#Banished Hurt

[wickedzeevyln]

Free of This Distance

My heart is calling out yours. One can hope never to reach the bottom of the cup filled with steaming coffee, lost in trance, luxuriating in a conversation wrapped in ribbons of evoking thoughts and decadent flavors. One second after another, the veil is peeled, unmasking secrets until they are naked and the heat floods the senses, charcoal eyes running against the seconds and face tightening…

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, includes swearing.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy,” Eddie smirks. “Could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha,” you leer, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs, “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight,” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah,” Eddie answers. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll,” Eddie cautions, pointing the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously,” Eddie says while reaching for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie reaches for the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is,” Eddie exclaims. He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," You offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips, “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best,” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn��t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There,” you adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah,” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He adds, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly,” you scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe,” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah,” you maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back,” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight,” He says, striding toward the front door.

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one,” He insists and heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so,” his tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you say, begrudgingly taking it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated,” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing,” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently,” you acknowledge, barely having the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” You suggest as you struggle to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the eerily quiet hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked, “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off, “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve,” Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He asks, instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid,” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you,” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong, I thought-”

“You’re not and you didn’t,” you choke out. “They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault,” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry,” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there,” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch,” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me,” you grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you,” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little,” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful,” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” he nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too,” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Holy shit.”

“You can say that again,” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could,” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that,” you smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much,” you remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though,” You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[a2zillustration]

Croissant's superpower is lying to the entire religious sect of Murder

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[worstloki]

Loki telling the Avengers he's never had a family before them all and Thor is sitting in the back of the room spitting out his coffee sobbing crying he feels sick to his stomach

[qserasera]

helpless

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I've been wondering about something about Wally's "Warlock staff"....

What the heck is that? A crystal of some kind?? (I've been wondering for so long with the project I'm working on)

that would be a crystal - and a conduit for Home's power! Wally uses it to channel and utilize the magic Home gives him. technically he can cast without it, but casting without a "lightning rod" makes the magic undiluted when used - which is rarely a good thing when your power comes from a demon!

[justrandomghoul]

Swiss x Dewdrop: I Would Never, Ever Hurt You

The post that started it all

Angst, hurt/comfort

I made some changes to the original idea, but the idea somewhat stayed the same.

Dewdrop is struggling with the changes of his new element and packmates.

Dewdrop hid at his sanctuary, the ministry's roof, where he could be alone and not be bothered by anyone. He had been going there almost every night ever since his elemental transition. Mountain and Aether had been treating him as if he were a ghost that they couldn't see haunting the halls of the place they once called home. It no longer felt like home since their packmates were banished to the pits and the loss of their Papa.

He felt like he had no other choice: either accept the transition or have his mates be banished...or worse. Dewdrop couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. Despite his sacrifice and weeks of agony, his mates treated him with such coldness. After he recovered, he went into the greenhouse to talk to Mountain and help out like he used to as a water ghoul. Mountain screamed at him to get out and that Dewdrop would set the place ablaze. Dewdrop burst into tears and quickly fled the greenhouse, seeking refuge in his room for the remainder of the day.

Aether also behaved differently; he wouldn't raise his voice at Dewdrop, but he acted as if Dewdrop had died and that Aether was in mourning despite Dewdrop standing next to him. As they did the dishes, he told Dewdrop that he wished Dewdrop hadn't made it and that the fire ghoul was just the shell of the one he used to love. It devastated Dewdrop. He was alive and right next to his mate, but his mate refused to believe that his mate was right there. Aether would watch the fire ghoul with such sadness and devastation that it would make a vengeful spirit weep.

The Cardinal showed kindness to the newly transitioned fire ghoul. He had been taking care of him like his packmates should. The Cardinal saw to it that Dewdrop was well-fed and that his room was kept at a cold temperature to prevent Dewdrop from overheating himself. He also insisted that Dewdrop called him 'Copia' and not by his title since "they are going to work together after all". After Dewdrop finally confided in Copia about the treatment he had been receiving from his mates, Copia berated Mountain and Aether for the treatment of their packmate, who went through weeks of agony for them.

