#what? Eddie didn’t made it? that’s not true man

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse, epilogue 1/2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) On AO3

Chapter 17: Epilogue (part 1)

One year later

Eddie strode across the lobby of the Beverly Hills Yorkshire.

He slid his blaring Walkman headphones from his ears—savoring the delectable mutterings of high-and-mighty folks’ having their feathers ruffled by his mere presence—and slammed his credit card down on the reception desk. He slammed its hapless occupant with the mega-watt grin that’d studded his life more regularly this year than the last.

His fiendish gurning was set off to perfection by rocker hair that was ‘so last decade,’ an Exodus t-shirt featuring the band performing cannibalism; and jeans with a rip up his left thigh that artfully allowed the cool air to kiss through his underpants to his butt-cheek.

“Room for a little one, Sweetheart?” That brought a raspberry blush to the male receptionist’s cheeks. “Penthouse suite would be a blast.”

“Uh… right. Yes, of course. Let me see what we have available, Sir.” The guy eyeballed the card nervously, although, frankly, Eddie’s nerves were kicking off too. This had seemed like a hilarious jape last night, at least to Eddie, if only to make the forced-conformity piggies around him wriggle and squeal…

…and to get a bad day off to an unsettling start for one particular douchebag who needed bringing down a billion pegs or so.

The receptionist had wandered into the back office, and then… Eddie rubbed his sweaty palms together, and mumbled, “Showtime.”

Head concierge, Larry Kline, emerged from behind the scenes. Eddie detected some decidedly pinched lines at the edges of Kline’s oily smile.

I know why you’re sweating. You’ve been summoned to an ‘extraordinary’ meeting of the board of shareholders who own this hotel.

Unlike me, you don’t have the faintest clue as to why.

“Mister Munson.” Each syllable was a stabbing ice-pick. “I’m afraid the Penthouse Suite is occupied. In fact, we are fully booked.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” sang Eddie. Robin had already checked for him.

Kline pressed two white-knuckled fists to the counter, dropping his voice to a snakey hiss. “You’ve got a damn cheek, coming here, after you assaulted another guest.”

“Those charges were dropped, man,” announced Eddie, loud and theatrical. “I think you’ll find the lying son-of-a-bitch who made those accusations is now in jail. Then again, if this hotel ONLY WELCOMES JAILBIRDS then I’ll be on my merry—"

“Get out!” Kline jabbed a finger toward the revolving door. “Get out before I summon the police!”

“Cops, huh?” Pretty much everybody in the lobby was now gawking at them, and the lyrics of ‘I hate everything about you,’ by Ugly Kid Joe radiated tinnily from Eddie’s headphones. The snark-fest song wasn’t a favorite or the most subtle choice. Kline would never have appreciated the depths of any true thrash metal track. Either way, Klein was enjoying the show a lot less than Eddie. And Eddie was only the warm-up act. “Call ’em if you want, Sweetpea. I’ll wait for my room-key, or for the cops to come and arrest me for…” He drummed his fingers on his lower lip. “What exactly?”

“I should think rifling through your pockets for illegal substances would reap dividends,” seethed Kline. “We had to fumigate that suite after you left.”

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, dude. I quit my entire spectrum of smokey substances over a year ago.”

Eddie blew Kline a kiss then was pretty sure he detected steam hissing from the concierge’s ears.

The receptionist cleared his throat. “Mr Kline? The, uh, board of shareholders are waiting.”

Eddie didn’t miss a beat. As soon as Kline disappeared, tugging at his neckerchief, Eddie skedaddled to the nearest service corridor, where Robin was waiting for him.

“Is he okay?” asked Eddie.

“Yeah, I think so. He’s all set.”

She hooked her arm through his and tugged him through a small door. At first impression, they seemed to have entered a cramped space, almost totally filled by a table of used coffee-cups and leftover and half-eaten pastries. Then, as the hum of conversation rose in his ears again, he realized they were behind a curtain at the catering section of a huge conference room.

Robin peeped around the curtain. Eddie held back, fists curling so tight his rings and nails gouged his palms.

Steve had gone through a lot in this past year. Too much. He’d stood up in court, faced the most brutal of interrogations. With the help of other abuse victims, who Suzie’s legal team had traced and supported, he’d helped dump a whole bunch of nasty pieces of shit in jail. It’d been impossible to keep his name out of the press completely. On the other hand, the exact nature of the financial handouts to the Harrington heir—following early victories in his ongoing multi-million-dollar lawsuit against his parents’ lawyer, Martin Brenner—had been kept more or less under wraps.

In the final months before Brenner had been arrested on charges of fraud and sex trafficking, he’d purchased shares in the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. It had been why his current jailbird buddy, Dickchester, had switched hotels and had been allowed to treat the staff like dirt. Robin had known that at the time, even though she’d had no clue that these were Steve’s abusers. Now, the vast majority of Brenner’s assets were in the process of being transferred to Steve.

Eddie sucked a swift breath into his leaden lungs and peeped around the curtain.

The room was bigger than his and Steve’s entire apartment—and for LA, theirs wasn’t exactly a broom cupboard. On the other hand, the illusion of space was magnified by the small number of shareholders—six men and two women, all pushing retirement age. A little apart sat Vickie, the hotel’s newly recruited business manager. And, at the far end, a guy barely out of his teens sat at the head of the vast table.

Steve was rocking the power vibes. He’d paired his ray-bans with an Armani suit—Eddie reluctantly conceded his boyfriend made even establishment bling hot—countered by the pair of Nike Airs he’d gotten planted on the table. His hair was so perfectly groomed that Eddie fought an urge to run out and ruffle it.

Yeah, Steve had nailed the act. Apart from, perhaps, the arms he’d gotten wrapped tight and defensively around his middle.

Eddie’s own hand clamped to his stomach. He was so nervous, suddenly, he felt sick. “Should we—”

“Ssssh!” Robin pressed a finger over her lips.

Kline had entered at the far end of the conference room. Silence reared up. “To what do I owe this honor?” he smarmed. “Should I take a seat?”

“No,” said Steve, tipping back on his chair. He nodded to an older lady, sporting the archetypical blue rinse, twinset and pearls, who sat to his left. “Vera? Would you do the honors?”

She stood up: “Mister Kline, a multitude of instances of gross misconduct have been brought to our attention. It is the unanimous decision of the shareholders that you should be dismissed today. With immediate severance of all pay.”

“But… but…” Kline’s hands flapped wildly before clapping together in a prayer: “Ladies, Gentleman. I am sure this is a trifle—a misunderstanding that can be easily cleared up. Shouldn’t I at least know what these accusations of misconduct are? Who is making them against me?”

“All those questions can be answered by our new majority shareholder,” said Vera. “Mr H—”

“Thanks, Vera,” said Steve, cutting her off with a breezy wave. He changed the cross of his ankles on the table. “Kline, you’re a bully and a liar. You’re also one hundred percent guilty of physically assaulting at least one member of staff in this shith… uh, I mean, in this fine institution. I’m happy to testify to that, but I’m sick of court cases. I want this to be over.”

Kline’s eyes stretched wide. Robin grabbed Eddie’s hand, finding it as clammy as his own. Had Kline figured it out yet?

Steve raised his sunglasses to nail Kline with a death-ray glare. “You’re fired, asshole.”

“You?” squeaked Kline.

“Yeah, it’s me. Let’s recap for your jumped-up little pea-brain. Treating me like shit? Treating anybody like shit, just because you can get away with it?” As the former chief concierge opened and shut his mouth like a beached fish, Steve smirked, apparently totally at ease now: “Big mistake. Big. Huge.”

…

Steve let Vera bark the final orders: “Clear your desk, Kline. You have five minutes to get out, before security will kick you into the gutter where you belong.”

Steve’s heart pounded against his ribs.  Adrenaline tore through his veins. He watched Kline scuttle from the room like the cockroach he was, and then unleashed what felt like the longest, most heartfelt sigh of his life. He slid his sneakers down from the table and righted his chair with a loud clack.

The entire board’s attention swerved back onto him. For the briefest moment, he’d felt like there should be triumphant music swelling in the background. Now, there was simply an eerily reverberating silence.

“Mister Chairman?” said Vera, with a grandmotherly smile. “Shall we proceed with the rest of the day’s business?”

Steve recalled the list of agenda items, as long as his arm. He’d not even started to read it. Every ounce of his willpower had been dead set on getting even with Kline. Now, his mind fell disarmingly blank. And his mouth flapped off before he could stop it: “Absolutely. I’ll, um… Can we take a brief raincheck? I need to hand you over to the new majority shareholder and chairwoman of the board, Robin Buckley.”

A small shriek sounded from behind the catering screen. It was Steve’s turn to scuttle, as he sped to join his friends. He didn’t even have time to hug Eddie before Robin got right in his face:

“What the fuckety fuck, Dingus? I told you—I don’t even want to be promoted yet. Doreen deserved to be the new head of housekeeping. I’m not ready to be anything other than a sous chef!”

“That’s why this makes perfect sense.” It had been a spur of the moment decision, born basically of panic. Still, Robin’s wrath aside, he honestly believed it didn’t totally suck: “You’re smart. You could skim those minutes in seconds. Plus, who better to make decisions about the running of the hotel than somebody who actually works here? Somebody who will make sure nobody is ever treated like dirt again. Besides, these meetings are quarterly. Shouldn’t cramp your style, huh?”

“I agree with Alex P Keaton here,” said Eddie, hooking an arm around Steve, who gratefully sagged into him. “You are literally Frodo with the ring, Robin.”

“Oh God, not the nerdy ring book.” Occasionally, Steve missed the times when these two were at each other’s throats, rather than uber-geek best buds. He pinched between his eyes against the start of a tension and caffeine headache. Also, to evade Robin’s beyond death-ray glare.

“Okay, maybe you’re more Eowyn in war-cry mode,” Eddie conceded. “But the metaphor’s not so lousy. Power is best wielded by those who crave it the least.”

Steve peeped up. Robin had plowed eight shaky fingers into her hair, which was an uncharacteristic violation of hygiene standards. “Aaaargh! My stomach is a gordian knot right now, Steve!”

He was starting to feel really bad: “I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure my stomach was in one too when I said what I did. Look, I’m sorry, but… please, Robin? Honestly, I can’t think of anybody more fitted for the job. I can have the shares transferred into your name today.” He took off his ray-bans, hooked them on her nose. “These totally come with the role. Tho’ promise me you’ll take them off when you’re making eyes at the new business manager. I swear she’s making them back at you.”

“Ssssssh,” hissed Robin, though the edges of her lips ruffled toward a smile.

“You’ll do it?”

She harrumphed loudly. Concealed beneath the shades, he was pretty damn sure she rolled her eyes at him.

“Next time, Dingus, a few minutes notice would be polite. Oh, and… there’s gonna be a few changes around here, starting right now.”

