#buck and eddie being worried dads

[mazzystar24]

Tw: Ed behaviours implied

Don’t mind me just creating scenarios in my head that make me wanna cry in public

Anyways 🤩

imagine Bobby dies and he leaves buck a recipe book and buck spends months not being able to cook and having trouble eating anything because he would remember Bobby each time and then after months of healing he starts teaching Chris recipes from the book

#911 #hope I made you all cry on this fine day #911 abc #911 fox #911onfox #9 1 1 #buddie #implied? #not clearly but in my brain it’s a cute scene where after months of worrying about him and being there for him #eddie walking in on buck teaching Chris #buckley diaz family #bobby nash is buck's dad #Bobby Nash #angsty little brain makes angsty little ideas #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #tw: ed behaviors #my posts

[hmslusitania]

Eddie stares at the screen. It’s not — the title is…

Well.

Fuck.

He’s read enough of the Reddit thread in question to know that he’s phrasing it right but he doesn’t—

It feels bad to post something that starts with “AITA my [32M] best friend [32M] just started dating someone new and for the first time since I’ve known him its a guy [39M]. Every time I think about them together it makes me want to puke and/or die and/or punch somebody. I’ve never thought I was homophobic before. One of my closest friends at work (and our workplace is like a family in the most literal aside from blood sense) is a lesbian and I have a regular wine night with her wife and we’ve never had an issue!”

But like. He doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t exactly ask Buck about it. And he’s not going to text Hen or Karen to ask them to delve into their deeper analyses of his psyche and whether or not they’ve secretly picked up “”””signs”””” that he’s homophobic. If they have? He doesn’t want to know. Because he’s not a homophobe! He isn’t! Really truly!!

At least he’s never been before when it was Hen and Karen and Michael and David and people he'd met on calls and even Josh (his issues with Josh had been 1,000% unrelated to Josh’s sexuality). But for whatever reason, Buck and Tommy dating — Buck and Tommy kissing — Buck and Tommy having sex and—

He loses the plot in favour of unidentifiable rage.

He makes the Reddit post.

He is primarily asked for additional context.

“Well. Uh. Let’s call him Stag. Has been my best friend since we defused a bomb together I don’t even know like five years ago? And he’s like the best friend I’ve ever had to the point where I’ve changed my will so that he’s the person who gets my son in the event of my untimely demise. And like! I like his boyfriend! I really do, it’s not that I’m worried that if something happens to me and Stag has to take custody of our son I’m worried about how [let’s call him Gatling] would do with our kid. He’s a cool guy and tbh we were friends first and he’d probably make a wicked stepdad to anyone’s kid, but also… okay it got late and I don’t think this is an accurate representation of the situation but! Anyway! Additional information of note being that I like both of them as people a whole bunch so the idea that I might be activating latent homophobic responses just because of either of them as people is nonsense haha.”

And he isn’t! Eddie isn’t worried about how Tommy would be as a stepdad. Really! It doesn’t even give him hives to think about dying anymore.

It takes until he wakes up in a cold sweat at three in the morning for him to realise that he doesn’t think of Buck as Chris’s stepdad. He thinks of him as Chris’s other dad, who is — who is dating someone a whole lot like Eddie — who is dating another man who isn’t Eddie — and…

And, well.

Well, fuck.

“Edit: false alarm I am not homophobic. But I AM in love with, uh, Stag even though he’s dating Gatling. How do I tell him?”

Because sometimes, asking relationship advice from complete strangers online is the only reasonable way to proceed. And Eddie can only hope, desperately, that they have the answers.

#its late I’m exhausted I haven’t written 9-1-1 fic in 2.5 years #9-1-1 #buddie #the ghost ship scribbles

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist For I Can Do It With A Broken Heart:

@mopeymopeymouse @fracturedarkness @mmunson86 @capricornrisingsstuff @georgeweasleyslostearhq @gagasbee @birdysaturne @empathyroad @unsureofthe-future @remuslupingf @evacraft1 @eddiebanishedmunson @mewchiili @trixyvixx @take-everything-you-can @streamafterlaughter @tlclick73 @fhsbsvy @micheledawn1975 @munsonmecrazy @harrysgothicbitch @honeyedstar @sadangeltingz @ali-r3n @hereforshmut @cooljadejacksonthings @emma-munson @bl1ssfulbaby @costellation-hunter @mysticpeachobject @thisisktrying @idcandimscared @mel119g @them-cute-boys @bl0ssomanddie @baileebear @luahmeeks @shaybahs @ribbitribbitquack @stephanie-nicks76 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @kennedy-brooke @ezzynf @pretendthisnameisclever @padf00ts-l0ver @boinkybarness @maedesculpaeusoubi @skyfullofsong123 @cruwushes @cloudroomblog @yourdailymemedelivery @daisy-munson @wolfstarsimpxx @haruari

bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[megalony]

Evan Buckley (911) Masterlist

This was the 911 masterlist, but now this is dedicated to Evan (Buck) and there is a separate masterlist for Eddie. I hope you all enjoy them.

Main Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan (Buck) Buckley:

I Was Worried

Care to Dance

Buck Jr

We Made It

Professional

Did I Stutter?

See The Difference

Obsessive

Early Arrival

My Squad

Part 2

Part 3

Bathroom Revelations

Family Favouritism

Checked Out

Helpless

His Own Miracle

You Look Beautiful

You Saved Me

Being Threatened

I'm Home

Hostage

A Piece of Me

There's My Girl

Part 2

Old Memories

Call For a Rescue

I Won't Lose Her

Double Trouble

Comatose

Helping Hands and Paws

Sick Day

Falling For Me

Communication Error (Deaf! reader)

Give Me a Reason (Deaf! reader)

Hypo State

Emergency Situation

I'm Taking You Home

Protect His Girls

A Burden On You

It's Yours

You Need To Choose

Let Me Help

Little Bird Part 2

You Didn't Know?

A Bad Night

One In A Million

Wish I Knew

You're Not Leaving

Just In Time

Too Stimulating (Autistic! Reader)

Baby-Trapped Part 2

Matters Of The Heart

She's Not Here Part 2

Have You Slept Part 2

Mayday, Mayday

Strike Me Down Part 2

Another Present (Christmas fic)

Beautiful Destruction

She Needs Help (Series Masterlist)

Call Me Dad (Series Masterlist)

This Is Fate (Dark! Evan Series Masterlist)

It's Complicated

Part 2

Evan Buckley x Tommy Kinard:

Third Time's A Charm

Eddie Diaz x Reader x Evan Buckley:

Bittersweet

We Love Him

Pretty Please

My Boys

She's Going Down

Light Duties

Disciplinary Action

Worth The Wait Part 2

Brave Girl

Doctor Diaz

Model Patients

Who Do You Think I Am

Get Her Out Part 2

Home Invasion Part 2

Look After You- Masterlist

You'll Be Safe Here- Masterlist

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #evan buckley x reader #buck imagine #buck x reader #911 imagine #911 #911 fox

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #oliver stark #911 fanfic #911 show #911 fox #911 spoilers #eddie diaz 911 #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

[exhuastedpigeon]

Just thinking about the way the Buckley-Diaz family has evolved and grown as the seasons have progressed and getting really emotional, don't mind me.

Season 2 you have Buck helping Eddie get the support he needs, but he isn't that involved yet. Buck insists on going to Eddie's shield ceremony even though he's got a cast up his thigh. They're friends, they're close, but they haven't quite made the leap to family yet.

Season 3 you get that leap. You have Buck helping with the accessible skateboard. You've got Buck planning a little party so all of the firefam can see their families on Christmas, but especially so Christopher can see Eddie. And that's not even mentioning the 'there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you'. This is the season their family was born and it was forged in fire and a tsunami and a lawsuit and forgiveness.

Season 4 gives us Chris running to Buck when he's mad at his dad and Buck really acting like a co-parent and not a fun uncle (which is kind of what he acted like at the start of season 3). It gives us the fucking will and Eddie showing and telling Buck how important he is to him and to his family. It gives us Buck telling Chris his dad was shot and Chris comforting Buck as he sobbed. It gives you no room to argue that those three are a family.

Season 5 takes it up another level. You have Eddie ending a relationship with a lovely woman because Buck called him on his bullshit. We get the hostage situation and Buck losing his cool when Christopher is threatened. And then Eddie leaving the 118 and Buck worrying about him because he seems off. It gives us Eddie learning to cooking Buck loving the food even though he warned Taylor to eat before.

You get Eddie's breakdown and Christopher calling Buck because he's his other adult. He's the person he trusts with himself and his dad. Then you get Buck caring for the Diaz boys - taking Chris to school, making sure Eddie isn't alone, helping Chris with his homework. And then finally you get Buck helping Eddie patch his walls, because he's the guy Eddie trusts to help him when he's at his lowest, to see him at his lowest.

(And you get Buck over at the Diaz house playing with Chris's dinosaurs while Eddie packs in one of the most domestic little scenes and I love it so much.)

Season 6 gives us family dinner at Buck's loft. It starts with Chris teasing Buck about his couch, with Eddie and Chris playing a game in the kitchen while Buck cooks. When Buck gets struck by lightening Chris demands to see him. When Buck wakes up the only place he can really fall asleep is at the Diaz house.

And you get the poker night scene, which feels like a parent's night out/date night. They still feel like a team even if things are different after the lightening.

Even though season 6 ended with both Buck and Eddie attempting to start other relationships, it's clearly established throughout not just season 6, but the entire show that they're a family, no matter what.