Then the Summoning took place. Sister Imperator ordered the Cardinal to summon a new water ghoul and two air ghouls. Dewdrop watched as they summoned a water ghoul. When the water ghoul appeared, it made Dewdrop ache. The water ghoul was perfect, not a single imperfection on him. He introduced himself as 'Rain' to his future packmates. Dewdrop didn't hate Rain, but the ghoul before him unknowingly triggered a sadness of who he used to be. He used to be beautiful, and now everything he used to be was burned away. Then the air ghouletts were summoned. They were mated and protective of each other. The way they refused to leave each other's embrace made Dewdrop smile; it was sweet in a weird way to watch. They introduced each other as 'Cirius' and 'Cumulus'.

But then something unexpected happened. Out of nowhere, the portal opened again and revealed a multi-ghoul. He trailed not far behind the ghouletts, essentially hitching a ride. A multi-ghoul was extremely rare to encounter, and summoning one was even more so. Dewdrop froze as the multi-ghoul turned his gaze to him, his warm brown eyes reflecting what made Dewdrop feel vulnerable, but didn't feel threatened. The multi-ghoul introduced himself as 'Swiss' and was welcomed with open arms.

After the new arrivals settled in, Dewdrop observed from the sidelines as they interacted with Mountain and Aether, leaving the fire ghoul to himself. He got the hint that he wasn't welcome and left the den feeling dejected. Every day, Dewdrop saw how everyone interacted with one another as if they had been packmates for a long time. They treated Dewdrop as if he wasn't there or that they forgot about him. It caught the attention of Swiss. He saw how lonely the fire ghoul was and how the pack treated him. It made him furious, and from that point on, he swore to himself that he would protect Dewdrop and make sure that he felt loved.

It started as something small, such as helping Dewdrop when he was left to do the dishes. Dewdrop was silent as he cleaned a plate; his long hair hid his face. Swiss wordlessly grabbed a towel and started drying the dishes that Dewdrop had cleaned. Dewdrop turned and looked up at Swiss in surprise. Swiss turned and looked at Dewdrop before smiling at him and continued drying the dish. Dewdrop was silently thankful for his help, but didn't understand why Swiss bothered.

Since then, Swiss began to assist Dewdrop whenever possible. He wordlessly helped the smaller ghoul carry equipment, helped him with his daily tasks that would take the fire ghoul too long to complete, and included him with whatever leisurely thing the pack was doing after a long day of practice and chores. Mountain and Aether continued to distance themselves from Dewdrop, even going as far as protecting Rain from him, despite Dewdrop having no ill feelings towards the water ghoul. After weeks of neglect from Mountain and Aether, Dewdrop gave up and decided to protect his heart from being broken again.

He was so tired of being ignored and sometimes being yelled at by those who used to love him, which is why he took refuge at his sanctuary, a place where no one could hurt him. Feeling utterly defeated, Dewdrop lowered his head and hugged his knees to his chest. The ghosts of his pack plagued his broken mind and heart. He longed for Ifrit's fearless nature and tender heart, yearned for Zephyr's gentle voice and embraces, and most of all, he missed the love Mountain and Aether used to have for him. What he did for them, he did out of love, but they were too overwhelmed by grief and anger to see that.

Dewdrop was about to allow himself to cry when he felt someone behind him, causing him to gasp and turn his head to the presence. He turned and saw Swiss standing hesitantly in front of the window Dewdrop climbed through.

Swiss smiled as he spoke apologetically, "I apologize for disturbing you. I had no idea you were here. I heard that we can see the stars more clearly this time of the year, and I wanted to see them for myself." He hesitated before speaking up again. "Would it be alright if I joined you?"

Dewdrop smiled half-heartedly and patted at a spot next to him. "I wouldn't mind at all."