She grabbed a croissant, took a hefty bite. She chewed, swallowed, dabbed nutella from the edge of her lips, then swished aside the curtain. Her hands planted on her hips, she confronted the board: “Is it really so dreadful to watch somebody pouring your coffee?”

Steve and Eddie beat a hasty retreat to the corridor. “Okay, why am I starting to worry about absolute power corrupting absolutely?” Eddie moved a step behind Steve to give him a backrub.

“How long till she’s calling them shit-birds? We should start a sweepstake. Oh God, yeah, Eddie… that feels amazing.”

They paused in their progress, while Eddie eased a little more of Steve’s tension from him, and Steve leaned into him. Post adrenaline crash, he was starting to feel pretty tired. It was a few blissful moments before he turned back to face Eddie. Who’d plopped a bellhop hat on his head.

“What the fuck?” said Steve.

“Does it suit me, Babe?” Eddie touched his face and fluttered those long dark lashes.

“No! It looks Halloween costume levels of ridiculous on you.”

“Just because I don’t wear it as well as you did.” Eddie pouted, adorably fake-sad, then: “What do you wanna do now, Stevie?”

Melt into your arms. Stare into your eyes till it gets kinda creepy. Make love for days.

He opted for an equally honest answer, one that was bubbling-cheese-on-cheesy-toast levels of cheesy: “I want to be with you. Forever, pretty much, and… I dunno.” He nibbled his lower lip, unsure about this next part: “I take it you didn’t snag the key to the penthouse?”

“No. Don’t reckon there’s gonna be a problem, though. You wanna go up? I know you miss that plunge bath. I could…” Eddie slung both arms around Steve’s neck and waggled his brows. “Pretty sure I owe you an aquatic blowjob.”

“I guess.” Steve laughed. Nevertheless, behind Eddie’s goofing around, he sensed darker shadows shifting. Eddie had had one recurring nightmare this past year, and it was for sure to do with what he’d witnessed when Steve chained himself to the pillar in the penthouse. Steve still barely remembered having the flashbacks about his abuse at the hands of Godchester and the others. His shrink had helped him begin, slowly, to come to terms with what had happened to him. However, there were some ghosts best left in the past.

He sure as hell didn’t want to raise those ghosts for Eddie. They had become Eddie’s nightmares almost as much as his own, and Eddie had his own demons to battle too. Slowly, painfully, his agoraphobia had gotten better, though he was still on baseline anxiety meds.

Steve shook his head. “Nah, I don’t wanna go there again. I thought I did, earlier. I mean, it is where we fell in love, but… It’s not who we are any more. I guess it never was. Anyhow, next summer we’ll have that pool ready at our place up in Oregon.” They’d bought a house on the same block as Wayne’s. “Aaaand we’ll have the jacuzzi hot tub, so…”

“Not waiting till next Summer to blow you, my Princess.”  Eddie flung open the door into the busy lobby. He bowed low, like a knight of old, for Steve to pass through. “Let’s go home.”

...

The end on AO3 The end on tumblr

If you have stuck with me this far, thank you so very much <3

perma-tag for the best inspiration friend ever: @wheneverfeasible

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[wheneverfeasible]

Steve’s used to not being loved.

He’d known his parents didn’t love him since he was a young child. He’d known that the girls he casually took on dates and occasionally fucked didn’t love him. He’d known Tommy and Carol didn’t love him like friends were supposed to. They all loved his reputation, sure, but not him. It was easy though because he didn’t love them either.

He’d loved his parents once, a long time ago. Back before they were practically strangers, but that love had been the obligation of biology. He’d thought he loved Tommy and Carol, but it had all been too surface level and focused on popularity.

He had loved Nancy though. He finally found someone he could start to be his true self with and he loved her and he thought she loved him, only…only she didn’t.

He couldn’t blame her. After a while, when the same thing keeps happening, you kind of have to look for the common factor in all those loveless relationships and see what the real issue was. Simply put…

Steve was just unloveable.

Maybe it was his past. Not that he’d actually been a bully or anything, he’d actually shut down a lot of bullying even among his then-friends and teammates, but he had been kind of self-absorbed. Or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t as smart as the people he found himself surrounded by. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t anything special, not at the end of the day.

Except he could take a punch.

And slowly, he found people that did love him. The other kids might tolerate him, might like him, but Dustin genuinely loved him, he knew that. Dustin was his original ride-or-die. Dustin might be a little shithead that constantly treated Steve like he was stupid, but he was like his brother. And Dustin also make him feel amazing and wanted and loved.

And then there was Robin. Most amazing of all really was that Robin loved him. His Platonic soulmate. His other ride-or-die. She saw him at his lowest and saw him at his highest, was there for him when he had stuff he didn’t want to drop on a teen boy who should be worrying about pimples and bad hair days, not interdimensional monsters and evil wizards. Robin made him feel loved too, even if she also sometimes teased him a little too sharply.

There was also Max of course. He’d been surprised at receiving a letter from her too, back when Vecna had been after her. He’d read it, back when she’d been in her coma. She hadn’t said she loved him, but it was there in other ways. The big brother she should have had all along.

So yeah, okay, Steve was loved. But it was platonic. It was friends, his new kind of family even, but it wasn’t the love he’d always wanted and never had. He just accepted the fact that people didn’t love him that way.

Which was why, when he realized he was in love with Eddie, he just sighed and accepted it and never changed anything in the way he interacted with the other man. He didn’t bother telling Eddie because he knew there was no point. Besides, Robin called him out on it, said he was being so obvious about his feelings, but Eddie never said anything too.

So okay. Steve was in love with Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t in love with Steve. Eddie also didn’t treat Steve any differently despite knowing that Steve loved him. After all, if Steve was so obvious about it, then Eddie had to know too already, right?

So Steve watched Eddie come out to them, had nodded along when Eddie nervously explained what bisexuality was, having already had his own crisis before though he realized he’d never officially come out either. But then if his feelings for Eddie were so obvious, he figured he didn’t have to, so he didn’t say anything and let Eddie have his moment.

And it didn’t matter that Eddie liked guys. He still couldn’t love Steve, so Steve just accepted it and let it be. He didn’t flinch when Eddie mentioned meeting a guy in the city, was even downright friendly when Eddie eventually brought the guy around to meet everyone.

It hurt, of course, but Steve’s feelings were his own problem; he wasn’t going to let the fact that he was in love with one of his best friends make things awkward. Eddie was nice enough that he never told Steve to knock it off when Steve got a little too touchy with him, though Steve backed off in his own when Eddie seemed a little panicked about it sometimes.

Steve was even there for Eddie when Eddie came over crying because he and guy broke up. He wouldn’t tell Steve why they broke up, not entirely, but eventually Steve learned it was because Eddie had feelings for someone else this entire time.

Steve wondered who it was, but in any case he just hoped Eddie got to be happy with them eventually. He later told Eddie one day when Eddie was over that he was a great guy, obviously, and anyone Eddie liked would be a lucky person. He hoped he didn’t sound judgmental about it, didn’t want Eddie to think he was being petty or whatever, but Eddie just looked sad again and left soon after.

Steve knew he had a problem about being too much sometimes. It had pushed Nancy away, and every girl he’d tried to date afterwards never really liked him enough either. It was still just his reputation and his hair that got him dates, not who he was himself. That was fine. Temporary companionship was better than nothing he supposed.

And life continued, and Steve kept loving Eddie, and he was content that Eddie let him love him, even if there was no hope of it being reciprocated.

And then Steve went on a date with a guy.

It was…okay. The guy was a lot handsier than Steve would like, and kind of boring when compared to Eddie, but Steve just shrugged and figured that at least it’s be someone else’s hand this time. And it was okay. No great spark or anything. More of a glorified one night stand than anything, but it was fine.

He knew he needed to get out dating again. Girls and guys. His love for Eddie wasn’t abating at all, so he couldn’t bring himself to actually date anyone, but he could do hookups.

Which was how Eddie found him one day, mouth around some guy at a bar in Indy because they had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Oops. It was a little annoying though that Eddie looked as upset as he did. He appreciated the fact that Eddie didn’t call him out for his unwanted feelings, but it wasn’t fair that he thought Steve shouldn’t be able to move on.

They got into a fight.

They never exactly said what they were fighting about with words, but Eddie yelled at him for having unsafe sex, while Steve yelled at him for being a hypocrite, and then Eddie yelled at him for leading the guy on, and Steve said that that was a bit rich coming from him.

And Eddie was yelling and yelling and yelling about who knows what, telling Steve he shouldn’t be having random hookups in bathrooms when he wasn’t even gay, and Steve yelled that bisexual men can have bathroom hookups too, and that seemed to surprise Eddie for some reason.

In any case, it caused him to shut up for long enough for Steve to angrily tell him that just because Steve loved him, it didn’t give him the right to tell Steve what he could or could not do, especially when he knew Eddie didn’t love him back.

And then…

“You…you love me?” Eddie choked out, his eyes wide as he stared across the dark alley outside the bar, where he’d dragged Steve after catching him on his knees.

Steve rolled his eyes, jutting out one hip to place a hand on while the other hand ran aggressively through his hair. It was started to rain while they were in the bar, a light drizzle that was slowly weighing down their hair, not that either of them paid it any mind.

“Jesus, Munson, are you really going to make me listen to the whole spiel again?” He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This is bullshit, I’m bullshit, my love is bullshit, yadda yadda yadda. Or are we going the other way? The sad puppy eyes and the fact that you like someone else and it could never be me? I already know all this, Munson.”

Eddie continued gaping at Steve like a fish. It was starting to make him vaguely uncomfortable. Eddie shook his head, long strands of hair whipping wetly around him. “H-how long have you loved me?” Eddie whispered.

Steve’s frown deepened. “I don’t know, man. You probably clocked it before I even did. I just barely realized like a year and half ago.”

Eddie’s eyes bugged further. “You’ve love me for a year and a half?” he asked incredulously, making Steve’s frown turn from annoyance to confusion.

“You already knew this, Eddie.”

“I most certainly did not!”

And…oh. Oof. Okay. Steve grimaced and held his hands up suddenly in a surrender sort of way. “Yikes. Okay, well, this doesn’t have to change anythi—”

“This changes everything!” Eddie exclaimed in what others might cause a shriek.

Steve winced, taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. “Eddie…Eddie, please, c’mon,” he tried to reason, feeling dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was suddenly remembering all the times he’d invaded Eddie’s space, how many times he’d flirted back with Eddie’s fake flirting, thinking it was okay because the other man knew how he felt.

Fuck. Fuck, he’d fucked up again.

“Eddie, I know you don’t love me, okay,” he rushed to say. “I know you can never love me. I get it, okay? I’m not trying to force you to feel any way or anything. Just like with Robin and Nancy, the fact that I like you doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Not…Steve,” Eddie said, reaching up to grip and pull at his own hair as an incredulous laugh escaped him. “Steve, I fucking love you.”

