization. 

No matter; if you played it off, no one in the audience would know the difference. You let go of his hair and flung your hand into the air above you, reaching for heaven and belting out your last ‘Yeah’ into the stage lights that lined the rafters above you. Your back arched, and you felt one final push of Eddie’s pelvis into yours, weaker this time as he too came down from the endorphins that ravaged every thought in both your mind and his. 

Taglist (people I've been talking to about this since the idea spawned): @ghost-proofbaby, @the-unforgivenn, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult

[loveinhawkins]

The day before Spring Break ‘84, Eddie has a panic attack so bad he stays locked in a bathroom stall long after the final bell has rung.

And it’s so stupid. It’s not like the whole thing came as a surprise to him: he saw the writing on the wall even back in December, his grades on a continual downward spiral he couldn’t shift.

But he kept on trucking cause he’s still got the mind of a five year old, apparently, hoping against hope that things would just miraculously work out.

Idiot.

He doesn’t have anything worth getting riled up over, no mistreatment to distract him—sure, if it was O’Donnell doing the honours, she might’ve been a little mean about it, but instead he’d been directed to the school receptionist who confirmed the ‘unfortunate news’ with an uninterested if pleasant smile.

She asked if he’d talked to his homeroom teacher about his predicament, and he’d promptly lied through his teeth and said yes, even though he’d rather die than do anything of the sort. Then she went on about his ‘many options’, a prospective timetable for next semester, some forms to fill in, blah, blah, blah.

“Would you want a call home?” she’d said, already reaching for the phone. “We can go through the process with—”

“No, thanks,” Eddie told her quickly. He stuffed the forms into his bag. “I’ve got—I’ll let my uncle know.”

The thought of Wayne having his day off interrupted by such news made him feel nauseous.

Fuck, Wayne. He’ll be waiting for him.

At that realisation, Eddie goes cold then hot then cold again. He stumbles, gets the stall door open eventually, shakes the jittery feeling out of his fingers.

The parking lot’s still busy—students lazily chatting, perched half in, half-out of their cars; all they’ve got to worry about is whether they’re invited to Tina’s or Josh’s or whoever-the-fuck’s—depends on whose parents have unwisely left their house empty for the week.

Eddie’s stayed so long that he’s missed the bus, so he starts the trudge home, grits his teeth at every stab of his boots cutting into his heels—the van isn’t even on his periphery yet, still many months of scraping and saving to go until it’s his.

He’s almost out the school grounds. He crosses the road entirely on autopilot, startles when he realises that he’s had to make a car do an emergency stop.

Steve Harrington waves him on with a tiny little flick of the finger, all breezy, and great, that’s all he fucking needs—Mister Cool being polite to him.

He gives a small nod of thanks before continuing his walk. Keeps his head down, eyes on the sidewalk. Doesn’t bother about whether he steps on any cracks or not; he figures his luck isn’t changing any time soon.

His palms itch. He knows it’s stupid and embarrassingly self-centred of him, but he can’t get rid the thought that everyone’s looking at him, that everyone knows somehow.

Wayne sees him coming from the porch. By the time Eddie reaches him, he’s gone inside and out, re-emerging with a can of cream soda that he cracks open and holds out with one hand.

Eddie can’t take it. He reaches for the contents of his bag, cringing inside at how the papers are already creased, he can’t even manage…

He passes the forms to Wayne. Can’t look him in the eye.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Uncle Wayne,” he says—and mortifyingly, his throat closes up, and that’s all he can get out.

There’s barely a pause before Wayne says, “Eddie. Can you look at me?” When Eddie does, he clicks his tongue quietly at whatever he must find. “Kid, you’re all right. S’not the end of the world.”

Eddie scoffs. “Damn well feels like it.”

Yup, petulant as fuck too. Why not? Might as well crash and burn.

He at least makes sure to shut the front door as apologetically as he can. There’s one singular plate in the sink that he sets about scrubbing even though it hardly needs it.

He hears Wayne come in; he’s reading still, turning the pages over thoughtfully.

Eddie keeps scrubbing.

Wayne’s probably reading the test results. Eddie doesn’t need to see to know the ones that’ll be lingered on.

He couldn’t even pass English. The one thing that was meant to be in the bag, where he could scrape a C-, and he…

What the fuck’s wrong with him? Where’s the sense in being able to write a good campaign on a whim when he can’t even…

“Eddie.” Wayne passes the cream soda can across the counter. “You keep workin’ at the sink any longer, and m’gonna start thinkin’ you’re ‘bout to give me your last will and testament.”

Eddie chuckles. Scrubs at his eyes and obligingly steps away. He picks up the can—the cold metal soothes the itch trapped in his palm.

Wayne folds the papers neatly, corner to corner.

“I’ll help you fill everything in,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll get a pen.”

But Wayne shakes his head. “Not tonight. We’ve got plans, remember?”

Eddie laughs again. ‘Got plans’, according to Wayne, means watching T.V in comfortable silence, Eddie lounging on the couch; Wayne might occasionally read out a crossword clue he’s stuck on before typically solving it on his own, and Eddie would drop off to sleep early, his last impression that of Wayne treading lightly from his armchair, turning the volume down.

It’s a comforting thought.

But he… he should be…

Wayne gives him a knowing look, waves him over to the couch.

The creak of the refrigerator door opening. Wayne’ll be starting dinner soon. Some sorta pasta, probably: it’s tradition, whenever school ends.

“Hey, Ed.”

Eddie curls up on the couch, knees to his chest. “Mm-hmm?”

“It’s fixable, all right? It ain’t a chore. You know that, right?”

Eddie smiles—he sniffles and doesn’t bother scrubbing at his eyes again when they fill up.

“Yeah, I—I know.”

The words are old, a truth he’s had to be reminded of many times; it started back when the world had ended once before, when Eddie, newly moved into Wayne’s trailer, had stammered, “I-I won’t bother you, Uncle Wayne, I swear, you won’t need to—”

And then he learnt the very first rule of the universe—save for the fact that Wayne would always, always be there to help him.

It ain’t a chore, loving you.

[lemotmo]

I'm nervous to send anything but certain topics aren't being posted or answered anymore so this feels safe! But feel free to tell me NO! ❤️

Q. Have you seen the Tik Tok Ryan watched about how if Eddie isn't gay then they've just made him the biggest jerk possible when it comes to dating? 😂 I mean she wasn't wrong. Having hope makes me nervous!

A. Haha, yes, I saw the Tik Tok and it does make him look particularly bad in the context of dating. But it just continues to prove what a very hard corner they've written themselves into where Eddie is concerned. He is not a bad guy. He's not. He's a good man with a very deep sense of duty, responsibility, obligation and expectation. And in that context the women he has chosen to date, post Shannon, make sense. His relationship with Anna was always the obvious head scratcher because on paper she was absolutely the perfect person for him, but the relationship always felt off. Once we got the spoiler from the insider saying she was supposed to be the relationship that led to Eddie's sexuality discovery it made the Anna relationship make much more sense. I know there are some who don't want to believe the insider information, but given Tim's history I think he would have repudiated the claim if it had been false. We have already seen Tim correct false information this off season, so I see no reason why he wouldn't have corrected that one as well if it were untrue. It was everywhere. He knows it was leaked information. Everything Eddie experienced in that relationship further seems to support the idea that the original plan was a sexuality awakening. The panic attacks he was having fit perfectly into this theory as well because Eddie is not a commitment phobe. They never felt like a couple. She felt like Christopher's babysitter. They even had Eddie flat out admit that Christopher loved her so he thought he could force himself to love her too. It's the classic sexuality arc relationship.

Marisol is another mess entirely. You could tell she wasn't meant to be back last season, and they didn't even bother trying to pretend otherwise. I think the Kim nonsense was Tim's way of maybe trying to demonstrate that Eddie just doesn't feel like he can find a connection with anyone else, romantically speaking, and he was reaching out so hard for doppelganger Shannon because he thought she could tell him why. There is absolutely no other plausible reason for that storyline. Eddie specifically told Buck that it wasn't about sex and he didn't want to sleep with her. He wanted to talk to her, and once he was able to, what he talked about was how broken he feels. That is where we are with Eddie. That very much feels like trying to recreate where he was mentally in season 4 without retelling the same storyline. So it feels very much like they're headed in the sexuality direction. I understand people are hesitant to allow themselves to be excited about the possibility. And they are correct when they say we have no proof that's where they're going. But what I will say is that it's okay to say that things feel genuinely different this time around. It feels very different than it ever has before. And we're allowed to acknowledge that. Oliver and Ryan are behaving in ways they never have before. And we're allowed to also acknowledge that. Ryan has very much followed Oliver's pattern from last off season. He has followed the same interview patterns, right down to switching to gender neutral pronouns. And he is following the same fandom behavior from Oliver last season. He is being very openly pro Buddie. Acknowledging the corner the show has written themselves into, and acknowledging the patterns that Oliver and Ryan are following and repeating is not giving false hope or unfairly raising expectations. It's acknowledging the clear change. That's all anyone is doing. If it makes certain people feel better to be adamant that it's not happening, fine. That's their fandom right. But it's other people's fandom right to be excited about and to acknowledge the possibility of the storyline. A storyline that feels very much within reach. Let people be excited.

Hey Nonny! I'm firmly saying YES to be honest. I know that Ali also isn't posting about certain subjects and topics anymore. So please, don't be afraid to drop something in my inbox. As long as it's not about fandom messes, it's fine. Thanks again for doing this. I do appreciate it.

If we all focus a bit more on fandom positivity, we can hopefully counter some of the negativity.

As for Ali's answer? Yes, yes and yes. The playing field has been set and all the pawns are exactly where they should be to get Eddie out of that closet and into Buck's arms (after some extra loopholes, no doubt).

I agree so hard on the fact that it's okay to be excited and hopeful. Let yourself hope. Why not? What have we got to lose at this stage? Besides our sanity that is. 😉

And yes, the people out there who are being cautious about Buddie? They have ever right to be. I mean, nothing is set in stone at this point. So, it's more than fine to want to hold back on the excitement for a while.

