#tip me so i can buy more weed

[elsweetheart]

Cant stop thinking abt dealer!ellie calling themselves a munch ever since you said it. Could totally see it being brought up in convo at a party or smth

hyperfixating over this rn

shotgun champion.

🎀 ok this was meant to be a little drabble and got out of hand. tw: ellie using the word munch. oh also, use of drugs and alcohol, mentions of dealing, lots and lots of silly dialogue, kind of rambly and domestic, gets a little horny at the end but not too bad. sigh i love dealer!ellie. ok enjoy

going to parties with ellie and your shared friends was always fun. you’d socialise for a little, and then always find eachother again — claiming a little corner to sit in as your own just enjoying eachothers company, drinking and gossiping. dina and jesse were always sure to bring laughter, and you loved being glued to ellie’s side, her attention only being stolen when someone would approach your shared table to buy weed from ellie or exchange details.

“alright, you—” jesse tossed a can her way, ellie nimbly catching it with both hands. “shotgun competition. unless of course you’re scared to lose infront of your girlfriend.” he tempted, raising an eyebrow as you and dina watched in amusement.

ellie glanced at you with a scoff, theatrically jutting a thumb in his direction. “this fuckin’ guy.” she joked lowly before turning back to him. “you’re so on.” she pat her pocket down for her key and jesse did the same.

“alright, williams. go!” the dark haired boy announced as they stabbed a dime sized hole into the can of beer with their keys, before bringing it to their mouths and tipping their head back. jesse’s drink pretty much exploded over his face immediately, making a real mess of himself as dina laughed, rolling her eyes.

“all that talk for nothing.” she shook her head at you and you giggled, but your eyes were on your girlfriend who effortlessly lapped up all the beer with zero mess. jesse stumbled, pulling the can away in defeat, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he laughed. ellie finished the can, chucking it to the ground dramatically and stomping on it. “ohhhh, fuck you.” she roared, sticking two fingers up at jesse before bringing her fist up to her mouth with a pained face, swallowing a burp.

“yeah yeah.” he chuckled shoving her hands away.

“who’s your fuckin’ daddy?” she joked, pretending to punch him in the face. he rolled his eyes, used to her arrogant antics.

“not mine. hers, maybe.” he nodded his head towards you jokingly and you felt yourself flush, stifling a shy giggle as ellie glanced at you with a chuckle. “hey, i don’t know if you know this but your loser girlfriend sits in her room and practices shotgunning just so she can beat me.” jesse nudges you, voice theatrically low as if telling you a secret but loud enough for everyone else to laugh along with the joke.

“okay, fuck you. can a girl not just have a skilled mouth?” she brushed him off, dropping back down into the seat beside you, legs falling open into her ellie-typical manspread. dina fanned herself jokingly, sending you an exaggerated wide eyed look.

“‘think i can guess what ellie’s been practicing on!” she poked your side and your eyes widened in embarrassment, feeling your face turn hot as you giggle.

“oh yeah, i’m definitely a munch. look at her, i’d be fuckin’ off my rocker not to.” she poked your waist, so casually like she didn’t just tell your small group of friends how enthusiastically she eats you out. you didn’t have time to react because her head whipped in the opposite direction. “oh shit, it’s danny!” she grinned, standing up to go and greet one of her most well paying customers. jesse and dina continued bantering back and forth, but you zoned out watching ellie. the way she exuded casual confidence, like she didn’t particularly know or care that she was exuding sex appeal, which made it all the more hotter.

you excused yourself to grab yourself another drink, needing to cool down before you start acting out of pocket and cut the night short to drag ellie back to her dorm and have her eat her words (literally.) you’d stopped to talk to a few girls from one of your classes, giggling and chatting together like you would in the back of the classroom. one of them, taller with her hair in a slick bun shifted on her feet like she wanted to speak up. when she got an in to speak, she took the chance.

“you’re dating ellie right?” she pointed a finger with a pensive frown. you felt a flush of pride wave over you as you nodded.

“yeah, why?”

“i’ve been looking for a new dealer, my old one got locked up.” she chuckled, eyes darting behind you. “is she taking new customers? exam season is killing me i’m totally desperate.” she furrowed her eyebrows anxiously and you turned your head to where she’d glanced, spotting ellie making her way slowly through the crowd towards you but continually being stopped by people making conversation with her. “i’d ask her but she’s kind of intimidating, i don’t know why! don’t tell her i said that.”

you laughed, as it wasn’t the first time you’d heard that and nodded in agreement. “oh my god, of course. let me bring her over.” you turned, standing on your tiptoes to catch your girlfriends attention through her small talk with a party goer, waving her over once you’d caught her eye. she excused herself, eyes flitting across your smiley classmates as she approached. she wrapped her arms around your waist from behind and you wriggled out slightly to present her to them.

“ellie, these are my classmates. one of them was actually hoping she could buy from you…” you look up at her sweetly and her brows raise in surprise for a millisecond before smiling at your small group.

“yeah, for sure. you want it now or do you just want my details… whatever you want.” she addressed the girl who’d stepped up shyly, making it clear she was the new customer.

“i literally have no cash on me right now, would it be cool to maybe get your… number?” her eyes darted to you, self aware of how it might have come across. “or whatever’s cool with you, i can totally just text you.” she spoke to you now and you smiled at her panic, shaking you head reassuringly. ellie chuckled, slightly awkward but polite as ever as she scratched the back of her neck.

“oh my gosh, no go for it. it’s her work phone.” you giggled girlishly, ellie pulling the phone she used to deal out of from her back pocket, handing it over to the girl to put her details in.

“i’ll text you when you can pick up, tomorrow afternoon sound cool?” ellie asked and the girl nodded.

“sure, thanks!” she smiled before turning to you. “thanks!” she repeat before ellie’s arms were back around your waist.

“if you don’t mind, i think i’m going to steal this one.” ellie smiled politely, nodding to the girls and pulling you away as you waved. she weaved you through the drunk bodies, finding your own little corner. you placed your cup down and leant against the wall with a proud grin and she slowly closed in on you, her own charming smile visible. she pulled you close, practically caging you in against the wall.

“well, well, well— my little saleswoman.” she smirked, eyes flitting down to your mouth when you broke into giggles.

“she asked me about it! i wasn’t going around advertising your business or anything.” you shrugged humbly and she hummed with a nod.

“don’t believe you. i know you’re hiding a billboard with a picture of me on it somewhere, i’m onto you.” she joked, hands sliding back around your waist.

“please, word of mouth is everything these days.” you match her teasing energy, letting her pull your hips flush against yours making something stir in you below, reminding you of her little comment earlier. “speaking of mouth…” you gazed at hers, faces close and her eyebrows raised cockily.

“is it that time already, babe?” you could feel her warm breath on your face, and you could have sworn she had pushed her thigh ever so slightly between your legs.

“its always that time, munch.” you joked, making her laugh at the word leaving your mouth.

“what, don’t tell me you don’t think i qualify for such title.” she tilt her head, eyes flicking repeatedly to your lips as if beg for a kiss.

“no comment. think i might need a reminder…” you bat your lashes at her, eyes heavy from the horny creeping in and the alcohol in your system. she latched her smirking lips to yours impatiently, hands squeezing your waist keeping your pressed right to her.

ellie pulled back a few centimetres. “that, i can do.” she promised, kissing you again a few times before pulling back with a playful and suggestive expression. “wanna get out of here?”

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[littledemondani]

bestie can i get something abt fuckboy!eddie and shy!reader selling to you but you don’t have enough money if you catch my drift 😏

warnings: fuckboy!eddie, fem!reader, oral (m receiving), r buys weed from eddie, r is shy but not shy?, no use of y/n

you’re normally so put together. there’s never been anything or anyone that has ever caught you off guard. you’re so quick with witty comebacks and overall being the epitome of confidence. all of your friends pride you on it, while some wish they had even an ounce of your courage and lack of giving a shit about what anyone thinks of you.

so, when you meet eddie munson, the dealer your best friend suggested could hook you up with some weed while you’re home visiting family from college, you are taken aback by how quickly you fucking fold.

his charming smile, bright personality, and overall damn good looks rendered you fucking speechless. you’re a bundle of nerves, fidgeting in your seat and looking anywhere else but at him.

eddie finds it adorable. normally he’d be annoyed to hell and cut the deal off, but your soft eyes and voice captivate him.

“so, whaddaya say?” he asks, holding the baggie filled with weed out in front of him. “you good with twenty dollars?”

you stutter for a bit, having completely gotten lost in the warm brown of his eyes. “yeah, yeah, lemme just…”

you open up your wallet and visibly deflate when you notice how much is in there. fifteen, not enough to cover the full amount he’s willing to charge you. you mutter a low ‘fuck’ under your breath, but not nearly low enough.

“something wrong?” eddie presses, leaning forward slightly against the picnic table as he looks you up and down.

“i don’t have enough,” you say, tossing your wallet back into your purse. “i’m sorry. i thought i had way more in there.”

eddie takes a minute to respond. he’s mulling something over in his mind, rapping his fingers against the wood of the table as he does so.

“what if,” he says slowly and thoughtfully. “you can pay me another way?”

you pinch your brows together, clearly not understanding what he means. “wait, huh?”

“i’m saying…you don’t have to pay me with money, sweetheart,” he raises a brow at you, a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

then it hits you. the realization of the offer he’s giving you. you’d done that more times at school than you’d like to admit. but in those instances, it was always you who suggested blowing them, and what twenty-year-old college boy was gonna say no to that?

you just never expected yourself to be on the receiving end of that same offer.

“so what, i blow you, you give me the weed, and that’s that?” you ask, suddenly getting a sliver of your confidence back.

eddie studies you for a bit before grinning devilishly. he normally isn’t this straightforward when he sells. opting to keep it professional at all times but there’s something about you that makes him throw all of that out of the window.

“i think it’s a pretty fair trade,” he points out. “but if you’re not into that, then don’t worry about it. this is only if you want to. i’m not a sleaze ball like that.”

you stand and walk around the picnic table, trailing your fingertips along the old wood. you stop in front of him and sink to your knees, keeping your eyes on him.

“i think it’s pretty fair, too,” you say, rubbing your hands up his thighs to the bulge already formed.

he shifts and widens his legs a bit to make room for you, his eyes darkened with lust and anticipation.

you waste no time in undoing his belt buckle and pulling his jeans down just enough for his long, thick cock to spring free of its confines.

your mouth waters at the sight of it, throbbing and leaking at the fat tip. you dart your tongue to lick it up, moaning softly as you do so.

eddie groans at the feel of you, bringing his hand to grip onto your hair. his eyes roll back as you wrap your lips around the tip and suckle, bucking up towards you instinctively.

you slowly take more of him down your throat. you gag a little, though it only turns eddie on even more. he grips your hair tightly, and you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back from fully fucking your face.

once your gag reflex settles, you set a steady pace, swallowing around him.

eddie brings himself to look down at you. you’re already gazing at him, and he smiles.

“you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth, sweetheart,” he moans, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “shit, i could get used to you like this.”

you bring your hand to his heavy balls, giving them a gentle squeeze before massaging them. eddie whines at your touch, tipping his head back as he curses.