And we know season 7 is starting with Buck parenting Chris at Eddie's request. With Buck and Eddie teaming up to help Chris with his first crush. Another incidence of them being a family, of them functioning like a family unit.

No matter what happens with Buddie, the Buckley-Diaz family is just that - a family. There's no other way to look at it. Those three love each other. They support each other. They're a family even if Buddie is never explicitly romantic.

#buckley diaz family #buckley-diaz family #buddie #911 #911 on abc

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Something I think a lot of people are overlooking is the Christopher of it all for this season. Gavin is being promoted alongside the rest of the main cast. He’s in all the interviews, big moments and promotional material. And from what we know courtesy of Ryan and Oliver, we know he’s going to be dating this season. So instead of us focusing on Eddie and/or Buck’s respective romantic relationships (or lack thereof), maybe we should be focusing on Christopher’s and what that can mean for them all.

We know Eddie will list Buck’s help when it comes to Chris dating since Buck “knows women”. Now here’s a thought, what if Buck and Eddie spend a lot of their time and energy worrying about the avenue of Christopher dating and being in a relationship that they completely disregard their own love lives.

Ryan mentioned that Eddie is still “figuring out who Marisol is” which means they’re in no way far enough into their “relationship” for it to be anything serious. What if his focus shifts to his son and he neglects the need to pursue anything further with this woman he had a flirtation with once upon a time. Maybe he’s kinda focused on other things and doesn’t really allow her to get to know him and vice versa, so things die down and they end whatever was attempting to bloom between the two so he can focus on his son.

Same goes for Buck. Maybe while he’s helping Christopher with all this dating stuff, he uncovers certain things about himself. He considers his previous relationships and why they weren’t successful and what aspects of those relationships were somewhat successful. Maybe he even looks at his most long lasting successful relationship with Eddie and compares it to everyone he dated, and comes to some realizations himself.

What I’m trying to say is, Buck and Eddie spending some time together and essentially being co-parents to Chris while he embarks on this new journey, can bring them closer in a way they haven’t yet experienced. They will be focusing on their son, worrying about him and trying to be on top of everything to make sure his dating goes smoothly and successfully. We can even assume there’ll be some comedy at play courtesy to what Tim hinted at. I believe both men will be using their shared braincell to make sure he doesn’t fail like his fathers in any way they can.

All this to say, they will get closer in an intimate way and maybe even realize they don’t need anyone else because they have everything they need right in front of them. This shared experience will be significant especially since they are doing it as a family unit. It just would make sense that their focus on Chris and them being together constantly, being each other’s support system while he dates will inevitably shift things. And when they see Chris possibly having a successful go at dating, which maybe he even mentions a thing or two about their own relationship, it can be the thing that really opens their eyes and sets things into motion.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I think Christopher’s storyline will be very important and he will inevitably be the thing that gets his two dads together.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #911 spoilers #911 speculation #jujus having thoughts #sorry this is long but thank you if you choose to read it 💜

[tizniz]

Ooh you're taking prompts 👀👀 if this doesn't spark joy, you can ignore it! No worries❤️❤️❤️❤️

But if it does...

Prompt: "Damn, you look good with my name on you." Or something similar to it. Of course you can change it to whatever you want or fits better

Hi Jules!

I absolutely am taking prompts. I only have the one WIP currently *glances at my big bang fic tucked away in the corner and then ignores it* so I'm happy to take prompts or ideas :)

Yours was so fun. Hope you like it!

Buck glances at Hen and Chimney as the two paramedics giggle to themselves, both attempting and failing to straighten their expressions when they notice Buck watching. “What?” “Nothing.” Chimney replies, a shit eating grin on his face that does nothing to ease Buck’s confusion. “All good here, Buckaroo.” Hen adds, her voice oozing faux innocence. He narrows his eyes, ready to make a retort but then Bobby is calling him over, and well, they are at a call so he can’t exactly ignore his Captain. At least it’s a small call, with no real big issue occurring. A teenage boy had been trying to impress his crush by grilling some steaks, but apparently he had impressed his crush too much, because the two of them got caught up in making out and didn’t realize that their steaks had caught on fire. A peeping neighbour certainly had though and called 9-1-1. The two flustered teens had already put the fire out by the time the 118 had shown up, but Bobby was insisting they do checks and had been lecturing the two boys when Buck had left him and Eddie to go report to Hen and Chimney that there were no injuries.

“What’s up, Cap?” Buck says as he joins Bobby. “Grab Eddie and tell him we’re good to go.” Bobby tells him, half turned away from the neighbour that had made the call. Her beady little eyes moved up and down Buck’s length, making him shift uncomfortably. She gave him some not nice vibes. “I’m just finishing her with Mrs. Norbit.” “I hope you told those boys to be smarter.” The lady, Mrs. Norbit sniffs, crossing her arms tightly across her powder pink cardigan. “And that they shouldn’t be doing such sinful things outside.” Bobby sighs, turning his focus back to the older lady, “Ma’am, they were both well within their rights to be doing what they were doing.” Before Buck can hear anything more from the clearly homophobic neighbour, he spins on his heel and hurries up the lawn towards the gate. But before he can step through he hears Bobby call his name once more. Buck pauses, looking over his shoulder. His Captain is looking at him with an amused expression on his face, mouth open as if to say something else, but when Buck cocks his head, waiting for more, Bobby shuts his mouth and shakes his head. With a wave of his Captain’s hand, Buck shrugs and heads into the backyard.

He finds Eddie talking casually with the two boys, their hands clasped together between them, both looking sheepish. Eddie has his hands on his hips, clearly in his ‘lecturing dad’ mode, but there’s also a fond smile on his face that has Buck smiling in turn. Walking up to the other man, he knocks into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Cap says we’re good if you’re done giving the dad lecture.” Eddie turns to scowl at him, “I was not giving a dad lecture!” One of the teenagers clears his throat lightly, “It was a bit dad-like.” “Be nice.” His crush hisses, glancing at Buck and Eddie. “Don’t worry,” Buck grins back at him, “He’s harmless. Usually.” “Buck.” Eddie sighs in that way he does with only Buck’s name. It’s a bit endearing. “Come on,” Buck knocks Eddie’s shoulder once more, “Let’s go!” He gives a wave to the two boys and spins on his heel, heading back out of the backyard. A choked sound catches his attention, and he goes to turn to check on Eddie, but there’s a firm grip on his elbow, keeping him from doing so and then he’s being hauled out of the backyard by his boyfriend.

Just before the gate, tucked in a pocket of shadow, Eddie is shoving Buck against the wall, one hand cradling the back of Buck’s head while the other sneaks under his turnout coat, and then Eddie’s mouth is crashing down against his. Immediately Buck sinks into the kiss, mouth opening around a moan that Eddie wastes no time in swallowing, sucking Buck’s tongue into his own mouth. Buck scrambles to find purchase on Eddie’s body, the other man having already removed his turnout coat. Buck manages to find Eddie’s suspenders, gripping tightly onto them as Eddie slots a leg between Buck’s, either to help him stay standing or to torture him more. Buck isn’t entirely sure and doesn’t have the brain power to think about it. Eddie pulls back just as suddenly, and Buck chases after the warm mouth, blinking heavily at the heated look being sent in his direction. “Huh?” Brown eyes study him for a moment, allowing Buck to try and gather his scattered thoughts together once more. Then Eddie’s smirking, thumb stroking along Buck’s jaw, causing him to shiver. “You don’t even know, do you?” “Know what?” Buck mutters, tilting his head forward to try and catch Eddie’s lips in another kiss. His boyfriend chuckles but obliges, biting down lightly on Buck’s bottom lip, drawing a small whine from him. “Eddie.” “Baby,” Eddie says against his lips, “You’re wearing my name.” That has Buck pulling away this time, blinking rapidly at Eddie. “What?” Eddie gives the turnout coat Buck’s wearing a tug, “This is mine, mi amor. You have my name on you.” “Oh.” Buck exhales, everything slotting together suddenly. That explained Hen, Chimney, and Bobby. And it certainly explained Eddie jumping him in the shadows while in the middle of a call. "And damn, you look good with my name on you." Eddie mutters, pecking Buck once more before stepping away, “Might have to make it permanent.” He finishes with a wink. Buck watches, gaping, as his boyfriend turns and leaves him there. Oh, he is so paying for that later.

Tagging for sharing because it's fun: @hippolotamus, @diazsdimples, @disasterbuckdiaz, @spotsandsocks, @fortheloveofbuddie, @bucksbackwardcap, @actualalligator, @actuallyitsellie, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @theotherbuckley, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @exhuastedpigeon, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @monsterrae1, @epicbuddieficrecs, @elvensorceress, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @shitouttabuck, @spagheddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @evanbegins, @devirnis, @buckaroosheart, @perfectlysunny02, @nmcggg, @watchyourbuck, @loserdiaz

#tanis answers #tanis writes #prompt fill #smilingbuckley #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie ficlet #usercam #send me prompts if you want!

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you Make it | Part 21

Eddie wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. Yes. He lived in a trailer park. But he wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. He had money, he made bank on being weird for the women of Hawkins, he’d made an easy quick buck dealing back in his high school years, and he had many marketable skills that could get him some kind of menial labour kind of job.

Barback, auto repair, retail, manual labour, and of course, music among the few.

So he was never really poor enough to see moths fly from his wallet in place of cash, never poor enough to miss meals on purpose to save money, or to worry about where his next meal was going to come from while hunger gnawed at his gut.