We can all coexist just fine, if we respect each others opinions and POVs, because after all:

We all have the same end-goal in mind. 😋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so, I saw this still and went crazy, so stay with me for thoughts. Or don't, I can't really tell you what to do.

Okay, so Chris is in yellow, which is a bad sign. Chris being a kid, his color palette has bright colors, but it is mostly greens, blues, and reds, mixed in with shades of grey, he kinda mirrors Eddie but in brighter shades. (I think that's cute with the way Shannon was a very bright-colored character, so he has the hue of Shannon with Eddie's colors)

But he's in yellow in very specific moments, and yellow being the color Shannon died in is very interesting. When is he wearing yellow? Tsunami, skateboard incident, May's graduation party, the eddiana breakup, Eddie's breakdown, and his date in 701, he actually seems to be wearing the same jacket he's wearing on that still.

So he's in yellow in not so great situations for Eddie's mental state, that end up being parenting problems, I'm adding the graduation to the mix with how stressed Eddie is about Chris going to camp, I have a point, I promise.

But funnily enough, the resolution of these conflicts tends to involve red, Chris is wrapped in a red hoodie when Eddie finds him, Buck is wearing pink before the tsunami and both Chris and Buck are wearing red after, Carla is wearing red and Buck is wearing pink during the skateboard incident while Eddie discuss that with the adults, and Chris is wearing red when Eddie talks about it with him, Eddie is wearing maroon when Chris is on the bus leaving for camp, the eddiana breakup is muddier, but Ana is wearing red during the first panic attack, and it is what kickstarts the whole situation, Buck is wearing red when he breaks down the door during the breakdown,.

So, like, the thing that snaps Eddie out of it is red, and all of these end up being about Eddie and what's best for Christopher, the tsunami ends up being about establishing Buck as a second parental figure, and everything else could be described as parenting problems Eddie discussed with someone else, mostly Buck, to solve, the skateboard adaptation, the way he talks to the whole firefam about how he feels about Chris leaving, the breakup with Ana being tied back to the way Eddie thinks that if he does what's best for Chris, his heart will follow, and the way he leaves the job because of a comment Chris made and how that leads to the chain of events that triggers Eddie's breakdown.

And the thing with Chris in 701 hasn't really been solved, but it is all coming out with red involved in the whole situation, Chris' jacket has red in it and Eddie himself is wearing red, and that's interesting because it could be that Chris himself is gonna snap Eddie out of it, but Eddie is already halfway there by himself. BUT these are all situations that include some serious emotional distress and/or physical injures, the tsunami, Chris falling off the skateboard, the panic attacks, Eddie completely falling apart, and considering Buck being around in the other stills, this could be a bad sign for all three of them because these are all situation were one of them have gotten hurt in some way. I personally think Chris will ask to go with his grandparents, but the thing is, we saw the Diaz parents with Chris in the hospital in other behind the scene stuff, and considering the s4 parallels, and the way they like to mirror Eddie and Bobby, there's a chance they are going to be in the hospital for Eddie, Buck, Chris or any combination of the three and I am TERRIFIED. (Trapped dads is coming lol).

That's all for today, if you read this I love you 💜

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Vincent Gerrard had made a mistake.

Probably the biggest mistake of his career. Hell, probably the biggest mistake of his life.

When Gerrard heard about Capt Nash’s heart attack and subsequent health sabbatical, he immediately volunteered to step in as the acting captain of the 118. I mean, he’d already BEEN their captain, and poor firefighter Wilson was too wrapped up in a battle with that congresswoman to even think of taking on more work. He’d be the perfect substitute.

That’s what he told the Chief anyway. His real reason was private, though he was sure the 118 had immediately figured it out.

It started at the award ceremony. The way his jab at Kinard didn’t seem to bruise too much what with Han and that Buckley kid acting as guard dogs. And speaking of Han, his snide remark about him keeping the floor clean being met with Han’s confident comment equating Gerard to filth really pissed him off. Then he saw Buckley and Kinard getting all lovey dovey with each other during the reception and that was truly the final straw. He once had this station under his thumb. No one wanted to go against him. Now it seemed they didn’t care what he thought. He wanted to make all of their lives hell.

At first, it started great! They seemed genuinely terrified when he walked in and announced he was taking over command. He could see the panic and resignation in their eyes. Even Buckley, Diaz and, Panikkar, who he never worked with. Han, Wilson, and Kinard must have told stories of him, which really warmed his cold dead heart. He had a legacy.

He decided to go after Buckley first. He didn’t know the kid, but since Kinard didn’t work at the 118 he figured going for his boyfriend was the next best thing. Almost better. Maybe he could plant some seeds and ruin their relationship.

That didn’t happen.

“So Buckley,” Gerrard started one afternoon while eating lunch. He was sitting at the head of the table, Buckley to his left, Panikkar to his right. Diaz was next to Buckley then Han across from him. They all stopped to look at Gerrard, wary of what was going to come out of his mouth next. He savored the moment for a beat.

“How long you been dating Kinard?”

Buckley met his eyes with a hesitant, untrusting look as he answered “About two months now.”

“Hmm,” Gerrard answered, chewing on his bite of sandwich before then asking “so were you always a queer or did he turn you?”

The whole table glared at him for what felt like ten years. No one with more vehemence than Buckley. But then…

“Actually!” Buckley said with a big smile, gesturing with the fork he was using to eat his leftover lasagna, “he was my bisexual awakening so I guess in a way he ‘turned’ me, but in the same way you turn a light on, you know? Like it was always there, it just took someone flicking the switch to light it. See, we met when Chim called him up for a favor, and, I can be honest about it now, my very first thought when I met him was “wow”, cause like, well you’ve seen him. He’s just so big, and dreamy, and his eyes are so pretty, and his smile is electrifying. And I called him up for a tour of Harbor ‘cuz I wanted to see him again and then I got jealous ‘cuz he was spending time with Eddie but then Tommy came to my apartment and we talked things out and we had this kinda deep conversation and then he KISSED ME and it was like “wow that’s what’s been bothering me lately, I want him!” And then we went on this date, and I acted dumb, but he was sweet about it and let me down easy ‘cuz he thought I wasn’t ready, then I couldn’t get him out of my head so I called him for coffee and he actually showed and I told him I wanted to give it another go and I invited him to my sisters wedding, which ok yeah I-I-I know that’s kinda crazy, but listen I can’t be held accountable for my actions when he looks at me with that really soft fond look and he’s wearing a well fitted grey tee shirt, and he’s got this adorable cleft chin, and- anyway- yeah so he agreed and he showed up to my sisters wedding even though he had spent the last, like, 12 hours fighting a wild fire because he knew it was important to me, and I MAY have jumped him in the entryway but you can’t really blame me for that. So yeah, he’s an incredible guy, and he’s shown up for me in ways no one I’ve ever dated has, and he makes me feel safe and secure, a-and happier than I’ve ever felt. Like, I can see a future with him, you know? Marriage, kids, the whole package. It’s early, like really early, I know, but hey, when you know you know right?”

And wasn’t that just a whole heap of information Gerrard hadn’t asked for.

Buckley was smirking at him. Not a lot, but there it was, a cocky smile. A smile that said “you think you can use my relationship against me, but jokes on you fuckface, I’m happy and more than willing to let you know all about it completely against your will.”

The rest of the table was staring at Buckley, Han and Panikkar in mild shock, while Diaz looked like a proud parent who just watched his kid dress down a bully, chewing his salad around a smirk of his own.

“Tommy is a pretty cool dude,” Panikkar noted, deciding that was the best way to break the tension.

“He really is, I’m glad I saved his sorry ass,” Han chimed in, pointing his own fork at Buckley and saying “you’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Thanks Chim.” Buckley was actually blushing. Jesus.

“You guys have no idea how glad I am Buck’s actually dating someone I like.” Diaz said, earning snickers from the others. “Seriously! Plus, I can actually hang out with Tommy now without Buck trying to break my ankles over it! Thats growth, I’m proud of you.”

And damn if Diaz didn’t actually sound proud of Buckley for that; Gerrard hated the part of himself that wanted to know the story there, because what the hell?

The table fell into easy chatter while Gerrard wondered where he’d gone wrong.

It didn’t get any better. It was like Buckleys initial act of defiance opened the flood gate. Nothing he said was sticking to anyone.

He tried to make more comments to Han insinuating that all he was good for was cleaning the station, but that just led to Han ignoring him and instead talking about his daughter Jee Yun and gushing about how great of a person his wife Maddie is.

“And this picture is from the first time Jee Yun used a spoon by herself. She really is a natural at everything. Picks stuff up on her first try. She gets that from her mom. She’s so amazing. And by she I mean both of them. My girls are truly the most incredible blessings. Oh! Here’s a picture of them asleep on the couch together! Aren’t they cute?”

Gerrard refused to admit they were. He wouldn’t. They won’t break him.

He didn’t know Diaz from before, so he fell back on his tired trick of just being a straight up racist. Diaz decided that Gerrard must be talking about his Swedish half and started to educate him on Sweden. This led to him telling Gerrard about how his son Christopher did a report recently on Sweden. Which of course led to more information about Christopher.

“He’s really such a great kid. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s kind, he’s a bit of a smart ass, he’s popular, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. I’m so lucky to be his dad. He’s saved me more times than I can count. Even at a young age, he just knew exactly what to say to make me feel better when I was down. To look into his eyes and know that I had a hand in creating this incredible life? It’s mind-blowing and so humbling. Here let me show you pictures.”

Gerrard was losing his will to live.

Wilson was more reserved. When he was in her vicinity, she would shoot him a look. It wasn’t necessarily dirty. It was more challenging. Daring. Almost asking for a reason to unleash some pent up fury. He didn’t even bother approaching. She was on the warpath already. A woman not to be messed with. A storm on the near horizon that sent chills down your spine. He remembered her speech from before. He remembered getting transferred out not long after. He was too tired to try it. It didn’t take long for Wilson and her wife to win back custody of their foster daughter and they were able to formally adopt her. After that, he was subjected to pictures of Mara and Denny. She was over the moon with happiness and love. He preferred warpath Wilson.

Panikkar tried to sell him a condo.