“your mouth feels amazing,” he says, holding your head still so he can fuck into you. “goddamnit, i’m gonna cum. fuck, you’re too good.”

he thrusts a couple of times before his release overtakes him and he cums straight down your throat. he moans loud, shuddering a bit at the intensity of his orgasm.

when he finally lets go of you, you pull back and swallow the remnants of his cum.

“here,” he pants, reaching for the baggie to hand it to you. “a deal is a deal.”

“thanks,” you stand on shaky legs and take the bag from him, giving him a soft smile.

he tucks himself into his pants while you make your way back to the other side of the table to gather your things. you put the baggie inside your purse and fling the strap over your shoulder.

you take one last look at him, watching him as he takes hold of his black metal box. thoughts of wanting to see him again cross your mind, and before you could even stop yourself, you’re walking back over to him.

without saying anything, you reach for his hand and write down your name and phone number on his palm.

“see you around,” you tell him with a wink as you slowly back away from him to head back to your car. leaving him at a complete loss for words.

[rebelfell]

Surrender II

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x lesbian!Chrissy Cunningham

You find out the full story of Eddie and Chrissy's past, and surprise yourself a little with just how interested you are.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

cw: established relationship, platonic!hc (eddie and chrissy are college besties), questioning/bi reader, phone sex (w/Chrissy), oral sex (fem receiving). 6.5k 18+, MDNI

Does excessive backstory need a warning? Cos that's what you're getting, bby. Also, this post by @pollenallergie is more or less how Chrissy came out to Eddie in my head 🥲

A little smirk breaks through Chrissy’s stoic facade and you feel yourself starting to laugh, half from shock and half from relief.

“Wait, so you…you’re…”

“Yep,” Chrissy nods. “Gay as the day is long.”

She smiles proudly at the admission, seeming pleased she can state it so plainly without any hemming or hesitation. You on the other hand, are long lost in your tangled thoughts, feeling almost as though you have whiplash trying to think of something to say.

Eddie clears his throat and you look up at him instinctively, finding an expression you’ve never seen before. It’s like he’s…worried. Did he need to be? The sharing girls thing was quite a revelation, but given everything you knew about his past, it kind of made sense.

“S-sorry,” you say, realizing how long you’ve been silent. “I’m just…trying to play catch up.”

“Well, Eddie should have told you,” Chrissy says, a little pointedly. “Sounds like someone is still a tad overprotective.” Her glance darts across the table at your boyfriend, who mumbles under his breath something like, jus’ trying to look out for you. 

His typically boisterous face has grown sullen as he stares at his beer and swirls the last swallow of it that sits in the bottom of the tall glass. Chewing nervously on the corner of your lip, you turned back towards Chrissy.

“Do you think you could, uh…would you mind walking me through it?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “How, um…how did it start? Like, how did you guys…when did you…”

The question snags in your throat, face getting hot as you search for exactly what you’re trying to ask only to come up empty. Chrissy’s head tips to the side and she smiles at you reassuringly.

“Should I go back to the beginning?”

She glances between you and Eddie, gauging your reactions, and you look back at him as you reach over to take his hand in yours.

“Is that okay with you?” you ask quietly.

He nods as your fingers lace together. “Yeah,” he says. “I want you to know.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and you squeeze his fingers quickly three times in a row. Your secret communication. An invisible note you pass back and forth whenever you think the other needs the reminder. I. Love. You. It finally brings a small smile back to his face. He lifts his gaze to meet Chrissy’s and gives her an affirming nod.

“Okay, then. Here we go!” 

She titters excitedly and spreads her fingers wide as she prepares dramatically to lay her scene. You shoot Eddie a glance, noting his storytelling influence as she begins. 

“So: high-school. Super fun if you fit in, but of course set one toe out of line and you’re all but burned at the stake. And I was this total goody two-shoes. Genuinely, the wildest thing I ever did was buy a tiny baggie of weed from this one.” She jerks her thumb at Eddie. “And my boyfriend was this super uptight Christian—like, I’m pretty sure he thought if he fingered me, he’d have to chop off his own hand. Which was fine, because he wasn’t what I wanted at all as it turns out.”

That must be the glass of spoiled milk. You nod thoughtfully as Chrissy goes on.

“We broke up right before graduation because I refused to follow him to his first choice school and instead I went away to be a counselor at summer camp…where I met Evelyn.”

She smiles wistfully again with that harlequin romance face of hers.

“We were truly, madly, deeply in love for all of about six weeks. And then our summer bubble popped and it all came to a crashing halt. She went back to Minnesota, and I went home to try and figure out what I was gonna do with my life. And, as it turned out, Eddie was too.”

You knew this part—how Eddie had just barely scraped by on his third attempt at a senior year; how he was more shocked than anyone when the college he applied to on a whim actually admitted him. It was cheaper than every other school in the area, and they had a reputation of accepting just about everyone. But Eddie had been convinced “everyone” wouldn’t include him.

“So, we both wound up at the same school and I was feeling really lost. The whole Jason debacle caused a big rift with my parents and my friends had gone away for college. I was already lonely and I’d just discovered this massive, totally life-altering thing about myself, but I had absolutely no one I could talk to about it.”

Chrissy looks down at her drink somberly and you tried to imagine her back then—the beautiful girl from his yearbook, the literal queen of his high-school, seemingly losing everything that made her, her and it makes your heart ache a little bit.

“I was stressed out and not sleeping well, so I went looking for Eddie to see if I could buy from him again. And he wasn’t selling anymore, but he asked if I wanted to hang out instead. He invited me to sit in on a D&D campaign and introduced me to a lot of really great people.”

At this, Eddie and Chrissy smiled, remembering how poorly her fairy character had fared in that first campaign.

“He was actually the first person I came out to,” she says, eyes softening as she cast a fond gaze in Eddie’s direction. “I wasn’t sure how, but I just knew he wouldn’t judge me. Would never make me feel bad for…being who I was.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie at Chrissy’s words. You knew all too well the depths of his kindness and his unfailing decency. You knew exactly how at ease he must have made Chrissy feel because he’d been doing the same for you as long as you’d known him.

“So, now I knew I liked girls, but still it was, like, terrifying because I had zero idea how to go about it. And not having any experience kinda made it tough to get experience y’know? Plus…it was still Indiana. Hawkins wasn’t that far away. I knew if anybody found out it would 100% get back to my parents, and I was afraid they’d drag me out of school and send me to a conversion camp or something. I really wouldn’t put it past them to do just that. And back then I…I really didn’t know how to fight back yet.”

Chrissy frowns a little, something like regret or shame ghosting across her face. It’s quickly chased away, though, gone almost as soon as it appears.

“Anyway, Eddie became like my…” She pauses, glossy lips pursed as she thought. “What’s the lesbian equivalent of a beard?”

“A merkin?” Eddie offered, earning a mutual eye roll from you and Chrissy.

“Well, whatever you call it, getting together with people with him felt way safer than going up to someone and hitting on them in a bar. Plus…Eddie has excellent taste in girls.”

Chrissy’s eyes dart sideways and flicker over you again. They linger on your face and drift down briefly to your chest before returning to your eyes. In spite of everything, it makes your cheeks tingle and your core pulse, and you have to forcibly bring yourself back to the moment.

“So, what happened with Never Have I Ever?”

“That was how it got started. I was having a party and Eddie brought this girl he was kind of seeing. We were all sitting around playing and we started talking about threesomes. And she’s like, oh, I’ve never had one, but I always wanted to try. And starts getting all touchy and affectionate with me. And, I guess, I knew she was trying to get Eddie to like her more? Like she was for sure using me, but I was kind of using her too? I don’t know, that’s for me and my therapist to unpack.”

She waves her hands, dismissing the thought before she gets too wrapped up in it.

“Anyway—we all go back to my room and she and I start making out like, ooh, yeah, we’re just kissing trying to turn Eddie on. Meanwhile I’m, like, basically forgetting Eddie is even there!”

Your brows raise as you turn to look at your boyfriend, who simply shrugs his shoulders with an it is what it is, kind of smile on his lips.

“Wow…that’s…quite the visual,” you say. 

It really was. 

You knew Eddie was no saint. He’d had quite a roster in his heyday and he’d always been up front with you about that. He wasn’t Hugh Heffner or anything, but he had that boyish ease and a roguish charm about him that girls (and a couple guys) flocked to. It wasn’t difficult to imagine him and Chrissy tearing through their college like the Williams sisters playing doubles.

“It wasn’t, like, a routine or anything,” Chrissy assures. “But it did end up happening pretty regularly. I got my sea legs, so to speak, and Eddie totally became my wing man. We’d, like, confer about what girls I was interested in and he would lay the groundwork to see if she’d be down. I mean, it was college, so of course a lot of girls were trying to experiment.”

Her dainty fingers made exaggerated air quotes.

“By junior year, I’d found some actual queer girls instead of straight girls trying to get attention. And if I’m ever looking to really date someone, I try to stick to people who are out.”

Eddie snorts as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Hey!” Chrissy squeaks indignantly. “I said try.”

She plucks a peanut from the bowl of mixed snacks sitting in the center of the table and flicked it at him. As if predicting the move, he opens his mouth to catch the nut and crunches it loudly in his teeth as he grins back at her smugly.

You half expect him to stick out his tongue.

“Anyway, all that is way behind us now,” Chrissy says. “We’re much older and wiser.”

Eddie nods in agreement as he reaches for the bowl of snack mix.

“Well…older, at least,” she adds, murmuring to you under her breath as Eddie coughs and sputters slightly on the handful of snacks he shoved so unceremoniously in his mouth.

You snicker again as you two share another conspiring look. 

“So, yeah. That’s pretty much it,” she says.

“Wow,” you sigh softly, lost in thought.

It’s surprising how quickly you start to imagine them together. Soft, reddish blonde curls falling across a smooth back; mixed up with pale, inked skin and his dark, wild shag. Eddie’s rough and guttural moans layering over the high, feminine whines you imagined falling from Chrissy’s lips. And maybe even more surprising…the only one you actually felt some jealousy of was whatever girl that got to be between them.

“Yeah, we had quite a time. And we could get kind of competitive…which added a fun layer.”

Chrissy’s voice drops as she lifts her cocktail to take a sip, her eyes meeting yours over the rim, and a little of her drink dribbles on her bowed lips. Her tongue flicks out between them to collect it and you feel a sudden warmth on your leg. Her hand finds your knee under the table and she gently starts to gently glide it up your thigh.

You look down, hypnotized by the sight of her fingers drawing figure eights that slipped briefly beneath the hemline of your dress, leaving your skin buzzing wherever she touched it. Almost on instinct, you look over at Eddie, who was already smirking as he followed the movements of Chrissy’s hand on your leg with his eyes. 

His gaze lifts to meet hers and her lips twitch with a smirk of her own, clearly offering a challenge. There’s more buzzing as Eddie reaches for your other thigh, gripping it tight in his wide palm as he hauls himself closer to you in the booth. Chrissy responds in kind, nudging up next to you until your nose is filled again with the crisp, light scent of her perfume. It mixes with Eddie’s headier musk to create something totally unique, much like their distinct touches and the varied pressures of their hands on your thighs and differing weights of those hands.