Swiss grinned and sat down next to the fire ghoul, barely touching him. Dewdrop avoided the multi-ghoul's gaze by looking down at the weather-worn tiles. He didn't want to be rude, but he didn't want to be close to Swiss.

Swiss must've felt Dewdrop's uneasiness, because he politely looked away to look up at the stars. He spoke in wonder, "It's so beautiful up here. You could get lost just by trying to find a single constellation." He turned to look at Dewdrop who refused to look up. "I could get lost finding you."

Dewdrop turned to look at Swiss. His expression betrayed the confusion and vulnerability he felt.

Swiss looked back at Dewdrop before continuing, "You're as bright and beautiful as the North Star."

Dewdrop blushed and looked away. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He insisted.

Swiss dared himself before moving a bit closer to him without touching him. He smiled as he spoke, "I may be new, but I've been around and I know beauty when I see it."

Dewdrop felt tempted to stand up and leave, but couldn't bring himself to, as he felt the multi-ghoul's genuineness and decided to hear him out. He barely spoke above a whisper as he spoke, "If you saw who I used to be, you wouldn't be saying that."

Swiss frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Dewdrop couldn't meet his gaze and decided to look at Swiss's shoes to avoid his eyes as he spoke. "I'm not who I used to be. I used to be beautiful...like Rain." He shakily took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not a fire-born. I used to be a water ghoul. I used to be beautiful. They decided that I wasn't good enough and that I had to meet their expectations. They took away our pack and I sacrificed myself to keep Mountain and Aether safe."

He wiped a tear away before continuing, "I gave up myself to save them and in return, they act like I died...they act like I'm not here." He sounded defeated. "They would rather mourn who I used to be rather than to accept what I've become."

Swiss hesitated before gently placing his hand on top of the smaller ghoul's. Dewdrop couldn't bring himself to pull away; he missed the gentle comfort. When Swiss saw that Dewdrop didn't reject him, he gently ran his thumb across Dewdrop's knuckles to comfort him. "You changed elements? I-I didn't think that was possible. How...did it..."

Dewdrop sounded pained as he spoke. "It was painful. I felt like I was dying and I guess a part of me did. I had no choice, I had to do it to save them. We had already lost so much and I couldn't bear to lose anyone else. I did what I had to do...and I guess they resent me for it."

Swiss was too horrified to say anything. He had a feeling that something happened that caused a shift in the pack dynamic, but he had no idea of the pain the fire ghoul went through to protect the pack. He wanted to throw punches at Mountain and Aether. How dare they treat their pack member like that after all he did for them to keep them safe? How dare they add more pain? Swiss anchored himself to not lose himself in his anger.

Dewdrop touched his neck where his gills used to be. The black lines that now adorn his neck. Swiss's eyes watered as he saw the scars he never noticed before. He wanted to kiss them away. Dewdrop saw that Swiss was looking at the scars. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"I know, it's not a pretty sight to see."

Swiss slowly raised his hand, checking to see if Dewdrop would pull away. When Dewdrop gave no indication that he objected to his touch, Swiss gently tucked Dewdrop's hair away from his face behind his ear and caressed his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from the ghoul. He couldn't bring himself to speak above a whisper, as if he feared that if he spoke any louder, Dewdrop would vanish. "You're beautiful."

Dewdrop's expression turned into shock. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

Swiss took his silence as permission to continue. "You're as beautiful as the morning sun."

He couldn't bring himself to speak above a whisper. "Like the sun, I burn everything around me."

Swiss slowly leaned closer. "Like the sun, you shine."

Dewdrop slowly leaned in, mirroring Swiss. "Like the sun, I'm painful to look at."

Swiss leaned closer, their lips barely touching. "Like the sun, I embrace your warmth."