Steve tried not to let that hurt. He knew Eddie probably didn’t get how much him saying that pained Steve since it wasn’t the kind of love he was talking about, so he wasn’t going to get upset at him over that.

“I know,” he sighed, slowly letting himself relax his body posture. “I know you love me in a friend way. And that’s enough for me, really! I love you like a friend too, so the fact that I also—”

“No Steve,” Eddie cut in again, and while he seemed exasperated, a wide smile was also starting to curl over his lips. “Robin was right and you really are a dingus. I mean, yes, I love you as a friend, but I’m also in love with you. Romantic styles.”

“I…” Steve blinked. He tried to understand Eddie’s words but they didn’t make sense. “What?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh, and the smile curled on his lips stretched out into a grin. He took a step closer. “I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. I have been since…hell, probably since you went all Ozzy on me. But definitely since I woke up in the hospital to you holding my hand.”

Steve’s stomach swooped. “I don’t understand,” he said, and even to his own ears there was a small whine there. “You don’t…people don’t love me,” he pointed out. “They can’t. There’s something about me that just makes it impossible.”

Eddie scoffed, reaching out once he was closer enough to curl his fingers in the sleeves at Steve’s biceps. They were both now well and truly wet from the rain, but neither of them paid any attention to it at all.

“Now that’s bullshit, Harrington. You’re so fucking easy to love. As a friend and as something…more. I love you, Steve.”

Steve wanted to deny it again, wanted to say that that was impossible, because…because he’d never heard those words. Sure, Dustin and Robin told him they loved him, but romantically? Even Nancy had never told him that in those words. Not even in a lie. He couldn’t fully comprehend that he was hearing them now.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathed, his hands moving to cup Steve’s jaw. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life telling you that. You’re stuck with me now, big boy.”

And then Eddie kissed him.

Eddie was true to his words. He told Steve he loved him every single day, told him with his words and his actions and when it was legal, he told him again in front of all their friends and found family when he made a vow as a his husband.

And Steve? Well, it took a while for him for actually believe it, but nowadays? When Eddie kisses him good morning every day in bed, whispering his devotion, and every night doing the same, telling Steve he’ll see him in his dreams? Well…

Steve’s used to being loved. And he spends every day loving in return.

~

Hi hello I have no idea what this is but I just started typing and then I didn’t stop until this was completed lol

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[michelle-is-writing]

Prom Night, Eddie Munson

Word Count: 1.2k~

Dustin loved hearing Eddie Munson’s stories. He had countless stories about anything and everything, none of which were ever boring. In his mind, Dustin could only hope he’d be as cool as Eddie with his guitar and never ending knowledge over dungeons and dragons one day. Because of his love for the man, Dustin imagined how prom must’ve been for Eddie, and with one question, he got Eddie to recall the entire night.

“How was prom for you?”

Eddie had been putting off anything that involved prom. He didn’t even care to look at suits or ties as he had already decided he wasn’t going to go. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and the girl whom he wanted to go to prom with was way out of his league, according to him. She was his best friend, and everyone knew that, but they also saw the longing look he had in his eyes every time he looked at her. Eddie felt like he loved her like no other - but how could he tell her that?

The day of the prom, most of the girls were absent toward the end of the day as they were all allowed to leave early to get ready. However, there was one girl Eddie was surprised to see still at the school. As much as he loved spending time with her, he questioned her as to why she was still there and not using the time the school had surprisingly allowed them.

“Why not?” She retorted, leaning back in her chair with a small shrug. “No one asked me, so why bother.”

Her words made his eyebrows quickly go down in confusion. How could no one have asked her out?

Instead of asking her exactly that, he sat back in his chair. “I’m not going either,” he sheepishly admitted, rubbing a hand against his arm as he bit his lip nervously. In his head, he pondered if he should just ignore his hesitation and worry, and just go for it? He always tiptoed around letting (Y/n) know about his true feelings for her, but there would be no tiptoeing now.

“Hey,” her voice broke him away from his anxious thoughts, causing his head to snap to hers. Immediately, his eyes were locked on how pretty she looked at that moment, making his mouth move before his thoughts.

“Yes, pretty girl?” Eddie asked her, making her cheeks turn to a deeper red as her lips unfolded into a huge smile. He had never called her that before, but she liked it - she liked it a lot.

“Why don’t we go to the prom tonight? And see all the moron football players try to bust a move to Madonna,” (Y/n) suggested to Eddie, making him laugh loudly in the school’s library they were sat in. No one was around to care though, and (Y/n) certainly wasn’t going to complain about Eddie.

“I would love that.”

Eddie’s response to her invitation to prom would leave a forever lasting mark on their relationship, a good mark though. Before picking her up, Eddie sat in his van, clad in an old suit of his uncle's while anxious thoughts raced through his head. "A beautiful girl going out with the weirdo, what could go wrong?" he questioned himself, the worries of other people's reactions to seeing them together flashing through his mind.

However, once he arrived to her home and went inside (with a hastily made-corsage he put together with a rose and couple strands of baby's breath, no less), all of his fears and worries simply disappeared after seeing her in the (f/c) dress she wore that night. Sure, Eddie had seen her dressed up a few times for picture day at school, but this was a sight he never witnessed before. Her hair was pinned and curled, her dress looked perfect, she wore makeup that only enhanced her features, but most of all, Eddie couldn't look away from the bright smile she had while staring back at him. In that moment he knew he would never regret his decision.

“I wasn’t going to go,” Eddie explained to Dustin, leaning his head back against the chair with a small huff. “I was very anti-prom since I couldn’t grow a pair and ask a certain pretty girl out,” he further added, a smirk curling at his lips as memories of him and his beloved before they started dating flashed through his head.

“What pretty girl was that?” Dustin asked, making Eddie throw his head back in dramatics and roll his eyes. However, just as he did that, his brown orbs caught sight of the woman he loved walking toward him. Taking the opportunity laid out before him, Eddie quickly leaned up from his slouching position before throwing his arms around (Y/n) as she came up beside his chair and pulling her to sit sideways on his lap. His actions only made the girl giggle as she situated herself in his hold, used to her boyfriend’s antics by now.

“This one right here,” Eddie pointed out to Dustin, his arms now wrapped around her waist. To get more comfortable, she reciprocated his actions and wrapped her arms around his neck, causing their gazes to meet each other. Eddie’s smile only grew at the sight of her (e/c) orbs shining back at him as he lifted a hand to push her hair back, something he often found himself doing out of habit. “but thankfully, she came and asked me out.”

Before she could ask what their conversation was about, Dustin quickly interjected with a question of his own. “You asked him out?!”

Immediately, realization flashed across her face as her mouth formed a small 'o' shape. “Oh, are you talking about prom?” She reaffirmed, turning back to face Eddie. Still smiling, he nodded dopily at her as he remained entranced by the way her hair happened to fall that day.

Now smiling warmly, she turned her attention back to Dustin. “Well, technically, yes,” (Y/n) explained, letting out a small laugh afterward. “but it was more of a ‘hey, you wanna go crash the prom with me?’ kind of deal, and he totally went for it.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better prom date,” Eddie stated, making (Y/n) giggle once more while she leaned farther into his hold.

“I think I’m more than just your old prom date at this point, right?” she murmured to him, making him flash his teeth at her with a bright grin. In front of them, Dustin turned away from the sight of the two as a warm feeling spread over him. He wondered if he had that same lovestruck look on his face when he gazed at Susie, or vice versa.

“Oh, most definitely, love of my life,” Eddie clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to her arm currently resting against his shoulder. At the same time, (Y/n)'s grip on him only tightened as she moved forward to connect their lips in a slow, small kiss, still careful not to do too much in front of the kids. Pulling away after a few moments, the same entranced look came over Eddie’s face as he spoke up once more. “You are so much more than just an old prom date.”

With that, (Y/n)’s smile only grew more before she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I’m glad,” she murmured, their eyes remaining locked on each other as giggle fell from her lips. “Because you're so much more than just a prom date to me, love of my life.”

[hawkinsbnbg]

hold me tight

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 20: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

tags: post Starcourt, friends to lovers, requited unrequited love.

rated: T | word count: 1k4 | ao3

This was stupid, Steve told himself. Absolutely stupid. It wasn't like Eddie was his friend or anything.

They just happened to spend many sleepless nights together smoking and talking about everything and nothing. They just met up at Skull Rock almost every day so Steve could decompress by listening to Eddie's ramblings about DnD, Hell Fire Club, and Corroded Coffin. They just told each other a lot of secrets and held hands to offer each other comfort. They just shared multiple inside jokes that not even their own friends would know.

They just—

Okay, maybe Steve had downplayed it. Because at this point, Eddie might be his only real friend in this town.

And it was just Steve's luck to catch feelings for him and lose him in the process.

See, since his young age, Steve had always been self-aware enough to know what he wanted. Whether it was toys, food, or people. He just never made his liking obvious in case his parents decided to hold them over him.

Hence, nonchalance had always been his default façade. It was the "Kill two birds with one stone", helped him protect his secrets, helped him conceal his most vulnerable part, and helped him remain indestructible under scrutinizing eyes.

And for a long time, Steve thought he was so smart, hiding his true self behind the garnished mask he had created.

Until he met Nancy, until he got his heart broken that night in Tina's bathroom, until he stumbled on Eddie and realized that the mask he wore made him look exactly like what he always hated.

Bullshit.

And now, standing on the Munson Trailer's porch, Steve tried to not turn on his heels and run away or puke his guts out because he was too scared of facing rejection again.

But he also didn't want to be alone right now, and call it his moment of weakness, he just wanted to be held and reassured that everything would be alright even when he probably didn't deserve it.

Selfishly, though, he knew Eddie wouldn't say no to him, not when he was in such a pitiful state, not when they used to be good friends up until Steve ruined it all. And perhaps, it was the thought that gave him enough courage to rap his knuckles on the door.

"D'you know what time is it, man? If you're here to ask for weeds– Holy shit!"

Against his better judgment, Steve shrank in himself, ashamed that he was causing trouble for Eddie once more, making himself as small as possible and bracing for another rejection.

"Uhm, hi?" He smiled weakly.

Wordlessly, Eddie guided him inside, led him to the couch, and sat him down.

After handing him a glass of water, which he sipped slowly, Eddie started cleaning the cuts on his face, movements gentle as if afraid of hurting him.

Though it wasn't much and Steve knew any decent human being would treat him with the same sympathy, his heart still didn't get the memo and started somersaulting in his chest.

He watched the soft yellow light cast on Eddie's face, illuminating those dark brown eyes like stars, shining on the plump lips being worried between those sharp white teeth.

He glanced down, taking in the sleeveless black tee and gray sweatpants, the crimson guitar pick dangling on Eddie's chest as he leaned forward slightly, the tattoos on the pale arms, the long fingers, void of rings.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely worried, after a moment of tense silence.

Instead of answering the question, Steve only shrugged and grimaced slightly.