Heavy and light. Rough and soft. Leather and lace.

Chrissy’s sea glass eyes flicker with intention as you meet her gaze. Her fingers wander higher still, disappearing beneath your skirt and flirting with the crease of your thigh. And you’re certain she must be able to feel the heat radiating at the apex of your legs. Eddie’s hand moves up in kind and he leans in close to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear he knows so well.

It’s just a game, you think. They must be doing a bit.

The heat of their combined gazes causes an excited fluttering in your chest and a warm rush of blood to your face, among other places. Your pulse throbs, head spinning until Chrissy pulls her hand back and you finally exhale a shaky breath. Eddie chuckles darkly and he presses his lips to your burning cheek, his eyes flickering one last time to Chrissy’s as he does.

You can practically hear his childish taunt of Ha-ha, I win.

At the end of the night, you and Eddie wait outside with Chrissy until her Uber arrives. She was house-sitting for Robin and Nancy while they were in Barbados for a babymoon before Nancy was due to pop in the next four or five months. When her car arrives, you all start to say your goodbyes and both of you open your arms and envelop one another while Eddie looks on.

Chrissy hops in the backseat, reminding you again to let her know if you want to get together again before she heads back to Chicago in a few weeks. You smile and assure her you will, holding up your phone that now has her number saved in your contacts.

On the ride back home, Eddie seems more fidgety than normal. He’s mostly quiet, not even humming along with the radio when you switch it to his preferred station. And when you get home, he’s extra doting from the moment he pulls into the driveway, rushing to tell you to hold on as you reach for the handle so he can come around to your side and open it for you.

Inside, he stops you at the door so he can kneel and help pull off your shoes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, running your hands through his hair and gently scratching his scalp. He sets your boots to the side and stands, wrapping you up in him.

You breathe his scent deeply and start to step away, but he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey,” Eddie starts, gently tugging you back into his arms. He tilts his head down and touches his forehead to yours. “You’re okay, right? With everything you heard?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “I do wish you had told me. I was really getting up in my head about you two.”

“I should have,” he murmured. “And I wanted to, really, but…I guess I was a little afraid of what you might think. Like Chrissy said, I know it sounds kind of scandalous.”

You licked your lips, deep in thought. It was a little weird to think about, sure. You’d never asked for a lot of details about his past relationships, afraid of the specter of jealousy that loomed. You’d figured in most cases, the less you knew, the better. But it was difficult (impossible, actually) for you not to wonder about this.

“So, you’ve had like…a lot of threesomes, then?”

“Technically?” Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know, I never considered it that because I never got with Chrissy. I think she liked watching me fuck girls, but we were like ships passing in the night. The most we would do was like a stage kiss.”

Eddie demonstrates by pulling you into him like he’s going in for the kill, but angling his head in such a way it only seems like you’re touching. Unless someone was laying down beneath you, it would look like you were kissing from almost any direction. He wiggles his head around wildly and makes a series of slurping and smacking noises that cause you to erupt in giggles.

“And none of the girls ever noticed?” you ask, breathless from laughing.

“I think they were a little distracted,” he tells you, his voice getting all low and rumbly. “Kinda hard to keep track of what’s going on with two people trying to make you come.”

The words ignite the fire in your cheeks as does the way he keeps his hold on you, hugging you flush against his body. His excitement is evident pressed up against your hip and you wonder if he can tell you’ve been soaking since he and Chrissy touched your thighs under the table.

“That tracks,” you breathe heavily, shivering as he runs his fingertips up and down your arms. “I can see how the two of you together would be difficult to resist…”

“I definitely didn’t have to push,” Eddie chuckles. “The girls were super down all on their own.”

“No, I get it. Chrissy’s…really pretty,” you say softly. Eddie notes the shift in your tone when you say it this time, no longer threatened. Purely appreciative. Genuine.

“You know, she thought the same thing about you,” he says with an impish smile.

“What do you mean?”

To answer, Eddie takes out his phone and holds it out for you to take. The screen is open to his text thread with Chrissy and you scroll through the messages they’ve been sending leading up to your meeting. It’s all fairly innocuous, not dissimilar to the texts you’d exchanged with him about what nights you were free and where you should go while Chrissy was here.

One of the messages, though, is a picture of you he sent to Chrissy captioned with a heart eyes emoji. The shot is one you’ve never even seen before, from a day not long ago when you and Eddie went for ice cream. You’re sitting across a table from him, looking totally relaxed and comfortable—the polar opposite of how you normally feel in front of a camera.

In your hand is a vanilla cone, a little dab of it on the tip of your nose. Your sunglasses rest on top of your head and your face is luminous as you look off to the side at something—a little dog wearing a bowtie, if memory serves. It might be the most flattering photo you’ve ever seen of yourself, and even more flattering are Chrissy’s proceeding reactions.

Chrissy: wowowowow 😛 she’s stunning! jeez, I might need a minute…

Eddie: hands where I can see ‘em, cunningham.

Chrissy: I kid, I kid! I wouldn’t dare steal your girl

Chrissy: at least not the *first* time we meet.

Excitement warms your chest and the feeling of it radiates down to your center like when Chrissy’s eyes flickered over you at the bar. Eddie’s eyes glint with excitement of his own as he slips his hands down to palm your ass, lifting the skirt of your dress so it skims the tops of your thighs.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more explicitly,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if Chrissy wanted it to be broadcasted. This is still Hawkins, you know?”

“It’s alright, I get it,” you say.

“And you…you’re sure you’re okay?”

Eddie’s eyes shimmer as he stares at you, revealing the briefest hint of fear. He doesn’t like lying to you, ever. And you know he wouldn’t have done it under many circumstances.

“Yeah, definitely.” You smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “It's just surprising, I guess.”

“Surprising how?”

“I don’t know, how…hot it is?” You squirm slightly in his arms. “The thought of you guys sharing a girl…both of you making it all about her…”

Eddie’s brow lifts with interest. He knows what a turn-on that is for you—the thought of being the center of your lover’s attention; having them lavish you with affections; prioritizing your pleasure over anything and everything else. He also knew how hard it was for you to voice such a desire because of how selfish it made you feel. And then he had to grit his teeth as he listened to you recount seemingly endless tales of past boyfriends who took advantage of your giving nature  and didn’t return even a fraction of what they received. 

For a whole month afterward, he’d enacted a strict two-for-one policy on himself just to see if he could pull it off. Obviously, he could—even pushing it to three and four if he remembered to stretch first.

Still, he was always looking for new ways to indulge your fantasies.  And it sure sounded like this was shaping up to be one of them.

It’s a couple days later when you come home after work, practically singing to yourself as you kick off your shoes and head into the kitchen to start prepping things for dinner. Fridays normally put you in a good mood anyway, but they’re especially sweet when Eddie had a weekend off. 

You had beat him home. He typically left the garage around 3:00 to compensate for having to be back so early Saturday morning, but the shop was closed through Monday because the owner’s daughter was getting married. To make up for it, their hours had been extended today to squeeze in a few extra customers. Eddie volunteered to stay on, knowing how his boss appreciated it and how he showed that appreciation on payday. Hopper probably could have kept regular hours just by asking Eddie to run things in his stead, but he liked giving his employees a free weekend now and again, especially when he had something to celebrate.

You busy yourself chopping vegetables and browning some ground beef with onions and garlic, a row of cans containing the rest of your ingredients for chili lined up on the counter. Just as you’ve thrown everything in the crock pot and set it to cook on low, a picture of Chrissy’s sweet smiling face fills your phone screen as it buzzes on the countertop. You reach for it with shaking hands, trying to contain yourself and sound as normal as you can as you slide onto a barstool.

“Hi, honey,” she coos in a dulcet tone. “How are you?”

“I-I’m good,” you say, doing your best to pretend you aren’t trembling with excitement just at the sound of her voice. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, really,” she sighs, sounding a little bit like a pout. “I’m so bored. Eddie said he would call when he got off work so we could all do something, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Ohh, he had to stay late at the garage. He should be home soon, though.”

“Ah, I see. What about you, angel? When did you get off?”

You draw a shuddering breath at her question, feeling certain the entendre is intentional, and hoping she can’t hear you gulp as you answer. “Umm, just…just a little while ago.”

“Mmhmm…and what are you doing now?”

You hear a soft brushing sound over the line and could swear it sounds like she’s laying down on something soft. Maybe a couch, maybe a bed.

“I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking a lot about what you guys told me at the bar.” Another gulp. “About you and him and…sharing girls?”

“Me too,” she sighs. It’s languid and gently strained as though she’s stretching as she says it, exhaling softly into the release of her muscles relaxing. “Made me kinda miss those days…part of me wonders if I’ve still got enough charm to woo a straight girl.”

“I think you’ve got enough charm to do anything you want,” you chuckle.

Chrissy’s laugh is like peals of jingle bells tinkling in your ear. “You big flirt,” she teases.

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm of it pulsing in your ears and between your legs. Is this for real? Maybe she’s just messing around. Maybe she just likes attention. Maybe—

“Have you ever been with a girl?”

You inhale sharply and chew on your bottom lip. “No, never. My, uh…my friends and I kiss sometimes, but it’s just out of affection. Nothing serious. Nothing real.”

You wonder if she’s able to glean your own disappointment. You’ve never had feelings for a woman, per se, but there had been moments here or there where you noticed certain ones and it caused your mind to wander. There was something so enticing about them. Something so bewitching it made your head spin. Boys were attractive, sure, but women were like works of art come to life.

They seemed more like masterpieces in museums hanging behind glass barriers and velvet ropes you would never dream of touching for fear of tarnishing their beauty.

You’d always suspected there was some part of you that was interested in women and that it might have blossomed if given the opportunity. But then you met Eddie and it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Bi or otherwise, he was the one you wanted. 

Still, that curiosity lingered. 

“Have you ever wanted to try?”

Chrissy asks her question plainly. There’s no judgment in her voice, no sense that she’s trying to shame you for your sheltered existence or even pressure you into answering in the affirmative. It feels like talking to an old friend, except your panties didn’t get this wet talking to your friends.

“I did. Or, I guess, I do. I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I love Eddie and he’s who I want to be with, but…” You can’t help trailing off because the truth is you don’t know the end of that sentence.

This was a common failing with you.

Not a failing, Eddie would scold you gently. It’s just a space for improvement. You weren’t great at expressing your desires and had a bad habit of just accepting whatever was offered, and making your own wants an afterthought. And Eddie was everything you ever wanted, so how could you possibly be so selfish as to ask for more?

“No, I get it,” Chrissy says. “He really loves you and you two are so sweet together. But…” Your heart leaps into your throat. “I’m sure he would like the idea of you finding something new that brings you pleasure.”

You pressed your lips together, deep in thought. She definitely had a point there.

Eddie was great about exploring new things and doing whatever he could to help you figure out what you might like in bed. So far, you’d had fairly limited experiences, partly due to being shy and also just a lack of opportunity. Again, see ex-boyfriends who were perfectly content having you pleasure them, but rarely made the leap to think outside the box (pun intended).

He’d read up on soft dominance when you mentioned once in passing you liked the idea of someone being in control over you, but figured you couldn’t be a submissive because you didn’t think you’d enjoy impact play or being punished or humiliated. And another time when you saw a short video on proper hair pulling technique and asked if you could try it out on him, he started doing it back to you and excitedly realized it was very much more your thing.

