#eddie x death

[joequiinn]

Eddie x Death!reader, pt. 2

originally posted this idea on my main blog, but switching over to my sideblog since i have waaay more to add to this idea~

Death is literally such a menace. She should be terrifying (she is a damn reaper, after all), but because she's fascinated by Eddie's undead state, she keeps coming around to taunt him, to try to set him off. Eddie quickly comes to find her irritating rather than terrifying.

Being undead, Eddie is in a limbo state, trapped in the Upside Down. Of course, he goes through a terrible array of emotions, bouts of loneliness and pain and loss, but the moment that Death shows her face, Eddie gets as far away from her as possible, choosing loneliness over her bullshit.

Death doesn’t like to be ignored, in fact it pisses her off. She becomes pushy and aggressive anytime she’s around Eddie. She can’t stand Eddie’s limbo state anymore than he can, because in limbo she doesn’t have any real power over him. She’s never been ignored, never been brushed off before. So, she chooses to be a thorn in his side instead.

Eddie realizes that Death is actually kind of a brat. That’s such a human attribute for someone immortal, that Eddie begins to find amusement in it. There’s a familiarity to the bratty behavior, and for the first time Eddie isn’t so annoyed by Death. He even begins to push her buttons, just to see how she’d react.

Of course it pisses Death off when she realizes what Eddie is doing, but because this whole dynamic is so foreign to her, she keeps unintentionally rising to Eddie’s pestering.

Eddie recognizes that Death doesn’t understand this human behavior she’s exhibiting or the human way they’re interacting; ironically, even the personification of Death can be naive. And once Eddie realizes that, he suddenly begins to see her as more than just a pest - he starts to see her as human, in her own strange way.

Their interactions slowly become so different - more normal, even enjoyable. Maybe Eddie's loneliness was getting to him, or maybe he was actually growing to enjoy Death's company.

Death also comes to realize that things have changed, and to her that’s so utterly confusing, as she’s confronted with all kinds of human behaviors she’s never exhibited before. Somewhere along the way, she lost sight of her desire to make Eddie’s un-life absolute hell, and instead, she began to enjoy interacting with him and just being around him.

[joequiinn]

reblogging this to my sideblog since this is where i normally post stranger things shit 🤟

Eddie x Death!reader

Eddie's death in the Upside Down effectively makes him undead, trapped between worlds

reader is a personification of death and something of a reaper. they offer Eddie his life back if he's willing to reap the living for them, but he adamantly turns them down

no one refuses Death, making them perplexed by Eddie as he willingly suffers through his strange new existence rather than take the chance to return to the world of the living

Death's curiosity leads the duo to forge an unconventional dynamic, something almost akin to a friendship

Death can't help but grow fond of Eddie during their visits in the Upside Down, beginning to feel an array of emotions that they didn't think were possible for someone of their kind

Look, I love the Evil Ernie comics, and Eddie has always given me those vibes, so I just had to come up with something inspired by that dumb dead boy and his hot death gf

like come oooon

[girldadbuckley]

And I really am sorry.

[thewriterg]

hush puppy

A/n: oh wow headcannons so cute I wrote this while I was half asleep so… —kinktober day; 23—

warning(s); SMUT, power dynamic, degradation, praise, dry humping, pegging, pet names, and language

secret subs! who probably told you they were doms the first time you even brought up sex in fear that you would think how they actually wanted to be treated was gross and we’re afraid you wouldn’t like them if so

secret subs! who used to make themselves nauseous when previous flings would cry under them begging on their cock while degrading phrases were forced from his lips burning his tongue and ended not enjoying sex for a while

secret subs! who gets hard from you calling them a good boy even if they were doing something harmless like washing the dishes that has them rushing towards the bathroom to take care of the growing tint in their pants

secret subs! who act very poised and carry themselves with confidence that you can break down in seconds by a few words and light feathery touches to… sensitive areas

secret subs! who look up fem doms and are aching soon enough face flushed skin hot until they finally slam the laptop closed a vowel to never watch something like it again for obvious reasons… the obvious reasons being a stubborn boner pressing against their pants bottoms while they squeeze their legs together trying to take the pain off their aching cock