"Sorry for waking you up this late. It's just," he averted his gaze to avoid Eddie's intense look. "I didn't know where else to go."

"You're always welcome here, Sweetheart," said Eddie kindly. "And you can wake me up whenever. We're already past that, aren't we?"

Eddie was right.

It wasn't rare for the older boy to climb through Steve's window at random hours and invite himself into Steve's bed so they could cuddle until morning. And it wasn't new for Steve to do so to Eddie, either.

Over just a few months, they had grown impossibly close and Steve would dare to say Eddie was the one who understood him the most and vice versa.

Except, it was never that simple, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if Steve hadn't kissed Eddie in a completely un-platonic way. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other since the day Eddie ran away from him, confused and terrified, leaving Steve with even more nightmares.

He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. Who was he kidding anyway? It was a huge mistake to come here after all.

"Yeah," he sniffed. "But I thought I wouldn't be welcomed anymore after what I did to you."

"Steve," said Eddie sharply.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he squeezed his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his sticky hair, using the dull aches to ground himself. "I– Tonight's been a lot. People died, Eddie. And all I could think about was you. As much as I regret driving you away, I'd kiss you again and again even if I were allowed to come back to that day to fix my mistake. Because it had kept you safe and away from me, from dangers. And I swear I'm not trying to make you forgive me out of pity. I know I had screwed up big time. So I'm gonna be out of your hair soo–"

Steve let out a gasp when Eddie suddenly kissed him, staring in shock as Eddie pressed another one on the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood and pain.

"What–"

"I'm aware this is far from the appropriate answer you deserve," Eddie brushed a hair out of Steve's forehead, smiling sadly. "But I couldn't find any way more obvious to tell you the kiss was never a mistake. Because I've been dreaming about it for months and you had granted me exactly what I wanted."

Steve was confused. Because why would Eddie say that? Why would he kiss Steve then when all Steve wanted was to make it right? Why would he look so sad when he had already shattered Steve's heart into pieces?

"Why?" Steve asked softly, unable to hold a grudge when Eddie was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, overwhelming and nothing he had feared at all.

"I was scared," said Eddie bluntly without needing him to elaborate, always understanding him beyond words. "That's not an excuse for the way I acted with you. I was an ass for going radio silence and leaving you in the dark. As your friend, I should've known to communicate better. But I didn't and I caused you all this pain just because I panicked over a kiss I've been wanting since the first time I saw you."

"I'm really sorry, Sweetheart," said Eddie quietly, hand cradling his face gently like one would hold something precious. "For having been an idiot and a coward. For breaking your trust. For running away. For hurting you."

Leaning into the touch, Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of old weeds, leather, citrus, and cigarettes, feeling oddly homesick even though he was already home.

He wanted to get mad at Eddie, to demand some kind of compensation for his battered heart; and yet, he was tired, in pain, and about to keel over now the drug in his system had worn off.

However, he was in no shape to hold a serious conversation at the moment and he knew Eddie had noticed it too.

"Let's go take a shower first, okay?" Eddie leaned in and kissed his shoulder. It was so random but Steve still felt his cheeks warm at the intimate gesture.

Somehow, he didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about it and ended up having Eddie wash his hair for him.

———

After making a call to check in with Robin as promised, he padded into Eddie's room and joined the older boy beneath the quilts and blankets, smiling softly as he thought about all the time he had been in Eddie's bed when he couldn't stand his parents' arguments.

When Eddie pulled him closer, he went willingly and melted into those arms, feeling warm and safe for the first time after two months of staying apart from his best friend.

"I love you," he mumbled into Eddie's chest, too relaxed and sleepy to care about the consequences. Go big or go home, right?

And when Steve finally drifted off, he heard something almost sounded like, "I love you, too."

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke. 

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song.  What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway. 

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.” 

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.” 

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song. 

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that. 

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.” 

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons. 

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest. 

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should. 

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got. 

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.  You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances. 

[artiststarme]

A Grudge Be Held

Based on an enabling comment from @estrellami-1. Hope you guys like it and please leave me your opinions in the comments!

~*~*~*~

There are a few well known facts in the universe; the earth revolves around the sun, George Michael is gay, Tim Curry has sexy legs, and Eddie Munson holds grudges.

It wasn’t because he was a bad person or because he thought people were inherently bad, he’d just been through too much to waste his time on people that had already wronged him. He didn’t give more than one chance and if they fucked that up, well, they didn’t deserve another one.

He was usually lenient on what constituted a grudge to be held. Unless someone did something directly to him or someone he cared about, it didn’t really bother him and they certainly didn’t make his list. His parents were on there (because why wouldn’t they be?), Mrs. O’Donnell was on there because he was positive at least one of his failed senior years was due to her having a bone to pick with him, and Principal Higgins was on there too because fuck that guy.

Tommy Hagan was on the list because of a rumor started that made life hard for Eddie for awhile (it was true but needless to share), Jason Carver was on there now for starting a mob trying to kill him, and Billy Hargrove earned a spot for being an asshole to anything that moved.

A person that many people were surprised wasn’t on the list was Steve Harrington. The DnD party was shocked when they heard King Steve wasn’t an object of resentment in Eddie. But he’d never done anything out of malice to Eddie specifically. Where others saw confidence and pride, Eddie looked at a lonely and broken teen that was willing to do anything to fit in. He couldn’t hate him for that. And the time where Steve stood up for Eddie against Billy Hargrove at a drug deal gone wrong forever cemented him as a good guy in Eddie’s eyes.

After his experience with the Upside Down, psychic murders, and overall shitshow that was his Spring Break, Eddie and Steve got closer. Steve coerced everyone of authority to clear Eddie’s name with help from Robin, Nancy, and the passed Chief Hopper that apparently wasn’t actually dead. He housed Eddie and Wayne until they could find a new trailer that they could afford. Then he spent every waking moment making sure Eddie was alright and included as part of the group. In laymen’s terms, Steve saved his life.

So in true Eddie fashion, he made the internal dramatic decision that he would hold grudges on Steve’s behalf. He would be a guard dog of sorts, protecting and defending the love of his life his friend. What he didn’t consider was how difficult the task would be.

Through a new lens, Eddie saw that everyone walked all over Steve. The cashiers at the grocery store blatantly charged him extra, the customers at Family Video talked over him nearly every sentence in response to questions they asked, and teens on the street laughed at the scars in their view. Worse of all though, the Party didn’t respect him. Dustin and Mike told him several times a day how stupid he was, Nancy looked at him in pity and shut down all of his opinions, Lucas talked about not having sports in common with anyone right in front of him, and Robin kept blowing off their plans to hang with Vickie.

Through it all, Steve appeared fine. He smiled and nodded in all the right places but as soon as he thought the eyes moved on, his smile would slip to reveal something sadder. And so Eddie’s vengeance began.

He “accidentally” knocked over sales racks near the registers in the grocery store when they charged an extra $2 for milk. He keyed the cars of the teenagers that laughed at the evidence of Steve’s pain. When he saw Officer Callahan yacking at Steve for speeding, he picked up a dozen eggs and pelted the man’s house in revenge.

Dealing with the kids in the Party was trickier. His glares and barbed comebacks were clear enough for Nancy and Robin to change their ways. The kids though just weren’t observant enough to pick up on the clues Eddie tried to drop. One session of a campaign though, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

“I didn’t know there were dragons in the game. If you losers had told me there were dragons, I might’ve considered playing ages ago!” Steve exclaimed from his seat on the couch, intrigued eyes meeting Eddie’s.

Eddie smirked at him. “Oh yeah, Big Boy. You should know by now that I’m full of surprises.”

Steve blushed a little bit but as he went to respond, Mike interrupted. “Steve, you’re not even playing. You shouldn’t even be here much less interrupting the game!”

Steve’s flush turned pale and he shrunk into himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can just uh, I can go. I’ll see you guys later.”

As he moved to get up though, Eddie stood and towered over the table.

“Wait Steve, you’re gonna want to see this part.” He glowered at Mike and rasped his voice to transition back to DM’ing. “A comet flies from the dragon’s cavern and lands on Sir Madeon. Roll for damage.”

“What the hell! No, you can’t do that!” Mike stammered with a dropped jaw.

“I just did, pipsqueak. Roll for damage or die trying.”

“14,” Mike muttered. He glared at Eddie then Steve before pouting in his seat.

“The comet is too large to escape from. Sir Madeon tries to run but he’s not fast enough to avoid the flying stone. It lands on his back in a fiery crumble. The intense heat eats through his flesh, bones, and organs at once leaving only his head and limbs intact, scattered amongst the rest of the Party. He dies a horrendous death and his friends are left alone with only the smell of charred remains to remember him by.” Eddie ends his tirade with a quirked eyebrow. That’ll show these little assholes what happens when they mess with him. A quick glance at Steve shows him excitement and surprise, he absolutely was not expecting that.

“What the fuck. This is supposed to be PG,” Dustin stares at Eddie in horror. “You really just killed a character in the middle of a campaign for Steve?”

“Roll stealth and damage.” Eddie tells him deadpan.

“God-fucking-dammit! Eddie, no, please…”

“Roll or face the consequences!”

“3 stealth, Nat-20 damage,” Dustin whispered with his face in his hands. The other kids watch Eddie in a mixture of confusion and aghastment. But Steve is beaming, teeth shining from ear to ear.

“The dragon hears your cries of grief and turns its burly head towards you. Its glimmering eyes reach the you and the rest of the Party and you see its scaled lips open in a human like smile. With a speed you could never have anticipated, it slithers toward you before standing on muscled hind legs and flapping its leathery wings. Its lips curl around a blue flame. The last thing you feel is a flash of ice before you see no more.

Your friends see you disappear into a pile of ash, the heat of the flame too powerful to escape. The dragon whips its tail towards the party while they stare at where you used to stand. Will the Wise can’t even list his magical staff before the weight of the tail crushes him to the ground in a pile of shattered bones and bloody sinnew.

Luther is impaled by one of the dragon’s back spikes and killed immediately. The light in his eyes fades and all he sees is a figure with a crown waving at him in the distance. Prince Stephen and his pet dragon prosper in the face of their trespassing adversaries once again but the only witnesses to the horror are erased from the Earth.”

The boys stare at him in shock while he arranges his papers and stands. “The end. Steve and I are going to the movies. You bitchasses aren’t invited and if you’re even a little bit nasty to Steve again, I’ll pulverize you in real life just like I killed you in the campaign. Think on that.”

With that, Eddie grabs the hand of a stunned Steve and drags him from the Wheeler’s basement. After that debacle, he’s sure that the kids have gotten their point. And now he’s got a movie to see with his main man.

(The kids absolutely get his point and moving forward are a lot nicer to Steve. And a little scared of how Eddie’s mind works.

Eddie holds a grudge against the kids for months and will still reference their comments when he sees fit for the rest of their lives or at least the rest of his.