“I mean…we could try something?” Chrissy says. “With Eddie there?”

“I think I’d be too scared,” you say, wincing at your own diminutive voice.

“Oh, honey,” she mewls sweetly. “Why’s that?”

“B-because I…I wouldn’t know what I was doing and I…” You pinch your eyes shut and dredge up every speck of confidence you have to finish the thought. “I would wanna make you come.”

There’s a soft gasp over the line, so faint you thought you must have imagined it at first. And when Chrissy takes a few seconds to respond, you swear your heart stops until her smooth, sultry voice returns.

“You would, huh?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “I’d, um…I’d want to know you were enjoying yourself.”

“Trust me, I would definitely be enjoying myself,” she says with another lilting sigh.

There’s some more rustling on the line. Was she taking off her shirt? What did her bra look like? Is she even wearing a bra or are her breasts exposed now, pretty pert nipples hardening as she skates her free hand over them and down her abdomen and belly?

“Why don’t you tell me how you’d do it? What would you do to me if I was there?”

Okay, that is definitely the sound of her unzipping her jeans. Your heart races at the thought of one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen touching herself to the idea of what you would do to her and you think you might combust on the spot.

“I’d…I’d wanna touch you all over…feel how soft you are…I’d wanna grab you by that ponytail and yank your head back so I could kiss your neck…”

“Oo-ooh! That’s right, baby. Show me who’s in charge.”

You chuckle bashfully, trying to keep your cool hearing the slick sounds of Chrissy’s fingers playing with herself. Your mind is still scrambling for what to say next when the sound of the front door opening catches your ear and your head jerks up to see Eddie returning home from work.

“Hey, baby,” he says, smiling brightly as he comes through the door and you practically gush all over the barstool just at the sight of him.

He’s still got his hair pulled back in a low bun, little curly tendrils framing his handsome face. He hasn’t changed out of his coveralls, but has the top unzipped and tugged down with the sleeves knotted around his waist to reveal the white tee he wears underneath. The material is smudged all over, stretched tight across his chest and around his biceps that flex as he plops down his bag and leans on the counter across from you. He smells like sweat and motor oil and the sex you had this morning that made him have to skip his shower so the smell of you clung to him all day long.

It takes him all of about five seconds to deduce what is going on. His eyes flit first to your face, biting down on your lip with your expression pained from how turned on you are. And then down to your thighs that press together as you squirm in your seat, desperate for some friction.

“Who ya talkin’ to?” he asks, his casual smile descending into one of pure filth.

“Ch-Chrissy,” you gasp. “She, uh, wanted to do something tonight.”

Eddie’s eyes are positively wolfish and the sight sends another jolt between your legs. He nods and motions for you to hand the phone to him. He holds it to his ear and stands tall over you, getting as close as he can so you can still faintly hear Chrissy’s voice over the receiver.

“Cunningham, you dog,” he chuckles darkly. “You getting my girl all worked up?”

“She’s getting me worked up,” Chrissy retorts with a tinkling laugh.

“Oh, I know she is,” Eddie says, tongue flicking over his lips to wet them. “I bet you’re touching yourself while you talk to her too. Aren’t you, you bad girl?”

Even as Eddie speaks to Chrissy, his eyes lock onto yours and you can tell this show he’s putting on, the words he’s saying in that deep growl he knows you love, is all for your benefit. He places his hand on your knee and gently guides your legs apart to stroke your inner thighs. His fingers roam freely, but decidedly swerve away from where you need him most and you have to grip the seat beneath you to stop yourself from dragging his hand straight into your heat.

“Ma-a-ybe,” Chrissy’s voice lilts, half-moaning her answer.  “Is she touching herself?

“No, not yet,” Eddie says, his fingers still inching their way up your thighs. “My sweet girl knows how to behave. Don’t you, baby?”

You whimper as you nod, even though part of you knows if Eddie had taken much longer to come home he might have found you in a much more compromising position. His fingers finally reach where you need him most and he sighs at the warmth and wetness he finds.

“Ohhhh…” he moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest as he swipes your panties to the side and nimbly begins to stroke and tease your entrance. “She’s dripping though.”

“You’re welcome,” Chrissy titters faintly. 

Your back arches in response to his words and his touch, thrusting yourself towards him, wordlessly begging for more. His fingertips sink inside, but remain decidedly in the shallows as he watches them, enraptured by his own movements as well as the way your slick coats them.

“Talk to Chrissy for me, baby,” he grunts. “I need to taste you right fucking now.”

Eddie grins as he passes the phone back to you and drops to his knees, spreading your legs apart so he can bury his face between them. It’s not often he jumps straight to the point like this. Sometimes he gets so wrapped up in the teasing and toying, you think he enjoys the lead up as much as the main event, if not a little more. But right now, his fervor can’t be delayed for one second as he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe directly through your center. 

You throw your head back and moan with abandon as his lips surround your clit and he sucks on the over-sensitized nerves. Your arm trembles from the effort of clutching your seat, one hand holding onto it for dear life as you press the phone against your cheek with the other.

Chrissy moans in response to your own that rang through over the line. You picture her laying on a plush bed piled high with blankets and pillows, her lithe body all twisted up in pleasure as she touches herself. For some reason, you imagine her under a gauzy canopy strung with fairy lights that cast her in their soft, radiant glow. The hot girls always had canopies over their beds when you were growing up. You wished you could smell her perfume and feel her lips on yours.

You bet she tastes like a piece of watermelon candy.

“I missed you, darling,” she says, breath stilted as her moan trails off. “Tell me how you feel. Is he touching you? Filling you up nice?”

“Y-yes, his…his tong—fuck…his tongue is…”

Words are already impossible when Eddie is going down on you so enthusiastically, and it’s made all the more difficult with Chrissy’s breathy voice in your ear, coaxing you towards your release.

“I wish I was there too, pretty girl. I wish I could lick you up like he is.”

Eddie jumps to his feet and you gasp at the movement and the loss of his mouth on you. Thankfully, you have just enough wherewithal to hold the phone away so you don’t squeal in Chrissy’s ear when he lifts you up and heads for the bedroom with you cradled in his arms. He doesn’t place you down so much as he throws you on the bed and you bounce slightly on the mattress before sinking into the extra thick down duvet he gave you for your last birthday.

His eyes are wild as they rake over you and he snatches the waistband of your panties to drag them fully down your legs. He flings them to the side and strips off his own shirt before frantically tugging down his coveralls, revealing his boxers that are stretched to their absolute limit.

You’ve had more than your fair share of energetic encounters with Eddie before, but there’s a fire lit within him this time pushing him to new heights. Part of you wonders if he likes having Chrissy as an audience—likes the thought of her listening to him draw every moan and whimper out of you; likes the thought of showing off his prowess, showing off you. Maybe you do too.

His mouth returns eagerly to your center and as he devours you like an animal, Chrissy hears your pleasure in pealing moans that fall from your lips.

“God, you sound so good,” she sighs. “I wanna hear more.”

Your mind is turning straight to mush from their combined efforts. You can’t even think about the noises you’re making, only the ones you hear coming through the phone or drifting up from between your legs. Eddie moans sinfully and you can feel the vibrations of it as well as the words he’s murmuring into your pussy about how hot you are. Distantly, you register a low buzzing on the other end of the line and when Chrissy speaks you can hear in her voice how close she is.

“Come for me, sweetness,” Chrissy moans. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.”

Eddie feels your reaction to her words as he fucks you with his tongue. He drags the tip back up to your clit and begins to flick it against the swollen bud. He fills you with his fingers, sliding them easily inside and curling them upwards in search of that sacred spot inside of you. 

Blinding white light fills your vision as he presses on your g-spot and your orgasm overtakes you rapidly—your entire body quivering, exploding all over. In your ear, you can hear Chrissy as she reaches her peak, her breathy moans echoing your own. Eddie remains buried between your legs as you ride out your high, still murmuring his endless praise that’s muffled by your cunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby, so fucking good. Jesus fucking Christ…”

Slowly, reluctantly, you return to earth.

The softness of the bed beneath you cradles your body that has gone slack with exhaustion. Eddie sits back on his calves as he surveys the results of his toil with a triumphant smile. There’s a sheen of sweat on his bare chest and his chin is glistening with your spend. He pulls the phone from your limp grasp and holds it up to his ear to talk to Chrissy as he gazes lovingly down at you. 

“You alive over there, Cummingham?”

He grins wide at his own joke, always his own best audience. You roll your eyes, but laugh too as you try to regain your breath. You’re too blissfully fucked out and he’s too far away for you to hear Chrissy’s response, but that fiery blaze returns to his eyes as he listens to whatever she is saying.

“Oh, I don’t think we’re even close to done yet,” Eddie chuckles.

You giggle softly and manage to shake your head to confirm his suspicions. He leans over you, dark curls falling forward as his bun comes loose and surrounding you in a curtain. And he speaks to her, his voice low and even, eyes burning into yours as he does.

“How about you get your ass over here and we see who can make my girl come the most?”

Part Three

[ddejavvu]

Broken Pieces - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 1)

WC: 4.4k / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie isn't expecting to find you, his best friend, sobbing on the steps of his trailer asking to buy weed. You have a strict no drugs policy, so he knows something's wrong. He finds out you've broken up with Steve, and he's determined to turn the situation into one that will mend both of your broken pieces.

Contents/Warnings: past relationship with steve, i totally used his past with nancy here as the plot i am so sorry queen, best friend!eddie, best friends to lovers (eventually), mild threatening, angst, mentions of drugs

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

The last thing Eddie expects to see when he opens the door is you. Much less the tears streaking down your cheeks, the wobble of your chin, and the shoulder of your shirt falling off of your shoulder. You’ve been to his trailer before, of course, on a monthly movie night rotation between here, Nancy’s house, Robin’s garage, and Steve’s place.

Speaking of Steve, Eddie’s not quite sure why you’re not with him. After dating for seven months, you’re practically inseparable, stuck to the man’s side with something stronger than super glue.

Now you look weak, alone, and frail.

“Hi.” You croak, and the sound is so sad that Eddie actually feels his heart drop.

“Hi,” He shifts on his feet, millions of questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, “What’s’a matter, kicks?”

Eddie glances to your feet at the familiar nickname, seeing, not the infamous pair of sneakers that inspired it, but a beat-up pair of foam flip-flops. 

“I want weed.” You state, like you’re asking for a pony for your birthday. Eddie’s eyes meet the $20 in your hands that’s being shoved unceremoniously towards him, “Uh, please.”

“Come in.” He finally steps aside after a quick deliberation, glancing at Wayne who’s still snoozing on the couch. He ushers you to his room, but stands protectively in front of his stash that you’ve already locked eyes with.

“I dunno how much this’d get me,” You sniffle, the bill crinkling in your hands, “But I just need something, anything.”

When he doesn’t move, you shake the bill at him accusingly.

“Eddie,” You urge, despair clinging hard to your voice, “I’m not in the mood to mess around. Please, just give me something.”