secret subs! who start testing the waters with little things like seeing how far they can get with making you angry before you tip over the edge and put them back in their place where they should stay

secret subs! who let out rushed moans not realizing what they said as you bounce on their cock your cunt swallowing them whole “ngh- oh fuck miss please”

secret subs! who let you fuck your frustrations out on them after a long day or a situation that didn’t go how you wanted it to “name augh- please, please, please, name” long whimpers and whines that are loud and clear while you thrust your hips into his abused hole hitting his prostate over and over with your strapped cock

secret subs! who act out just for your attention even if it’s the wrong attention or very right in their mind “please mam I’m ahh! I’m s-sorry I won’t do it a-a- oh fuck! I won’t do it again” he sobbed his arms tied behind his back bare now red and bruising ass revealed to you to use at you disposal “no, you wanted my attention? you got my attention baby” You hummed before bringing your hand down harshly the air whooshing behind it coming down with a harsh sting that brought tears to their eyes

Secret subs! who live for degrading insults as much as they do your praise “dirty fucking slut couldn’t wait five minutes before your getting off on my shoe” You chuckle staring down at him his clothed cock rubbing against the tip of your boot under your desk as you ended your online meeting

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

death wish love | explicit | 15k | buddie | post ep 8x06 | read on ao3

Eddie opening the door, casual and filled with a type of swagger Buck didn’t understand. Pantsless. Thighs on display. Flushed and sweaty in his thin button up.

Buck isn’t sure why the memory of that image makes his throat go tight. It didn’t faze him all that much at the time because he had other things on his mind and was sad enough that a true act of divinity probably wouldn’t have gotten a reaction out of him. But now–

Well, now Buck looks at Eddie. Bare legs and a hint of his thighs. That dark mark on the back of his right leg peeking out from the hem of his shorts. Hair mussed and a little damp, curling behind his ears.

The image of the Eddie in front of him now and the Eddie in front of him last night flicker back and forth on top of each other like some kind of montage or old movie reel.

And Buck feels…pink. Caught. Stomach all fizzy and turning.

or, after getting dumped by tommy and going to eddie's, buck wakes up the next morning only to be pummeled by his hangover and his attraction to eddie

AO3 link

[ed-died688]

tiny

tiny

OK NOW HAVE GAY PEOPLE

[vinetsu]

They are trying 🥹 🤲 ♡

(this happened before this :P)

[eddiesghxst]

being a pornstar and having an ad for a new costar because you’re looking for new talent

eddie’s low on rent this month so he sees the ad in the newspaper and calls because who’s it gonna hurt?

they actually pick up, he gets an interview, gets a screening done, actually gets the part and before you know it, he’s a stumbling mess coming in through the doors of your set and you’re like ‘great, another newbie that has no clue what he’s doing’ because eddie just looks and acts fucking clueless and honestly you’re about ready to fire your manager atp

but then you do your scene with eddie.

and god that man can fuck.

[love-me-satoru]

𝓛𝓲𝓮 𝓐𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓃𝑔: 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜𝓂!𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓍 𝐵𝓇𝒶𝓉!𝐹𝑒𝓂𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈:𝒮𝓂𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒, 𝒞𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓍 𝓉𝑜𝓎𝓈, 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝓅𝓊𝓈𝓈𝓎 𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝐻𝒾𝓂 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎:𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒.

“what are you doing?”

you rush to hide your vibrator so he doesn’t see it.

“nothing!”

he immediately walked to your side and grabs your wrist the vibrator still in hand

“Lie again.”

“i’m not!”

He roughly runs his hand down your core. collecting your slick all over his fingers.

“so what is this?”

you looked away trying to not meet his gaze while he roughly grabs your chin with his free hand to make you look at him.

“lie to me one more time little girl and you’ll regret it”

you refused to say anything. staring at him. you knew that saying nothing wasn’t a good idea. It would just pissed him off more and that’s exactly what you wanted. and he knew that. His hand drops from your face and wraps firmly around your neck.