But being able to just. Walk through a supermarket, without having to look at the price of things before putting them into the cart?

That was a level of financial security that he’d not yet attained, and yet there he was. After being given a second cart for himself, and being assured that he could get anything he thought he and Steve might want while John would grab things for himself and Lynda in his own cart, he was set loose with the simple instruction to meet at the checkouts, John would wait for him if he ended up there first and vice versa.

Eddie didn’t think he’d be finishing first though. There were options. He had options. He didn’t have to look at prices, he didn’t have to grab the cheapest things on the shelf, or look for things reduced in price cause they were about to expire.

He didn’t even have to do mental mathematics for taxes because it didn’t matter!

The only thing he had to worry about, the only thing that made Eddie completely certain in the fact that he’d be making John wait for him at the checkouts, was figuring out what Steve might want to eat without making it way too obvious that he didn’t actually know Steve all that well at all.

He was really starting to wish that he’d just sided with Steve about the pizza.

Okay so, contrary to popular belief given his whole. Keg King persona back in high school. Steve Harrington… couldn’t hold his drink.

At least not anymore. He couldn’t even do a hand stand anymore.

Before, he’d been a killer at it, he could drink and drink and drink, he was like a fish with it, king of the drinking games, lording it over the popular crowd as if it were something to actually be proud of, as if it were a genuine accomplishment to be able to out drink your peers.

But he didn’t drink anymore. At least not nearly as often as he used to.

Alcohol was expensive, and he worked minimum wage.

The most he could do was a six pack from the gas station that he and Robin would split out on a picnic blanket in his back yard, staring up at the sky with nothing but the glow of the pool lights to dim the stars above, laughing about their failed conquests and making plans neither of them could really afford to see through.

Back to the point, Steve, and Lynda Harrington, had found ol Mags’ stash of cheaper reds.

Not quite the big bucks bottles lining the shelves of the wine cellar which Steve, despite them being his now thank you very much grandparents and their ridiculously generous will, wouldn’t touch, but definitely heavy hitting enough to lighten any terrible lows that may have lingered after their earlier spat.

Which led them to their current predicament. Laying on the rug in the living room in front of a crackling fireplace, two glasses of wine between them, and two half empty bottles.

One each of course, they weren’t going to share just one, what were they? Poor?

Steve, feeling curious about a thing that’d come up once as a small, throwaway thought, now the only thing he could think about as he stared at the wooden beams that made up the ceiling and having zero inhibitions stopping him from asking it, so he asked, “How come you never brought up Robin?”

“Hm?” His mother turned to him, cheeks flushed a warm pink, she never could hold her alcohol, he’d gotten that skill from his dad, however fleeting his use of it had been. “Your friend?”

“Yeah, Robbie’s great, why’d you never… why’d you never try’n set me up with Robbie, wh’ts wrong with Robbie?” He didn’t think she meant to laugh quite as condescendingly as she had, but it definitely sounded like that as she burst out laughing. “Tried every girl but Robbie—s’not funny!”

“Oh, sweetheart, my little baby boy, Eddie… Eddie is lovely. You’re not… not thinking of leaving him for Robin are you?” That slight infliction on her name, what was wrong with Robin?! And then— “B’cause, cause… Jesus—baby, sweetie, you’re not— she’s not—it’s not… hm.” She looked at her almost empty glass as if it’d offended her, then placed it down to look at him again “It’s s’not my place… if you don’t know, s’not my place to tell you!”

“What do you know?” He pushed himself up onto his rear, shaking his head for a moment to clear up the spinny feeling that followed him moving “I—I know everything, Robbie tells me everythin but you… you don’t—what do you know about Robbie?”

“Pfft, sweetheart if you want a chance with Robin then, I’m sorry you’re definitely not aware of everything and that’s surprising, does she know you’re… you know… safe? To talk to I mean? You seemed so close I thought she’d have told you!” Granted, half of the words she was saying were slurred, but not slurred enough that he couldn’t make them out, and they were ringing all the alarm bells his brain could possibly conjure.

What did his mother know, and how had she found it out? “I don’t, I just—I was just wondering why you never—I thought maybe you didn’t think she cut it or something stupid, she’s told me everythin but that doesn’t explain why you know… or what you know, what do you know?”

And now his mother was up, sitting up straight doing the exact same thing as him, shaking off that little spinny spin the world decided to do as she sat up too fast. “Robin is perfect, Steven. Truly a one of a kind, kind of young woman.” The slurring had reduced the more serious she’d become, as if the alcohol couldn’t quite touch the severity of what they were now talking about “she also doodles quite obscene things on her shoes. I saw them in the rack not the last time we were home, the time before it? When she stayed the night? Those ratty old canvas things she wore covered in marker scribbles… most young ladies don't doodle breasts on their shoes, and they certainly don’t write about going 'down' on someone’s sister… I… figured it out. I also know that this isn’t something we should be talking about without her being aware of it.” Or at all, really.

She was right. As usual, his mother was right, he even knew she was right about the pizza, he always broke out a little after Tony’s, a few spots would always appear around his mouth that’d drive him insane, so he knew she was right about the groceries too, but yet…

It was so hard to admit that she was right.

“She uh… she was talking about what you guys were doin before we came out here y’know?” But if his mother knew about Robin then… maybe it wasn’t bad to talk about it. His mom regarded him with a curious expression but didn’t ask him to elaborate, didn’t stop him from elaborating either though “the matchmaking thing? I was complaining about it, cause… y’know… I had someone already” no he didn’t, but the excuse of ‘they all sucked’ probably wouldn’t go down very well. “And she said she wished you’d try setting her up with someone…” it was probably a joke but then…

Robin had been struggling.

The uncertainty in approaching queer dating in a small town like Hawkins was… scary. It was terrifying. They were only getting older, there’d only be so many more chances to experience things and trying to experience things later in life while being a big ol bundle of inexperienced anxiety?

Not fun, Steve didn’t want that for Robin. He wanted her to experience things. To be confident in herself because he loved her. He wanted nice things for her. And nice things involved kissing pretty ladies.

“Really?” Oh that little lightbulb, the devious little twinkle in her eyes, her passion reignited, aimed at a much more deserving and probably receptive target “Oh! Sweetie she should have said, second we get home, give her my personal number, okay? It’s up to her to call me but I would— I have a rolodex of names, an it’ll only the best for—for Robin.” Lynda would find that girl a hot sugar mama even if it killed her.

“You’d do that for her?” Steve put a hand to his chest, touched in a way he couldn’t really describe.

“Oh sweetheart, of course I’d do that for her, she makes you so happy, you just… you light up whenever you’re around her an I know it’s not cause you’re dating her because, unless there’s another conversation we need to be having, you’re really not her type. I know she makes you happy. And I know—I know I don’t say it very often—” her voice was wibbling, and oh boy if she was going to cry, then he’d start crying and they’d be a mess “but I’d—" her voice cracked, oh no “I’d move mountains for—for anything—anyone that makes you happy, sweetheart.”

And that was how Eddie and John found them ten minutes later after shaking the snow from their bodies, grocery bags in hand. The mother and son duo bawling together on the carpet, two bottles into the reds, wondering a very simple “what the fuck...?” voiced by a very confused Eddie.

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #Robbies gonna get HOOKED UP when they get home #i promise

[amidnightjen]

It’s only when he opens his calendar to change the time of Christopher’s appointment and sees that Buck has already done it that it hits him.

They’re co-parenting.

Buck is Christopher’s dad.

Buck. His best friend. Is Christopher’s other dad.

How did he not realise it sooner? Why has he been wasting his time looking for something that he already has?

How could he completely fail to realise that he wasn’t alone, he hadn’t felt alone or worried about being alone until Pepa brought it up. Why would he? He had Buck.

He had Buck.

He was such an idiot.

“Why are you an idiot?” Buck wondered.

Eddie hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud. He wasn’t embarrassed though, rather, he was going to embrace it.

“Did you know that we’ve been co-parenting a kid for the last six years?”

“Uh…no?” But the way Buck said it suggested he was lying because he wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was here.

“Buck, man, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew!”

“No, because I’m clearly an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Buck told him, not missing a beat.

Eddie gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe just this one time,” Buck conceded.

“What else don’t I know?” Eddie demanded.

Buck froze. Eddie narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Buck.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck!”

“You might be a little in love with me?”

Eddie scoffed. “Sure, okay.” But Buck just sort of looked at him and Eddie stared back a little blankly until -

“Oh for - am I in love with you?”

“I mean, I think so?” Buck said slowly. “Which sort of works well for me cause I’m a little in love with you.”

That was just a lot for Eddie to process.

A lot.

“Should we get married?” He ventured after the silence had gone on long enough but surprisingly wasn’t all that uncomfortable.

“Yes, please.” Buck replied, no hesitation or time to think that maybe Eddie was ridiculous for even asking.

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

And if Christopher came in a moment later to find them grinning goofily at each other, well, he just rolled his eyes and walked back out again.

#may writing challenge #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 7 Prompt: Wayne

note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle. 

It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it. 

His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes. 

So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette. 

“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.” 

A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year. 

But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous. 

Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays. 

Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days. 

Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew. 

A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do. 

Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes. 

Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against. 

But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight. 

Well, no, that’s not true. 

There was one way to get out of the draft. 

But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time. 

Five years to be exact. 

Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years. 

Most importantly, five years without his nephew. 

Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?” 

Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born. 

Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang. 

(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.) 

Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them. 

The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise. 

(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”) 

As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21. 

(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)

In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek. 

When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night. 