And Steve? He starts dating his DM in shining armor a mere two hours later.)

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @sherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner @strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @futuristicnachostranger @breadboi66 @fandommaniac123

[oneforthemunny]

strangerprompts: turn back time |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: #8 you step into a hole-in-the-wall bar for a drink and suddenly find yourself in a different decade.

from strangerprompts writing challenge made by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing <3 this was so fun!!! please check it out and consider writing for yourself!

warnings: language. time travel. but nothing crazy.

“It should be illegal.” You huff, nails digging into the leather of your steering wheel. The GPS shouted at you another robotic turn, drumming out the sound of your roommate on the other line. 

“I mean, seriously? Making me travel alone to- to the middle of nowhere. Ro, I’m not even kidding, it looks like the town Deliverance was filmed in. It’s the middle of nowhere.” You scoff, looking at the rundown building passing by you, all crumbling with desperate need of a renovation. 

“No, it can’t be Deliverance. They didn’t have hotels there.” Roslyn snicker floated through your car’s speakers. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.” 

“It is.” You grumbled. “And then they want us to meet at this bar for mingling. I don’t even know if I’m going to the right place!” You threw your hands up, smacking them on the steering wheel dramatically, turning it as the GPS announced you’d arrived. 

The Hideout- or at least, that’s what you could make out from the peeling sign above the building. “Jesus Christ, I’m getting murdered.” You muttered, sending Ro howling in laughter. “I’m not even joking. I’m about to be a topic on a fucking podcast.” 

“Stop.” Roslyn wheezed through laughter. “You’re not gonna get murdered.” 

“I don’t- This place doesn’t even look open.” You exhaled sharply, flicking through your phone, ensuring this was the right place. “Ro, you have to swear to me if I get murdered, you’ll make sure the true crime freaks won’t make Etsy merch about me.” 

“Calm down,” Ro laughed. “You’re not gonna get murdered. It’s just not the hipster ass bars you’re used to.” 

“No,” You muttered, locking your door quickly, clutching your purse to your side. “I really might. Stay on the phone with me.” 

“What?” Roslyn’s voice broke through the static. “I can’t- You’re cutting ou-” 

“Fuck.” You hissed, looking down at your phone as you climbed the stairs. Call Failed flashing back at you, no bars to be found. 

Turn around, get back in your car, and say fuck it. You do not need this job this bad. 

Yes, you actually do. 

A painful reminder of your maxed credit card, student loans, and rent flashed before your eyes, silencing your bitter thoughts. Sliding your phone into your purse, you clung to the strap tightly.

“Just stay fifteen minutes, then say you feel sick.” You muttered to yourself, reaching for the rusted handle. 

The entryway was dark, eerily quiet to be a bar. You almost thought it wasn’t one, if it wasn’t for the bright neon sign shining at the end. Welcome! Glowing in blinding red letters, underneath it in blue, the piercing glow that read: Stay A While. 

“So weird.” You muttered, your arms wrapping around yourself. 

The air turned colder with every step you took, following the bright signs- the only source of light, down the dark hallway. Your heart hammered in your ears, clutching your purse close to you. Just as you were about to panic, chest swelling with fear, veins icy as the air- you heard it. 

A muffled roar of an electric guitar, a tiny sliver of golden light peering beneath the heavy door. You pushed the door open, met with a sudden wave of warmth, the dim lights of the bar blinding you still. 

“Watch it, sweetheart.” A man with a tray of beers muttered, swiveling past you. 

“Sorry,” You squeaked, looking around the crowded dive bar. You scanned the packed tables for anyone from the conference, shimmying in between tables, peering over teased hair for anyone. 

“Fuck me,” You huffed, settling at a sticky bar booth, still littered with half drank beers and peanuts- the only one available. “No way I’m the first one.” 

You plopped your purse on to the seat of the booth, an iron grip still on the strap. You could feel the cutting glances still cast on you from the others, they’d had followed you from the moment you walked in. Judgemental, all accompanied with a lifted brow. 

Should look in the mirror, You thought bitterly, rummaging through your purse. They’re the ones wearing that outdated, ugly shit.

“Where the fuck- I know I put it in here.” You muttered, taking out the wrappers, your wallet, desperately trying to find your phone. 

“‘Scuse me,” You jumped, eyes wide when you looked up, clutching your purse to your chest. 

Dark eyes met yours, a dimpled smile joining them. “Sorry,” The man lifted his hand carefully, the other balancing a black bucket stacked with glasses. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to see if it was ok if I clear this outta the way for you?” 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” You muttered bashfully. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” 

A ringed hand passed in front of you, the light catching in the skull before it grabbed a glass. You moved back to your purse, furiously checking each pocket, chest growing tighter and tighter with fear. 

“You alright?” The busboy asked, swiping another glass, stacking it into the bucket with a soft rattling clank. 

“Yeah- I mean, not really.” You turned, head craning towards the door. “I think I lost my phone in that hallway.” 

“Hallway?” He laughed, his name tag flashing towards you- Eddie, decorated with sharpie drawn bats and devil horns. “Phone’s on the wall over there.” Eddie nodded towards the bar, an old dial up phone mounted there, a sign that the charge is a quarter above it. 

Your brows creased. You didn’t even know those things worked, you always assumed they were decoration for the… edgy aesthetic of the place. 

“No, I mean my cell phone.” You shook your head lightly. “I think I dropped it in that hallway back there.” You pointed towards the swinging door. 

Eddie frowned at you, stilling as his eyes scanned your features. “Are you- Are you feeling ok?” He asked. 

“What?” You snapped defensively. 

“Did someone slip something in your drink or something?” Eddie asked carefully. “Gotta be careful with those old guys. They look harmless but they’re gnarly-” 

“-What? No.” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I-I haven’t even had a drink. I just got here. I’m supposed to meet some people from a conference, but I can’t find my phone-” 

“-Your phone?” Eddie’s nose crinkled in confusion. 

“Yes. My phone.” You barked in irritation. “My cell phone?” 

Eddie blinked at you. “What is that European?” He shrugged. 

“What? Are you fucking with me-” 

“-No,” Eddie held his hands up. “No, I just- I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He laughed nervously. “And I mean you’re dressed… different. Not that it’s bad!” He added frantically. 

“I just assumed you were European or something. Not from here anyways.” Eddie muttered, leaning against the table. 

You blinked. It felt like you were in a dream, like everything you were saying was mute, confusing, in Wonderland and entirely discombobulated. 

“You… You don’t have cell phones here?” You asked slowly. 

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing. “Nope. Not here, sweetheart. Hasn’t made its way to Hawkins, Indiana yet, but sounds pretty-” 

“-What?” You hissed, chest booming with a fear filled ache, sure your heart had stopped entirely. “What did you just say?” 

Eddie’s face fell, his flirtatious grin disappearing. “Hawkins? Indiana?” He said slowly, eyes narrowing when your face paled. “Hey, are you ok? Did you take something?” 

“N-No, I-I don’t- I d-didn’t-” 

“-Look,” Eddie slid into the booth beside you. “You’re not gonna scare me off if you did somethin’, alright? I’m not nearly as conservative as these other bogus losers.” 

You couldn’t speak, mouth dry, heart caught in your throat, hammering away so fiercely your ears were ringing. “What’d you take? Blow? K? Pills or somethin’?” His arm brushed yours, head ducking towards you. “It’s fine, whatever it is, I’m- I’m really good with dealing with this sorta thing, if you can believe it.” 

“I-I didn’t take anything.” You droned, nearly automated. “I just- I-I was walking down the hallway, and-” 

“-Hey, I’m just trying to help you.” Eddie said softly, his tone pulling your attention back to meet his gaze. “Did you hit your head?” 

“N-No, I- The hallway-” 

“-That,” Eddie pointed towards the swinging door. “Is a bathroom.” You watched as the door swung open, as if on cue, a girl with blue painted lids and crimped hair piled high stepping out. 

“The closest thing to a hallway here is to the dumpster out back.” Eddie grinned at you softly. It was sweet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile back, body trembling with fear. 

Eddie felt it, frowning at you softly. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Call someone for you?” 

“No,” You swallowed hard. “I-I need to leave. I have-I gotta get out of here.” Panic rose through your chest, trying to push him out of the booth, climb over him, anything. 

“Hey, easy,” Eddie slid out of your way. “Hang on-” You ignored him, pushing past him towards the door. 

Outside, the sun was still just beginning to set, that was the only thing that was the same. 

Your car was gone, in its place a line of cars- old cars, but still shiny? Still new, not rusted with wear or dulled colors from age. The buildings were no longer crumbling, signs still new and displayed proudly. 

“No, no, no, no.” Your chest heaved, fingers threading through your hair. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey!” Eddie grabbed your shoulder, pulling your attention towards him. “Hey, I-I don’t think you should be driving-” 

“-My car.” You gasped. “Where the fuck is my car? I-It was right here,” You turned, throwing your hands out. “Right here!” 

Eddie looked around, a blush rising to his cheeks at the judgy looks the passersby were giving. “Maybe you should come back inside-” 

“-No.” You barked, shaking your head furiously. “No. I-I’m not-” Through the window, a glimmer of a photo caught your eye. 

Your walk back inside felt nearly trance like, everything underwater, Eddie’s voice droning out with the others. A painting of two cartoonized children waving fistfuls of flowers gleefully- though that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the printed lettering underneath it that made your blood run cold. 

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat, an-and I’ll call someone-” 

“-Is this,” You swallowed, pointing at the wall. “This isn’t right, r-right? Thi-This isn’t- There’s no way.” 

Eddie frowned, looking at the wall. “I mean, yeah, it needs to be changed now. I guess it’s technically May now, Mick just hasn’t gotten around to flipping it-” 

“-No, this-this says…” Your finger traced the numbers, glaring at you in bright red. “1986?” You squeaked. 

Eddie blinked at you. “Yeah,” He nodded slowly. 

Your vision filled with dark splotches, fading in and out of focus on the calendar in front of you. Your knees buckled, purse slipping between your fingers before you fell limply, Eddie’s frantic voice ringing in your ears the last thing you heard before your consciousness slipped. 

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

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 13 - The Release 📍

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.” 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

It, 1990

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: Someone requested a sex pollen!! So… here we go! 🤣🤣

Day 14: Sex Pollen

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing?” 

The team had been called to a fire at Astral Labs, a science facility that had been working on a number of things. Apparently, a fire had broken out, one that threatened the area due to said “number of things.” Bobby wasn’t told much more than that, and he didn’t ask. 

“I hear they’re working on some sex drug” Buck wriggles his eyebrows and you and Eddie both roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, because that’s something totally normal for scientists to be doing” You scoffed and Hen looked up from fixing her respirator. 