Dewdrop closed the remaining distance between them. A soft gasp escaped from his lips as they kissed. Swiss wrapped his arms protectively around Dewdrop, wanting nothing more than to protect his sun. Dewdrop gently cupped Swiss's face in his hands. The gentle touches felt like small suns. After a few heartbeats, they gently pulled away from their kiss to look into each other's eyes. Swiss's brown eyes started adoringly into Dewdrop's ruby reds.

He spoke softly into his ear. "My sun and stars."

[one-in-a-million-fishsticks-blog]

Banished Fireheart AU

I am being perfectly normal about the fictional cat series right now and need to get this off of my chest.

What if when Bluestar banished Tigerclaw, she banished Fireheart too?

This AU would rely entirely on Bluestar losing her mind completely during her mental breakdown, but imagine that instead of trusting Fireheart more because he saved her from Tigerclaw and previously tried to warn her about the tabby tom, she takes the entire incident as proof that Fireheart's loyalty should also be doubted and decides to kill two birds with one stone?

This obviously makes zero sense, but Bluestar is beyond logic when she makes the decision, so to her Fireheart has already proved his own disloyalty by sneaking around and looking for answers behind her back.

AU timeline:

Blue banishes Tiger AND Fire

Fireheart is forced to become a rogue, obviously he can never live with being a kittypet again, so rogue life is his only option

Fire tries to contact other cats in Thunderclan, but he either can't reach them or they chase him away on Bluestar's orders, so he can't help them like he wants to

Tigerclaw becomes Tigerstar the 1st and the Riverclan/Shadowclan alliance happens

Fireheart decides to try his luck with Windclan, and Tallstar actually hears him out, but doesn't want to risk any potential alliances with Thunderclan by offering Fireheart shelter

Fireheart leaves Windclan feeling utterly defeated

Windclan refuses to align themselves with the River/Shadow alliance and Tigerclaw retaliates by executing several Windclan cats, including Gorsepaw

Onewhisker says "to hell with this!" and goes to find Fireheart, because at this point Bluestar has made her disinterest in alliances clear and Windclan needs more warriors to defend it, so why NOT take Fireheart in?

Fireheart is destroyed by the loss of Gorsepaw and his spirit very nearly breaks, but a heart-to-heart with Onewhisker motivates him to keep it together and he decides to return to Windclan with his friend

Tallstar officially names Fireheart as an ally and guest of Windclan

Graystripe comes looking for Fireheart because he needs help to rescue his kits and Sandstorm is the only other volunteer so far

Ravenpaw finds out what is going on through the gossip mill because it's Windclan territory and he is right there, how could he not overhear something?

Ravenpaw joins the raiding party against River/Shadow and reveals his identity to Windclan, who take the knowledge that he is a former Thunderclan cat pretty well

Onewhisker and Morningflower also join the rescue patrol

Tigerstar, who has been looking everywhere for Fireheart except in Windclan territory, expects sneaky and low-key resistance to come from Fireheart at some point: what he does not expect is for Fireheart to launch a full-scale raid on Shadow/River camp while he, Leopardstar, and a shitton of their cats are at the gathering

Fireheart is fucking feral at this point and decides that the warrior code doesn't apply to people that shove little baby apprentices in prison, he injures Blackfoot so badly that the wounds are almost fatal and outright kills two other cats himself. Morningflower also gets a kill in, Sandstorm blinds a Riverclan cat, and Onewhisker rips somebody's ear off in the ensuing fight while Graystripe and Ravenpaw help Stonefur and Mistyfoot evacuate Featherpaw and Stormpaw (this all happens before Tigerstar has the chance to publicly execute Stonefur)

Fireheart books it back to Windclan with his raiding party and their rescued kin

Tigerclaw realizes exactly what happened way too late and is furious, but he doesn't immediately march on Windclan because he has bigger fish to fry and still wants Thunderclan dead

The newly named Tigerclan moves to attack Thunderclan, but Windclan comes to their defense and the two sets of allied clans are temporarily forced into a stalemate

Tigerstar disappears to work on his strategy, this is when he makes the decision to try recruiting Bloodclan