(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!” 

“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)

Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him. 

(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.” 

“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands. 

“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)

Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up. 

Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.

(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.” 

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”) 

And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives. 

(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.” 

“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.” 

“Those grades of yours say otherwise.” 

Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)

Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana. 

(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time. 

“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.” 

A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?” 

“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.” 

Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.” 

“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“ 

Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt. 

“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.” 

“Y-you, you’re gay?”  

“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)

So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.

(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.” 

“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.” 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”

“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”) 

Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.

“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.

“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.” 

The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks. 

Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book. 

“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?” 

Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”

Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap. 

It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine. 

Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. 

And so it goes for several hours until—

Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep. 

Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat. 

He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.

Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks. 

And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together. 

He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew. 

“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.

With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick. 

“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days. 

#eddiemonth #wayne munson #wayne munson fic #wayne munson ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson & wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

[matan4il]

Buddie 611 meta

I LOVED that the ep showed us how Eddie wasn’t doing compressions on Buck because someone instructed him to. No, he just couldn’t stand by, couldn't let someone else try to bring his partner back to life, so he announced he was taking over, fuck anyone who would try to stop him. No one even tries to, they wordlessly acknowledge Eddie as Buck's mad with worry partner, much like how in 315, the team treated Buck while Eddie was in danger. And then Eddie shocks Buck’s heart back and gets his pulse going again. Eddie literally kept Buck’s heart going, and then he was still so distraught that he yelled at the medical staff (even though as a medic, he knows it’s pointless), “Do more!” 'Coz that’s what Eddie himself was doing, he stepped in and did more than he was asked to, a continuation of us having seen him doing exactly that in 610 as well, when he didn’t wait for Bobby to decide what to do to help Buck, Eddie charged up an electrocuted ladder he was just thrown off of. Because when it comes to Buck, he will always do more. ~~

The significance of the bond between them is also shown when Eddie is the first flashback Buck experiences within the coma dream, the first lifeline to the real world. That’s continued when the second flashback is to the tsunami, where Buck saved Chris. However, Eddie and Chris aren't quite present in these flashbacks. Buck’s subconscious is at war with itself. The Diaz boys are this powerful connection to the real world (much like Buck and Chris were Eddie’s back in 315, as I tried to demonstrate in this gifset), but the coma dream shows the power of childhood trauma and how much we can be trapped by the desire to fix it. The whole dream contrasts Buck having parents who are loving, who want and appreciate him, with everything bad that would happen if he weren’t with the 118. As the dream goes on, the price keeps getting higher, yet Buck still struggles until the very end with letting go of the illusion that his parents love him, and the sense he himself can be fixed if they do, like he’d then finally feel good enough. That’s why, in a sense, Eddie and Chris have to be more absent than present for the coma dream to be seductive. Because if they’re fully present, if he truly engages with their coma versions and remembers the family unit he has outside the dream, the balance would be tipped over, the battle would have been decided before Buck had a chance to learn his lesson.

That’s why he only hears what happened to Eddie, he doesn’t witness it firsthand, and why when the dream's seductive nature is failing, suddenly Chris is there (despite his coma version not being in LA) to tempt Buck into staying. Even then, walking away from the dream version of Chris while telling him that he’s not real is the only thing Buck says he'll always feel guilty about. ~~ 

I just gotta include a small note here on how much I love the progression we’ve had from Bobby saying in 101 that while Buck calls him “pops,” they’re not a family, through Buck telling TK aloud that Bobby’s basically his dad (in the crossover) to Bobby finally admitting this is true for him as well. I’ve pointed out this season repeatedly (like in my 610 meta) that the show’s dealing with questions of fatherhood, including the question of biology in that context, and this ep was no different, yet this truly was one of the highlights for me when it comes to this theme. I love how much Buck and Bobby mean to each other. ~~ 

Buck’s mom saying “your kids” and Buck being confused until she clarifies it’s not his actual children, it’s his students, then his disappointment, that’s one loose end that the ep didn’t wrap up, because that is a continuation of the whole sperm donor situation (with Margaret once more being at the center of confusion on whether Buck is a dad or not). This one is only going to be really addressed once Buck fully deals with his role in Connor and Kameron’s baby’s life, something he can’t properly do until he also faces his role in Christopher’s, a role that this ep really emphasized. No other kids were by Buck’s bed, not even May who has free access as a legal adult and who has now admitted she knows Buck is her step dad’s other kid. Chris needs his Buck in a way that no other firefam kid does. ~~ 

Which brings me to the heart wrenching fate we (and Buck) learn the Diaz boys have suffered in his absence. I have mentioned countless times in my meta posts how important I believe 204 was to Buddie. How critical Buck’s decision to step into Eddie’s mess with him was. Not once, but twice in that ep, first when he helps Eddie by talking to Bobby about Chris spending the day at the station with the 118, then when Buck introduces Eddie to Carla. I have always said Eddie was very attracted (and not just physically) to Buck from the start, but Eddie’s Christopher’s dad first, so he never would have been able to fall for anyone who doesn’t also love his son as much as he does. In other words, I’ve always thought the heart eyes Eddie gives Buck at the end of the Carla introduction scene, that was the moment when he was gone. And now we learn how meaningful Buck himself knows that was. Without that happening, his subconscious just knows Eddie’s parents would have succeeded with their threat of getting Chris away from his dad, leading to Eddie completely falling apart. Buddie's tale is a love story, and this coma revelation is basically the show telling us Buck’s subconscious already knows this. ~~ 

Eddie’s reactions in the real world are also a reflection of how important Buddifer’s little family unit is to all three of them. Keep in mind, even with his therapy, Eddie is still a reserved guy, right? He normally remains calm in the face of adversity, it takes a lot to rattle him, he doesn't easily get to the point where he falls apart emotionally. When he does in this ep, he only allows himself to when his son is looking away. And even then, he just can't go on answering Christopher's questions about Buck's state. So it highlights how important Buck is to Eddie, when the latter DOES fall apart. When he jumps in to take care of Buck on the gurney as it’s wheeled into the hospital. When he shouts at the medical staff. When he looks so wrecked at the hospital, close to what previously it took weeks of insomnia to do to him. When he can’t look at Buck's comatose body or stop himself from crying while he listens to Chris speaking or bring himself to be strong for his son and answer him. And of course, when the reserved Eddie goes against hospital regulations and parental common sense (to keep your kid away from disturbing sights), sneaking his son in to see Buck. But Eddie does it because he gets it. When Chris says he needs to talk to Buck, Eddie knows the full weight of this, because it’s his truth, too. Both Diaz boys need their Buck to wake up. So everything Chris is saying, all the comfort he’s offering, along with the insistence that Buck MUST return to them? He’s speaking for Eddie as well. ~~ 

I also liked that Buck realized during his coma dream two truths that seem, but are not, mutually exclusive: that he does have a family worth going back for, but that ultimately, he’s returning for himself. He’s not trying to please anyone else, he’s not trying to get anyone else’s approval. His adoptive family matters to him, even his bio parents who have failed him repeatedly matter, but at the end of the day, he’s not going back because his loved ones do or don’t need him, do or don’t accept him, do or don’t approve of him. He’s going back because he loves them and he wants to be with them. And that ties in with another thing we see in this ep. 

Bobby describes the coma dream as a world where Buck can fix everything. Buck says not all, seemingly implying he couldn’t bring Bobby back from the dead. But that’s not actually true, is it? 'Coz the coma world is Buck’s subconscious, it can be altered in whatever way he wants. Bobby can be there and talk to him despite being “dead” which means... he’s not really dead, not in the way that makes death so tragic, depriving us of our loved ones. Chris can be at the hospital, despite not being in LA and not knowing Buck. It’s a coma dream, there are no rules! Buck’s subconscious is king! And we know how important it is for Buck to fix things, Eddie pointed it out in 504, and we saw a callback to this just last week. The climax of this ep is even set against the musical backdrop of Coldplay’s Fix You. But this trait stems from Buck feeling like he needs to fix things, to be the hero, in order to be worthy of love. In the coma, Buck realizes he IS loved. And therefore, he doesn’t need to fix EVERYTHING in order to make a difference and be deserving of love. He IS enough, exactly as he is, limited fixing possibilities and all. That’s how he gets to choose both his loved ones and himself in coming back to reality. ~~ 

Oh, can we talk about the heart drawings scene from 514 and how it relates to this ep? I recently answered an ask about it, and pointed out I think Eddie’s heart has been Chris for years now, and for a long time, it was only him. But that scene showed how, thanks to the way Buck has been there for both of them along the years, helping, healing and loving them, Eddie’s heart is no longer exclusively his son. It’s Buck, too. Which explains why the heart theme we’ve been seeing with Eddie since 413 has expanded to include Buck’s in this ep, with Eddie literally restarting it. So 611 really affirms who Eddie’s heart now belongs to. We see how, without Buck, he would have lost Chris as well. Without Buck, he would have lost his whole heart. ~~ 

And that brings us of course to what kind of a person Eddie would be once that happened. We learn he would have become this angry man, drawing on his reaction during the lawsuit story arc. But notice that in both cases, a part of the issue causing Eddie's anger is not having Buck. Yes, back in s3 Eddie was dealing with Shannon’s death, but he doesn’t really start losing it until he also can no longer speak to Buck. Similarly, in the coma dream, he becomes Angry Guy due to the loss of Chris, but that is tied in with the absence of Buck in his life. In other words, losing Buck causes Eddie SUCH grief, that it has no other way out except for rage. ~~ 