“You fucking brat. Doing whatever you want. Not even trying to hide it anymore.”

you try to suppress the smirk forming on your face when he lets go of you completely. Your face drops completly. He walks away from you going straight into yalls shared closet coming back with a few things in hand.

“Stand up.”

you shake your head no. still silent. still staring at him. when he grabs a fist full of your hair to pull you off the bed. you’re trying to pull his hand of to have some relief to your head when he smacks your hand away.

“You made your bed princess. Now take what you deserve.”

You really didn’t notice what was in his hand until he was right in front of you. Your eyes widen. clearly frighten.

“Please! anything but that!”

“shut up.”

And you do. Not wanting to make your punishment any worse than it’s already going to be. There was 2 things in his hand. some rope and a riding crop. you knew if he pulled out that he was over it.

“What are you colours?”

“Green Yellow and Red, Sir.”

“Color?”

“Green”

“Good.” he throws quickly ties you down to the bed and stares down at his work. Slowly running the riding crop up and down your exposed thighs. “It’s such a shame.” He hits your leg hard. watching you scream out. he smacks your leg again And laughs. “You’re so pretty like this baby.” Tears flowing down your face. He grabs the vibrator from the bed and turns it on. “you wanna play again baby?” slowly running the vibrator along your folds.

you let out a loud whimper. trying to run away from the vibrator. but not really moving anyway. when he pushes the toy directly onto your clit letting out a loud laugh.

“Where you going baby? You can’t run from me baby”

You’re literally about to lose your mind. about to scream when he pulls the toy away and laughs.

“You know i can tell when you’re about the cum baby?”

You’re thrashing against your ropes begging him to let you cum. Letting out loud whines and begs of his name to let you cum. But you silence yourself when there was a loud SLAP against your cunt and you scream lettting out your release all over him. He let out a dark chuckle. staring down at you as he wipes your cunt with his hand. “What’s this baby?”

You whimpered.. scared to speak when he slaps your cunt again.

“I expect an answer when i speak, Yes sir?”

“Yes sir! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

he laughs. a sinister feeling behind it.

“of course not baby. When your mind is everywhere but here you didn’t mean to”

you weren’t sure where this was going. but when he forced three fingers into your spent cunt you lost it squirting all over him again.

“God. You’re so pretty like this baby. Do it again”

he pumps his fingers inside of you pulling out screams from your throat when he feels you clench around him.

“give it to me baby”

And you do. it’s so fucking messy. and you’re so fucking gone.

“Please sir.. I can’t anymore”

“you really should of thought about it before you decided to disobey me baby”

-Toji, Sukuna, Suguru, Eren, Onyankopon, Light, Sanemi, Eddie, Dabi, Tengen, Connie, Rafe, any of your fav hardoms out there

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, I love your stories and I hope you can make my fun request

Can you do Eddie Munson x Death fem reader

So hear me out let's say there in the upside down (11 and everyone isn't in California there in Hawkins and in the upside down with them and while they where chilling out in the upside down when Steve got hurt all of the sudden they heard whistling and turned and see a badass fem reader and walked up to 11 and starts toying with her (just like the wolf from puss and boots yk Death and when they figured out she's actually death they somehow get her a change of heart (after she tried to kill 11 and showed off her power a bit) and her and Eddie fall in love or Eddie falls first.

Sorry if it’s long

This was actually so fun and I loved writing the Death character. So if anyone else loves it, feel free to request ( once they are open ) for more death reader. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Death was inspired by Rio from Agatha all along, won't lie. But the Death character is NOT Rio. If that makes sense. Just don't think Aubrey plaza is the reader because she's not, just was an inspiration so I wanted to give the credit to that.

Lady Death

"I FUCKING hate these bats," Steve growled. Nancy sat on her knees as she tried to cover Steve's wounds.

"What the hell is this place?" Eddie asked once he caught his breath. All he knew was that he jumped off a boat and was in a hell pit.

"The upside down," El said. She was looking around, almost like she felt the presence of something no one had seen yet.