He gave up.

Vincent Gerrard was officially broken. It only took two weeks. These people were too happy. Too defiant. Too sure of themselves and their lives. They were also all so supportive of each other. It was sickening. He realized he couldn’t break them. He refused to admit defeat though, so he was subjected to six months of hell. Somehow he even got invited to the Buckley-Kinard house warming party when they moved into their new fixer upper. He had a feeling he’d be roped into putting up shelving. Or he’d be encased in a wall. He declined. Same way he declined the invite to the Han residence for Jee’s birthday and the invite to the Wilson’s for the adoption celebration BBQ. They just wanted to rub their well-beingness into his face and he had enough of that at the station.

Once the six months were up and Nash took the helm again, Gerrard felt he had aged ten years. He fully intended to put in for his retirement. He staunchly ignored the cheers and “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” being played on someone’s Bluetooth speakers as he walked out of the 118 for the last time.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

you are so precious and amazing and your writing makes me so happy! What about panic for the blurbs?

mention of panic attacks

“Where is she?” Eddie didn’t stop for pleasantries as he barged into Steve’s house. Not that he needed to, he lived there half the time, but he hadn’t planned to stop by the party that night, not after he’d already agreed to work overtime. “Is she okay?”

But then Steve had called and barely managed to finish his sentence before Eddie had left the receiver off the hook, swinging from the cord as he jumped in his van.

A panic attack, Steve had said. You hadn’t one in a while, Eddie knew that, but you’d been tired as of late, stressed at work. Alcohol and a busy setting was more than enough to make your anxiety escalate.

“Upstairs,” Steve nodded towards the second story, frowning at the people who tutted at Eddie when they elbowed past them. “In my room, she’s alright man, it’s fine. I just thought I should call you.”

Eddie swallowed, chest tight and he nodded at his friend. He was grateful, he was. But he couldn’t stop long enough to say thank you, not yet. Not until he had you in front of him.

Steve knew that, so he left, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as opened the door to his room.

You were on Steve’s bed, cross legged and bundled in the boy’s sweater, a yellow thing Steve must’ve coaxed over your head, a cup of now lukewarm tea on the nightstand.

“Baby,” Eddie soothed, voice impossibly soft. Your face crumpled all over again at the sound of him, bottom lip wobbling, eyes impossibly wide. “Baby.”

“M’okay,” you lied, arms outstretched and reaching for him. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Eddie.”

The boy was shaking his head, rejection your apology as he pulled you onto his lap, one arm wrapped right around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your neck, thumb pushed to your jaw.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart,” Eddie said firmly, needing you to believe him. “All got a little too much, huh? S’alright, yeah? You’re okay.”

You sniffed, watery and tired. Your body was lax against the boy’s your face buried into the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in his flannel. “You had to leave work ‘cause of me.”

Eddie smiled, pressing his lips to your head. “Baby, I’d have left work if Harrington told me you got a paper-cut.”

A laugh, weak and still wobbly, but a laugh nonetheless. You wriggled closer, hands fisting in the boy’s shirt. Your breathing seemed more settled, less shaky, body less unnervingly hot.

“It just got really busy, you know?” You explained. “Too hot and— fuck, too many people. Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Eddie nodded, knowing. He understood all too well. “Steve knows too many people.”

You huffed put another laugh, choked sounding but amused. You agreed, nodding against Eddie’s chest. “Do you have to go back to work?” Pulling back, you saw Eddie smile, all soft and sweet as he leaned in to nudge his nose against yours. “Or can we—?”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugged, playing it too causal for your sake. “I’ll tell Wayne I’ll make it up next week. Gotta take my girl home, yeah?”

[apomaro-mellow]

Runaway Royalty 6

Part 5

Jeff leaned against a tree and crossed his arms where Eddie was whittling something by a tree. He was squatting and hunched over and completely immersed in his work but there was a nervous energy to it.

“So, I heard Rick tried to set you up with our new guy. Tried being the point he really wanted to get across.” 

“I appreciate the guy’s…helpfulness. But I don’t want to give Steve the wrong idea”, Eddie said.

“That means you’re not interested in him at all?”

“I’m not not interested. It’s just-I can’t-I can’t afford to be distracted. And Steve would be”, Eddie paused to watch the omega from afar, all he was doing was walking and yet Eddie was entranced.

“Incredibly distracting, noted”, Jeff said. “But, I feel as though you are making excuses.”

“Excuses for what? Not courting some random omega that I just met?”, Eddie hissed when his knife slipped and he nicked himself. “You’re making this a bigger to do than it is.”

“If you are sure”, Jeff said, ready to leave well enough alone.

“We’ve got more important things to discuss.” Eddie pocketed the knife and stood up, leaning in close to Jeff. His voice turned to a whisper. “Rick’s informant knew that I left months ago. And that you’re with me.”

Jeff’s expression turned worrisome. “How could he know all that?”

“He’s a fucking magician, I don’t know!”, Eddie spit out before whipping his head around. “But we’ve gotta be careful now. Keep a low profile.”

“You’re telling me that?”

“I know, you’ve got such a difficult time containing yourself, but try your best.”

Rick told the camp at large the intel he’d received and it was decided their best course of action was to go to the valet’s home and see if he knew anything about the prince’s disappearance.

“So Prince Edwin has been gone for months?”, Robin asked. “Why is his kingdom just now putting out a search?”

“They were probably searching for all those months”, Gareth said.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “But why go public with it now?”

“Perhaps it was the recent disappearance of Princess Robin and Prince Stephen”, Greenley surmised. “Rick’s guy didn’t have much to say on them, so I think it’s safe to say they haven’t been missing for months.

When the next day came, the camp packed up. Steve and Robin were given tasks to help out around. Eddie was tending to the horses and Steve watched from where he was, packing supplies into a bag. There was an odd calm in the air.

And then arrows whistled through that air.

“Raid!”, one voice shouted.

“Scatter!”, another yelled.

“Robin!”, Steve called out, searching her out.

He heard her call out his name and saw that she was already on a wagon, speeding away. Someone was holding her by the waist to keep her from jumping out. Where were they going? Was there some kind of rendezvous point? How long until he saw her agai-

“Get down!”, someone shouted as they tackled Steve over.

He wrestled until he realized it was Eddie. Eddie who smelled like campfire smoke and something earthy. When they got to their feet, Steve grabbed his wrist and they ran like hell from whoever was shooting at them and attacking the camp. Steve didn’t even know where they were going, just away from here.

He couldn’t let himself think about how Robin was going in the opposite direction. She could take care of herself. Suddenly Eddie jerked back, pulling his hand away from Steve.

“What is it? Why have you stopped?”

“I can’t run anymore, something feels weird. I think I’ve got a butt cramp”, Eddie said, hands going to his lower back.

“Are you serious? We’re being chas-there’s an arrow in your ass!”, Steve pointed, hand coming to his mouth.

“Oh…yeah…that’ll do it”, Eddie glanced and then quickly tore his gaze away, unable to look at it. 

“Well take it out, you’ve gotta take it out!”, Steve started to panic. 

Eddie put a hand against a tree and hunched over. “Would if I could. But it’s a little…beyond my reach.”

“Well what are we supposed to do?!”, Steve nearly shrieked, turning away when he couldn’t bare to look at it any longer.

“Someone’s over that way!”, a man’s voice called from a distance.

Eddie cursed and stood upright again. He grabbed Steve and brought him to crouch down behind a boulder, biting back a groan at the movement. Footsteps approached and Eddie looked around them. He grabbed a rock and tossed it in the opposite direction. It went a good few feet, but it only thudded on the ground, not providing enough of a distraction. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a smaller rock. 

He flung it and with a flick of his wrist, it ricocheted off two trees and made a slicing noise through the grass. The footsteps moved in that direction and they waited with held breaths for it to go silent again. Once they were sure, Eddie let out a sound from deep within his chest and fell over.

“You gotta take it out.”

“Take what out?”

“You know! The-

“Okay, okay! Just!-Don’t move”, Steve ordered. “Don’t move so I can…” His hands hovered over the arrow, lodged squarely in Eddie’s right butt cheek. “I can’t. I can’t do it. Maybe we can figure out a pulley system or something?”

“Just pretend I’m Robin. You’d pull it out without hesitation, right?”

Steve took a breath. “You both are built similar enough.”

“Now just what is that supposed to mEEEEEAN.” Eddie’s pitch went up when he felt something get ripped from him.

It wasn’t hard to pull out, but Steve was panting all the same as he dropped the arrow. “Alright. You need to drop your trousers.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Don’t be difficult. I pulled it out. Now let me tend to it.”

Eddie turned onto his side. “With what, may I ask? Leaves and twigs?”

Steve revealed the bag he’d been packing before the raid. He rifled through it. There wasn’t much but it would have to be enough until they either met back up with the others, or found a village. 

“I’ll take care of it. But I’m not disrobing you. Take care of that yourself.”

“Yes, because you doing it would make it improper”, Eddie rolled his eyes. But he shimmied out of his pants, just low enough to reveal the top of his cheek. 

Steve used a cloth to wash the blood. Luckily it wasn’t gushing out. Was that normal? How did arrow wounds compare to others? There wasn’t any gauze or anything to patch it up with, so Steve simply put another cloth on top, then stared.

“Is it…are you done?”, Eddie tilted his head.

“Hush up, I’m thinking!” Steve put his chin in his hand and then snapped his fingers. “Here”, he looked into the bag and thankfully found a sash. With it, he tied the cloth tightly to Eddie’s behind. It was still much more loose than a bandage would be, but at least he wouldn’t get blood on his clothes.

“Do much nursing at home?”

“Oh shut up”, Steve said, getting to his feet and turning so that Eddie could right his pants. “So, what do we do now? Everyone’s scattered.” Robin…

“They are”, Eddie agreed. “But the Bandit King has a secret hold. So we make our way there, we catch up to the others.”

“And how long will that take us?”, Steve asked.

“That all depends on you, sunshi-”, Eddie cut himself off with a groan as he tried to walk. 

“Sounds like it depends on you”, Steve chuckled.

“Alright, flesh wounds still hurt. We might be going at it a little slow.”