“I..” Eddie falters, watching you, the person he’s known for years now, come closer to rock bottom than he’s ever seen you, “I don’t want to sell you drugs.”

“Fucking-” Your eyes scrunch shut, and Eddie can see terrible tears squeeze their way out as you gnaw at your bottom lip, “Eddie, listen to me. I need this. I need to not think about things for a while. Please help me.”

“I will,” He decides, inching forward from where he’s leaning against his messy dresser. He reaches for you, takes your trembling frame into his steady hands, and maneuvers you to sit on his mattress. You don’t comment on the horrendous creak of his weary bedsprings, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and cry.

Sure, he’s seen you cry before. At almost every sad movie, in fact. The five of you, Nancy, Steve, Robin, you, and himself are on a rotational movie night system, two tapes a week at whoever’s house is the least crowded. More often than not you’re crammed into his trailer or sprawled out in Steve’s living room, but regardless of where you are, you always have tissues with you. He racks his brain to think of what usually makes you cry, coming up with whenever a dog dies, or a child says something cute, or a couple splits, it brings you to tears. But this, this is different. This has you shaking, your shoulders heaving as Eddie’s sure your stomach churns. He thinks, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that maybe he was a little too on the nose about that last thing, that maybe, just maybe, you’re not with Steve anymore.

“Talk to me, kicks.” He prompts you, his hand resting on your bare shoulder. He feels the fabric of your sleeve beneath his fingers, still flopped carelessly down your upper arm, and readjusts it carefully, smoothing out the fabric before replacing his hand.

“Steve-” You start, and Eddie feels his lungs constrict, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Shouldn’t have asked what?” Eddie doesn’t want to push, but more concern washes over him every second that you’re sobbing beside him, and the way that you limply keel over onto his shoulder makes tears spring to his own eyes.

“It was a joke,” You insist, “But- but then he didn’t answer, and-!”

“Hey,” Eddie fears the convulsion of your frame, tugging your hands away from your face and cupping your cheeks in his hands, “Breathe. Just forget about it for a second, pay attention to me, and breathe.”

You gulp for oxygen, the resulting exhale shaking as it seeps from your throat. Your red, puffy eyes roam his face, the despair in them unmoveable, something that scares Eddie almost more than whatever happened in the first place. Fuck it if you and Steve aren’t together anymore, but you have to be okay. 

Eddie’s not quite sure how he’s managed to push away his feelings for this long. He’s only done it because Steve makes you happy, and he’s certain that your best friend up and ditching you because of some childish jealousy would do the opposite. He’s thought about it before; cutting you off. He just can’t bear the thought of you crying to Steve over it, crying at all, for that matter. But it’ll be a cold day in hell when he lets Steve Harrington comfort you over his cruelty.

Because of this, because he can’t tell you how he feels, he has to make it seem like nothing’s wrong. But it is, everything is oh-so-wrong when your head rests so easily on Steve’s shoulder, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper a sarcastic quip about the characters on screen to him. It’s wrong when you wriggle happily at his laughter, digging your face into the conjunction of his neck and shoulder to press a soft kiss there. It’s wrong when you catch Eddie’s eye afterwards, a sheepish smile sliding onto your face at his unamused gaze. You whisper a quiet, ‘sorry,’ but it’s for disrupting his movie-watching experience, not for breaking his heart.

Although, he supposes, you’re not breaking his heart anymore. You certainly had, the day you’d raced to his trailer with stars in your eyes and a flower in your hands, loudly proclaiming that Steve Harrington asked you out!

He’d felt the organ shatter when you’d grasped his hands and excitedly told him that it was the best day of your life, that you were the happiest person on the planet, that he’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Now there’s nothing left to break, no pieces of his heart big enough to crack. Now you stomp on them, now the heel of your sneaker grinds them into dust fine enough to slip down through his guts and land heavy in his stomach.

He feels guilty over it, but he won’t let that stop him: he’s happy you’ve split with Steve. He likes Steve, he really does, but only when you’re not around him. He chats the guy up at Family Video, offers him a ride when his car breaks down, and laughs with him over the younger kids. When his hand weaves around your waist, though, he’s Eddie’s mortal enemy.

He’s now at the top of Eddie’s shit list altogether, surpassing Jason and his band of cronies, and whoever invented dye for clothing that bleeds in the wash. Because the tears streaking down your face are unforgivable. They’re a sight he wants to forget immediately but knows he’ll never be able to, one that will haunt him for as long as he lives because of how defeated you look.

“You have pretty eyes,” You hum, voice still shaky. Apparently you’d been taking as much advantage of your position as Eddie had, ogling him just the same. He doesn’t think it possible, but a soft smile curves over his face, and his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

“Yeah? Y’think after all these years of knowin’ each other you’d know that by now.” He teases, no trace of negativity in his words. He has a way of teasing you like he loves you, and you don’t know how he does it, but you’re grateful for it in that moment.

All you can do is sniffle, and Eddie has half a mind to dab at the stickiness under your nose with his sleeve. You’d chide him, call him gross, but he’d lick mud off of his van tires if you asked him to. 

“Alright,” Eddie tries tentatively, smoothing away some of the wetness on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, “Wanna try again? What’s eatin’ ‘ya, kicks?”

The thought of whatever Steve did has tears flooding your pretty eyes once more, and Eddie wants to freeze time so he can go over and kick the guy’s ass. But he doesn’t, he keeps petting your cheeks, waiting silently for you to say something.

“It was a joke,” You repeat, your voice foggy, “I- I said something about- about loving me, and- and I said I was the only girl he loves. He didn’t, Eddie-!” You gush, face screwing up into a terribly-withheld sob, “He didn’t answer! His eyes, they dimmed, and he got all stiff, and- and I knew it was Nancy, Eddie, I knew!”

You slump forwards into his hands, a mess of sticky tears and heart-aching sobs, and Eddie can’t stop you from bumping your forehead against his. He’s not anything more than an anchor for you at that moment, and he knows it, but that doesn’t stop the shattered pieces of his heart from glowing when your nose brushes against his.

You try tucking your head into his chest but he stops you, keeping your cheeks in his hands and puckering his lips to press them into your skin. He feels your chest convulse, tries sticking more kisses to the crease between your eye and the bridge of your nose, just in case that helps. He doesn’t know for sure if it does, but you seem to curl tighter into him, so he takes it as a good sign.

He realizes right then and there that he can’t stop. It’s like his lips have a mind of their own, as if now that they’ve gotten the feeling of your skin pressed against them, he’ll die if he doesn’t keep feeling it. Each time he promises himself this is the last one, before he’s even finished the thought he’s pressing another kiss to your damp, flushed skin.

The taste of your tears doesn’t deter him, either. Kiss after kiss is rained down upon you, sliding from just beside your eye to the crevice between your nose and your cheek, then the curve of your chin. Each place he loves on is awkward, slightly invasive as his nose prods the skin just above it, but he’s not sure there’s any part of you he doesn’t want to kiss. He’d peck the back of your knee if you gave him the chance, and he decides not to evaluate how whipped he’s sure that makes him.

He’s not sure if he’s touch starved in general, or if it specifically correlates to all the time he’s spent around you without kissing you. He’ll admit he’s not exactly a casanova, and the last girl he kissed did it on a dare, but he can’t imagine wanting this badly to kiss anyone but you. He knows it would be selfish to take the next step, though, keeps those thoughts to himself as he smothers you in love.

Soon enough the tears that slide down your cheeks aren’t fresh and wet anymore. They’re tacky to the touch and Eddie’s lips help soak them up, until the skin that he’s kissing is dry, and your sniffles are subsiding. You’re slumped helplessly into his lap, though you’re not making any move to distance yourself, so he’s certain you’re not uncomfortable.

Pulling away from you feels like ripping his heart out of his chest, his newly mended heart that’s sticking itself back together with every kiss he plants on your face. He feels alive again for the first time since you broke the news of you and Steve, and he’s going to feel guilty for a long time that he’s benefitting from this.

He stares down at you, where you’re crumpled pathetically against his chest. You gaze up at him with big, watery eyes, and it takes everything in him not to kiss you some more. He wants to smooch you until you’re giggly and bright again, until the tired despair on your face shifts to bright, pure joy.

“I wish he was over her,” Your sigh sounds wistful, and Eddie hates that you have to dream of fidelity. He’d offer it to you unending, he’d devote his life to you in writing.

“Me too.” Eddie admits, and he’s truthful with it. He wants Steve and Nancy’s bond severed, he doesn’t want to have to endure an awkward silence every time their past relationship is brought up, but he doesn’t want you back with Steve either. He’s stuck in the middle of wanting something sensible and wanting something nonsensical, and he can’t decide where he wants to draw the line.

“I wish he loved me,” You seem to be breaking your record for destroying Eddie’s heart, “But- but maybe he does. I’m just not the only one, and I wish I was.”

“Yeah,” He can’t bring himself to say ‘me too,’ again, but he knows why you want that, “I know, sweetheart. It’s not your fault, though. You know that, right?”

“I know,” You nod carefully against his chest, and some of his dread lightens. He’d hate for you to blame yourself for Steve’s muddled feelings, he’s sure he’d go and knock the man’s teeth in if you were feeling like you had done something wrong,

“It’s just-” You start, and his hope dims again, “I know it’s not my fault I’m not Nancy. Or- Or that I’m not enough to make him forget about her. But I kind of wish I was, you know? It would be nice to be so good for him that he finally gets over his first love.”

“You want to be wanted,” Eddie murmurs, knowing the feeling all too well, “You want to be the most special person in someone’s life.”

“Yeah,” You suppress a sob, clutching tighter to Eddie’s shirt, “That’s it.”

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie starts, terror lacing his words. He’s not sure he’s even supposed to be saying them, because he really doesn’t want to take advantage of your misery, but he needs you to know that you are wanted, that you are special, “You’re the most special person in my life, kicks.”

He throws your nickname on the end to hopefully push away some of the romantic undertones it carries. Like he could completely negate how lovesick he is for you with a single word, with an offhanded moniker about your sneakers. Like you won’t notice he’s in love with you if he pretends he isn’t

You freeze; not a good sign. Eddie’s heart, still battered and bruised and half-stitched, hammers in his chest, and he tries to ignore the battering ram against his ribs. 

All at once, the rest of your willpower crumbles, and you bury yourself in him. Eddie thinks its the most beautiful sensation in the world, having your face in his neck, but he feels hot tears sliding over his skin, and that makes him regret enjoying it. Your chest heaves against his own as your legs wind around his waist, and he eagerly accepts your position as his new koala companion. Sobs come hard and fast from your mouth, and he’s worried for your poor lungs. At least, he muses, you hadn’t been smoking like you’d intended to, or else he’d be more worried for them. 

“Sweetheart,” He croons sympathetically, a bittersweet feeling washing over him as you nuzzle further into him. He’s glad you like the nickname, but he’s not glad that you seem to need it. You’re clinging to his love because you’d run away from Steve’s, and he’s going to put the man six feet under for not giving it all to you.

“It’s alright,” Is all he can murmur, and while he can believe it, he’s sure you can’t, “I promise everything’s gonna be okay. We can stay here for as long as you need,” He vows, his hands smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt, which, with disdain he notices is actually Steve’s, “I promise he can’t get to you here.”