"Oh great, so I have to fight to survive in the normal world, and now I have to survive in this sewer-type place? And this girl has powers?" Eddie asked frantically. He knew somewhat of everything that was going on, he just didn't believe it was a real place.

"Dude, I've already told you all of this!" Dustin argued.

"No offense, kid. But I figured you were full of shit!'" Eddie spat.

"Guys! Quiet," El demanded. Everyone went silent as they looked at her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel what was wrong. "There's something here," she whispered.

"Yeah, flesh-eating bats!" Steve hissed.

Before anyone could say anything, El was flung across the ground.

"EL!" Mike shouted, running over to her. But before he could come in contact with her, she was evaluated into the air. The gang watched in horror as she seemed to be held up by her throat, by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" Robin panicked. Nancy worked faster to clean up Steve.

The sound of someone whistling filled their ears. The gang all turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a skin-tight green bodysuit, holes on the sides that showed skin, a green crown on her head, and a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

Everyone stared at her in fear and awe. She was incredibly beautiful, but nothing alive behind her eyes.

"Poor little El, not so strong anymore, huh?" The lady mocked, she flicked her wrist and El fell to the floor. Mike raced over to her, this time able to collect her body in his arms.

"Who are you?" El asked, panting as she took air into her lungs.

"She's Death," Eddie said in awe. Everyone looked at him shocked, how did he know who she was?

Even she was surprised. She was fast, appearing in front of Eddie in seconds as she gripped his neck. Eddie tried to cover up the fact that he was incredibly turned on by her harsh touch.

"Who are you?" she questioned, Eddie blushed under her studying eyes. She took in every inch of his face, something about him was familiar.

"Edward Munson," he choked out. The gang didn't move an inch, staring at the two.

"How do you know who I am?" She released his throat to allow him to speak. She flicked her wrist and everyone in the gang was thrown to the ground. They were stuck, not able to move a muscle.

Eddie was a little scared, looking at his friends and some people he barely knew trapped under her power.

"I've read about you. You collect souls, right? El was supposed to die from Vecna but she escaped. Unfinished business and now you have to finish her," Eddie explained, "am I right, Y/N?"

Y/N stepped away from the boy. She felt uneasy that he seemed to know everything. No one was supposed to know who she was until she took their soul, of course.

With her distracted, the gang ran over to El. El was quick to use her own powers, sending Y/N in the air and harshly crashing into the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her body went still.

"LET'S GO!" Steve yelled, the gang nodded and all ran to make their escape. Eddie went to follow but when he took a look at Y/N's limp body on the floor, he stopped.

"Eddie, come on!" Dustin said, gesturing his hands to show that everyone was leaving.

"We can't just leave her," Eddie argued, against his better judgement he walked towards her.

"You said it yourself, she's Death. I think she's capable of handling a bump on the head," Mike sassed. He was annoyed that Eddie seemed to care about a stranger that was more than willing to kill El.

Eddie ignored Mike's words, kneeling down as he rolled her body over. There was a gash on her head, blood running down the side of her face. Eddie didn't have anything on him to help, but he ripped the end of his shirt and tied it around her head. He watched as his white shirt began to stain with her blood, but he didn't mind.