Steve looked at their surroundings. Deep forest, no way of telling exactly where they were. And it seemed dangerous to move while Eddie was hurt. His sister was an alpha and she had others with her. Right now her biggest worry was him. And if he returned to her with an injury, she’d never let him live it down. ‘Ever since we stopped sharing a room, it all went downhill for you.’ Said ‘room’ was how she referred to their mother’s womb.

“We’re staying here”, Steve said.

Eddie’s eyes got wide. “Here? Like right here?”

“Whoever those guys were, they’ve moved on by now. And I’m not carrying you when you collapse from that disease that makes alphas think they can carry on while bleeding.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very comfortable giving orders?”

“I’ve been told something to that effect before, yes.”

Part 7

[m3r1m4r5u333]

Argh. I'm in an emotional rollercoaster about this storyline in which Buck gets jealous when Eddie gets close to Tommy.

I mean, on one hand, it's hilarious that it's Tommy, Eddie's male friend, and not Marisol, Eddie's girlfriend, who ignites this jealousy in Buck.

Because doesn't it kinda hint that Buck has (maybe sub-consciously) internalized that Mr. "Imagine Jello with me" Diaz truly is so bad with women...

that any relationship he has with a woman can be happily ignored, as it clearly poses no threat to Eddie's and Buck's relationship.

...HOWEVER!!

On the other hand, the fact that it's Tommy, not Eddie's girlfriend, that sparks this jealousy... ?

It wrecks me because it also is pretty damn heart-breaking and sad if you look at it another way!!

Maybe this jealousy, sparked by a male friend, tells another story of Buck's thought progress.

Maybe it tells us a tale of Buck getting burned before, and learning from that, and then, to avoid further hurt, rethinking his role in Eddie's life, and clinging to what he thinks is safe and certain.

After all, there was a time when Buck, Eddie and Chris did so much together, all the time. They were close, Buck was absolutely parenting, Buck felt like he really belonged. They were a family.

And then all of a sudden, it was taken away from him!!

Imagine how deeply that would hurt.

This severed connection is btw, pretty heavily implied/canon, I think - we pretty much know, I'd argue, that when Eddie started dating Ana, there was a time when Buck did not get to see Chris much.

In the episode in which Ana and Chris visit Eddie at the firestation in 5x02...

Buck is overjoyed to see Chris, he gives him a really fierce hug, immediately asking Chris "How are you?"

I really get the impression that they haven't seen in a while.

It's supported by the way Eddie watches and grins like it's such a thrill for him, to see Buck and Chris meet - that's not really something he'd do if he saw them interact all the time, is it?

What Eddie says after he forgets to introduce Ana (too spellbound by Buck and Chris to remember her existence, basically) and has a panic attack - further supports this faltering connection.

Eddie runs off under the pretense of needing to put the salads Ana brought to the fridge.As he's making his escape, in panic, he mutters

"I don't want these things to wilt."

It's supposed to be an explanation - must save the salads from wilting! - but combined with the way he says that soon after he's just witnessed Buck and Chris meet, and the subtext telling us that it's been a while...

Eddie has just been reminded of how well the Diaz-Buckley family fits together,

and does not want those bonds to wilt - and he's realising that they have been, due to Ana pretty much taking over Buck's former parental duties. (And hey, then Eddie pretty promptly dumps Ana.)

But that doesn't erase or entirely fix what has already happened.

Buck has learned that he is replacable, that his status in the Diaz family is not guaranteed. He can be family one day, and then all of a sudden, shut out.

Learning that he's written in Eddie's will would not really cheer him up much, either. It's not security to know that he can be a parent, truly, without question - if Eddie is dead.

And then that talk he has with Eddie about a ready-made family. It really makes it clear that Buck is hurt. He tries to hide it, but it's so visible when Eddie talks becoming a ready-made family, and Eddie not knowing if he's ready for that.

Supposedly Eddie is talking about his ready-made family with Ana... But he's looking at Buck. He says "we became a ready-made family". And looks Buck in the eyes.

They aren't total idiots, they would have realised how much this whole unit of Chris+Eddie+Buck spending time together really imitates other families.

So there's no way that they don't realise that on some really repressed, strange level, this talk is about them, being a family.

Also, why would Buck look so hurt and sad, why would he look down, if he was fine with the way things have been? If Eddie was really talking about just Ana, and Buck had never felt like he was family, why would that talk about a ready-made family make him feel so uncomfortable?

Buck is hurt because he knows he was family, and he knows he was replaced, and then Eddie even kinda admits it.

And Eddie also implies that he's not ready for that.

That's really not an invite to get invested again. Nope, it's a life lesson for Buck:

Do not take these family interactions for granted. Who knows when Eddie is done with them, and you find yourself outside in the cold again!

So Buck deals with that by clinging to what is safe. What is secure. What he thinks he can have, and keep.

He decides that even if his role as a co-parent is uncertain, and may end up in the bin whenever... His role as a best friend? That's guaranteed.

So he does not feel threatened by Eddie's girlfriends. He understands now what space Eddie's partners may take in Eddie's and Christopher's life,

but that's fine because Buck can set up another spot for himself. It's maybe not ideal, not what he'd choose, but it's a spot nevertheless!

After all, Eddie finding another girlfriend, or even a wife, another co-parent... Does not remove Eddie's need for a best friend. Even married people crave friendships! So that role is available, that Buck can do, holding onto that won't get him burned!

He thinks.

And then this fucker Tommy steps into the picture, and Eddie bonds with him.

Buck gets nervous. What if he's wrong? What if even the friendship, the best friend status, is something that can be suddenly ripped away from him?

So Tommy is now competition, a threat, someone who could steal the one position by Eddie's side that Buck thought he had, for certain, for good.

Buck is worried. Jealous. Angry. Scared.

...

Anyway! See now, why this storyline is absolutely destroying me?!

[rosstrytobe]

HOW I THINK THIS IS JUST THE FIRST STEP TOWARDS EDDIE DIAZ GAY ARC PT. 1

You know that you love a character so much that you have all the explanations of why he's acting the way is doing now

Yes the cheating part sucks but if we see trough it

Eddie's not cheating Marisol with another woman

He's cheating with a woman he remembers his ex dead wife

And that's just realive how much he still proccessing Shanon death and he didn’t do it in the right way at first when he was supposed to talk about it with Frank in s3

However if we saw why he didn’t that's just a scene it comes in my mind and how it's important understand that maybe Eddie is just using a doppleganger of his wife as an exuse to something he faced at a special bachelor party 👀👀

Let's go first:

1)In s3 Bobby said to Eddie to talk about his feelings for grieving Shanon because Eddie was self distructing himself with the illegal fights -> Eddie talks about it with Frank but then he said to Buck that therapy wasn’t for him and then this scene happens:

And what Eddie said after?

Yeah. He didn’t need anymore the therapy because he was happy with the people he have now in that moment (his son and Buck)

2) In this season we saw Eddie talking with Bobby again about the Nun thing and Eddie is afraid and confused about why he can't commit to any of his past relantionships with women and why now he's having Chatolic Guilt regards Marisol -> Bobby said to him that Eddie doesn’t have a problem of commit to certain things (👀👀) and one of them is Shanon but Eddie always said that he married her just because of Christopher and he had some kind of duty towards her

He doesn’t regret being married to her but he never said that he actually was in love with her and that's a thing that even Michael felt when he married with Athena. Michael never regreted to marry her and have his children with Athena but we know from s1 that he's a gay man

But maybe just because Eddie now is scared that he will never commit to a woman. As with Marisol. He's just pretend that in this doppleganger he can find what he's missing as a female role for Christopher but as Bobby said to him he already commit in other things in his life like:

(😫😫😫😫)

3) All the dialogue with Marisol last episode i think he meant something. She asked him if Eddie was okay and even though Eddie said that he's fine. Marisol asked him again if it was a truth or a lie. And even though Eddie said it was truth we know he's not okay. He's again romanticed his marriage with Marisol out of blue because he just saw her in another woman and his false memories of her are just coming through his mind because he wants to get attached to that feeling. Because in his mind he was happy with Shanon and his marriage with her was perfect. Like the scene with Marisol that just show how him, Christopher and Marisol looked as the perfect ready made family. Like with someone else:

But we know he had panics attacks just of the thought of him, Ana and Christopher being a family and maybe this time is trying to not have them since he learned from therapy how to control them. But why he's trying to pretend to be in a perfect relantionship?

If we thinks about it Eddie seems more like he's living in his own telenovela for how the scenes went with Kim and Shanon but that's a way to not copy with something that it's happening in reality like the fact that he didn’t want Marisol to live with him anymore and he was having sexual problems with her after he figure it out she was a nun. Then he talked about it with Buck and he said to him that he wanted to break up with her but then what made him change his mind?

Yep. It’s just took Buck coming out to him to made him rethink about his relantionship with Marisol and made her moving out. Eddie of course supports him. Buck is his best friend. But support someone and see with your eyes that your bestfriend is indeed bisexual is something else. Because Eddie loves Buck as Ryan said he loves him to the core. But see Buck with Tommy just makes him a little pissed off

You can see it from how just an hug made him bite his lips with an angry mood and also what he said after just proves how much he's jealous of them. Then he spent all night making killing eye to Tommy as he did something wrong and we saw even Eddie watching Tommy yawing as if he's interest in what Tommy is doing. Later everyone leaves incluse Tommy, Buck and Eddie spent all night togheter being closer than ever. And we saw how much they were connecting their neurons togheter and in someway i think Eddie got that with no one he had ever have this much of connection. And that's why i think he's scared to analyze that emotion and he wants to hide it because he doesn’t get why he's jealous of Tommy and why he knows that nobody could ever be Buck

[bidisasterevankinard]

normal again?

G / 1041 words

Buck and Eddie talk in the gym about what happened at the cruise call (based on the photos)

text under cut

Buck sits in his Jeep looking at the station and for the first time in all his life he doesn’t want to enter this building, doesn't want to see his team, but most importantly doesn't want to, and even scared, to see Eddie. 

The cruise emergency, which almost cost them Athena and Bobby and marked itself as another near death experience for both, him and Eddie, was three days ago and Buck is still not ready to see the man. 