Thunderclan is very confused but not ungrateful to Windclan for their help, and Bluestar rescends her previous decision to alienate Tallstar in a brief moment of clarity (Whitestorm is her deputy and has become her caretaker, doing his best to keep her comforted and alive)

Fireheart leaves immediately after the battle, not wanting his former mentor to see him there and snap again because he firmly believes that this alliance is more important than anything else right now. It kills him to leave without even seeing Cinderpelt, but he doesn't believe that it is possible for him to stay

Sandstorm tries following him at first but Morningflower stops her and goes instead while Graystripe explains the raiding party to Bluestar, who is almost too preoccupied by the presence of her kits to register the fact one of her warriors just admitted to Fireheart being involved in some capacity

Morningflower catches up to Fireheart and we get another emotional conversation, Fireheart let's her see just how much this entire experience has affected him and tries to apologize for not being there to protect Gorsepaw. Morningflower shuts his apologies down, firmly explaining in excruciating detail why he is the last cat that should be blamed for Gorsepaw's death. This is where a friendship really starts to form between the two, and Fireheart gets a much needed hug.

Bluestar reluctantly requests that Fireheart be brought to her after learning that he helped to rescue her kits, and Whitestorm comes to retrieve him, interrupting his talk with Morningflower

Bluestar grants Fireheart refuge and Thunderclan forms a joint camp with Windclan for safety reasons.

Bluestar and Tallstar decide to call their temporary alliance Lionclan

Lionclan makes plans to continue defending themselves

END OF PART 1

I really like this AU because I am a big fluff/angst person and the idea is ripe with those elements, I also really wanted a reason to retcon a lot of the Fireheart related decisions that the Erins made in later books, so this AU is now that reason. I haven't planned out how the rest of the first ARC will go down in this AU, but I do have some ideas for how this AU would carry into the Firestar's Quest timeline.

Some other random things about this AU:

Stonefur lives to become Stonestar, he is the leader of Riverclan during the great journey

Leopardstar is not allowed to remain leader after Tigerstar dies in this AU, and Blackfoot is removed from the deputy position permanently

Russetfur becomes Russetstar by popular clan vote, she is the new leader of Shadowclan

Bluestar still dies

Whitestorm becomes Thunderclan's new leader, I thought that Whitestar would make a good parallel to Blackstar

Mistyfoot is named as Stonestar's deputy

Fireheart comes very close to rejoining Thunderclan after Bluestar's death, but in the end it feels wrong to him that his banishment be broken over Bluestar's still cooling body, so he continues living as a guest of Windclan until the final battle is won and peace has returned to the forest

This is where we hit post first ARC/super addition territory:

After the first great battle, Fireheart feels as though he has finally fulfilled the prophecy by aiding Windclan and sees no reason to return to Thunderclan despite the way that his heart aches with the absence of Graystripe, Sandstorm, and Cinderheart.

Fireheart is selected by Tallstar to attend the first gathering after everything has settled down in the forest, and is happy to learn that while Stormpaw has rejoined Riverclan with Mistyfoot and Stonestar, Featherpaw has decided to remain in Thunderclan with Graystripe

Mistyfoot's three remaining kits have also all survived, and are doing well as apprentices in Riverclan

Tallstar announces to everyone that Fireheart has officially pledged himself to the black and white leader as a warrior of Windclan, this makes those of his Thunderclan friends who are present horribly sad, but there is also an undercurrent of melancholy understanding between them that prevents any ill feelings from taking root

Later that night in the warriors's burrow, Fireheart is restless as he dreams of Bluestar, tossing and turning in his nest beside Morningflower and Onewhisker as Bluestar tells the still-young warrior that Starclan isn't done with him yet and that he still has a destiny to fullfil

Ultimately Fireheart winds up receiving several more dreams and a few signs from Starclan IRL before finally taking the hint and seeking out the descendants of Skyclan. In this AU, he leaves Windclan solo but Sandstorm decides to sneak away from Thunderclan and follow him, she has been receiving some signs of her own and is frankly sick of her idiot friend trying to recover from all of his trauma with only his Windclan friends for support. The two bond after she saves his ass, and begin to develop a crush on each other (this is Fireheart's first real adult crush, his crush on Spottedleaf was a puppy crush and was never that serious).