She couldn't die, he knew that. But he wouldn't feel right leaving her behind with no help at all.

~~~

It's been a few days since the encounter with Death, and she was in everyone's head ( just for different reasons.) El thought of her as a new enemy and most of the gang were terrified to know they were that close to Death.

But she was in Eddie's mind for a different reason. When he was younger he loved reading about death and what happened in the afterlife. He learned what death was, who death was. She's been around for centuries but never aged. Still the beautiful girl, who lost her soul too young.

Eddie often felt a connection to her. She didn't have a family, or any friends. People were scared of her, banished her, leaving her alone for years and years. She was like Eddie and Eddie was just like her. He was alone and banished in his own way, but they had much in common.

He couldn't leave her behind because he understood the pain of being alone. The pain of everyone running away, terrified. He wanted her to feel cared about for once.

Something about Eddie humanized her in a sense. She hadn't felt anything in her body since she died. She didn't feel emotions, her heart, not even her lungs. But when she was near him, touching and seeing him, she felt a beat in her chest. A flutter in her stomach.

Her body felt alive

She was able to trace where he lived from the property of his shirt. She carried the blood stained shirt in her hand as she walked through the woods, looking for his trailer park.

She felt that same beat in her chest as she walked past a small trailer. Random chairs in the front and an ash tray by the door. She walked away, the beat in her chest decreasing. With furrowed eyebrows, she walked backwards, the beat increased.

"Well look at that, having a heart is good for something," she scoffed, turning in the direction of the trailer.

She didn't knock, using her powers to fling the door right off the hinges.

Eddie was brushing his teeth when he heard his front door slam a wall.

"Shit!" He swore through his foamy mouth. He figured a big gust of wind blew through the door but when he came out, he saw Y/N standing in his house. His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he stared at her in shock.

"On-mf-e-sec-mff," he said through the foam. He turned and raced back in his bathroom to spit out the paste and rinse his mouth. He jumped when Y/N appeared behind him.

"Um, hi," Eddie said, staring at her reflection. She stood tall behind him, peaking over his shoulder. Her hair was down, framing her face. She was in her death clothes, the tight bodysuit making him gulp.

"You gave me this," she spoke bluntly. She held his shirt, hanging from her fingertips. He turned around and grabbed the shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he smiled. She flinched as she felt her heart race. But recovered with a smile.

"You're welcome," she said, turning around and walking out. Eddie followed, confusion on his face.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, moving to cut her off. Her body slammed against his and she stepped back. Her face stone cold.

"I dropped off the shirt. That's all that needed to be done," she said. Eddie frowned, thinking about how the only time she's in someone's presence is to kill them.

"Hey, you know you can be around people for fun, not just take their souls," the comment sounded like he was a dick but he was genuine about it. He closed the door and moved to his couch, patting the seat next to him.

She eyed him, moving cautiously and sitting next to him. "Well, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me. I promise my friends are kind people, they just had to fight for their lives a few too many times," Eddie sadly laughed.

"You haven't?" She asked, Eddie could feel her eyes. He turned his head to look at her, trying not to get lost in her eyes.

"I have, I just understand how it feels to be the one that's left behind. I've studied you my whole life and you're not as scary as the books made you seem."

Y/N was in awe of the softness he showed and offered her. She couldn't remember when was the last time she got to be in someone's company.

"And by far more beautiful in person," he said, softer and quieter than before. Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin getting warm.

She felt shy, moving her head to hide away but his hand reached out. She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on her warm cheek. The eye contact felt intense, like she was in a trance and unable to look away. She didn't want to anyway, she wanted to stare at him all day long.

"You know, since you brought back my shirt. I think I owe you for your kindness," he whispered. Her stomach flipped as a small smile formed on his face. His perfect pink lips stretched as his white teeth were on display. She turned her head to the side, questioning him.

"You hungry?" He asked, "for food not souls." He clarified. She couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"I could eat," she smiled. He smiled back, standing up and grabbing her hand. He was prepared to go right out the door but then he stopped.

"Would you maybe feel more comfortable in..uh-" he stuttered, still feeling the effects of her suit clinging to her body and showing off her figure. "Comfier clothes?"

"What are the options?"

~

"Steve, if I hear you moan and bitch about the bats one more time, I will cut you myself," Robin threatened.

"I'd like a little support here! I could've died!" Steve argued. Nancy laughed to herself as the two began to argue. Jonathan had his arm thrown around her shoulder, looking down at the menu.

Eddie walked in, his hand in hers as he looked around for an open table. He was shocked to see Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan at a table.

Steve looked up and his eyes locked on Eddie, and then the girl next to him. Eddie gave him a small wave but turned the other direction, leading Y/N. They sat at a table, with her back to his friends.

Steve raced over to their table, he wanted to see if his eyes were seeing things. But as he made it to them, his eyes were right. Eddie was holding hands with Death.

"Can I talk to you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Eddie.

"One second," Eddie said, softly kissing her hand before he let go.

The two huddled over to the side, Steve whispering harshly.

"Are you insane?"

"She's still a person!" Eddie argued

"She's a killer, Eddie. You can't just get sucked into her looks. She's evil."

"She's not! It's a job. She doesn't kill randomly. She only goes when she's called. There's some human inside of her, I'm going to bring it out. She just needs someone to show her" Eddie explained.

"You are going to risk yourself and all your friends because you want to find the human in her?" Steve scoffed, "I don't believe there's any human in her," Steve looked over at the table. She sat drumming her fingers as she twirled a knife in the air with her powers.

Eddie sighed, knowing she wasn't helping his case.

Steve noticed a look in Eddie's eyes. He was desperate and he had this soft look when his eyes cast over her.

"You fell for her already, didn't you?" Steve chuckled. It was nice to see Eddie had a romantic side to him. Steve remembered the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

"Yes," Eddie sighed. "Which I know is crazy but trust me, she came to my house and do you know how easily she could have killed me if she wanted to?"

Steve sighed, he nodded his head. Sometimes he hated being a good friend.

"Well," he puffed, landing his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Enjoy your date. And the gang will need to hear all about it."

The hand that was on Eddie's shoulder was suddenly ripped off. Steve cried out as his arm was bent backwards behind his back and slammed into a wall.

"Y/N!" Eddie hissed, taking her body off of Steve's.

The rest of the gang looked at the commotion, fast on their feet to run to Steve.

"Sorry!" Y/N said, a look of shock in her eyes. "I felt something burn in my body and lost it."

"From what?" Steve asked, his eyes huge as he sassed the girl, who he now noticed was dressed in Eddie's clothes.

"You touched Eddie," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't exactly sure herself.

"What's going on?" Robin asked. Quickly looking Death up and down, which didn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He snapped his fingers and Robin looked at him.

"Well," Steve said as he rubbed his arm, "looks like Eddie and um Y/N here are on a date."

The gang were shocked, not sure what to say.

"And she's the jealous type," Steve added through his clenched teeth.

"I'll stop by later and talk yeah? I'd like to enjoy my date," Eddie said as he slipped his hand into hers.

"Uh sure," Nancy said, still giving the two a weird look. Jonathan kept quiet, but he was just as confused.

The gang walked back to their table, Robin looking over her shoulder as the two sat back down.

"How the hell did he manage to swing her? She's way too hot for him," Robin scoffed.

"Oh little Rob, we'll get you your own little Death lover," Steve teased.