“Actually I heard that too. They found some weird plant and apparently, it’s giving off strong aphrodisiacs with its pollen” 

“Aha!!” Buck points at you both and it’s Eddie’s turn to scoff

“Still seems pretty made up to me” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that” Buck smiles smugly as the truck pulls up to the building “We’ll see who’s laughing after we talk to them!” 

The fire is manageable, it burns out faster than Bobby had expected. Now you’re left going from room to room, making sure everything is secure, Bobby’s given the go-ahead to take off the masks, and Buck dramatically rips his off. 

“Oh my god, I can never breathe in that thing!” 

You take yours off, putting it under your arm, and look at him 

“That’s not true” 

“Okay, but it could be.” He makes a dumb face, and you giggle, knocking into his side.

“Let’s just find Eddie and get out of here” 

You and Buck wander through the facility, calling out his name, and singing his name, Buck makes up a weird rap?? Of his name, but there’s no answer and you’re both starting to get a little worried. 

“Hey, Cap?” Buck speaks into his radio as he takes your hand, keeping you close by his side 

“What’s up?” Bobby answers “You three almost done? We wanna get out of here”

“We can’t find Eddie,” He sighs “And he’s not answering us” 

“That’s weird. You want us to come in and help?” You know he’s already turning to the others to get them ready to go

“That would probably be-“

“There he is!” You tug Buck over to a corner of one of the labs, Eddie is standing over something as you come over 

“We found him! Hey? What gives! Why weren’t you answering us?” Buck puts his hands on his hips and you wave your hand in front of Eddie’s face 

“Hello? Earth to Eddie??” 

He’s staring down at a broken glass cloche, there’s a pretty pink flower in the center of it, you’ve never seen anything like it. It glows softly as little shimmers fall from the petals. He hadn’t acknowledged either of you yet. 

You blink slowly before reaching for your respirator 

“Buck?…” 

“Yeah,” He puts his on too before moving you backward and standing in front of Eddie now.

“Hey, Ed’s? Eddie you good man?” 

Buck tilts his head up to look at him and nearly backs into you as he drops his face. 

“What?? What is it?” Your hands fly up to grip Buck’s jacket and he puts his arm back to block you before you come around him

“Cap? I think we’re gonna need those scientists” 

You peek over his shoulder and flinch back. Eddie’s already staring down at you, he tilts his head to the side and that’s when you notice he’s not really himself anymore, his pupils are fully blown wide and those little sparkles are swirling around in his eyes. 

“Oh boy” 

Eddie had been checked over a least 600 million times. The sparkles had since left his eyes and now he was just tired, his pupils were still fully blown but he seemed okay. He was tentatively released into your care and you were to call the emergency line they’d given you if anything out of the ordinary happened. 

“You seriously don’t have to stay over” Eddie rolls his eyes as he opens his front door. You put your hands on his back, pushing him through and kicking it shut behind you. 

“Bobby literally said he would punt me into next year if I didn’t keep watch over you and I believe him. Now why don’t you go change and I can start dinner? Maybe take a shower?” 

Eddie hands you his phone, the DoorDash app open “Order whatever you want for us, you’re already babysitting there’s no way in hell I’m making you cook for us too. You can borrow whatever you want from my closet and, Y/N?” 

He cups your neck, kissing your forehead and you smile 

“Yes, Roomie?” You joke and he scoffs, pulling you into his chest for a hug

“Thank you, honestly. I know this probably isn’t your idea of fun” 

You snuggle into his chest and shake your head 

“No, it’s okay Eddie! You’re my friend, I don’t mind spending time with you and I truly don’t mind watching over you. Besides, I got Buck on speed dial!” 

He’s about to give you a playful little shove when a weird spark shoots down his spine, it spreads through his veins, to the tips of his fingers, as soon as it’s there it’s gone. He shakes it off, before pulling away to go shower and leaving you to order whatever you’d like. 

As he steps into the shower he feels it again, a weird heat spreads through his body and he can feel it pooling in the pit of his stomach. He turns the water cooler ignores the feeling and starts to wash up. 

“Fuck. Fuck get it together” Eddie mutters as he drags the soapy towel over his body. He moans softly, leaning against the shower wall as he wraps the towel around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s sure he’s never been this damn hard in his entire life as he groans into his fist, biting down. He cums the fastest he’s ever cum, whimpering as he spurts across the shower wall. He leans forward, the cold water pouring over his shoulders as he looks down.

He’s still rock-hard. 

“What the fuck?” He whispers he gets off three more times, each one less satisfying than the one before it and he knows he needs something else, he’s just- not sure what. He finally manages to pull his hand away long enough to finish up his shower and step out. 

He’s lightheaded as he stares at himself in the mirror, he can't seriously be thinking about what he’s thinking about. No, no that’s crazy. But- 

“No” He grumbles firmly to himself as he pushes off the counter and goes into his room. He takes his towel off, running it through his hair and patting himself dry, even the texture of the towel feels good against his burning skin. Even if he’d just stepped out of an ice cold shower he’s no idea why his skin feels so tight and itchy. 

He tugs at the roots of his hair, his heart pounding in his chest before he sees it in the mirror, your clothes are in the corner of the room, folded neatly like you’d changed before he’d gotten out of the shower. He takes a second, not even realizing his feet are bringing him over to the little pile until he’s pulling it apart, your scent getting stronger and stronger until he finds them, the panties you’d been wearing at work all day, and the smell of the flower from earlier.

He couldn’t place it then, but he knows it now. It had been your perfume, that’s why he’d entered the room, he thought you were in there. And eventually, it morphed into something else, something sweeter something a little dirty, a little musty, and his mouth was watering as he inhaled that stupid flower. 

And now he’s on the floor, jerking off into your shirt with your panties up to his nose, his face buried in them.

He couldn’t even be bothered to feel bad about all the dirty thoughts he was having about you, he’d been pining after you for months since you’d joined the team. All he can think about is your scent filling his nostrils and swirling around his insides like a warm hug.

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, with a glass of water and some painkillers. He looks up at you, but his hand doesn’t stop and he doesn’t pull them away from his face. 

“Eddie??” You set the pills and water down on the table and come over to him 

“Hey? Hey, what’s goin’ on?” You slowly approach him, your hands out in front of you as you come to sit on your knees in front of him 

“Can I have those?” You ask quietly, reaching up for them and he backs away a little and you put your hands on your lap

“Okay, okay you can keep them… um… what’s going on?” 

He groans, his body feeling hot and restless. The weird pollen has him completely under its spell, every nerve ending alight with a need that he can’t put a stop to.

"Y/N, I...I don't know what's happening to me," he rasps out, his voice low and strained."I feel so fucking hot...like I'm gonna explode..."

His hands reach for you desperately as he drops the panties, needing to feel your skin against his. He tries to pull you close, but his movements are clumsy and uncoordinated, the pollen clouding his mind with lust.

You fall onto your butt, your eyes wide as you stare at him, his skin is flushed and sweaty, and his body shakes as he starts to crawl toward you. 

“Please...I need you," he begs, his eyes dark with desire. "I need you so bad it hurts. Touch me, baby...make me feel better..."

Your mouth drops open as you start to crawl backward. You can tell by the look in his shimmery eyes he can smell your arousal almost as intensely as you feel it.

“E-Eddie I don’t know” You gulp nervously, and suddenly regret that you decided just to throw on one of his T-shirts. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this just as badly… he was just currently under the influence of that dumb flower. 

He tugs at your shirt impatiently, wanting it off, wanting to feel you bare against him. His hips stutter involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking relief from the ache that consumes him.

"I can't take it anymore," he groans, his voice rough with need. "I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't help me...please Y/N, I need you so fucking bad..."

“Eddie, m-maybe I should call the doctor” Your back hits the wall and you’re left with nowhere else to go “You don’t know what you’re saying!” 

Eddie shakes his head, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The pollen has him completely in its thrall, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and the desperate need to be inside you.

"No doctor," he mumbles, his words slurring together. "Don't need a doctor...just need you, baby. Need you so bad..."

He reaches for you again, his hands groping clumsily at your body through the thin fabric of your shirt. He tugs at it impatiently, wanting it off, wanting to feel your skin against his.

"Please Y/N," he begs, his voice low and raw with desire. "I can't wait anymore...I need you now. Need to be inside you, filling you up...making you mine..."

You nod slowly, scooting closer to him, the closer he gets, his sweat dripping down his toned body… plopping onto your skin… and you’re not sure what comes over you but you take the damn shirt off, letting him drink in your hot, luscious, curves. 

He grins widely as he sees the same little sparkles floating in your eyes and he knows he’s infected you next. He feels a little hesitancy as he watches you for a minute, what if you smell something different? What if you want someone different? He thinks that’s how it works at least, he’s not really sure.

And then you come forward, licking the sweat from the base of his windpipe and moaning at the salty liquid on your tongue and he knows you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. 

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his hands sliding up your sides to feel you up, “You look so good...so perfect. Gonna make you feel so fucking good..."

He leans in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like he's starving for you. He grins wickedly, feeding off of your little moans and whimpers against his lips, his cock weeping onto the floor beneath you two. 

"Need you," he pants against your mouth, his hands roaming your body possessively. "Need to be inside you...please Y/N...let me have you..."

His hands roam over your body greedily, cupping your breasts and squeezing the soft flesh. Your head is spinning, you gasp soft and breathy. You can feel just how on fire he is for you, the same flames burning hotter with each touch as he continues to grind into you. 

He captures one of your nipples between his fingers, rolling and pinching the sensitive bud. His other hand slides down between your legs, cupping your mound possessively and your body jerks underneath his at the sudden contact. 

"Gonna fill you up so good," he promises, his voice low and rough with desire. "Gonna make you scream my name...beg for more..."

He kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a mark of possession.

"Mine," he growls, his hips rocking against yours. "All mine...gonna claim every inch of you..."

His fingers tease along your slit. He whimpers at the feel of your wetness, so plain and clear that you want this just as badly.

"So fucking wet for me already," he praises, his fingers circling your clit. "Gonna make you cum so hard, baby...gonna ruin you for anyone else..."

“A-are you sure? T-that you want me?” You’re almost as delirious as he is as you pant harshly, your body feeling just as hot and needy as his as your back arches off the floor, and you open your legs wider to him, moaning lowly. 

I'm sure, baby," he rasps out, his voice low and rough with desire. "Never been more sure of anything in my life. I need you, Y/N...need to be inside you, filling you up..."

His hands slide down to grip your ass, lifting you effortlessly. He carries you towards the bedroom, never breaking the kiss.

"Bed," he mumbles, his words slurred with lust. "Need you in my bed, baby...gonna fuck you so good..."

He lays you down on the mattress, crawling over you like a predator stalking its prey. He kisses and nips at your skin as he goes, leaving a trail of marks in his wake.

You open your legs eagerly for him as he settles between them, both of you groan as he starts to grind against you once again.

The feel of your soft heat against his aching cock is almost too much to bear, the pollen making every sensation intensely pleasurable for the both of you.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps out, grinding against you desperately as his lips connect with yours again.