Skyclan is eventually reformed, and Fireheart is chosen by Starclan to be it's new leader so that he can bring everyone back to the forest and train Leafdapple to one day succeed him.

They make it home and Fireheart visits the moonstone to become Firestar and receive his nine lives.

Fireheart and Sandstorm eventually become mates and Sandstorm officially joins Skyclan, they have three kits together, two she-kits and a tom.

The kits are named Leafkit, Squirrelkit, and Gorsekit.

The End (or is it?.....)

Author's Note: OC alert, he is a very minor character and barely shows up, but I thought that Fireheart and Sandstorm having an extra kit and naming it after Gorsepaw was the cutest thing in the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, Gorsetail has entered the chat (he looks like Sandstorm, but a bit darker and fluffier).

His main roll in the second ARC is to be the sibling that stayed home, because in this AU Leafpaw pulls a Stormfur and goes on the Journey with Squirrelpaw.

Gorsepaw the 2nd exists to be obsessively mother-henned by Firestar and Sandstorm, who refuse to let him starve and are constantly giving their own food to him as prey becomes scarcer and scarcer in the old forest.

[shannonallaround]

After pondering on it for several days, I have officially decided I did not like the direction of KFP4 and have banished it from my brain. It is no longer canon. KFP4? What's that? Don't know what you're talking about.

[selunesfavouriteprincess]

I can’t even lie over time this pathetic little elf has grown on me and now I really like her as a character. she’s SUCH a loser. and someone said that she should’ve been recruitable instead of Halsin after uncovering the Shadow Druid plot and she could’ve had a redemption arc and now I can’t stop thinking about that alternate reality

[bumblingbabooshka]

When you love you love whole, with all you have, with teeth. It runs in the blood. The whole planet is stained with it - love in the extreme. Love boiled down to a hard, sharp rock which can be used to bash in the head of your enemy. You can watch the blood run and regret it. You can gather it up and boil it again. [Patreon | Commissions]

[shybunnie20]

These are some thoughts I had about Eddie and Dustin’s friendship while listening to Black Sabbath’s Die Young. Plus a little video edit

Warning: Recounts of Eddie’s death, swearing

Perched atop the roof of the Munson trailer, Dustin bangs his head along to “Master of Puppets,” perfectly in sync with the whining amp beside him. It’s ingrained, thanks to Eddie, who introduced him to a different world of music. Eddie entrusted the younger boy with his cherished tapes, and Dustin wore them out, eager to report back with what songs he took a liking to.

Eddie’s bedroom was a sanctuary of sound where he assumed the role of mentor, guiding Dustin through the labyrinth of famous riffs and lyrics. Eddie was a purist, a devotee of the raw power of metal. He kept Dustin well-versed in the history of it and made sure that he understood that mainstream bands like AC/DC, Mötley Crüe, and KISS—while undeniably popular—fail to embody the true spirit of heavy music.

Eddie took it upon himself to school Dustin in the art of headbanging, imparting the proper technique. He demonstrated how to get the most movement out of their curly hair without completely fucking up their necks. Even so, pulling a muscle is a right of passage.

Dustin has never been one to shy away from being himself, and in Eddie, he found an older reflection. Eddie faces plenty of adversity being misunderstood, poor, and a failed graduate twice over. Despite that, he remains true to himself. In Dustin's eyes, he's the most badass motherfucker because he has heart.

Eddie sought out Dustin in the lunchroom, recognizing his younger self in him. He embraced Dustin wholeheartedly before they even learned each other’s names. Eddie shattered the assumption that high school has to be bleak for outcasts.

All of those moments have led to this. Eddie, whose light had shone blindingly, has been torn from the sky and lies on the cold ground. Gasping for breath with blood-stained lips, he insists that Dustin can become the man he can no longer be. 