~~~

Within a few months, Y/N was around more often. She was glued to Eddie's side whenever she could be. Eddie loved it. He loved always having someone on his arm, and he wasn't mad about the kisses that were always placed on his skin.

The gang accepted her, a little on edge at times but she was mostly harmless. It was clear that the two were head over heels for each other in their own ways.

The times she was called to do her work, Eddie waited in his trailer. His heart warming when she appeared back within minutes, claiming she missed him.

Then she'd slide in his lap, Eddie's hands landing on her hips. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, thankful for the holes in her suit. He was guilty of getting hard whenever he saw her dressed in her suit. She was Death so of course she was mean about it. Rocking her hips against him as she slowly kissed his lips.

She was his and he was hers.

Who knew Death could make someone feel so alive.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[joequiinn]

Cirice | E.M. x Death!OC blurb

Summary | Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down, undead and trapped. A Reaper of Death begins to take a particular interest in the undead man who doesn’t belong...

[ for context: ramblings pt one | ramblings pt two ]

Author's Note | I make absolutely no promises that this will go anywhere because I am the slowest and most forgetful writer on the planet, but I thought maybe I would just post a lil blurb experimentally? Get some thoughts since I'm not very good at editing my own work? Also uuuh Death is an OC now instead of a reader insert because it became too complicated to write once I realized the scope of my ideas soooo... (@ali-r3n in case you were interested 👀)

WC | 1.2k

Can't you see that you're lost? Can't you see that you're lost without me?