Did you notice how once again, Buck got to be Madney’s truth teller? He did that first in 208, when he realized Madney are basically dating. Interestingly, everything he told Maddie about them was also true for him and Eddie. Then in this ep, he tells Chim Madney basically should be married, since they already share every other part of domestic and committed life. Obviously this will come into play soon. So just remember that once again, his words can be easily applied to Buddifer as well, plus Buck’s truth teller status was paralleled back in s2 with Maddie in 204, when she asked her brother about his newfound boy crush on Eddie... ~~ 

Okay, last one, but I just had to share with you maybe my fave parallel from this ep. You might have noticed in my 610 meta how much I think the lightning stroke parallels the shooting arc. Well, this was true with one of the sweetest moments in the ep’s conclusion. Just like how, at the end of 414, we got to witness Eddie hugging Chris while Buck watched on, so we get to see Buck hugging their son while Eddie looks on now. Except Eddie isn’t just looking. He enables the hug by helping Chris into Buck’s arms. Tell me again: how is this not a family? How are these men not partners, dedicated and loving towards each other in every way that matters...? ~~ 

Please enjoy direct links to my weekly meta posts, my Buddie gifs and more of my content in my pinned post. Endlessly thankful to @whosoldherout​, who​ blows my mind away every week with her hard work and beautiful gifs for my meta. Tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here. Thank you in advance for any reblog and like! I’m operating on far too little sleep in order to get this posted quickly, so I can't explain how much any and all encouragement matters to me. Thank you! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #wm #buddie gifs #buddie gif #911 gifs #911 spoilers #911 gif #911edit #buddieedit #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[tripleaxeldiaz]

I haven't had real free time to write in like 10 months, but now i almost do, and i forgot i was writing this in february and idk if i'll ever finish it so here's what i have of it so far secondary title is "eddie pines harder than a douglas fir"

It happens quickly. That’s what scares Eddie the most.

One minute he’s in his truck, Chris in the backseat, all their worldly possessions secured in the bed, whizzing past a “Welcome to California!” sign in search of something better than what they left in the rearview mirror.

He blinks, and he’s in the locker room of Station 118, fresh out of the academy, being greeted by smiling faces and one blonde haired, blue eyed sneer. 

He blinks again, the sneer has softened into an easy grin, and he and Buck work together like they were built for it, like their lives were always going to bring them to a place where they would be running into smoldering, crumbling buildings side by side. Buck drives him and Chris home after the earthquake, and Eddie struggles to remember the last time anything felt this easy.

Blink

Shannon is back. Any ease he found evaporates, and the walls he built around his feelings for her come crumbling down in her wake.

Blink

He’s in the back of an ambulance feeling her pulse stop under his fingertips.

Blink

He’s off probation, surrounded by friends and family applauding his accomplishment. He’s grinning on the outside, but inside he’s still a mess of grief and guilt. He wants to be as proud of himself as his parents claim they are, wants to stop seeing Shannon on the gurney every time he closes his eyes, wants to be happy, wants peace, wants, wants, wants —

Buck’s laugh erupts from across the room, still loud and free flowing despite the month he’s had, and Eddie wants so hard it almost takes him out at the knees. It’s like time stops, the flurry of actions and emotions constantly trying to engulf him comes to a brief standstill, and as the sound of Buck’s joy washes over him, he feels like he can breathe for the first time in months. Everything seems clearer, Buck’s smile is making the room even brighter, and Eddie thinks he might—

No. It’s too soon. Way too soon.

Isn’t it?

It took him over a year to feel it with Shannon, even though he said he did much earlier. Danny Miller was his best friend for five years before he started feeling that swoop in his stomach that was decidedly beyond friendship. And he and Buck are just friends — best friends, he’d argue, but just friends all the same. Buck has a girlfriend, Eddie just became a widower, and there’s so much going on in his head that everything’s getting shuffled and confused and firing off in all the wrong directions.

Because there’s no way. There’s just no way.

And even if there is a way (which there isn’t), Eddie would rather go through basic training in the sticky heat at Fort Benning all over again than ruin his friendship with Buck. That is something they can build to last, that is what the two of them need the most from each other.

That is something that Eddie cannot screw up.

The other thing, which Eddie refuses to name because there’s just no way, has already shattered his and Chris’s world once. He won’t let those pieces break again.

So he does what he does best — he takes every unnerving, premature feeling he has, squashes it into a box in his head labeled Do No Open Ever for Any Reason and shoves it as far away as he possibly can. Just in time, too, because he blinks one last time and Buck is in front of him, backlit by sunshine like a goddamn angel, whole and safe and alive. His smile is even brighter up close, and Eddie feels himself pulled toward him like second nature, like he really is the sun and Eddie’s helpless to do anything but fall into his orbit until they’re both taken out in a supernova. 

He worries that that box may not be sturdy enough to contain all that light and energy.

He lets himself sink a little further into the hug anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Dad?”

Chris is squished against his side, the lights from the TV flashing across his face and reflecting in his glasses. Eddie had been a mess of emotions all day, but he’d just about cracked completely when Chris voluntarily left the pinball machine to join Eddie in an armchair and watch The Year Without a Santa Claus like they do every Christmas. It used to be easy — Chris cocooned in his lap, tucked safely under his chin — but this year feels like the first year Eddie’s really noticed how big Chris is, all lanky limbs and hardly any space to put them in an armchair meant for one, not a grown man and a constantly growing boy.

It���s a tight fit now, and Eddie can feel pins and needles start to creep up his arm, but he couldn’t care less. He’ll let every part of his body go numb if it means his kid will want to keep sitting with him.

He shifts a bit, looking down at Chris “Yeah bud?”

“Can we do Christmas here again next year?”

Eddie wraps his arm around Chris a little tighter. “I think we’ll probably be at home next year, but I’m sure we can pop by and visit.”

“Okay,” Chris says, content for barely a minute before he asks, “Will Buck be at home with us too?”

It’s shocking, really, that Chris doesn’t feel how hard Eddie’s heart lurches where his head is laid on his chest. 

And of course, because the universe loves making his life harder, Buck looks up at them from across the loft at that exact moment, a crooked grin to match his crooked Santa hat, and waves before taking his turn at the pool table. Pair that with the wave of gratitude that hits him as Chris waves back, and he feels like he’s in his own damn Christmas movie, mistletoe and twinkle lights and everything.

He is grateful to Buck, though. So grateful he’s worried he’ll never be able to express it properly no matter how hard he tries. And not just for keeping Chris safe, or for wading through water and blood to find him, but for everything he did after too. Dinners brought over or made in their kitchen. Hours of board games and video games. Movie nights with buttery popcorn and every blanket they owned piled up on the couch. It was hard at first — there were days when Chris didn’t want to talk to either of them, where Buck’s smile wouldn’t quite reach his eyes, where all Eddie could hear when he looked at Buck was the crack in his voice when he swore that he tried. 

Eddie knows he tried. He knows he ran himself into the ground trying to bring Chris back to him, and he knows he would do it again with no hesitation if he needed to. 

It all makes Eddie—

—appreciate—

—Buck, more than he ever thought he could—

—appreciate—

—another person. 

And it’s enough to make staticky fear prickle in his chest when he remembers that one day — potentially any day now — Buck will find someone who appreciates him in every way he deserves, and Eddie will get another harsh reminder from the universe that somethings are just not meant for him.

But it’s Christmas, and as both Chris and the Grinch like to remind him, there are no sad faces on Christmas. So for today, he can let himself watch Buck play pool and…appreciate. Appreciate Buck’s biceps that can hit cue balls dead on and wrap Chris in a hug on a particularly bad day, the lean lines of his back carry the weight of so much more than Eddie wants them to, the blush settled high on his cheekbones that looks good enough to—

“Dad. Are you listening to me?”

Eddie does not jump at Chris’ voice.

At least not very high. 

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Chris rolls his eyes so dramatically it makes Eddie want to laugh and cry all at the same time. “I said will Buck be at home with us on Christmas next year?”

The universe once again laughs in his face as Buck bounds towards them, cutting through the loft to greet Maddie and Chim at the top of the stairs. As he passes behind their chair, he squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, fingers brushing along the back of his neck before ruffling Chris’s hair. It’s small and easy, but it turns Eddie to jelly as he pictures a lifetime of warm touches and warmer smiles and a life full of—

Chris waves his hand in front of his face, still waiting for his answer.

Eddie has got to reel in his…appreciation-struck imagination.

“I hope he is, bud,” he says finally, resting his chin on top of Chris’s head and not staring longingly at Buck’s back. “I really hope he is.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It never gets easier, getting shot. It’s not a sensation your body can get used to that will eventually filter to the back of your mind. It’s a miracle that the human body can come out on the other side — if it comes out on the other side — and forget the excruciating, all-consuming pain that is lead ripping through flesh and muscle and bone at 1,700 miles per hour.

Eddie’s already lived through that pain once — he thought he left the chances of it happening again 7,000 miles and a lifetime away.

But here he is, on a sunny L.A. boulevard, his shoulder burning white hot in a way that is somehow familiar and brand new all at the same time.

He hits the ground, and it’s asphalt instead of sand. He looks ahead of him and sees Buck in his civvies instead of Mills in her fatigues.

Nothing makes sense.

Everything hurts.

(to be continued maybe idk)

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ficcery #i actually don't hate it now that i'm reading it back so maybe it will get finished!!