Eddie gradually dims while wrapped in his friend’s embrace. With his dying breaths, Eddie pleads for Dustin to promise that he’ll lead their friends. With the agony of mortality closing in on Eddie, Dustin affirms his commitment to finding the strength to go on.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Eddie needs Dustin to know that he believes in him. Dungeons and Dragons isn’t merely a pastime—it’s their haven. Hellfire Club is a family bound not by blood, but they’re family all the same.

Dustin nods, his cheeks wet as the tears roll from them. He isn’t sure that he can keep his word, not when Eddie is sputtering his parting ones. Amidst the thundering pulse in his ears and the sky, Dustin takes on the burden of etching every tremor of Eddie’s final utterances to memory. Each fleeting second slips away as the grains of sand cascade within the crystal confines of time. 

Eddie is more than someone Dustin shares memories with, and the moment Eddie’s heart stills, he has become one himself. Eddie is now a memory devoid of breath and a heartbeat, a distant echo of what once was. Yet, Dustin will remain steadfast in his resolve to resuscitate the essence of who Eddie was.

While he never got the chance to showcase his talent for more than a few drunks at The Hideout, Eddie did get to play for Dustin. He got to headline the most metal concert in the history of the world with his best friend.

Eddie the Freak, Eddie the Banished, Eddie the Remembered.

★My Masterlist

[kurtie4life96]

Hi!! My fiancé of nearly 4 years cheated on me and I have two kids with him. I’m in need of comfort. Could you possibly write something with Eddie telling reader that she’s enough for him and he’ll never do that to her?

This has become top of my priority list instantly.

You are BEAUTIFUL, you are ENOUGH, and it was HIS loss. I am so, so sorry babe. I'm positive that you're perfect and your kids are lucky to have such an amazing mother. I know, because I have two LOs too.

Enough ♡ E.M. x Fem Reader

Summary: Eddie's one and only beloved needs some reassurance. He's more than happy to give her just that.

CW: soft!Eddie, nervous!reader, established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, ramblings, just so much fluff, lil blurb

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You were seated on the old, well-loved couch in Eddie's trailer with a stooped posture, your elbows resting on your thighs, your right leg bouncing up and down involuntarily, as you stared off into space in the dimly lit living room, worry, concern, and anxiety aching deep in your chest as negative thoughts flooded your brain.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Despite being in a long term, loving relationship with Eddie, it was always hard for you to not fear the worst while in a committed relationship.

You took deep, shaky breaths, battling with yourself in your mind, trying to convince yourself anything but the worst.

He loves me, I'm happy, so why do I feel like this, why do I always have to feel so scared-

Eddie interrupted your thoughts as he opened the bathroom door, finished with his shower, smiling ear to ear as he headed towards the living room.

"Hello, my sweet angel, I'm all done, ready to watch that movie now? I'm so excited we finally get to watch Beetlejuice, I heard it's hilarious-"

He stopped dead in his tracks, his smile fading from his face and a look of concern replacing it at the distressed sight of you.

He quickly hurried towards you, sitting on the couch and placing a gentle hand on your back, his voice soft.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay, did something happen?"

You shook your head, pushing your hair back from your forehead, giving him a strained smile.

"No, no, nothing happened," you stammered, a shake in your voice, "I'm okay, really, I just-"

You sighed, clasping your hands, sweating with nerves as you bowed your head, eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey, look at me," Eddie held a hand to the side of your face, turning it towards him, gazing at you with a sad, half smile.

You pursed your lips, then glanced at him, shifting your body to face him, crossing your ankles together to sit directly in front of him, Eddie doing the same.

He took both of your hands into his, intertwining your fingers, his soft, understanding eyes looking into your own.

"Tell me what's going on." He insisted, giving your hands a gentle squeeze.

You stayed silent for a moment, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the words.