With a low groan, he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. They both moan at the sensation, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, starting up a deep, hard rhythm. "So fucking tight...gonna ruin you for anyone else...make you mine..."

You drag your nails down his spine, feeling his hard muscles underneath your fingertips and he moans as your nails rake down his back, the sting of pain only heightening his pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, his cock hitting deep with every powerful thrust.

He leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting and sucking at the sensitive bud. His other hand slides between your bodies to rub at your clit, circling the swollen nub with his fingers.

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. The bed creaks and groans beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his eyes locked on yours. "Take it...take my cock...fucking take it..."

His words slur as he feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as you get closer to the edge. He doubles his efforts, fucking into you harder, faster, determined to push you over.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Cum on my cock like a good girl...let me feel you..."

His fingers rub at your clit frantically, his thumb pressing down on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wants to feel you come undone, wants to watch you fall apart beneath him.

He changes the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice low and rough. "Cum for me...cum all over my cock...wanna feel you soak me..."

He reaches down to grab your leg, hooking it over his shoulder to open you up even more. He pounds into you harder, faster, chasing his release as his fingertips bruise into your skin.

"Fuck, sweet girl," he groans, his rhythm starting to falter. "Gonna cum...gonna fill you up so fucking good...breed this perfect pussy..."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. He moans long and low, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm as you both cum together, you sob out his name, digging your nails deeper into his skin as he fucks you through your climax.

He collapses on top of you, his cock pulsating inside you as you both pant harshly. You welcome his weight on top of you, it’s so warm and comforting as you snuggle into him. You inhale slowly, his scent flooding your senses and making you dizzy.

“I think I love you” He mutters in your ear and you giggle, your hands sliding down his solid back and cupping his ass, pushing him deeper inside of you, and his breath shudders. 

“I think I love you too” 

“Round two?” He purrs in your ear and you push his shoulders, flipping him onto his back and grinding your pussy down on his cock. 

“Round two”

Buck knocked on the door early the next morning, he hadn’t heard anything from you two and he was beginning to get worried. He knocks again after a few minutes, this time a little louder before deciding to just let himself in.

He pokes his head through the door, looking around… everything seems to be in order… he sets the cup holder down on the kitchen counter before going back to Eddie’s bedroom. 

“Guys?? Hey guys?”

He opens the door quietly and freezes in his tracks, you and Eddie are passed out in bed, his arms are tightly wrapped around you, his cock still inside you as his cum leaks out. You’re both covered in hickies all over your bodies and various bruises and what Buck’s sure is a bite mark on Eddie’s ass. 

He pulls out his phone, dials Bobby’s number, and waits for him to pick up. 

“Hey, dad?…. Yeah I’m gonna need about 6 years of therapy” 

[wheneverfeasible]

You ever think about Eddie Munson in his early 30s watching Rob Halford coming out on MTV? You ever think about Eddie, knowing he was queer but unable to come out for fear of repercussions? He’d been hunted by one mob before and he didn’t want to go through that again.

Maybe Corroded Coffin made it big. Maybe Eddie started or joined a new band. Maybe he does a solo act. Maybe he’s not famous at all and he’s living a regular life.

And then Halford comes out, and Eddie sees how the metal community accepts him, how the community embraces him, and Eddie realizes that yes it’s scary but also he wants that happiness that Halford has, that wonderful moment of coming out of the closet.

Maybe Eddie understood “Raw Deal” for what it was all along, maybe he’s always gotten the hints sprinkled here and there throughout some of the songs. Maybe he always suspected, always wondered. Sure, he lives in a podunk town in Indiana, but he’s sought out whatever information he could when he first realized he was different. He read zines and articles and listened to hushed talk in bars when he escaped Hawkins for a little while when he was younger.

You ever think about Eddie, coming out in his 30s, because even though he knows it can be dangerous, even though he knows it can go all wrong, he doesn’t want to be in the closet anymore and later he writes a letter to Halford, not really expecting him to ever read it, expressing gratitude for the courage and the strength to finally be true to himself, come what may.

Imagine Steve Harrington, adding his own little postscript, thanking him for helping him find the man of his dreams.

Years later, when it’s finally legalized and they’re both graying and a little soft around the middle, do you ever think about Eddie and Steve inviting Halford to their wedding not really expecting him to ever read it or show up if he even did?

Do you ever think about Rob Halford showing up with his own partner Tom Green and telling Eddie and Steve that they’ve been rooting for them all these years?

You ever think about Eddie, alive, happy, and loved?

Link to Halford’s interview

[eddieschains]

Dream Come True

Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3

Word Count: 2.8k

TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!

It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.

Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.

He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.

He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.

In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.

You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.

“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.

You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.

You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.

“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.

“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.

Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.

“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.

“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.

“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.

This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.

You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”

“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”

“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.

“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.

Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”

“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”

“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.

You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”

Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.

You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.

“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”

“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.

“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.

He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.

You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.

“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”

You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”

“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.

He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.

The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.

“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.

He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.

He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.

You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.

“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.

“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.

“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”

“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.

He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.

You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.

“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.

He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.

You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.

“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.

You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”

You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”

“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.

“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”

All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.

Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.

He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.

“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.

“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”

He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”

You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.

You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.

“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.

“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.

“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”

You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”

You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”

[capseycartwright]

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time. 

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father. 

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now. 

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name . 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed. 

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan. 

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. 

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least. 

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire. 

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged. 

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world. 

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is. 

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance. 

read the rest on ao3

[buddierecs]

soulmates buddie fic

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead me back to you) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "in 1880, evan buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets eddie diaz, cowboy. when fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, buck walks into his fire station in los angeles - and meets eddie diaz, new recruit." word count: 88k rating: explicit important tags: reincarnation, gilded age, cowboys, timelines, heavy angst objects in the mirror by: sevensoulmates 'the voice had always been around, eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where eddie just tuned it out. but then the voice started speaking directly to him..." word count: 139k rating: explicit important tags: telepathic bond, pre-canon, slow burn, eventual smut, angst freezing from the inside out by: 7ate9 "a soulmate was a definitive thing. and a freezing soul only meant one thing: your soulmate doesn’t want you. and without their love, without their acceptance, you’ll die. at first, buck didn’t realize why he was so cold. but it was true; because of this dumb lawsuit, eddie rejected him. buck would die. buck was dying. he was nothing to anyone. he’d fade away, freezing from the inside out, ice in his veins, in his soul. and no one would even care." word count: 16k rating: teen and up important tags: grief/mourning, post-lawsuit (s3), angst, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, abandonment bark like you want it by: colonoscopys "the first time eddie diaz hears his soulmate’s voice, he hears him say damn, that’s a nice ass." word count: 7k rating: general audience important tags: crack treated seriously, different first meeting, buddie are captains stitch my soul by: r_holland "eddie diaz has never really put much stock into the concept of "fate". but after his marriage falls apart, he swears that he's not going to go against the universe again. he's going to find his soulmate. he's going to find evan. but then he meets buck, and all of his careful plans start coming apart at the seams." word count: 30k rating: mature important tags: idiots in love, miscommunication, getting together, pining say you were made to be mine by: elvensorceress "it's valentine's day 2018, and eddie saves a man from choking to death in the middle of a restaurant. it's only after the man is rushed away by paramedics that eddie realizes his hands are green. the man he saved is his soulmate. and he doesn't even know his name let alone how to find him." word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: different first meeting au, soulmate-identifying marks, mutual pining catch your breath by: dlanadhz "buck has been a firefighter long enough to know what it means when someone is throwing up flower petals. it means heartache and physical pain. it means almost certain death. he knows, of course. he just never thought it would happen to him." word count: 21k rating: teen and up important tags: hanahaki disease, supernatural illnesses, pining, angst, hurt!evan buckley fate, the universe, and something else by: writesmart "eddie's soulmate won't stop getting hurt and leaving marks across his body. buck's terrified of meeting his soulmate and seeing disappointment in their eyes. the two are love struck idiots who revolve around each other until they finally collide." word count: 13k rating: teen and up important tags: soulmate identifying marks, angst, self-worth issues, hurt/comfort in cicatrices amor by: annide "from the moment you are born, your existence is linked to your soulmate’s. every time you get a cut, a scrape, a bruise, it appears on their body, fading away after a few minutes. scars are shared forever, a lasting mark linking two people together. buck and eddie are soulmates, but are they ready for what it means?" word count: 26k rating: teen and up important tags: slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

[scarlet-bitch]

Glitch. (Part One)

“I think there’s been a glitch, five seconds later I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch, and I’m not even sorry.”

18+ sexual themes

Robin thought it would be a great idea to set Steve up with her new co-worker. But once the date was arranged, she started to second-guess her decision and wondered if you might have been a better match for Eddie. As a true gentleman, Steve took her concerns seriously and decided to leave the choice up to you.

——-

Thirty minutes ago you would’ve said you were indifferent to metal music. You surely didn’t hate it, but you never found yourself particularly wanting to listen to it. However, you are rather fond of pretty men and the lead in the metal band playing at the dive bar where you’re on a blind date, is possibly the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

This is quite a testament, especially since your date, Steve, is very handsome. With his charming conversation, you genuinely enjoyed every moment of your dinner together. But now that you’re at The Hideout, you find it hard to concentrate on him or the conversation.

“Mhmm” you nod in agreement to what you think was a comment about the Jack and Coke he’s drinking. You know you should fight harder to pay attention but you’re simply too mesmerized by the sight in front of you to think straight.

Steve doesn’t seem to think much of it at first, figuring it’s far too loud to continue any meaningful conversation. But as the guitar solo begins, he clocks the real reason you’re struggling to keep up.

As you’re sat clutching your drink, your eyes are glued to the stage. Mouth slightly agape, thighs squeezed tight, breath hitched in your throat as your eyes lock in on the way the prettiest man’s fingers skillfully work his guitar.

He’s intoxicating.

“He’s a friend of mine if you want to meet him.”

Fuck.

Your face snaps back to your date. The embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, as a shy smile toys at your lips.

“I, uh” you pause. In the hour you’ve known him, you have already gathered that Steve is a man who can read women. You couldn’t fool him if you wanted to.

He let’s out a small chuckle. “Listen, it’s totally fine. It’s safe to say Robin tried. I’ll introduce you.”

You found yourself straining your voice in an effort to be heard over the music. Your words tumbling out, trying to clarify that despite eye-fucking someone else -albeit his friend- it was in no way a reflection that you weren’t enjoying his company.

Steve grinned. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Eddie has that effect on people."

——

When the band wrapped up their set the bar transitioned to playing music over the speakers. Hall & Oates' “Maneater” was the first song to play, and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. The lyrics seemingly resonating in your own reality. “She’s sitting with you, but her eyes are on the door.” Or in this case, his best friend.