[megalony]

Annual Party

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine requested by Anon, I hope you like it. I'm loving all the Dad! Eddie and family Eddie requests coming through and I'm trying to work my way through them all. Enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

911 Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is worried when Eddie invites her and Chris to the summer party to meet the 118 for the first time. But her worries are all for nothing.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"…Hey, it'll be Eddie's first one."

Eddie paused in the doorway to the gym, letting the towel hang around his neck and catch the droplets of sweat trickling down the side of his face and neck. He had been in the gym for the last half an hour in between callouts but now he wished he hadn't since he had missed out on most of whatever conversation Buck and Chimney were having.

He had been with the 118 for around five months now and it was the quickest that he had ever felt like he fit in with the people he worked with who he could now call his friends. Eddie had never felt so at home with his workmates, not even when he was back in the army. But there were some things that never changed, like Eddie's unease whenever he heard his name being spoken.

It felt like they were unsure about him whenever he heard them mention his name, even just in a passing conversation. Eddie wanted so badly to fit in and feel like this was his family, a safe group of people to work with and get along with and call his friends. He couldn't stop himself from panicking though, little nagging thoughts that he would be the odd one out.

"My first what?" He leaned against the doorframe and looked over at the pair of them.

The way Buck was smiling and how chimney cocked a brow made Eddie relax in himself and manage a smile. Clearly it wasn't anything bad or awkward that they were talking about.

"You sir, are in luck. We were just talking about the annual summer party the station has every year."

"You guys sure do have a lot of parties,"

Removing the towel from around his neck, Eddie threw it in the hamper beside the door before he walked over to them. They had all invited him to a BBQ only a month after he arrived but he had to turn it down, Christopher hadn't been well that week. Buck had been talking about halloween already and how he thought it was mystical and special. Now a summer party was being planned and Eddie knew they were already getting things in motion for Christmas.

Bobby had talked about them always doing a Christmas party and finding a few extra people to cover the shifts so the 118 could go all out and enjoy the festivities.

"That we do, and this year it's my turn to host." Chimney placed a hand on his chest and smiled proudly. He had never hosted one of the station parties before. It was usually Bobby who hosted them or they had the parties here at the station for family and friends to attend.

But a summer party was different, they couldn't have the pinnical of summer inside the station, hidden away from the sun and the sweltering heat.

It was more of an occasion when a party was at someone's house and Chimney had offered to host this one since he hadn't had the chance before.

"You're coming, right?" A smile lit up Buck's face as he tucked his hands into his back pockets. So far everyone had said they were turning up and it looked like it was going to be a big day, they couldn't have a party without the newest member of the team there.

"I guess I could swing by."

"You can bring your family, you know. Parties are for everyone, we're one big family here and that includes you now."

"You have a wife and boy, right?" Buck grinned over at Eddie when he saw the smile start to spread across his face as he looked down at his hands for a moment before he nodded.

"I think they'd love to come along,"

Eddie knew for a fact (Y/n) would be happy to join him at the party, she could see the way he talked about the team and how close he felt to them. She wanted to meet the people who Eddie had grown so fond of and who he spent half his life around now. And he was sure Chris would enjoy a party, he always loved a party whenever someone had a birthday or they went to visit family for Christmas.

This would be a bit different because it would be a new place and new people, it would take Chris a little while to get used to everyone and get to know them. But wherever there was a good atmosphere and a lot of energy, Chris always hyped up and got excited.

"Great! Next Saturday at two o'clock. Cap's already made sure we all have the afternoon off so no excuses."

Looks like Eddie and (Y/n) now had plans for next weekend.

***

"I'm ready," Christopher shuffled into the kitchen and leaned his arms on the kitchen counter next to (Y/n), letting his body fall forward into the counter that kept him upright. His fingers tapped and itched against the counter and he dropped his chin onto (Y/n)'s arm, looking over her to see what she was doing.

"Good, I think I've got everything," (Y/n) leaned down to kiss his forehead as she put the box into Chris's backpack she was getting ready.

She could barely breathe now from the nerves.

All morning (Y/n) had been planning what to take and rethinking how to be ready for any kind of situation or emergency. It felt more like she was going on shift at the fire station rather than out to a festive party to meet the team for the first time.

The backpack was full. (Y/n) had packed Chris's favourite toy monkey, just in case he started to panic and needed something to cuddle. She had his new favourite sensory toy which was a plastic snake that rattled and made a very satisfying clicking sound whenever it was shook.

His noise-cancelling headphones were folded up and packed so if the music or the raised voices got too much, Chris could still stay with everyone and just wear his headphones.

She had a bag of sweets crammed in as well; Eddie had told her that there would be a lot of food and sweets and treats out and they both knew Chris would get upset at that. He was allergic to a lot of things; nuts, milk, latex to name a few and there were only a certain few brands of sweets Chris could tolerate, others he loved but they made him sick.

So (Y/n) thought it was best to bring along a lot of treats so Chris could still enjoy himself. And because he was such a picky eater and had allergies, she had done him a pack up. Save asking Chimney what was in each food and have Chris go into a meltdown when the food didn't taste the same as the brand he always got from the same shop each week. He could always tell the difference.

Then there was his mini-medic kit in the bag too with his EpiPens, painkillers and stomach meds in case he got hold of something he shouldn't and made himself feel sick.

"Come on then, off we go," (Y/n) looped his backpack on her shoulder and hooked her bag on her other shoulder before she reached out to take Chris's hand. His crutches were already in the car from yesterday, he didn't like to use them in the house, only when they went out.

"Daddy?" Chris tilted his head up and leaned his cheek on (Y/n)'s arm as they walked out towards the car.

They had only told Chris yesterday about the party today in case Chris got too overwhelmed or panicked about going or in case he got sick and couldn't go. If he knew in advance, it would be the only thing he would focus on and if for some reason he didn't end up going, he would have a meltdown because of changed or ruined plans. Telling him at the last second was always the easiest way to go.

"He's meeting us there, don't worry," (Y/n) put the bags in the car and lifted Chris up to strap him in his car seat.

Eddie had picked up a shift with Hen at the last minute to cover this morning so the plan was for him to do his shift until dinner time, go wash and change at the station and then Hen would drive them to Chimney's house for the party.

He should be there by now, (Y/n) was praying Eddie was there before she and Chris arrived. She didn't want to walk into a stranger's home and be introduced without Eddie. Chris would be panicked enough and if (Y/n) started to panic too, it wouldn't end well.

Unease washed through (Y/n) in waves when she began to drive. Despite Chris singing and babbling along to the Disney CD in the car, she could feel the panic welling up inside her.

What if Eddie's colleagues didn't like her?

From the way Eddie spoke so highly of everyone he worked with, it would be awful if they didn't like (Y/n). They were practically part of the family now, they worked so closely with Eddie and (Y/n) wanted them to know her and like her and be friends. It would mean she and Eddie could go out with them if they were all close, since they moved here they didn't know many people and the only people Eddie knew well or close were the guys he worked with.

(Y/n) didn't know what Eddie had told them about Chris- or if he had told them anything at all about their son.

It was always a shock when (Y/n) used to introduce her friends to Chris and she could always see their expressions change and their words get stuck in their throat when they realised he had special needs. They didn't know what to say to him or how to act around him.

Some people tried to talk to him as if he was a baby, others ignored him completely and then a few people just tried to ask what was wrong with him and venture into every aspect of their lives.

(Y/n) would hate for Eddie's new colleagues to be like that; they had both lost enough friends back in Texas for how they acted or treated Chris. It would be awful if this new job that Eddie loved and thoroughly enjoyed turned sour if his colleagues didn't take to Chris.

Would they look at (Y/n) differently if they knew she was a stay at home mum and a part-time book editor- which meant she could always work from home and be there for Chris. Would they judge her or laugh at her or think she was silly or lazy?

She didn't have to check the address when she pulled up in the street. The music could be heard from the end of the street and there were at least five cars rammed near the third house on the left. At least she had found the right address and wasn't lost, that was another worry (Y/n) had thought of late last night when she wondered what could and would go wrong. It wasn't very often that (Y/n) got to know and interact with new people and she knew they were all close to her husband. She wanted to be close to them too.

"I think we're here, are you ready?"

"Yep!"

(Y/n) got out and smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles in her dress; it was Eddie's favourite. A strapless white dress with a low cut towards the cleavage, tight at the hips and crinkled and fanned out towards her knees. And it had little strawberries printed all across; the picture of summer.

She had pinned her hair back and matched the outfit with white sandals, whereas Chris had chosen to wear a white pair of shorts and a lime green button up, sleeveless shirt. He even tucked the shirt into his shorts to try and look smart.

(Y/n) looped her bag around her neck and shoulder but when she opened the back door for Chris to hop out, he shook his head. A cheeky grin lit up his face as his eyes creased at the corners and he stretched his arms out towards her while he tilted his head from side to side.

He wanted to be carried.

With a roll of her eyes, (Y/n) held out his backpack towards him, she would carry him but she couldn't hold everything.

He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and held his arms out, giggly madly when (Y/n) leaned in and picked him up to sit him high on her left hip. He was getting a bit big for her to carry him around, but he was her baby boy and they both knew she could never say no to carrying him around.

Chris nuzzled his face into her cheek and loosely draped his arms around her neck while (Y/n) shut the door with her bum and held him tightly, pinning his crutches underneath her right arm. He would need them when she eventually had to put him down and they both knew he wouldn't sit still for long, he would be snooping and adventuring round soon enough.

"Let's go find daddy," She leaned her cheek on top of Chris's head when he snuggled down against her.