Waking from the dead in the Upside Down was not on Eddie’s 1986 bingo card. Hell, if someone had suggested the concept of the Upside Down to him only a week ago, he would have looked at them like they were crazy. Places like this weren’t real. Shit like this didn’t happen. Especially not to Eddie Munson.

But this was very fucking real, and it did happen to Eddie Munson.

Eddie willingly ran into danger, into the arms of death for the sake of Hawkins, a town that never gave him anything, a town that came to hate his guts. This sacrifice was Eddie’s final act to save his friends, to save Hawkins. To save the damn world.

So, why the hell was he… alive?

Was he alive? Despite the obvious smattering of bites and lacerations that adorned his body, Eddie felt no pain, no lingering aches. It sure felt like his chest was rising and falling with breath, like he still had blood pumping through his veins. And yet… something felt very, very wrong. An unsettled air hung around Eddie, his mind wrapped up in an unidentifiable sense of dread. Something wasn’t right.

The Upside Down hadn’t been quite so frightening when he had friends by his side. But now, it felt colder, harsher, cavernous and empty. Every direction Eddie looked seemed like an endless dark, hissing and whispering with the promise of something evil. The Upside Down felt less like a sad replica of Hawkins and felt more like a dark, endless void.

Vulnerability washed over Eddie like a chill. As he took in his ominous surroundings, he felt like a small, lost boy, a child abandoned in a sick and dangerous world, helpless to find his way.

From where he was, presumably, left to rot by the demobats, Eddie carefully looked all around himself, afraid that he might see something terrible. Or worse, something terrible might see him. The Upside Down was void of any activity, any commotion, any life. It was haunting to see it oh so quiet.

Eddie looked down at himself, at his ripped up and tattered clothes. He could see his skin beneath the fabric absolutely littered with deep cuts, damaged and sure to scar terribly. He wondered how bad his face looked in comparison. Again, it struck Eddie as odd and deeply unsettling that he felt no pain. As he studied his hands, he realized just how ashen and washed out he looked - nearly the same color as the dead bodies he’d seen in shitty horror movies. An uncomfortable pang hit in his chest at that realization.

But he was breathing, he was still alive. He had to be, considering that he was consciously sitting here at this very moment. He had to be, right?

And yet, something within Eddie knew that he was no longer what he used to be.

-.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. .

This place should not have existed. This pocket between worlds - this disruption to the cycle of life and death - went against all logic, even the flimsy logic of the afterlife. This tattered, disgusting, offensive mockery of the living world was strange and unbelievable - all creatures of the dead despised this place, were appalled by it.

But despite all that, Death was drawn like a moth to a flame.

This false world and its impossible wonders called to her as if in yearning; its sadness and misery spoke to her cravings. If she had a soul, it would feel a longing for this pathetic world.

Time passed differently for psychopomps. As beings beyond life and death, time was never relevant to their eternal existence. Psychopomps led the fallen to the afterlife, they hunted the living, they killed purely for the fun of it - what place did the passage of time have in any of that?

There were many Deaths of the same name, the same title. Perhaps they followed different paths, perhaps they had varying focuses, but the constant still remained - they were all Death. Of course, one might encounter variation - some referred to themselves as Reapers, others as Banshees, maybe Bone-Men, or even the Devil. But many had always been simply Death.

The particular psychopomp drawn to the world between worlds never referred to herself as anything other than Death. She never thought much on her existence, how she came into being, what her purpose was. She didn’t remember anything prior to this existence. She didn’t know if there was anything to remember. There were all sorts of legends scattered about the underworld and the afterlife, tales told by demons and reapers alike - there was a widely held, but not so far proven, belief that they were all something before becoming Death, but no one knew what exactly that something was.

Once this Lady of Death began exploring the impossible pocket between worlds, she found herself pondering her existence a little more often. Considering that this strange place shouldn’t have existed in the first place, it made her wonder what other paradoxical things could happen, what other unfeasible things could be true. Death wasn’t the only one drawn to this place, of course, as a variety of other harbingers of death also began to visit this uncanny mimicry of the living world. However, she did find it to be a remarkably good place to think, something that she didn’t exactly get many opportunities for - no, as a reaper, there was little time to pause and be left alone with one's own thoughts.