——

Eddie made his way over to the bar where Steve and you were sitting. Hair tousled, drops of sweat beading down his skin, and a wide toothy grin spread across his face. Steve nudged you subtly as he approached, a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Harrington! Good to see you, man!” Eddie greeted with a grin, slapping Steve on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. "And who might this stunning creature be?"

Steve introduced you. As you extended your arm, you greeted Eddie with a smile, "Nice to meet you."

He shook your hand, his touch lingering for a moment. "Likewise. Tell me, did you enjoy the show? I couldn't help but notice you looked rather... captivated.”

Steve interjected with a teasing tone. “Oh, I assure you, she was.”

"Well then, if I’ve been stealing your date's attention, the least I can do is buy you both a drink.”

Steve stayed at the bar with Eddie while the drinks were being prepared, so you found a booth tucked away in a quiet corner.

When they returned with your drinks, Steve slipped into the seat next to you while Eddie settled across on the bench. The conversation between the three of you, flowing effortlessly as you got to know Eddie as more than just a pretty face.

——

The night went on, the bar bustling around you, but in your little corner with Steve and Eddie, time seemed to slow down.

Eddie’s presence was just as captivating off stage. He seemed to possess a gravitational pull, drawing you in with stolen glances and cheeky comments that left you both intrigued and flustered. Steve was effortlessly charming, matching Eddie’s wit. His smile and the way he spoke had a quality that had escaped you earlier. As you watched them banter, you couldn't decide who was more attractive. Quickly realizing the title for prettiest man you’ve laid eyes on was a draw.

You were caught in the middle of their dynamic, unable to tear your gaze away from the interplay of their personalities. The two of them bounce off each other like the perfect balance of mystique and charm. In all the banter, you can’t help but detect subtle tension- like a glitch, a mix of friendship that’s tinged with a hint of something more. Desire.

——

Steve leaned back against the booth, grinning as Eddie's last comment hung in the air.

"So, confession," Steve started, his tone light. "Robin wasn’t sure who would be a better match for you, so we decided to take matters into our own hands.”

You chuckled softly, feeling warm from the alcohol and the company of both men. "So, this was all a plan to see which of you I’d fall for?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Something like that.”

Eddie joined in with a laugh, “Steve usually doesn't let me crash his dates, but can you blame us? We thought Robin might be onto something when we saw you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Normally, I'd be embarrassed about that, but now look at both of you, competing for my attention.”

Steve laughed. “Do you always have this effect on people? Or is it just me and Eddie?”

You glanced between them, their eyes filled with curiosity and longing. "I think," you said slowly, "tonight might be different."

You may have been mesmerized by Eddie’s hands, but you now couldn’t stop looking at Steve’s mouth. It was so pretty, and every word that fell from his lips cascaded like velvet. He would talk me through it.

"You know," you said with a playful grin, sipping your drink, "I'm starting to think you two might be onto something."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

“Maybe I'm just greedy," you replied with a mock sigh, "but why choose one when I can have both?”

Eddie chuckled, leaning closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low, "you might give us ideas."

Steve's eyes met yours, warmth in his gaze making your cheeks flush. "Who says we haven't already had them?" he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine.

They exchanged a look that spoke volumes- a silent agreement that something unexpected was happening between them, sparked by you.

Eddie’s playful grin softened. “Alright then, you heard the man, we’re not opposed to sharing.”

You looked at them, searching for any hint of jest or hesitation, but found none. Their eyes held yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you leaned forward slightly. "Is that an invitation?”

Steve chuckled softly. "More like an offer.”

Eddie leaned back in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips. "The question is, are you up for it?" he added, his voice low and husky.

Taking a sip of your drink to gather your thoughts, you met their eyes with a hint of playfulness. "I’m game for almost anything,” you replied, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "But what exactly do you have in mind?"

Steve's eyes twinkled with amusement. "How about we start by going somewhere more private?" he suggested, his voice thick with promise.

Eddie nodded in agreement, his expression becoming more serious but still laced with excitement. "We could go to my place," he proposed. "It's about a 15-minute walk, or if we’d rather, my van’s just right outside. It's pretty spacious."

You lock eyes with Steve. He leans nearer, his voice soft and filled with longing, "What do you say?"

“The van it is.”

——

Outside, the cool night air greeted you, a stark contrast to the warmth and intimacy brewing between the three of you.

Eddie opened the side door to his van, revealing a cozy space with cushions lining the floor. The three of you settled in, Eddie to your left, Steve to your right. The soft glow of the interior lights highlighted the contours of your faces, reflecting the shared desire that pulsed between each of you.

Eddie’s eyes were fixed on you with a playful glint. "Well, here we are," he remarked. “You ready to see what other talents these hands possess” he whispers, grazing his hand gently up your left leg.

Your breath hitches. Taken off guard by his boldness, you’re at a loss for words. Merely shaking your head yes, causing him to chuckle.

Steve, leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You know, l've been wondering what your lips taste like since the moment I saw you.”

You turn your head, meeting him face to face. As you lean in, your lips brush against his in a feather light kiss. His response is a soft intake of breath, before deepening the kiss. His hands sliding gently along your waist, pulling you closer. Eddie’s presence next to you, his fingers inching up your thigh.

As Steve moves from your lips to your neck, Eddie’s lips quickly find yours. A soft sigh escaping him. Eddie’s kiss is different than Steve’s, a melding of lips and tongues, indicative of the hunger and longing that had been building throughout the night. He moves from your lips to your jaw, nipping gently at your neck. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping the soft flesh of your inner thigh, only centimeters from where you want him most.

Steve’s trailing kisses softly on the other side, sucking gently when he finds the spot that makes you moan.

“Ahh, fuck.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the feeling of being ravished by both men.

“That’s it, baby girl. Tell us how it feels.” Steve hums.

“So fucking good.”

Both men begin trailing their kisses back up to your mouth, stopping as they almost collide together. They exchange a glance, a smirk on both their lips, wordless communication passing between them before they move in sync. Steve's lips found yours first, soft and eager, while Eddie's followed suit, more demanding. It was a collision of warmth and desire, three sets of lips intermingling, setting your senses on fire. When you parted, you were left breathless.

"I think we're going to have a lot of fun together.” Steve rasps

Eddie’s lips pull into a smirk. “Only one way to find out.”

——

Part Two

[trulyumai]

Fall Baking

pairing: eddie munson / gf! reader

synopsis: it was finally fall. more rain, more sweaters. this also meant the return of the infamous, ‘Hawkins Fair.’ eddie could care less about it really, but you were ecstatic.

warnings: none, fluff only!

A/N: im baking like crazy right now so this automatically came to my head. I’m ready to drown in pumpkin bread and warm coffee.

Eddie knew you loved the fall.

When the leafs started to turn, the weather getting colder and sbittier than normal, yeah, that was when that thing happened to your eyes.

They’d get all shiny and well, cute.

He was the opposite. He could do without the hindrance of rain bearing against him anytime he wanted to take out the trash or walk to the corner store.

But seeing you so happy about little sprinkles of condensation made the man weak.

So he detested the cold weather a little less for you.

And you know what the cold weather brought?

Fall excursions.

Aka: The Fair.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Slamming your lunch down on the table, your body molded against his in one solid motion.

Eddie grunted out in surprise, but it didn’t stop you from talking about the surprise you had in store.

“The fair is coming back!”

Only stares were given, Gaven looked over at Jeff who was returning the same empty, confused look.

Eddie jumped in with a clearing of his throat, being the best boyfriend ever he had to save the day, right?

“No way, baby!”

“Way!” You giggled, relaxing into Eddies hold as you dug out the celery sticks in your little box.

“And, the school is accepting student stalls, that’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Why is that fun— ow!” With a harsh kick to Gavin’s knee, Eddie changed the subject.

“That’s cool babe, you could do a baking themed one. Your treats are to dieeeee for.”

“Oh yeah! Been a while since I got the iconic Mrs. Munson brownies,” Gavin sighed out. Already imagining the pillowy, chocolaty goodness that was always oozing with warmth.

“That’s not what I named them.” You laughed, “Buuuut if you boys help me out with the stall I promise to bake one thing if your choosing!”

This garnered the attention of the hellfire club fast. Eddie was almost jealous at how entranced you got everyone.

“Anything?”

“Can you do cakes?”

“Ooooh the brownieees!” Almost everyone talked over one another, already fantasizing about the treats they’ll ask for.

“Uhhhh babe?” Eddies rings were cold against your thighs, your dark green skirt rid up against the tops of his legs, showcasing your pretty and soft skin.

“Mhm?” You replied, already turning towards your wild haired boyfriend.

“And what do I get? I mean I love your baking, obviously! but I can get that anytime.”

That was… true.

Damn it you thought you had everyone sinched into the plan. But of course Eddie would try to sneak something else into play.

“Well ummm,” he stumped you this time.

Furrowing your brows, you bit lightly on the inside of your cheek. Thoroughly searching your brain for anything Eddie might approve of.

Clothes? No, Eddie only wore his favorite staples anyway. Maybe you could offer to clean his room? No, you just did that last weekend when he was too busy snoring on the couch.

Think, think!—

“I knooow what I want.”

You knew that tone. That deep drawl that makes his voice come out in a low, teasing hush.

Eddie indicated you closer with just a wag of his index finger.

You felt the weight of his breath hit the side of your face, warm and light.

“I want,” he breathed in this time, dragging his lips closer and closer until they brushed against the side of your jaw.

“You, to spend the night, every nite this week.”

“Eddie!” Rolling your orbs you pushed his face away. “That’s kinda impossible. You know how my parents are—“

“Pretty please, sweetheart? It’s been forever!”

“I just spent the night on saturday!”

“That was literally forever ago.”

“Eddie.” Your fingers brushed with his temple, lightly pushing against them.

“That was two days ago.”

He only shook his head in rebuttal, moving his legs until your frame was once again close to his.

“My point still stands. Forever ago! And you need my help, who will keep these idiots in check?”

“Hey!” A few club mates responded back, but quickly went into their own baking conversations.

“Not all week. Two days,”

“Three!” Eddie challenged. With a mocking squint to your eyes you huffed out a breath.

“Fine! You win. Three days.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, smothering a sloppy kiss on your cheek and raised a hand to high five Gavin.

What a dork.

“You won’t regret this baby. I just got new snacks, cleaned my room—“

“You cleaned your room?”

Eddie cleared his throat and his long fingers came up to play with the loose hair around your neck.

“Well.. no, but it’s still clean from when you did it— ouch!”

Grabbing the man’s soft cheek, you began to pull.

“Hey hey, easy easy, I was just joking!—“

“Sooooo funny, Eddie.” Laughing, you watched as his fingers came up to the pinched spot, rubbing it with a soft tenderness like you had plucked the skin right off his face.

Grabbing at your celery you joined into the groups conversation. Trying to remember each and every goodie the gang wanted you to bake.

This is gonna be a long week.

But at least it’s fall, right?

….

Right..?