The front door was closed but the back gate at the left side of the house was wide open, connecting the front to the back garden. (Y/n) followed the path and the sound of music round the side of the house towards the voices and the laughter that was drawing them closer.

There were balloons taped to each end of the few tables set out near the fence and there was a BBQ going near the back door.

Quite a lot of people were scattered around the large garden and (Y/n) could see at least three children which made her more relieved than she could comprehend. It would have been awkward if she and Eddie were the only ones to bring their kid along.

"There you are," Eddie's voice was like a Godsend and (Y/n) managed a more relaxed smile when her eyes fell on him and watched him head towards her.

Reaching over, Eddie set down his beer on the table next to Chimney and patted his shoulder before he bypassed him when his eyes set on his girl. They had agreed that (Y/n) would turn up about half two or after so everyone had chance to turn up and be rowdy and catch up before she brought Chris. (Y/n) didn't like being first to parties and Chris would be more settled if everything was in full swing by the time he arrived.

Eddie ran his tongue along his lips and dug his nails into his palms for a second when his eyes latched onto what (Y/n) was wearing. She had done that on purpose.

She had chosen the dress she knew always drove him mad. The one that hugged every curve she had and stopped short of her knees. The dress that looked like summer itself and made everyone's eyes always fall on her whenever she wore it. It was going to prove hard for Eddie to stay away from her when she looked like that.

When he reached them, he curved an arm around Chris's back and moved his other hand to cup the back of (Y/n)'s neck. His thumb brushed up and down her skin, ruffling her hair in the process and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

He loved the radiant smile she gave him when she looked up at him and he just had to kiss those painted red lips that matched the strawberries on her dress.

"Hi," (Y/n) whispered quietly against his lips, grinning at the slight tint of red on Eddie's already pink lips where her lipstick had smudged onto him a little.

"Hey," He kissed her again, biting her lower lip just a pinch before a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and he heard Chris squealing 'daddy' loudly into his ear. Chris eagerly clambered from (Y/n) over to Eddie who lifted him up for a cuddle and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "I've been waiting for you; God, you can tell you're mine." Eddie grinned and kissed his nose when he looked down at what Chris had decided to wear.

The shorts matched Eddie's light auburn cargo pants and the lime green top looked just like the mint blue t-shirt Eddie had picked for today. If Eddie's hair was slightly more curled, they would be twins.

"Come on, everyone is dying to meet you,"

He swung Chris round before he set him down to his feet and (Y/n) handed over his crutches so he could actually walk for himself for a while.

A tepid smile reached (Y/n)'s eyes when Eddie hooked his arm around her waist and reeled her into his side, where she belonged. She moved her hand up to rest on his chest while his other hand grabbed the handle of Chris's backpack so he didn't stray the wrong way or try and speed off without them.

"(Y/n)," Eddie kissed her temple when they reached the BBQ and glanced his eyes over at a few members of his team. "This is my captain, Bobby and his wife Sargent Athena Grant. And this is Chimney. This is my wife (Y/n) and our boy Christopher."

He let go of Chris's backpack so he could reach over and take back his beer bottle he put down earlier. Eddie could feel himself relaxing already, he could feel the tension melting away when he saw the way the team looked at his family. They didn't frown or look at Chris in pity, they didn't look away or seem unnerved or anxious. Bobby was grinning, Athena had that glint in her narrowed eyes and a wicked smile on her lips and Chimney just looked dazed in a good sort of way.

"Lovely to meet you (Y/n),"

(Y/n) kept her arm curved tight around Eddie's back but happily reached her free hand out to shake Bobby's hand. "And you, Eddie talks very highly of you."

"You know, my son Harry is making some water balloons and I bet he could use some help. What do you think?" Athena looked over at Chris who smiled and lazily tilted his head back until he was looking up at Eddie, silently checking it was alright. And silently making sure both parents would keep an eye on him and not lose him at any point.

"Go ahead," Eddie ruffled his hair as he grinned and walked over to Athena who placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to Harry Hen's boy Denny.

Chris loved anything sensory like water or sand or play dough- which was something he always tried to eat. (Y/n) was pleased how sensory Chris was and how relaxed he was with different textures and feels and play toys. Whereas he was sensitive to smells and tastes, it was hard getting him to try new food or watch different movies, visually he was very sensory and didn't like new or different shows or movies.

"Do you want a drink?" Eddie mumbled against (Y/n)'s forehead, smiling and pecking her forehead when she nodded.

She could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside of her when he wandered across the garden to the drinks table. Her eyes flitted between her two boys, smiling shyly when she looked over at Chris. He was sat on the grass, splashing the water and slowly placing the water balloons into the big bowl next to Athena who was introducing and overseeing the job the boys were doing.

"So, what do you do (Y/n)?"

Her gaze fell back on Chimney who started to turn over the burgers on the grill whole Bobby gave him a somewhat disapproving look as he looked between him and the food. Bobby looked at him as if he could do a better job and it made (Y/n) relax, although she wasn't sure why.

"I, I'm a part-time editor for a literacy company so I can work from home and be with Chris,"

"I bet you have to have a good attention span for that,"

"It helps," She smiled up at Bobby, feeling herself relax more and more in their presence.

"Hen's wife works from home, I don't know what she does though, some sort of science shit," Chimney waved the spatula in his hand and shook his head with a smile. He didn't know the specifics of what Rachel did, he just knew she worked from home to be with Denny and she didn't often talk about her work, unless she was drunk. It usually washed over his head.

Maybe her worries had all been for nothing.

Spinning on her heels, (Y/n) held her glass tighter to her chest and smiled shyly up at the man in front of her. She didn't recognise him, Eddie hadn't introduced her to everyone here yet and he had wandered off to check on Chris and see how he was doing.

The man in front of her had a rather cheesy smile, sort of like he was a young boy at heart, a Peter Pan of sorts. He grinned at her and clasped his hands together in front of him, rubbing his knuckles in a way (Y/n) recognised as an anxious movement.

"Hi, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck."

"Oh, you're Buck, I've heard a lot about you. I'm (Y/n)," She held her hand out for him to shake, smiling a little wider when his eyes narrowed and his head ticked to the side like he somehow didn't believe she was who she said she was.

"You're Eddie's wife?"

"Yeah,"

"Damn, he never said you were beautiful,"

(Y/n) laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear, unsure how to take that comment. It was either him being very sweet or a jibe that Eddie either didn't talk about her at work or said she was something other than pretty. But (Y/n) chose to take it as a compliment.

"Mummy…" Chris let go of one of his crutches so he could reach up and grab (Y/n)'s hand when he walked up behind her. He started to swing their hands between them, smiling gently but saying nothing when she whispered 'what's up baby'. He leaned his temple against her arm and kept pulling on her hand but it was when he started to hum that (Y/n) got the hint.

She bent down beside him and unzipped the bag he had been carrying around dutifully, unable to set it down because he knew all of his things, especially his meds, were inside.

Rattling around, (Y/n) found the dark purple dinosaur toy wedged down beside his lunch box and held it out in front of him. Watching as he started to nod and coiled it quickly to his chest. He wasn't unhappy but he was getting a little anxious, his favourite teddy would calm him down and give him something to concentrate on and ground him.

"This is daddy's friend Buck, wanna say hi?" (Y/n) kissed his temple as she stood up just as Buck bent down to be level with him.

"Don't tell me that's a dinosaur?"

"You like them?"

"I love them! He's impressive, look at those claws, wow." Buck reached a careful hand out to brush the pale yellow claws before he tilted his head to the side. "Do you want a drink? I saw someone make a milkshake for Denny earlier."

"No milk." Chris shook his head and pressed the toy against his mouth, starting to tap the dino head against his lips a few times as both a sign and a stim for the sensation. It was a panic action at first, it was drilled into Chris what he couldn't drink or have and all he could remember all his allergies, they made sure he knew them if he was ever away from them and uncertain or confused.

But the more he tapped the toy against his lips, the more he started to nod his head and hum. Chris was very sensory, he liked the feel of things like water or fluffy blankets or texture books. And his new stimming technique was tapping toys against his lips for the vibrations and tingling sensations it created.

"Oh, he's allergic to milk but he's preferable to cola,"

"Oh, sorry. I'm sure Chimney has a lot of soda here, why don't we go find some? Can he eat stuff from the barbeque?"

Chris pushed forward and took Buck's hand and reached up to hand him the dino toy so he could look at it. He grinned when Buck placed his hand over his heart before he took the toy from him to inspect and marvel at it. Chris had found a true friend here.

"He won't eat anything new, he's brought a pack up. Drinks other than milk are fine… thank you for this," She whispered the last part, watching them head off towards the drinks table while her heart soared. No one usually bothered to try and understand Chris's interests or get to know him or be around him. People thought he was cute and sweet but didn't know how to act around him.

Everyone here was taking an interest in him and treating him like he was already one of them and had been all his life.

A gasp left her lips and her knees buckled when a pair of strong arms bolted around her waist and reeled her into a hard chest. She tilted her head back and tried to catch a proper breath when she felt Eddie grazing his lips against her neck. His fingers dug lovingly into her hips and he growled into her neck and sent shockwaves coursing through her nerves making her grin.

"I see Buck's found a friend," Eddie let his eyes glance over at Buck who was holding a plastic cup out but letting Chris pour his own drink, something not many people did with him. "Means I can have you to myself for a few minutes."

"Oh really?"

(Y/n) gripped Eddie's wrists and turned her head to kiss the top of his hair but she was finding it hard not to close her eyes and melt against him. And when she felt his teeth grazing and nipping at her skin, she knew there would be a bruise there later that she would have to hide from Chris.