He has visions of fighting the Harrington boy off with a broom if he tries to come knocking, but he’s sure it would be more like angrily hanging up the phone on him instead. Nevertheless, he’ll protect you however he can.

“I’m sorry for hiding here.” You sluggishly apologize, muffled into the tear-stained skin of Eddie’s neck, “I know it’s not fair to you.”

“Not fair,” He scoffs, leaning down to indulge himself and press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Bullshit, baby. You’ve been comin’ here since we were seven. Wayne has your handprint right next to mine on that stepping stone we made him, ‘member?”

You recall the messy gray stepping stone you’d put together for Wayne before father’s day, your handprint running messily into Eddie’s in the sloppy concrete mixture. He’d slapped his down right on top of yours, and Wayne jokes about how if anyone uncovers that years from now, they’re gonna think Eddie didn’t have a thumb. 

“Yeah,” You croak, and you grab the same hand he’d covered your own with in the imprint, smoothing your fingers over the thumb that he does, in fact, have, “I guess.”

“Hell, Wayne’ll beat up Harrington if you want him to,” Eddie pokes your side, and he’s glad for the giggle it elicits, “We’ll tag team him, make him pay.”

“Don’t do that,” You let out a breathy laugh, sitting up and pulling yourself out of Eddie’s chest, “it’s not his fault he still loves her. I just- I wish he hadn’t roped me into it too.”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods, leaning back from where he was curled protectively around you, “I know.”

“Eddie,” You glace down at your torso, your brows scrunching, “Can I borrow a shirt? I don’t.. I don’t wanna wear Steve’s anymore.”

“‘Course you can,” Eddie scrambles for his dresser, grabbing the first clean shirt that he sees, an old tee he’d scrawled ‘corroded coffin’ over, “See if that fits okay.”

“Thanks.” You stand, not bothering to make your way to the bathroom. All you do is turn to face the wall, slipping Steve’s shirt off over your head and tossing it to the floor.

Eddie’s stomach lurches. You obviously feel comfortable enough around him to undress, and he doesn’t exactly want to fuck that up by ogling you. But the glance at your exposed back that he sees before he can process the situation and turn away stuns him into silence. He can’t even bring himself to tease you, he just sits there staring at Steve’s shirt on his floor.

He wants to burn it.

He feels the bed dip, and snaps his eyes back to you. You’re freshly clad in his shirt, a sight that he tries not to jump for joy over, and you offer him a kind smile.

“You can look now,” You assure him, seeing the tinge of pink on his cheeks, “Thanks again for the shirt, Eddie.”

‘Anytime,” He smiles, and he means it. Your fingers fiddle with the corner of his pillow, and he stares at his bedside clock. 1:34 PM is far too late, and he understands your drowsiness.

“Why don’t you lay down,” He suggest gently, patting the bed, “And I’ll make sure Steve doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s okay,” You stretch out over the mattress, happy to be given an invitation to, “You can just sleep too, Eddie.”

“Are- are you sure? What if he comes over?” Eddie’s mind whirls with a thousand different horror stories, all of them ending with you back in Steve’s arms.

“He won’t,” You yawn, tucking your arms close to your chest, “He didn’t run after me when I left, why would he now?”

It’s with a terrible sinking feeling that he listens to you, staying perched on the edge of the bed while you get comfortable. You look imploringly up at him, “Aren’t you gonna sleep?”

“Here?” Eddie glances down at his bed, noting that there’s plenty of room for him.

“Yeah.” You nod sleepily, your exhaustion both from the hour and your meltdown, “‘S fine, Eddie, it’s not like Steve’s gonna yell at you for it.”

He snorts before he can stop himself, and instantly feels guilty. It’s what you wanted, though, if your wry smile has anything to say, and he carefully lays down across from you.

“Kicks?” He flicks the light off beside him, settling his hands under his face, “I’m sorry he let you go.”

Really, he’s not. He’s sorry you’re sad about it, he’s sorry you cried for so long, and he’s sorry that Steve almost turned you into a druggie, but he’s not sorry you split. He keeps his feelings to himself, though, like he always does, and waits for you to answer.

“Yeah,” You hum, “Me too. Probably for the best, though. I’m.. I’m gonna miss him a lot.”

“Yeah.” Eddie murmurs, watching through the faint moonlight peeking into the room from behind his blinds, “I’m here if you need me.”

“I do need you,” Eddie thinks that’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard come out of your mouth, and he curses himself for not having a recorder on him. He yearns to respond movie-style, record your sweet voice and play it over and over again to himself. But all he can do is smile in the darkness, waiting as you drift off to sleep.

--

He waits an hour. A full hour of your light, huffy breath just barely hitting his cheek, and your limbs shuffling restlessly on the bed. Finally, he thinks, you’re asleep, and he rises from his mattress carefully. He pads across his bedroom carpet and pulls open the door. Miraculously, it doesn’t creak. All it does is glide across the floor, and the knob doesn’t even squeak when he shuts it again.

He’s past you, but now he needs to get past Wayne. The man’s sleeping on the couch, as he always does, and Eddie tries not to think about how much more comfortable his uncle would be if he slept in Eddie’s room, on a real bed. He tiptoes to the phone, dials the number he knows from carpool emergencies and movie night planning, and steps outside with it, his feet meeting the cold concrete of the front steps.

The cord stretches fine out to the porch, and Eddie’s thankful that he doesn’t have to berate Steve with his uncle in the room. He speaks freely in the chilly night air, goosebumps raising on his skin.

Steve picks up after only one ring, and Eddie’s surprised he’s able to shut the door in time to start talking.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice crackles over the line, “Is that you?”

“No.” Eddie drawls, venom in his voice.

“Eddie,” Steve sounds relieved to hear Eddie, and the boy’s stomach knots at that realization, “She’s with you? I’m on my way, dude, just keep her there.”

“What?” Eddie frowns, his voice echoing in the woodsy chasm his trailer rests in, “No! You’re not seeing her.”

“Eddie,” Steve groans, “Come on, don’t be a dick. I’m trying to apologize, I’m trying to make this right!”

"Listen, man." Eddie's teeth are gritted so hard he's surprised he hasn't cracked any of them, "You need to stay away from her, okay? She's hurt real bad, and it's your fault. I don't care why you didn't answer, she's my best friend and she needed an answer. You- god, Harrington, you never deserved her in the first place. Got it?"

"Eddie," Steve scoffs, his voice pleading and thick with tears, "Come on, man. I know you like her. But it's not my fault you didn't tell her. Yes, it's my fault that she's crying. But I- I wanna make it up to her! Just let me see her, dude."

"No." Eddie insists, hand curled so tightly around the phone that it starts to creak under his fingers, nothing but white hot rage flowing through his lanky body, "She's never gonna forgive you. You need to get your shit together, Harrington. Preferably before you destroy another poor girl."

“I have my shit together!” Steve insists, and Eddie can picture him ruffling his hair angrily, “Or at least, I would, if you weren’t so hellbent on intruding!”

“Intruding? She came to my place.” Eddie corrects him, “She wanted to see me.”

“Dude, seriously.” Steve’s bargaining skills are less sharp than he needs them to be, “Don’t you want her to be happy? I make her happy, Eddie, you know I do. And I want to, but I can’t unless I apologize!”

“For what?”

“What?”

“Apologize for what, Harrington?” Eddie spits, “Apologize for not answering her? Or apologize for being in love with someone else?”

“I’m not..” Steve falters, and it’s the only confirmation Eddie needs, “I’m not in love with someone else.”

“Yes you are,” Eddie insists, “Listen: I don’t like you right now. But you’d feel so much better if you really worked on moving on. Okay? I wish I wasn’t giving you friendly advice, because Y/N just cried hard enough to flood my bedroom, but really, for your own good, sort out your feelings.”

“Eddie..” Steve sighs, but Eddie’s already got a hand on the door to the trailer again.

“No, Steve. Get your shit together. Leave her alone.”

Eddie races for the receiver, feet thumping against the floor. He hangs the phone up before Steve can reply, and he’s surprised the clacking doesn’t wake Wayne. But the man’s a heavy sleeper, and so are you, Eddie notes, when he comes back to his room and sees you still snoozing.

The bed dips with his weight, and you unconsciously respond to his body heat. Sluggishly, sleepily, you roll over, curling an arm around Eddie’s chest and burrowing your face in his shoulder.

There’s no mistaking what you say.

“Steve,” You hum groggily, your slumbering brain too far gone to remember any of your surroundings.

Eddie bites his lip to stop a whimper from escaping his throat. Tears sting hot and heavy at his eyes, and he curses whatever shitty toga-clad cherub had used him as target practice and made him fall for you. He tries to stay still, he tries ignoring your inviting snuggle, but he’s not strong enough, and he turns his head to press his cheek to your temple.

He’ll be your Steve if you don’t want Eddie.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[angieshere16]

What's Done is Done

TW: gore/substance abuse/ self harm/ physical violence/ implied smut

My boyfriend walks in holding bags of groceries and placing them on the dining table. I stride happily over to him, engulfing him in a warm, loving hug. He's so perfect and sweet. My sweet boy. I kiss his cheek softly then proceed to kiss his lips, tasting weed on his breath.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you gone to buy anything special?"

He cocks his head lazily, looking at me through half lidded eyes and repeats back to me slowly,

"Something special?"

"Something special."

His eyes travel from looking at me to gazing at the bags he left on the table, deciding whether or not he should answer. He reaches the table in two strides, grabbing a plastic bag and handing it to me carefully.

"Look inside if you want darling, I don't mind." he tells me.

I rummage through papers wrapped around a box. I carefully unwrap and open the box. It's filled with smaller bags. They contain joints, carts, gummies, and pills. I see a small bag filled with gummy worms that had been torn open.  My eyes shift from staring at the contents of the gummy bag to staring into my partner's eyes. His beautiful colored eyes, staring calmly back at me. 

“You bought all this?” I inquire and he only nods his head in response before saying,

“Your birthday’s soon, and I wanted to have a little fun, ya know?” sounding as if what he wants to do is the most ordinary thing in the world.

I stare at his face, taking in every feature, his thin lips, the stubble growing on his face, the pretty hair atop his head, his perfect button nose, and returning my gaze to his intoxicatingly gorgeous eyes once more. He breaks the silence with a question.

“Want me to make dinner for us?”

I crack a smile at the absolute randomness of his question

“Nah. I don’t wanna wash dishes tonight.”

“So, Pizza?”

“Pizza sounds great.” I reply looking at his eyes, which crinkle slightly as he smiles. His pretty eyes that make him seem like such an innocent man, someone who can do no harm. 