"Go on," he insisted kindly, "tell me everything that's on your mind. I won't talk until you're finished speaking. You have my full attention."

"Thank you." You mumbled, grateful for his support.

"Whenever you're ready." Eddie nodded.

"Well," you began to explain, "it's just that, sometimes I feel scared, you know? Like... I just have this anxiety that's eating away at me. And I know you've reassured me about this so many times, so I'm sorry. I'm just terrified. I'm terrified that you'll leave me, find someone else better than me, prettier than me, smarter than me, you know? I just don't wanna get hurt again, like I did in my last relationship. I just wanna be enough for you. I'm just scared, Eddie," you looked into his eyes tearfully, "I'm just so fucking scared."

You finished your rambling with a shaky exhale, worried that you were annoying him, that maybe he thought you were overbearing, or having second thoughts about you. You glanced at him, your heart loudly beating against your chest as you waited for his response in nervous anticipation.

Eddie softly smiled at you, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead gingerly before speaking.

"Babe, you have every right to feel the way you do." He assured you quietly.

You perked up, confusion on your face.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insisted, "the last guy you were with is a total piece of shit. He made you feel so bad about yourself, so it's understandable that you have these feelings."

Eddie let go of one of your hands, brushing your hair behind your ear, and let out a breathy chuckle.

"But, as I've told you before," he reminded, a grin on his face, "you are absolutely perfect, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. Shit, I can't believe I was able to woo a girl like you! Sweetheart, I can assure you, I would never hurt you. I would never find better than you, because you are the better. You're the best. No one can compete with you. You're more than enough. You're so damn beautiful, inside and out. You make me laugh everyday. You're so god damn smart, you're always so nice, you've put up with all my shitty antics, you've been through hell and back with me- fuck, I'm just rambling now, but the point is; I would never leave you, I would never cheat on you, and I love you more than anything in the world. I know I can be pretty stupid, but I'm not stupid enough to ever do something that would make me lose the best thing that's ever happened to me. And if I have to reassure you that, every second of every day, I'm more than happy to do so, as long as I get to be with you... okay?"

You beamed at him, tears glossing over your eyes, your nerves disappearing and being replaced with joy, love, adoration- every happy emotion that exists, you were feeling it. And it was all because of Eddie.

"Okay?" He repeated himself, squeezing your hands earnestly.

"Okay." You nodded, letting go of his grasp on you and quickly lunging towards him, hugging him tightly, giggling with relief.

Eddie hugged you back, embracing you into his chest as close as possible, your hair tickling his nose, him chuckling against your neck and kissing you all over the side of your face for what seemed to be a hundred times.

"I love you, Eddie," you whispered into his hair, still squeezing him, "thank you."

"I love you more, angel, queen of my life, woman of my dreams," he exclaimed, "but never, ever thank me for that. Deal?"

You let go of him, leaning back, now sitting in his lap.

"Deal."

"So," Eddie started, "how's about that movie?"

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[batcavescolony]

THE 41ST THAT ZUKO SAVED AND GOT BANISHED FOR IS HIS CREW. AHHHHHH.

[warpedpuppeteer]

The basketball injury everyone has been angsting about and it's just a cut on Eddie's finger. Imagine Buck just spiraling because of that 😭✋🏽

[baravaggio]

wrt last reblog, it has always bothered me how coming out again is viewed as an admission you made some critical error in self assessment that you've now corrected...when I came out again it was because shifts in sexuality were happening in tandem with a conscious project to establish adult priorities, and on a pragmatic level I knew that if I was going to start pursuing the types of sex and social arrangements I wanted, I'd need to have the language to express the basics to others. and there was a political element to it in that my choice to make my adjustment in language public was done out of respect for the lesbians who welcomed me into the fold and taught me what there was to know about sex, romance, and emotional bonds a decade prior. the fact that some people took it as an indictment and rejection of my past self, or proof that my judgment, insight, & opinions about matters of sexuality have been cheapened and will forever stand on shaky ground was incredibly upsetting to me