Not after what happened when they were almost trapped together with Eddie in the water, while saving people, and not after what he did to help the man with his panic attack.

Buck takes deep breaths to calm his mind and slow down his racing heart, remembering how Eddie looked at him after Buck’s lips left his. And this struck and almost hurt expression could be something Buck could forget about and live like nothing happened, but Eddie hasn’t talked with him since the moment they said goodbye to each other at this exact parking space.

No answers on his messages, except little one: I’m home. Not alone. Is that ok if we reschedule the movie night for tomorrow?

Then silence. 

Buck hates silence. Silence always was something around him because of his parents, and he always tries to create the sounds and conversations to never have a silence with people he loves. To never again feel like when he was a child, begging to be loved.

Eddie was the only one with whom even silence can be comfortable, but not this one.

Not when his best friend avoids him.

Loudly sighting, Buck takes his bag and gets out of the car. He was the one who kissed Eddie, who made Eddie avoid him, which means he should be the one to make it better.

And the twenty minutes before their shift is a good opportunity to clean the air between them before they will run to save people.

Good thing Eddie is already here too. Buck saw the truck the moment he parked ten minutes ago.

Entering the station he expected to see the man in the loft, and get himself five more minutes to get his thoughts together, but the way Eddie is working out, beating the shit out of the punching bag, makes him change the plan.

Buck approaches the man loudly, not wanting to scare him, so he knows the moment he appears near the bag is not a surprise for Eddie. Not with the way Eddie glances at him, with a tense jaw.

“H-hi,” Buck barely hears it himself, but Eddie nods at him, so he guess he heard it. Buck coughs and continues with normal volume, but not loud enough to make anyone look at them, “I-I was thinking we can talk about the … you know, what happened at the cruise.”

Eddie hits the bag again before speaking.

“Nothing to talk about, Buck.”

“Eddie, I kissed you and you stopped talking to me. And I-I know I messed up, but please let’s talk about it. I promise I'm sorry about my actions, and I don’t want to lose you because of it,” Buck needs Eddie to listen to him, to forgive him. 

“Wait, you think I was angry with you for the kiss?”

“I mean, what else could it be about?”

Buck raises his eyebrow, when Eddie bites his lip and nods to the benches.

He chooses to sit opposite Eddie, not wanting to trap the man with his presence.

“Buck, I’m not angry at you. I wasn’t talking to you because of my actions during the panic attack,” Eddie looks at him, but Buck sees in his pose he still doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Eddie, it's fine. You did nothing wrong.”

“Buck, I had a panic attack during work. And you had to save both of us because I was out.” 

“First, I’m your partner, it means making sure you’re safe. Second, yes, you had an attack because we were trapped together and you were triggered by water. It's normal. I-I was triggered too. I panicked too. Remembering the-the tsunami and how I almost drowned in the lift,” Buck still feels this uneasy feeling from hyperventilating which felt exactly like the tsunami. “But I just concentrated more on you, so that's why I had an attack at home. Alone. I'm happy I could at least help you. Even if I'm sorry about my actions to help you,” Buck can’t look at Eddie saying the last sentence. 

He still feels so guilty for kissing Eddie. But somehow he can feel more guilty. For wanting more. For wanting to kiss Eddie again and again.

“You... regret it?” 

Eddie's cautious and slightly sad voice makes Buck raise his head and meet Eddie's incomprehensible gaze. Buck doesn't know what that means, but he doesn't want to make Eddie think he hates the idea of kissing him. 

“I do not regret kissing you. I regret it was like that. When you were panicking and I never asked,” Buck explains and is almost ready to say something more revealing about his feelings but then remember the main thing why he should feel guilty for his actions. “And because you and Marisol are dating. You want it to work and I made it awkward.”

“I don’t feel bad about you kissing me,” Eddie slightly smiles, but then shakes his head. “But yeah, it made the situation with Marisol a little awkward. Let's forget about it? Nothing happened?”

Buck doesn’t want to forget but he would never say no to such a perfect present of making things normal again between them. Still, he needs to make Eddie promise him something.  

“Only if you promise to never hide any attacks or possible triggers ever again.”

“Only if you promise to let me help you with your attacks too.” 

“Deal,” Buck smiles and Eddie smiles back. “The cruise never happened.”

“Yeah. Nothing happened.”

Buck is almost sure they both do not believe it with the way they said it. At least he hopes so. Because for him this kiss meant more he wants to admit. But it’s not time for it.

Main thing is that he and Eddie are normal again. Right?

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion | Chapter 2

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you're left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home.

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

Chaos began to erupt. You could hear familiar and unfamiliar voices mixed with the sounds of screams, whimpers, and gun shots. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, it felt like forever, but the door of your tent soon opened with force. Before a scream could even rip from deep within your chest, the face of your mother appeared.

“Baby, we gotta go! We’re under attack,” She spoke quickly, nearly diving into the tent and grabbing for her pack along with your own.

“A-Attack? By whom?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She spoke quickly, her breath hard and labored as she rushed to gather some more things, “We gotta go!”

Your mother reached and grabbed your wrist to pull you out, and that seemed to be the spark you needed to move. You scrambled from beneath the sleeping bag you were inside and took your pack from her hands, along with making sure you had your gun and knife. When you first stepped out of the tent, you couldn’t help but look around.

Shelters and tents were on fire with screams coming from within.

Screams of help, screams of pain, screams of death.

Already you could see dead bodies across the floors, slumped against trees with their blood mixing in with the dirt beneath them.

“Let’s go,” Your mother didn’t hesitate as she grabbed you and pulled you towards the woods.

It wasn’t long into your escape that bullets began to fly beside you. You cut through the main part of the small camp your group had made, making sure not to trip over the bodies of those you had started to consider family over the last couple of years.

“Keep running!” Your mother screamed, quickly raising her gun as she ran to fire back at those that came to destroy your home.

You ducked as another bullet nearly missed you causing you to stumble slightly as you ran. Your mother came up and wrapped her arm around your body to guide you more.

The safety of the tree lines was right there in sight for you both when you felt the weight of your mother drop away from you along with the cracking noise of gunshots. You scream as a pain ripped through your upper arm and you fell with your mother’s pulling weight. The wind was knocked from your lungs as your body smacked into the ground beneath you.

“Mmmm, fuck…” You groaned as you tried to catch your breath. Your hand moved to your arm and already you could feel the stickiness of your blood against your palm. “…Mom?”

The silence was the answer that you’d gotten.

“…Mom?” You coughed as you moved to look for your mother, catching her slumped over form not too far from you. “Mom?”

She wasn’t moving.

You whimpered slightly and moved despite the pain that ripped through your body and the burn of your arm. You moved toward your mother and gently grabbed her and rolled her onto her back. Scanning over her body quickly you already saw the blood starting to stain her clothing from the three bullet holes in her chest and stomach.

“Mom!” You screamed as the panic started to set in. Your hands frantically moving to caress her face.

Deep down you knew she was already gone.

Knew there was no saving her.

But for seven years it had been you and your mom and now she was taken from you.

“I love you, momma,” You whispered gently, kissing her forehead, before reaching over and taking her pack.

You gave yourself one final moment with tears streaming down your cheeks to look at her, before disappearing into the tree lines and the safety of the dark woods.

It was several long, dark lonely months till you’d finally made it back up to Indiana. You tried keeping track of time, but it became more and more difficult since it felt like the days blended. What you did know was that the summer days were becoming cooler and cooler. The leaves change to yellow and red before falling dead to the floor beneath you. In those months you felt yourself grow up faster than you ever had before. No longer had friends and family to depend on when in need.

You were alone.

Nights were riddled with nightmares behind the soundtrack of screams.

Days were riddled with the heavy fatigue of survival of not only Flayed but also other humans. You weren’t sure which one was worse to run into.

Being a woman alone on the road wasn’t exactly the safest thing.

Your body was riddled with scars that told stories of your survival.

But when you were walking down the road and saw the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign coming into view, you couldn’t stop the relief that sagged through your body with tears. You sat there in the middle of the broken-down highway and cried as you looked at the brown and white sign. Faded from the years of being in the sun with no one to maintain it.

Finally making it to Hawkins was days ago and, in those days, you hadn’t seen anyone else but those of the Flayed.

Downtown was left abandoned. Nothing but dead bodies and Flayed lying amongst the broken-down cars and debris that covered the streets. You walked through a few of the neighborhoods and those were even worse than the main part of town. Seeing once happy homes being left with nothing but the memories of those who lived there was depressing.

Now your feet walked along the broken-down railroad that traveled through the middle of town. Most of the earth beneath started to overgrow over the wood and iron of the tracks. But memories of years came rushing back to you as you walked along. Memories of happy times with friends as you skipped class to head down to Lovers Lake to smoke.

But the silence of your home town was starting to worry you.

You’d come back here hoping to find something or someone. But now you were coming up empty handed.

-x-

Eddie watched as the unknown form moved through the woods slowly as if they were tracking something. A hood popped up over their head making it hard for him to make out their face. The only thing he could come up with, due to their stature, was that it was most likely a woman.

“What do you think we should do?” Robin whispered to Eddie as her blue eyes stayed on the stranger as they moved further north.

“Steve is going to be closer,” Eddie sighed softly and quickly looked down to check that his safety was off. “I say we sneak up behind, close in, make it harder for them to escape.” Robin nodded her head slowly, agreeing with the plan. “If they are part of that group, we bring them back to Hooper.”

“Got it,” Robin spoke, before starting to move forward, separating from Eddie for only a moment, before they ducked behind a larger bush.

A few feet ahead Eddie could see Steve and Nancy, their eyes connecting, before Steve’s hand moved up to give off signals. Eddie’s eyes watched as Steve’s fingers moved, before nodding his head, letting him know that he understood.

“Steve’s going to move forward,” Eddie reported back to Robin, “He wants you and Nancy to come from the east, I’m to come from his other side. It’s four to one, we got this.”