"Hmm."

"Everyone seems lovely, Eddie. I can see why you speak to highly of them," She could understand how attached Eddie was to each of his colleagues and she could see why he felt they were part of a new family together. This was much more than co-workers getting along, this was a close knit family that was hard to break.

She tilted her head to the side when Eddie kissed his way up her neck and over her jaw, pecking and nipping at her skin until he finally had her lower lip pulled tight between his teeth.

(Y/n) couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.

#eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #imagines #911 imagine #911 fox #bobby nash #evan buckley

[dearhargrove]

People leave

Eddie Diaz x reader

summary A few weeks after first meeting Eddie and Christopher things with you and Eddie start getting serious. However when Christopher realizes, he doesn't react the way you'd expected.

word count 1200

tags hurt/comfort, Chris being adorable, angsty but turns to fluff

a/n yall know how in episode 8 season 4 Eddie tells Chris he's seeing someone and Chris gets rlly mad and runs away to Buck (adorable btw)? When he explained that he's scared that people he cares about leave I realized this could be a good continuation to this! It's gonna have a happy ending and fluff don't worry 🫶🏻

part one

masterlist

Christopher is preparing salad with Eddie at his side while you supervise Liam as he slowly chops a cucumber. His tongue is peeking out in concentration as he holds the knife the way you'd shown him and slowly slices the cucumber.

When he's done you ruffle his hair and hold your hand up for a high-five which he eagerly gives. “You did great! When dinner is done well call you - go and play a little more with Chris?” He nods and hops off the chair (his feet couldn't reach the floor when he sat so he had to hop down a little- it makes you coo every time he does) before grabbing Chris by his arm and dragging him to the living room.

Eddie and you watch as they settle on the couch and pick their game of uno back up.

“They're adorable,” you smile and lean back against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest. Eddie hums and sneaks his right arm around your waist, looking down at you with a content grin.

You tilt your head at his look and turn around to finish up the salad, “What are you looking at, señor?”

In your peripheral you see both his eyebrows raise as he makes a ‘huh’ sound and shifts to lean against the counter with his hip. “You speaking Spanish now?”

That makes you laugh and you shake your head, “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He raises his shoulders as if he didn't know but the smirk on his face tells you what you need to know.

You lean in as if you'd tell him a secret and rest your hand on his waist before basically whispering, “Go and set the table.”

He groans and gently pushes you away as if he was mad, “Yes, ma'am.” He bows exaggeratedly and you watch him with a deadpan look. He looks around the corner into the living room before quickly kissing your cheek and then your lips, squeezing your hip before letting go.

You grin and bite your lip as you watch him go to set the table, distantly hearing him ask the boys who's winning the game and starting a discussion about uno rules.

Later when dinner is ready and served Liam is telling Eddie about his day while Christopher sits next to you. He's pushing the food around on his plate with his fork and you discreetly nudge his elbow with a questioning look.

He doesn't just look up but full on glares at you, dropping his fork noisily. “I don't need your help.”

You flinch back in surprise and furrow your brows. Eddie is looking up now too, making you shrug in confusion.

“Christopher, talk nicely.” He says in his warning dad tone and you watch a little uncomfortably - did you cause this? What did you even do? “No!” Chris bangs his fist on the table and pushes the plate off the table and onto the floor, the loud noise making Liam shriek and look around with wide, scared eyes.

Before you can reach out Eddie shushes him and puts a hand on his back, allowing the eight year old to calm down a bit. Chris however is the opposite. This time he directs his words at you, “We don't need you! You will leave!”

Your eyes go wide and you send a panicked look to Eddie, who looks just as confused. “Chris, what's going on? You like her.” Instead of an explanation he slides off his chair and glares at you again, “You will leave.”

He then hurries to his room and slams the door behind him, causing the dam to break and Liam to star bawling in confusion at the confrontation.

There's an unspoken agreement between you and Eddie as you stand and pick Liam up, letting him cry into your shoulder as you stroke your palm over his back. “I'll see what's up with Christopher. I'm really sorry about what he said,” Eddie mumbles and kisses your temple, at the same time he brushes his hand through Liams hair once.

-

“I think you need to talk to him,” Eddie comes around the corner and looks at you and Liam settled on the couch with the latter fast asleep in your arms. “I don't really think he wants to see me, maybe we should just go home…” you sigh.

“That's exactly what he doesn't want.” Eddie starts and sits next to you, reaching out and taking your hand in his. “I've told you about Shannon... He's scared you'll leave too. He doesn't want to miss you and Liam.”

You frown, “Oh, no. I'll go and try to make him understand we're here to stay.” He nods gladly and kisses the back of your hand and letting you carefully place your son in his arms. Liam wakes up momentarily and when he recognizes Eddie he cuddles up into him and goes back to sleep.

You watch the two with a fond expression and inhale deeply before going to Christophers room and knocking twice.

There's no response so you slowly open the door. He's laying in his bed and when he sees you he frowns again, turning around too slow to hide the tear tracks and red eyes.

You sigh sadly, “May I sit here?” You pat the space on the bed next to his legs and see him shrug under the blankets.

“Listen, I understand you're scared of Liam and me leaving. A lot of people have left you. But, Chris, we're here to stay. I really, really like your dad and I really like you, too. Liam does too.”

It's visible that you're getting through to him when he slowly shifts onto his back and looks at you with a pout and a frown. “Promise?” You smile and nod.

“Pinky promise, even.” You take his hand and wrap your pinky around his.

He smile too now and yawns but surprises you once again tonight as he moves around until his head is laying on your thighs. “You want to go to sleep?” He nods and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders to wrap him in them entirely, carding your hand through his hair to calm him.

Ten minutes later and he's fast asleep, softly snoring as you look down at him. You hear the door creak and see Eddie come in, a relieved and fond expression on his face as he sees you two.

“I see you saved the day?” Rolling your eyes you flip him off and he laughs behind his hand. “Liam is asleep too. I pulled out the couch so he can sleep there without a problem.” he whispers.

“Thank you.” He waves it off and comes close enough to soothe his hands over your shoulders and kiss your head.

Happiness and love is the only thing you feel as you think about those three boys that posed utter chaos together but you loved nevertheless. It's a surprise to no one when you wake up to find Liam and Christopher snuggled in the latter's bed the next morning.

#eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #Eddie Diaz 911 #ryan guzman #eddie diaz imagine #Ryan Guzman x reader #911 abc #911 fox #911 spoilers #911 fanfic #911 show #christopher diaz

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by super amazing @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @glorious-spoon @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz @devirnis @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @spotsandsocks and @diazsdimples. Thank you all so much!

Alright, so I know haven't been as active since dropping the first chapter of NFL Buck. I've just been sort of down because that same day, the Super Bowl Champs had their parade and rally, and just after it ended there was a mass shooting. My younger sister was there with some friends and they got away unharmed, but when she didn't answer my message for a long 30 minutes, I truly thought the worst. I've just been so sad and angry for Kansas City, for the US really and I just couldn't get into the spirit of writing. I'm not getting into the politics of it all today and my sister is coming for a visit soon, so I'm feeling marginally better. KC Strong.

First chapter of NFL Buck has been dropped, but everything else I've posted for this fic can be found here. Here is a snippet from the Eddie Begin's arc of NFL Buck.

Hurricane Harvey was relentless for almost four days, bullying southern Texas with unforgiving wind and an exurbanite amount of rain. Houston fire department and so many others worked day and night to help those who had not evacuated.  It was absolute chaos, and it blew through Eddie’s entire life. The storms had wreaked havoc on the cell towers, which meant service was spotty to none and radios became the main source of communication for rescuers. By some miracle, though, the internet connection at the firehouse held strong. It was slow and glitched out here and there, reminding Eddie too much of his time in Afghanistan. He watched his infant son grow up through a screen, with his very upset wife barely holding on and his parents hovering nearby, souring the video calls even further. Christopher was no longer a whimpering baby in his mother’s lap but looking at his saddened son on a glitching iPad screen with a tense Maddie sitting beside him, was too familiar.  Add in the argument he had with Buck just before, and the threat of danger just outside the firehouse, Eddie was back to being a scared 19-year-old in war riddled country. “Dad, grandma said we’re not going to visit Buck anymore. That he’s too busy. And Maddie tried to call him, but he didn’t answer and…” The eight-year old’s voice trails off, his lips trembling. Eddie bites his inner cheek hard. This was on him. He gave into his mother’s worries and demands about traveling through Texas during the hurricane.  Helena was too stubborn and being his mother, she knew every damn button to push, and Eddie was tired of fighting.  So, he reluctantly agreed to cancel the visit and his mother grinned a little too sharply before stating, “I’m sure Maddie will enjoy having her brother to herself.” Another ploy to take Christopher and Eddie fucking fell for it. Then his mother took it a step further by graciously telling Buck and Maddie herself, that Christopher would no longer be joining them in Dallas and to enjoy their time together for as long as they need it. Eddie knew his mother didn’t approve of his relationship with Buck, more so than his previous one with Shannon. The only reason she kept her mouth shut was the potential back lash of upsetting Christopher. But she already succeeded in having a hand in driving away Shannon and she probably believed she could do the same with Evan.

With this fic, there are a lot of canon events with twists. The usual timeline does not exists. But I hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @bekkachaos @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley @nmcggg

#seven sentence sunday #tag game #my wip #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #hurricane harvey #eddie begins au #prayers for kc #kc strong