We call the nearest pizza place on his phone, ordering one medium sized pizza. Once the call ends he walks into our room to leave his phone charging. I plop down on the sofa near the door and take my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through my social media apps. Not too long later, I feel his arms wrap around my torso, and I lean back into his comforting frame, turning my head to kiss his neck innocently. He rests his chin on top of my head, caressing my face with his thumb, rubbing circles into the fat of my hip with his other hand. I turn to stare at the door, shifting my weight slightly from the edge of the couch. I feel hot, but I stay still, my body on top of his, both of us just enjoying one another’s presence. I close my eyes slowly, feeling relaxed, having my boyfriend right next to me. Once I begin to doze off, I hear a knock at the door. My head perks up at the thought of food finally arriving. I grin and race to the door, opening it hurriedly. A short stout man holds out the pizza box and his hand, waiting for his tip. I grab my wallet and pay him five dollars, then I grab the pizza box and close the door, lock it, and parade over to the table. Nick is already sitting in his seat, waiting for a slice. I put down the pizza box and sit down next to him, opening the pizza box quickly and reaching for a slice just as fast. The second I take a bite I can't help but smile and close my eyes, letting the flavor sink in, seeping onto my taste buds. 

“This is delicious”

“Pizza hits better after a long day.”

“Real.”

We finish the pizza in no time. Nick grabs the box and throws it into the trash. 

“C’mon baby, let's go.” He says, grabbing a stray joint that lay inside his box of drugs. He wanders the hallway, dragging his fingers along the walls. I follow him as he strolls into our room. When he lays down on the ground, I sit next to him and ask him if he’s okay.

“Yeah yeah” he says, dismissing me with a wave. “You don’t gotta worry a pretty little hair on your head about me. I’m just a little up in the clouds from the gummies I took earlier.”

“Then wouldn’t it be bad if you smoke the joint?”

He chuckles, deep and heartily. Dismissing me once more. He sighs happily and grabs a lighter from his cabinet without shifting his gaze from me. 

“You’re such an innocent little lamb, you know that?” he says, smiling once more as he brings the joint to his lips, flicking the lighter once, twice before producing a small flame which he holds to the end of his spliff. It lights up for a second before the flame dies and leaves a ring of heat at the end of his spliff. I close my eyes as smoke fills the room, the familiar scent of weed traveling through my nostrils and into my lungs. I open my eyes and lock my gaze with my boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try?” He asks.

“No thank you” I replied sweetly.

“C’mon, just a puff,” he says. “It won’t hurt.”

I shift my sober eyes from his crimson ones to the ground, feeling timid all of a sudden. 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to try. Isn’t it bad for your lungs?”

“That’s complete bullshit. I’ve been smoking for years and my lungs are fine.”

I continue to avoid eye contact and stare at a random spot on the ground. 

“Well?” he says. “Gonna try or what? I promise it’s fun.”

I look at him and take the smoking joint in between my two fingers, inhaling and immediately choking on the smoke. I hold it between my index and middle finger while I pound my fist onto my chest, trying to get rid of the feeling of choking. I breathe heavily, panting, I push the joint into his large hands, still coughing from the smoke I inhaled. He laughs at me, calling me names like cute and precious. 

“It’s not funny!” I say, feeling embarrassed that I could barely hold down just a little puff off the joint.

“Whatever you say darling.” he retorts, beaming at me smugly. A few moments of silence pass before he speaks again.

“One more try?”

“I dunno..” I reply to him. 

“C’mon baby, don’t be a killjoy” he says, flashing a calm, carefree smile. “C’mere” he says.

And I do. I go scoot closer to him on the ground, sitting right next to him so that our thighs are touching and we are side by side. He cups my face in his large strong hands and rubs comforting circles into my cheek.

“Close your eyes my love” he tells me.

I close my eyes slowly, and feel him pepper kisses all over my face. He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, and there’s a pause. He thumbs at my lips and I pout, letting him tug softly on my bottom lip down so that my mouth opens. I feel his lips against mine and he exhales, pushing smoke into my mouth as his tongue pushes in as well, tasting the inside of my mouth. I inhale, trying not to choke. My eyes are watering from the itch in the back of my throat, and I cough as I pull away from him. I see smoke spilling out from my mouth and nostrils, curling away from me and eventually blending in with the air above me. Another smug smile coats his face. He seems satisfied. 

“See? Was that really so hard darling?” a shit eating grin still on his face.

My face is burning red from our exchange and small coughs spill from my mouth while the burning in my throat begins to fade slowly. I open my mouth to speak, but I stop. I don’t know what to say. Should I be happy, relaxed, angry, or sad? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks me cockily. 

I look at him slowly after a few moments as I stand up slowly, teetering dizzily.  “Am I high?” I ask, wondering what this foreign feeling is.

“High as high can be.” he says, chuckling as he puts the joint to his lips again. 

I sit down and lean into him. “I don’t wanna stand anymore.”

“That’s okay. You can go ahead and sit with me for as long as you want pretty little thing.” He says, smoke spilling out from his lips and up into the air. I stare at the smoke, feeling dazed and turn to look at my pretty boy’s face. His pretty eyes and soft hair bouncing on his head when he turns away from the smoke to face me. We both lock eyes and we stare at each other.

“You look so pretty like this, my innocent little lamb, facing me with red in your eyes like I’m the most important thing to exist.” He tells me, slurring his words slightly as he speaks. “My pretty girl.” he says through his half lidded eyes, facing me while he sucks on his joint and all I can do is nod in agreement. He grins idiotically as I crawl into his lap, leaning my head into the crook of his neck. “Such a good girl. You must love me dearly to seek comfort in me.” He says while his hands wander up and down my back, tracing my skin gently as if I might break if he’s too rough with me. I sit up and look into his eyes, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. He looks down and then makes eye contact with me. “You know I love you, right my sweetness?” He asks.

“I love you too.” I say, feeling my chest bubble with happiness. I have the most perfect boyfriend in the world, don’t I? I sigh happily as he kisses me, pressing his lips gently against mine, treating me as if I may break at any moment. I feel something poke me just where I was sitting and I grin shyly. I break away from him and begin to kiss his neck, sucking roughly, leaving blue and purple marks on his skin as I grind on his lap. His head faces the ceiling as he moans softly, giving me more room to paint his skin from a light peach to a dark violet. I pull away to observe the markings littered on his neck and he lowers his chin, coming face to face with me. He holds my face in between his hands and mutters praises that my high mind can’t comprehend. I just want to feel good, and what's making me feel good right now is sitting on my boyfriend's lap, rubbing my cunt against his hardness. He puts out the joint on an ashtray I didn’t notice before and kisses me roughly. I let my eyes shut and let him kiss me. The harsh feeling isn’t unpleasant. I feel one of his hands rest on my waist and the other massaging my lower back, sinking lower and lower until he’s cupping my ass in his hands. I let him. When he starts to unbutton my shorts and stick his hand inside my panties, I push him away.

“I can’t. I’m sorry I don’t want to do that.”

“C’mon baby, it’ll be fun. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.” He says, continuing to rub his hand up and down my arm in an attempt to convince me. I hesitate for a moment and he takes it as a sign to keep going. He goes under my shirt, trying to unclip my bra, and I push him again.

“Babe, I don’t want to. Stop, please” urgency rising in my voice.

He stands still for a few moments, pushing me off his lap and mumbles something about getting gummies from the box and I nod my head. While I stare at the ground, feeling ashamed for not being ready for anything more than kissing and groping, I notice the lighter he used earlier thrown on the floor. I grab it and flick it under my fingers. It lights up under my fingers and I stare at the flame for a moment and bring it to my arm, holding it close enough to hurt a bit before letting it go off. I stand up slowly, frowning at what I just did and head to the bathroom, going into the cabinet in the corner and opening up the bottom drawer. I toss in the lighter, but I don’t close the cabinet. I see a polaroid, and my wavering eyes focus on it. Blood. It’s a bloody body, torn apart, limb from limb, cut up into slices that make them look like meat. I see Nick in the corner of the photo, splotches of blood on his face, smudged with sweat while he smiles that stupid shit eating grin, pointing a knife at the body. My hands begin to shake as I grab the picture. I feel overwhelmed and I gag, feeling nauseous. My legs tremble beneath me as I turn around, seeing Nick, standing menacingly behind me. His eyes no longer half lidded, but fully focused on me, like a hawk watches its prey.

“You gonna say something, pretty girl?” He says, his voice sounding hard with anger.

“Did you do this..?” I ask, my voice trembling with fear.

“What do you think? Hm?” He says, his eerie smile growing.

“Please tell me this is some stupid prank you came up with!”

He chuckles with a laugh that makes my hairs stand on end. “Okay then. Let’s pretend that you didn’t see that, understand? Just a dumb prank, right?”

I start hyperventilating as I can’t wrap my head around my boyfriend killing someone. One tear falls from my eye which leads to more flowing like a small river from my eyes. I grasp at my hair, trying to rip it from my scalp, digging into the skin, trying to take out the thought of the person I love being capable of such evil. My stomach churns and I continue crying, feeling dizzy, slow, and overwhelmed. I stumble towards the toilet and retch into it, talking to myself in an attempt to soothe my nerves.

“This isn’t real. I’m high, I must be hallucinating. I have to be hallucinating.”

He snatches the bloody polaroid from my fingers and dangles it in my face. “Oh honey, this is no dream.” he says, lifting my chin with his finger. “There is no weed that I know of that can make you hallucinate.” 

I pull away from his fingers, not wanting the hands of a murderer to be anywhere near me. “Don’t touch me.” I hiss at him, my voice laced with disgust and anger. I stand up and he pulls away from me, taking a step back and smiling such an evil smile that it gives me chills.

“So now what are you going to do? Hm? Leave me and run away?” He says sarcastically, not meaning a word of what he said, almost like I have no choice in the matter.

“Exactly that” I retort. “The second I’m out of here I’m reporting you to the police.” I tell him, with hatred in my eyes. “You’re a demon straight from hell. You feel no guilt in taking the soul of an innocent person.”

He moves away from the doorway. “Go ahead and leave. Go ahead and tell the police that I’m a killer. Who are they going to believe, the friendless girl working a dreadfully stressful job, or the friendly man who works hard every day, never late, always doing overtime, and making sure to be gentle, even with the worst of the worst? Hm?” he asks, eerie laughs spilling from his lips, filling my ears with dreadful sound.

I make a bolt for the door, but he sticks out a hand blocking me from exiting. 

He whispers softly into my ear, “I’m gonna tell you your options and you’re gonna choose very carefully, understand?”

I look up at him, sweat dripping down my face, body trembling in fear, eyes welling up with tears again.

He speaks cool and calmly. “Either you’re going to stay in our house, pretending like nothing happened, both of us living out our days happily, or you try and go to the police, tell them what you saw, and they’ll tell you you’ve finally snapped for accusing such a nice guy for such a horrid crime, after all, her only parent, her dear sweet mother, died in a brutal car accident and she’s working nights at a shitty gas station with shitty customers.” He pauses for a moment “Then I’ll find you. I’ll take you back to this house we’re standing in, and lock you in the basement after breaking your legs.” I swallow back the buildup in the back of my throat. “After about a week missing, everyone will think you’ve killed yourself, jumped off a bridge of some sort and died after going crazy, when really, you’ll just be with me, giving me each and every thing I might ever desire.”

If I was trembling before, you should see me now. I stand, frozen in terror and he puts down his arm, no longer blocking the bathroom door. My eyes shift slowly from his face, to the door, trying to decide what I’m going to do..