-x-

You were naïve to think that nothing was going to happen to you in the woods that you’d grown up in. Becoming too comfortable in the silence of everything and thinking you were truly alone. It wasn’t till a weight slammed against you that you quickly learned that you weren’t. First instinct was that it was a Flayed that was able to sneak up on you before you were able to see them.

Thankfully you were no longer the girl that let her fear take over and caused her to freeze. You fought back. As the weight slammed into you, and caught you off guard, you reared your head back. The familiar crack of your skull ending into their nose could be heard. A deep voice yelled out in pain, giving you the upper hand. You moved quickly and spun around, ducking low to bring your leg across and sweeping the stranger off his feet. As you moved, your hand reached back into the sheath and grabbed the handle of your gun.

“Jesus fuck!” the stranger yelled out as their body slammed into the forest floor.

You moved to stand over them and pointed your gun toward them, finger hovering over the trigger.

It wasn’t a Flayed, it was a person.

But the sound of footsteps rushing at you quickly snapped back your focus, causing you to look up and around. Of course, they weren’t alone. You pressed your foot down on the mans chest, before pointing your gun forward. But nothing came from in front of you.

“Don’t even think about it,” a voice came from behind you, the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head.

A sharp intake of breath cut through you as you froze.

“Toss your gun.” He spoke, pressing the barrel a little harder.

“Not gonna happen,” You chuckled and shook your head.

You ducked and twisted fast, before you moved out of the way of the gun, sending your foot into his chest. Catching him off guard and tossing him back toward the tree behind him. Even with the all too familiar bandana tied around the bottom part of his face – you recognized him immediately.

His hair was longer, curlier and somehow darker, tendrils of curls hanging from in front of his face as they’d fallen loose from the bun he had sitting at the base of his neck.

“Holy fuck,” another voice spoke, your head turning to see Nancy Wheeler from behind him.

But the soft whisper of your name caused you to look back at him. His dark eyes wide as he stared toward you. Eddie’s ring clad hand rose and pulled his bandana from his face as he took a small step forward.

Tears quickly welled up in your eyes, “Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie charged toward you, dropping his gun so his arms could wrap around your body. A cry of relief came from you the moment he was in your arms, not caring at the painful tight grasp he’d pulled you into. A sob rocked through you as your best friend for the first time in over seven years finally held you.

And for the first time in months, you felt safe.

AN: I am honestly amazed and grateful for everyone that read the last chapter. I wasn't expecting the response that I got, but I am deeply appreciative. I hope you enjoyed this one just as much! Learned a little more about the reader before she was found again by Eddie and the crew. Please leave your thoughts in the replies or come and message me! I love reading them, they are motivating.

reblog + like if you enjoyed

tag list: please let me know if you would like to be added (if your name is crossed out your @ is broken)

@mopeymopeymouse / @aris-house / @brxkenartt /@akiratoro420 / @stylesxmunson / @aactuaaltraash / @fandomgirl17 / @ches-86/ @chaoticcancer / @munsonology / @bellamy-barnes / @theonlyh3artbreaker / @idkidknemore / @familyvideowithsteve / @eddiesdingus / @thefemininemystiquee / @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i / @xdarkcreaturex / @lunr-flwr / @cherry-omi / @im-emma22 @munson-enthusiast / @munsonmecrazy

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

So I’m at work rn and listening to music and just had to send this to you otherwise I’d forget but its ‘Class of ‘86’ 20 year reunion and Eddie rocks up with wife!reader and everyone is just shocked to see him cause he “cleaned up”.

Request by.

@randomreader1999 ❤️

❤️

Eddie smirks at the stunned looks on his former classmates' faces, everyone except Robin, Steve and Nancy who he hangs out with regularly look between you and him with matching shocked expressions.

"Stare much?" you grumble and vow to verbally kick ass if someone upsets Eddie. It took a little bit of persuasion for him to even want to show up in the first place- not that you could blame him after the shit show that he told you had happened in 86.

Today was Hawkin Highs 20th school reunion and you were Eddie's date, the two of you had been together for three and a half years and were recently married .

You met Eddie when he fixed up your car for you, the stupid thing had stalled on the side of the road and all of a sudden this unbelievably kind and gorgeous man was helping you out. You were in the middle of a panic attack and he was soothing you, helping a stranger he had just met from freaking out, you were panicking that you wouldn't get to your job in time and he jumped in immediately to help you.

The second time you met was at the coffee shop you adored and Eddie was there in his mechanic uniform, hair in a bun and his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Princess, you miss me already?" he was teasing and full of mischief. The banter came easy between the two of you and it wasn't long until the two of you were dating.

And now here you were at this reunion and you were anxious to meet the idiots who thought that your Eddie could ever be anything but kind and a gentleman.

"Keep your claws in kitten, we all know they are staring because I'm hot as fuck" you giggle and kiss his cheek exasperated.

It was true he looked gorgeous. His dark curls were beautifully styled and an all-black suit fitted him to perfection. You were still a little pouty about him cutting his hair, so used to it being long but you loved the short hair too. He was fine as hell and all yours.

"I think I might have sent Miss O'Donnell into shock, must be a change not to see me looking like a and I Quote "satan lover" you roll your eyes at the stupidity of some people.

All because he wore leather and rings and looked a little bit intimidating. You thought Eddie was going to be mean as hell when you first met him and you were taken in by the broody, intense demeanour, which pretty much fell away the moment you smiled at him and stammered a nervous hello in between panicked breaths, trying to calm yourself down from panicking about your flat tire and being late for work.

He was the biggest sweetheart you had ever met. You take his hand and squeeze it gently, no one was going to make your Eddie feel like he wasn't welcome.

"Seriously though you think they had never seen a guy in a suit before" Steve jokes and you giggle, knowing that it was because the Eddie of now looked so far removed from the Eddie back then.

Fuck them. You were going to make sure that Eddie had the best time and show everyone that Eddie was amazing, he had always been amazing no matter what he wore or how he acted.

"How about we sneak away later and put that old bats desk to good use" you suggest to Eddie as O'Donell purses her lips and eyes Eddie warily. Eddie gives her a sarcastic wave and turns to you with the biggest grin on his face.

"Princess, you read my mind"

🖤

[magicalmysteries777]

The Bloody-Handed and The Anguish of Loving Them - Chapter 9.

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Eddie Munson died and it feels like the only person that isn’t moving on is Steve.

After spending the night studying a Dungeons and Dragons handbook, Steve is convinced he’s figured out how to bring Eddie back. Not only that, but defeat Vecna once and for all too. Now he just has to prove it.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Masterlist: Here.

Chapter: 9 of 10.

Chapter WC: 5k.

CW: Swearing, graphic depictions of blood and injuries, and referenced alcoholism.

This story can also be found on AO3 here.

Taglist: @ohmeg 🖤

March 25th, 1987.

“Steve, you need to run!”

Steve wasn’t running anywhere. He couldn’t if he tried.

His senses were flooding back to him, his head pounding and chest heaving as he tried to snap back into reality. Vertigo took over as he stood, his legs wobbling as he attempted to take a few steps backward away from Vecna and whatever the hell had just happened while he was in the void.

It was a few seconds before his vision focused. The first thing he saw was Vecna’s severed hand lying on the ground in front of him, the second was Kas with his wings outstretched and a large sword in his hand aimed at Vecna.

“What the-”

“Get the fuck out of here, man,” Kas instructed, not daring to take his eyes off Vecna for a second. “Get the others and go.”

“But-”

“Go!”

Everything was happening in slow motion and fast forward at the same time. Vecna seething while he nursed his wrist. His friends yelling and crying, begging him to help them. Kas circling Vecna, his sword aimed and ready.

He begged and willed his limbs to do something but he was rooted to the spot, unsure if it was still Vecna’s doing or if he was just that petrified.

“How dare you defy me!” Vecna roared, eyes fixed on Kas. “After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me? After I brought you back and made you the magnificent creature you are?”

“You made me a monster!” Kas yelled.

“I made you better! You were weak and pathetic. A schoolboy without a backbone. Now look at you. You’re stronger, faster, more powerful. You have an army at your command.”

Kas was growing more and more furious by the second. “I don’t want your army. I don’t want your power. I never did. I never wanted any of this but I knew what had to be done to destroy you once and for all!”

Kas swung his sword at Vecna, blood splattering as it sliced his upper arm. The attack had been just enough of a distraction to break Vecna’s concentration on Steve. His legs now free to move as they pleased, he weaved through the bodies of the undead towards his friends, grabbing Dustin’s knife off the ground on the way.

“I thought you were a goner,” muttered Jonathan, still struggling against his restraints.

“You and me both, man. Hold still,” replied Steve through gritted teeth, trying desperately to cut through the thick vines around Jonathan’s wrists. With one final slice, the vine split into two, black goo spurting everywhere as it writhed painfully on the ground before stilling. Steve glanced over his shoulder and thrust the knife into Jonathan’s newly freed hands. “Get them out of here.”

“What about you?” Jonathan asked, panic in his voice as he began to free Nancy.

“I’m not leaving without him.”

“We’re not leaving without you,” Dustin argued.

Steve let out a sigh of frustration, his hands balled into fists. “You’re all going, end of discussion. Nobody else is going to die because of me.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Nancy interrupted, rubbing at the marks on her wrists.

“Sweet?” Steve echoed, confusion on his face.

“Yes, Steve. Sweet. It’s sweet that you think we’d just-”

A roaring boom from behind had every head turning just in time to see a large ball of fire hurling straight toward Kas, illuminating the battlefield around them as it knocked him down to the ground.

“Um, not to put any more pressure on an already delicate situation or anything,” Erica began. “But can we hurry the fuck up a little bit?”

“Erica!”

“She’s got a point, man!” yelled Dustin.

So they hurried. Between the three of them, they managed to wrestle the others free from their restraints within a couple of minutes.

The party was looking a little worse for wear given everything they’d just been through, not to mention still being two members down, but the determination within them hadn’t faltered. If anything, they were more pumped and raring to go than they’d ever been.

“What’s the plan?” Dustin asked, glancing over at the fight unfolding between Kas and Vecna.

“We could-” Jonathan began.

“No time,” Steve announced, he too watching the fight unfolding in front of them. He could feel his heart rate rising again.