Death found herself often visiting this Undead World, as she took to calling it, taking the opportunities to contemplate the cycles of life and death, of infinite life and infinite death. And once she began to visit the Undead World, Death found it to be utterly fascinating.

First came the boy. A tormented child, trapped in the throes of unknown dangers, suffering day and night at the hands of demons beyond his greatest nightmares. Unfortunately, he got out.

Next came the girl, not quite a woman, undergoing absolute agony upon her arrival to the Undead World. Death hadn’t seen her in quite some time, so who’s to say whether she lived or died.

Perhaps that was why Death kept returning - between its many stretches of quiet, the Undead World would momentarily come back to life with utter chaos and woe before quieting down yet again.

Those moments of chaos, however, were mouthwatering.

Recently, the latest bit of excitement to come to the Undead World was absolutely fascinating - a whole party of mortals entered the world willingly, found their way into this place that had no right to exist. When that happened, it was almost as if the Undead World sent out a signal, calling out to Death to announce the latest arrivals. She wasn’t the only demonic creature to pay the world a visit, desperate to see the torment that would unfold.

And yes, it was glorious, the violence, the mortal foolishness and determination. Of course, curiosity came when it appeared that the mortals defeated the creatures that dwelled in the Undead World.

What did mortals want with a forsaken world like this? Why come willingly, why fight the native creatures of this disgusting place? The lives of mortals were an amusement to behold; humans were full of surprises, and Death relished in it.

She shouldn’t have cared why the humans came, shouldn’t have even paused to consider the circumstances. But the curiosity was overwhelming, her need to know almost consuming, so vastly out of character for her.

And then, she found her potential answer in a body left behind, a body that appeared dead, but wasn’t quite so...

[ourflagmeanssteddyhands]

the way izzy looks at ed :’) so in love with his manipulative girlboss wife

[foxedfriend]

Your honour, what the “witness” fails to mention about the “attack” is that I only beat up the writer after they wrote a beautiful story of a queer character falling in love with their best friend over the better part of a decade, hint subtextually at it being requited, had the interviews and promotions of the media play into it and profit from queer viewers feelings… only to end it tragically and/or follow it up by writing the queer character a one dimensional love interest within the last few episodes, put nothing into the relationship, and have them be the endgame instead. Did I mention they yanked the fans around for YEARS?? Literally years. Almost a decade. Yeah. So. I plead self defence.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

The Rookie 2x1 | 9-1-1 4x14

[lonelychicago]

You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about

the one where buck dies and eddie is left to deal with the aftermath.

for @hoodie-buck bc she gets it <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?” 

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?” 

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.” 

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite. 

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt. 

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos. 

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.” 

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.” 

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt. 

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.” 

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center. 

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio. 

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.” 

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses. 

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.” 

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.” 

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.” 

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption. 

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.” 

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.” 

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.” 

Her as in you. 

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to  Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

 “We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.” 

“I did tell him the truth-“ 

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.” 

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates. 

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him. 

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?” 

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?” 

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?” 

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?” 

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together. 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.” 

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over. 

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie. 

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss. 

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well. 

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.” 

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance. 

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.” 

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!” 

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience. 

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did. 

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger. 

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.” 

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.” 

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.  

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end. 

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment. 

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth. 

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been. 

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back? 

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.” 

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat. 

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts. 

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you. 

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room. 

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano. 

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.” 

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before. 

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep. 

Were you ever his to keep, ever? 

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you. 

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you. 

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.” 

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off. 

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat. 

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock. 

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?” 

You were never his to keep. 

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew. 

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to. 

“I made loving you a blood sport.” 

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality. 

“I want to be forgiven.” 

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing. 

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk. 

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.  

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person. 

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone. 

You never came home. 

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again. 

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His  own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this. 

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night. 

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off. 

He never dropped the key. 

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated. 

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.” 

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page. 

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play. 

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness. 

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through. 

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench. 

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips. 

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you. 

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that. 

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