Everyone looked at Steve as though he’d just sprouted a second head. “Elaborate.”

“We don’t have time to stand around and figure out what we’re going to do,” he explained. “When have any of our plans actually ever worked? We get here, we start fighting and everything goes to shit. Eddie is dying out there and he needs our help, meanwhile, we’re all standing here twiddling our fucking thumbs.”

“To be fair, he has a point,” Erica added, reaching down to pick up the spear she’d dropped earlier.

“We’re down two people. The two strongest people, might I add,” Lucas rationalised.

“Exactly,” agreed Robin. “I don’t think our spears and knives are going to be much of a match against Vecna. Remember how well it went last time?”

“They might not be,” Steve agreed. “This could be a suicide mission for all we know. We might go over there and Vecna could snap his fingers and wipe us from existence before we can even blink. But Eddie needs our help. Might I remind you that the only reason we’re even here is because he sacrificed himself to buy us more time. That’s all he needs from us now. More time.”

They all started at Steve, not uttering a single word in protest. He knew bringing up Eddie’s sacrifice was a low blow but he had to get his point across.

“I’ll cover these two,” Jonathan told the group, pointing to the unconscious bodies of Will and El. “Might need a little help.”

The party approached with caution, their weapons gripped firmly in their hands as they tiptoed across the dead grass whilst simultaneously hoping and praying that Vecna was too distracted by Kas to hear them.

Boy were they in for a shock.

“This doesn’t seem like a very fair fight anymore, does it?” Vecna asked rhetorically, still standing with his back to the party. “I didn’t realise we were letting our little pets fight our battles for us. I’d better even the playing field.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” bellowed Kas.

Vecna raised his hand and snapped his fingers. “Much better.”

The familiar sound of screeching and a stampede of footsteps could be heard in the distance, growing louder and louder as the seconds passed.

“Demogorgons incoming!” yelled Dustin, earning a maniacal laugh from Vecna.

Kas lunged at Vecna. “I’ll kill you, you fucking monster!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Within moments a flurry of claws and teeth were all Steve could see and feel. Sweat dripped from his brow as he landed hit after hit on the Demogorgons, each one dropping to the ground with a defeated growl as they succumbed to their injuries. He weaved his way through the monsters with precision, years of practice all leading up to this final fight to the death.

The same could not be said for the rest of the party.

Robin was pinned to the ground, barely managing to hold off the Demogorgon hovering over her, still weak from her earlier brush with death. Blood was pouring from a large gash on Dustin’s cheek that was bound to leave him with a nasty scar for the rest of his days. Mike and Nancy stood back to back, desperately trying to fend off the snarling monsters that were closing in on them. As for Erica, Lucas, and Jonathan, all three of them looked like deer caught in headlights as they fought off the incoming attempts to finish the job on El and Will. Then there was Kas. Kas with his fangs bared and his wings outstretched, his sword gripped firmly in his hand and a fiery look of determination in his eyes as he planned his next move.

A large ball of luminous green light hurtled through the battle and collided with Vecna causing him to let out a painful, agonising growl as his legs buckled beneath him. Steve turned his head toward the origin of the light and saw Will standing at the bottom of the porch steps, his arm outstretched toward Vecna. Then, as though all their prayers had been answered at once, El emerged from behind Will with a smirk on her face. “Hello, Henry.”

“You,” Vecna snarled.

With another wave of his hand, Vecna sent Kas soaring through the air behind him. Steve felt his last shred of hope fade away as Kas collided with a tree trunk, an almighty thud and the clattering of metal ringing through the Upside Down as both he and his sword landed on the floor in a heap, completely unresponsive to the chaos unfolding on the lawn of the Creel house.

“Do you really think you can kill me, Eleven? Time and time again you have tried and time and time again you have failed. What makes you think this newest attempt will be any different?” Vecna taunted. He snapped his fingers again, causing a fresh wave of screeching and fluttering wings to descend on them.

“This time,” El began. Her right arm shot out in front of her and her fingers curled into a claw. Vecna let out a splutter and clawed at his throat with his remaining hand. “I know how to beat. How to play you at your own game. You’re predictable.”

Steve and the rest of the party fought valiantly against the Demobats as El and Will moved in on Vecna.

“A bit of a one-trick pony,” agreed Will. “Demogorgons and Demobats. Is that all you’ve got? I can’t believe we were ever scared of you to begin with.”

It was a newfound sense of confidence that none of them had ever seen in Will, usually timid and hiding away at the back of the group. Yet here he was facing Vecna face to face with the self-assuredness of somebody who had not only won the battle but won the war as well.

Vecna mimicked El’s actions, his long, bony fingers curling into a claw outstretched towards her. El too spluttered, her free reaching towards her throat.

“Ignis!” Will roared. A ball of scorching fire hurtled toward Vecna, knocking him back a couple of paces. His concentration on El faltered.

“It’ll take a lot more than that to end me, Will. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.”

“Not for long.”

El’s arms slowly rose from beside her, the discarded vines on the ground slithered towards Vecna before they wound around him, constricting tighter and tighter until he was bound still before them. "Acido!” yelled Will, sending another ball of luminous green hurtling in Vecna’s direction. “Acido! Ignis!”

Will threw everything he had at him over and over again without giving Vecna a chance to regain his composure. Each painful groan that Vecna let out feeling like they were one step closer to sweet, sweet victory.

Eventually, Vecna stilled. Still bound by El’s vines, he stood before them limp and lifeless baring the faintest hint of a smirk growing across his face.

With an almighty roar from Vecna, the vines wound around him burst free from his body, flying towards Will and El. Within seconds, they’d found themselves in the exact same position they’d been in not fifteen minutes earlier. Bound and helpless.

The rest of the party let out pants of exhaustion as they battled against the last of the monsters, unbeknownst to them that Vecna’s vines were slowly creeping across the ground ready to root them to the spot where they stood.

Steve felt a tug at his ankle that brought him to his knees. His bat fell from his hand in shock as he felt the vines constrict around his legs, slowly making their way up and around him until his arms were pinned to his side too.

The bats relented allowing him a moment to gauge the situation, his eyes darting from person to person as he took in the various states of despair they were all in. Bruised and bloody, about to lose the war.

Vecna turned to Steve, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye that made Steve feel sick to his stomach.

“Steve, Steve, Steve. What to do with you?” he taunted, slowly making his way towards him. Each agonising footstep made Steve shrink further into himself. “Do I kill you first and put you out of your misery? Or should I have a little more fun with you first and let you watch while I finally finish off all of your little friends?”

The term ‘pigs for slaughter’ echoed through Steve’s head as he braced himself for the incoming attack.

How naive he’d been to think that any part of his plan would go smoothly. How he’d really believed, despite all their previous history of bad luck, that he’d be able to just stumble back into the Upside Down and revive Eddie without any repercussions. How he’d unknowingly slammed down the gavel on the death sentences he’d granted each of his friends the moment he’d opened the Dungeons and Dragons handbook a couple of weeks ago.

As Vecna’s clawed hand grew closer to his face, Steve chanced a final teary-eyed glance toward his friends. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, unsure if any of them could hear him but still feeling the need to apologise once again if it was the last thing he ever did. One final atonement for his sins.

“Hey, fuck-face!” yelled Kas, appearing suddenly behind Vecna. The fluttering of his wings keeping him suspended in the air just high enough to tower over his opponent.

“I had rather high hopes for you as my lieutenant,” Vecna began, spinning around to face Kas. “You could have been great, you know? It’s a shame I’m going to have to kill you too.”

“There’s only one person that’s going to die here tonight and it’s going to be you!”

Kas lunged towards Vecna and plunged his sword into his forearm before retracting it again, causing thick, dark blood to ooze from the wound.

“You really thought I wanted to be your lieutenant? Your fucking pet?” Kas confessed, dodging Vecna’s attacks of retaliation. “That I’d betray my friends and help you end the fucking world? You’re delusional. I knew from the moment you dug me up and offered me that deal what had to be done.”

Vecna let out a low snarl and stumbled.

“I knew I’d have to be stronger if I stood any chance of killing you. More on your level. Besides, you dug your own grave.”

He swung his sword again, slicing Vecna’s exposed torso.

“You explained your entire plan to me before I’d even accepted your offer to become this delightful creature that I currently am. Like you said, I could accept and live or you could put me back in the hole. But that’s where you fucked up, Henry. You told me you needed them to open the cave. You told me Steve would be coming.”

Vecna’s eyes went wide as he finally pieced the remaining puzzle pieces together.

“If they were coming back to the Upside Down then they needed all the help they could get. You didn’t tell me you were going to play with my memories but like Will said earlier, you’re predictable. I had a funny feeling you weren’t telling me the whole truth but there was one thing you didn’t anticipate. Couldn’t anticipate.”

“Spit it out,” growled Vecna, showing obvious signs of weakness as he wiped the blood from his chest.

“Just how far Steve was willing to go. I knew he wouldn’t leave without trying to save me, I knew he’d make me remember, and that would be all I needed to finally wake up to your bullshit and end you once and for all.”

With a final slice of Kas’ sword, Vecna fell to his knees in a heap, propping himself up weakly with his hand. For the first time since he’d woken up, Kas met Steve’s gaze and his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Stevie,” Kas told him. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but if anyone can figure it out, it’s going to be you.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked, a mixture of confusion and dread rising within him.

“You’ll see,” he answered. “Promise me one thing, yeah?”

“Anything.”

“When you do, tell me all about it.”

Steve gulped nervously. “I promise.”

Kas turned his attention back to Vecna and raised his sword high above his head before plunging the tip straight through Vecna’s left eye.

It happened in slow motion.

The ground around them shaking violently, causing what was left of the Creel house to crumble and crash to the dry earth it lay on. The screech of the Demobats in the distance becoming more frantic before suddenly dying out. The burst of blinding light erupting from Vecna as he met his demise.

The vines bounding the party dropped lifeless to the ground finally freeing their extremities as Steve watched the light subside through his eyelids. He slowly opened them, eagerly hoping that he’d finally be able to lay his eyes on a once again human Eddie, ready to walk out of the Upside Down hand in hand with a smile on their faces knowing that they’d finally rid the world of the evil that was Henry Creel.

Except he didn’t.

Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces as Kas’ sword clattered to the ground, the sound of metal echoing in his ears as it stilled next to Vecna’s discarded hand. The only two pieces of physical proof that they’d won the most dangerous war that had ever existed. A war that nobody would ever know about.

Victory tasted a lot more bitter than any of them had ever anticipated.

April 25th, 1987.

Once again, Steve had found himself in the Wheeler’s basement on a Saturday night.

“Well done, man,” said Jonathan with a supportive pat on his back. "Mom and Hop will want to see this at family dinner tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he answered. “Although, you ought to be thanking Robin and Vickie for not letting me out of their sight for the first two weeks. I couldn’t even pee alone.”

“Happy to help,” Robin said with a smile.

Vickie chuckled. “Yeah, the bathroom trips were a real bonding experience for us all.”

After fifteen minutes of passing around his newly awarded thirty-day sobriety chip between the various members of the party, all of whom had nothing but praise and words of support for Steve, Lucas walked in looking flustered. “Sorry I’m late, what did I miss?”

“Steve got his thirty-day chip,” replied Dustin. “And Will’s almost finished setting up.”

Lucas threw his jacket onto the back of the sofa and walked over to his usual spot at the table. “Well done, man. That’s amazing. Oh, and I almost forgot,” he began, turning to face Nancy. “Max said to thank your Mom for the casserole. She loves it.”

“Really?” Steve asked in a hushed voice, leaning in close enough to ensure Nancy couldn’t hear them.

“She gave it to the night shift nurses,” Lucas answered with a smirk.

One by one the seats around the table filled and Steve’s first game of Dungeons and Dragons was underway. It was utter chaos within an hour.

“It could be a trap!” argued Erica.

“It could be loot,” Mike argued back.

Lucas sighed. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but I agree with Erica. If it is a trap, you don’t have the hit points to make it out alive.”

“Well?” asked Will, looking at Mike.

“Screw it,” he replied. “I’m going to go over to the chest and pick the lock.”

Groans erupted from around the table. “You are quite literally the dumbest mother fucker I know,” Erica told him, rolling her eyes.

Will pointed to the set of shiny blue dice laid out in front of Mike, pride of place. One of the many anniversary presents he’d received from El. “Roll your d20.”

Steve was on the edge of his seat as he waited for the die to settle. The rest of the party just looked pissed off, except El who was smiling reassuringly at Mike.

“Seven. So that’s a twelve,” Mike announced while double-checking his character sheet, a hint of hope in his eyes.

A small smirk settled on Will’s face. “You stray from the party, wandering over to the glimmering chest that caught your eye and wipe away the thick layer of cobwebs covering the padlock. You glance over your shoulder one last time to check that the coast is clear and insert your lock pick into the keyhole. Just when you think it’s about to open, the pick jams and snaps in two. The padlock begins to vibrate in your hand, getting stronger and stronger until thick, black smoke emerges from the keyhole.”

“Told you!” Erica scoffed.

“The smoke engulfs you, filling your lungs until you start gasping for air,” Will began before rolling his die. “You take ten points of damage.”

Mike adjusted the numbers on his character sheet. “I have one hit point left.”

Will rose from his chair and leaned over the table, knocking over Mike’s character token. “The black smoke knocks you unconscious and disperses. Steve, your turn.”

“I, uh, give me a second,” Steve stalled.

Dustin leaned over the table and looked Steve dead in the eyes before speaking. “You’re a druid. Heal him, goddammit.”

“I think I might have used all my spells, I’m not sure.”

Lucas slammed his hand down on the table. “The jar!”

“What?”

Lucas pointed to Steve’s character sheet. “The jar you found earlier. Surely that’ll help.”

Steve opened his loaned handbook to the magical items section and flicked through the pages hoping to find out what properties Keoghtom's Ointment had and how it could help them but instead found something far more interesting a few pages in. Something he’d glanced at the first time he’d looked in the book, only it didn’t have any relevance back then.

“The sword of Kas: A relic blade forged by Vecna for his lieutenant. The sword contains a fraction of Kas’s consciousness and is therefore sentient.”

He read the section over and over again, his eyes glancing between the text before him and the sword they’d mounted on the wall when they’d gotten back from the Upside Down.

“Earth to Steve?” asked Dustin, waving his hand in front of Steve’s face.

“It might work.”

“The ointment?”

Steve threw the book down on the table and jumped to his feet to take the sword off of its mount. “You guys said that True Resurrection wouldn’t work because there was nothing to use it on, right? You have to touch who you’re casting it on?”

Everyone fell silent, even the members of the party who weren’t playing D&D. All eyes were on Steve. “Right,” answered Will, curiosity in his tone.

“And as long as the Upside Down still exists we all still have this weird connection to it, right?

“Spit it out, dude,” urged Erica.

“What if there was something to use it on?” he asked, thrusting the sword into Nancy’s hand. Nobody answered. “The sword is sentient, it was forged using a piece of Kas’ consciousness. We still have a part of him. Will it be enough?”

Dustin leaned over the table to grab the book that Steve had been reading. “You’re a goddamn genius.”

The party snapped into immediate action.

El cleared the table with a wave of her hand, all the tokens and papers they’d just been using flying into the air and landing neatly in their box. The novelty of having her powers back still hadn’t worn off. Mike dragged Nancy off the sofa and guided her to the head of the table, pushing her down into the seat whilst Dustin shoved the handbook under her nose. Nancy took the book with her free hand and looked around at the eager faces staring back at her.

“Are we sure about this?” she asked. Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Steve all stifled a groan at Nancy’s expected skepticism. Mike, however, chose not to hide his disapproval and scoffed audibly. Sibling perks.

“No,” Steve answered honestly. “But I want you to try anyway. It’s okay if it doesn’t work. I’ll be okay. Please, Nance.”

Nancy took one look at Steve’s face and folded instantly. “It’ll take an hour.”

So they waited, rather impatiently, for Nancy to finish casting the spell. Some of them paced around the basement, some of them sat by the table bouncing their knees, and some of them sat staring at the clock while they picked at the skin around their fingernails. Steve took it in turns doing all three. They didn’t dare speak and break Nancy’s concentration, her eyes fixed on the passage of Latin text in the book in front of her.

Robin had silently ordered Steve to sit down when there were fifteen minutes left on the countdown. The longer he sat and stared at the hand winding around the clock, the more restless he became. He’d waited over a year to see Eddie again and now that moment was finally within his grasp he couldn’t contain the rapidly growing excitement within him. His right leg shook faster and faster as the final minutes inched closer.

Five minutes to go. Lucas and Mike were pacing around the basement again and El stood staring at the sword on the table, chewing at her fingernails. Four minutes. Robin and Vickie sat next to Nancy at the table, clutching each other’s hands. Dustin looked pale and Steve felt sick. Three minutes. Erica silently mocked her brother whilst Jonathan comforted his. Vickie looked just as anxious as she did the night they’d sat her down and explained everything. Two minutes. The party swapped eager glances amongst themselves, those sitting down inching towards the edge of their seats. One minute. Dustin sat next to Steve, their knees bouncing at the same pace. Mike gravitated towards El. Thirty seconds. Robin was visibly stressed, her face flushing. Ten seconds. Steve held his breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Nancy finished the passage for the final time and removed her hand from the hilt. Everyone raced toward the table, eyes fixed on the sword while they waited for something to happen.

“Did it work?” Erica asked, the tension in the room dispersing in an instant.

“According to the book, he should’ve appeared within ten feet of us,” Nancy answered. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

"S'okay,” he lied, sinking back into his seat on the sofa. “It was a long shot, anyway.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. It’s fine.”

He caught a glimpse of Robin and Vickie sharing a familiar look that Steve knew meant wouldn’t be left alone for the next few days.

After a few minutes of sitting with his head in his hands, Steve blinked away the tears pooling in his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up. Most of the party was still gathered around the table, inspecting both the sword and book trying to figure out what went wrong, except for Dustin who had plonked himself next to Steve again so that he too could sulk.

“You okay, bud?” Steve asked.

“I think so,” Dustin replied, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”

Steve let out a sigh. “I think so.”

“Maybe Nancy got the spell wrong, or maybe—”

Steve grabbed Dustin’s arm enthusiastically, stopping him mid-sentence. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

Dustin’s eyes followed Steve’s, landing on the lamp in the corner of the room. “Oh my god.”

Steve grabbed his keys from the coffee table and bolted up the stairs before anybody could notice he was leaving. He didn’t have time to answer questions or convince anyone he was mentally well enough to be alone, Dustin would have to do that for him.

He dropped his keys three times trying to get them into the ignition, the sweat on his palms causing them to slip out of his grasp every time he tried to pick them up before he finally managed to turn the car on. He slammed his foot on the gas, tires screeching as he pulled out of the driveway onto Maple Street.

Red lights and speed limits were of no concern to Steve, he knew damn well that once he’d explained to Hopper why he’d been driving through Hawkins at eighty miles an hour that any potential tickets issued to Steve would be expunged instantly.

He didn’t hide his car this time, instead, he skidded to a halt as close to the old trailer as he could get and jumped out of the car. Steve climbed through the window and stared longingly at the rope hanging from the ceiling, his heart rate rising as the faint sounds of an acoustic guitar vibrated around the living room. He gulped nervously and stepped toward the center of the room, placing one hand on the rope. The music stopped.

“You got my SOS then, huh? Someone needs to make a note in the book that True Resurrection has some issues when used inter-dimensionally. Ten feet my ass.”

“I can see why it probably didn’t come up during the editing process,” Steve replied, a smirk growing across his face.

“Shut up and move out of the way.”

Steve held his breath, his heart feeling like it was about to beat right out of his chest as he stared at the mess of wild, brown curls and leather that landed in a pile on the mattress in front of him.

“I always knew there was a brain in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Eds? That really you?”

A pair of big, brown eyes stared right back at him. “Hey there, big boy.”

A/N: And with that, we have the final chapter of the main story. I truly hope I've done the ending justice and that you like it as much as I do. 🖤

Just the epilogue to go now.