[schraubd]

Glass House Cleaning

Anecdotally, the Israeli attack on WFK humanitarian aid workers delivering food in Gaza appears to be a tipping point for some people. On some of the (ostensibly) liberal Zionist forums I frequent, I saw people who just last week were arguing that the entire concept of "proportionality" shouldn't constrain Israel's military response now are shocked and appalled, and they aren't buying Israeli excuses about "maybe we thought a Hamas operative was in the area." Query why this event triggered the shift, but change is change. The JTA has a story on the reaction of various Jewish institutions to the strike. It breaks down pretty much exactly as you'd expect: the liberals being clear-eyed in condemning the killing, the leftists condemning the killing and situating as part of the broader allegation of Israeli genocide, the centrists expressing sadness for the deaths while obscuring responsibility. And then there's ZOA: Morton Klein, the president of the right-wing Zionist Organization of America, said that he did not know about the incident before being informed of it by JTA on Tuesday in the early afternoon. He said, “Now that you’ve made me aware of it, obviously I’m devastated that totally innocent people trying to do humanitarian work have lost their lives, I’m sure unintentionally.” He also said the ultimate responsibility for the aid workers’ death belongs to Hamas. “I blame Hamas. Every single fatality is blamed on Hamas for launching this war,” Klein said. “In any war you’ll have deaths of civilians that are unintentional. In a war, mistakes are made, targets are missed. if one takes the position that one doesn’t go to war if any innocents will be killed, you won’t go to war and Hamas tyrants will win.” I happened to read this right at the same time as I read Bret Stephens' latest column on "the appalling tactics of the 'free Palestine' movement." The thesis of his article is that "the mark of a morally serious movement lies in its determination to weed out its worst members and stamp out its worst ideas"; among his examples of the worst members/worst ideas was the infamous statement by a coalition of Harvard student groups, immediately after October 7, which held "the Israeli regime entirely responsible for all unfolding violence." One notices, of course, that this is exactly -- exactly -- the formulation that Mort Klein adopted vis-a-vis Israel killing the WFK workers: "I blame Hamas. Every single fatality is blamed on Hamas for launching this war." So one might ask if this "member" of the pro-Israel will be weeded out, and if his ideas will be stamped out. As someone who has watched repeated endeavors try and fail to hold ZOA accountable, I can tell you the answer: they're not. Stephens isn't wrong, exactly, when highlighting some of the repellant extremism that sits largely unchallenged in the pro-Palestine movement. But if the mark of a morally serious movement is its determination to weed out one's worst members and worst ideas, the pro-Israel movement is sitting in a terribly fragile glass house. The Israeli attack on humanitarian aid workers is about more than just the seven innocents Israel killed. It is another boulder on the scale of evidence which overwhelmingly suggests that -- "most moral army in the world" protests notwithstanding -- Israel's orientation towards innocent life in this conflict has been one of cavalier indifference at best, malicious destruction at worst. Protestations that "war is hell" and "don't second-guess the generals" are ringing increasingly hollow as against the near-uniform conclusion of media, eyewitness accounts, NGOs, international observers -- you name it. Some may be biased (but then, so are Israeli government figures and their apologists). But people are entitled to draw conclusions from the reality before their eyes. (Oh, and you should read the op-ed Jose Andres published simultaneously in the New York Times and Yedioth Ahronoth). via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/Uvsl8oY

[little-murmaider]

(A little WIP Wednesday (On A Thursday) because moments after completing AOTD for the first time I launched into an intense in-depth Skwisgaar character study, Obviously.)

“I know what’cher doin’.”

“De works of t’ree men? Ja, what else ams new, cans we fockus?” He pushes Nathan’s reading glasses up the slope of his nose and into his hair. “Dere’s somet’ings abouts dis chords progression dat’s not gelling for mes…”

Skwisgaar glances up. Pickles has pivoted to face away from his kit, hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs. His Rock Talk pose. Goddamnit.

“Whats.”

“Yer checkin’ in on everybahdy.” He flicks his wrist in the space between them. “Dis is a check-in.”

“De songs gots to gets done, does it nots?” He dodges. Pickles doesn’t buy it. He rises, idly scratching the side of his neck with the end of his drumstick.

“Sure,” he drawls, ambling over to where Skwisgaar is cross-legged on the ground. “Butcha saught me out t’work on th’sahng right after Nathan screamed at me t’go fuck myself.”

“Did dat happens?” Skwisgaar shoots for airy innocence and misses by a mile.

Pickles plops down in front of him. “I’m just sayin’ yer timin’s nyeeeehhhhhhhh a l’il suspect.”

“Mine timings am imppecables,” he snaps. “Ams always where I needs to bes.”

Pickles’s mouth stretches in that stupid, sideways, Cheshire Cat-like grin, polishing his front teeth his tongue—FUCK Skwisgaar walked right into that one.

“Musickallys,” he adds, pathetically.

“Dood, y’wanna talk about naht new? Dis is naht new. You actin’ all—”

He extends his arms out to full length and tips back, dropping his voice and crossing his eyes.

“YYYYYUUUUUUEEEEEGHHHHHHHH Gets Away From Mes I Hates You Peoples while sneakin’ around makin’ sure all’a us are okey? Y’think I don’ notice dat?”

“I t’inks de lack of access to drugs ams giving you brain damage.”

“Y’might be able t’fool dese other dooshbeegs, but y’ceen’t fool me. I’ve had ya klocked—and I’m sayin’ clock wit’ a k, t’be clear—since ya braught det Norwegian riff-raff into our lives.”

“When dids you becomes de type of guys what say riff-raff?”

“I see ya, Skwis. I’ve always seen ya.”

“Ooooooh does yous?” There was a time where the one-two punch of his withering tone and devastating eye roll would reduce a man to ash. But it’s been a rough few years. He’s gotten soft. His roller shoulders and rapid-fire arpeggios betray him. “And whats eggs-acktly ams you seeing wif dem beady littles badger eyes?”

The toe of Pickles sneaker brushes Skwisgaar’s ankle and he fights off a flinch.

“Dat despite yer best efforts.” His voice is too familiar, too fond. He scooches closer. “Yer a good guy, Skwigelf.”

Skwisgaar scoffs. The metal strings sting against his callouses, blood pooling hot in the ends of his fingers, and something must be wrong with his hookup because there’s a high pitch whine in his ears and a buzz in his chest and they need to finish the song the song’s not done they need to get it done—

“Skwisgaar.”

The pinch of Pickles’s thumb and forefinger on Skwisgaar’s jaw shocks a gasp out of him, the guitar clattering to the ground with a CLANG. Skwisgaar’s jolts, involuntary, but Pickles’s hold is firm.

“Look at me.” His voice is level, his gaze bright and a little watery, pinning him to the spot. “You are good, Skwisgaar.”

And, well.

He doesn’t know why this, out of everything, is what gets him. He’s been more than a little unnerved by the Pickles is Band Mom thing, mostly because he already has a mom and he actually likes Pickles, but here is his friend, at the end of the world, saying the words he has always, always wanted to hear, and the gossamer bubble of emotion that’s been swelling against his ribs these last few months, at last, bursts.

Distantly he hears his breath hitch, feels tears stream down his cheeks. He’s an embarrassingly ugly crier so when so when he’s crushed into Pickles’s chest, when he inhales that familiar scent of hair wax and old weed and something uniquely Pickles (how does he smell wet he always smells wet) he curls his arms around his waist and sobs.

[namorslutfanfiction]

#9 with Rafa and #16 with namor please ❤️

here's 9 with Rafa

You glanced at the dark skinned man draped in silk and jewels that had been eyeing you from across the club every week for months. He never came up to your bar, instead sending his friends to buy drink and always leaving a generous tip. You knew he was trying to make you come to him first. The way the other women in the club threw themselves at his group of bad boys in their booth, smoking and drinking and snorting. But you had resisted, although something about him called to you. His dark caramel skin had appeared in your dreams and you'd imagined those curls threading through your fingers a few times.

You realized he had actually not been at the club the last few weeks, even when his friends were. You let your eyes linger on him a bit longer, taking in the healing bruise around his right eye and what looked like a burn on his neck. When your eyes travelled back up to his face his dark gaze met your own. You looked away immediately, chastising yourself for getting caught.

You turned to a club goer who waved you over to take their order. Once you were done with them you were surprised to find the dark man leaning against the bar, smirk on his face, eyeing you with a hungry look on his face. You gave him a tight smile, "Does your table need more tequila?"

He shook his head and laughed, "Ay bonita, I came over because you seemed to need something."

You hated to admit that his smile was drawing you in. You raised your eyebrow at his comment, "Oh no, I was just admiring your hair, that's all."

You played up the nonsense comment the way you were trained to and then shrugged your shoulders, hoping he would walk away. But the man laughed again then leaned in, "When are you off?"

His cologne wafted towards you from his closer proximity. Mixed in with the earthy smell of weed was something sweet and cloying that left you feeling warm. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a sudden shyness coming over you. You couldn't meet his eyes and focused on the watch on your wrist, "Actually in an hour."

You probably shouldn't have answered that but it was too late now. The man smiled and introduced himself, "Call me Rafa, hermosa, am I making you feel shy?"

You bit your lip and hesitated before replying, feigning confidence, "I don't feel anything. You don't make me feel anything."

From the left your coworker spoke, "Hey, just clock out now, I got it. It's slow tonight anyway."

Your coworker smiled and then went off to help another patron leaving you with the smirking narco. You met his gaze and saw how he looked you up and down as you untied your apron. You gave him a tight smile, ignoring the heat in your belly, "It was nice meeting you Rafa."

You headed to the back to grab your things but when you returned Rafa was waiting for you in the short hallway. The noise of the club was slightly muffled as you took in the handsome man in front of you. He was so much taller and bigger now that there wasn't a bar between you. The gold necklace on his neck had a sharp talon at the end of it.

"Like what you see? I can already see that you're feeling me. Don't fight it," Rafa said in a low voice as he stepped toward you.

You looked up at him, "I told you I don't feel anything,"

The chuckle he emitted was deep and sensual as he backed you into the wall, his face millimeters from your own. Your quickening breaths were giving you away, as well as the fact that you weren't running. That sweet smell of his was it's own drug to you and you were taking it all in.

Rafa's eyes met your heavily lidded ones, "Give me a chance. to prove to you what I can make you feel."

You gasped slightly as he pressed up against you so that you were chest to chest. You couldn't help but stare at his lips that were so close, all you would have to do is lean in. His lips curled into a smile. You felt his arms come up to rest his forearms against the wall, caging you in.

"Rafa," You breathed out as you leaned in.

The man in questioned tilted away from your lips making you mewl in surprise as the distance between you increased minutely. "Good girl, you feel something now don't you?"

You didn't stop the moan that erupted when he ground his hips against yours, making it very obvious that he was aroused, just like you. You met his gaze again while his hand came down to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lower lip as he spoke, "Do you want to feel more?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And 16 With Namor (this was popular)

Somehow, someway you had been able to finally track down those mysterious people you would see in the deep ocean. You had hoped to find more mutants like you and instead found a whole hidden country. While they were different you were happy to find some type of kindred with the fellow sea dwellers.

What you didn't expect was the extreme reaction to you swimming through their city and being dragged quite roughly to the feet of their king.

"While I appreciate the caution, she is a woman, let her stand. I've taught you better than that," The regal king said as he ordered the men holding you captive to allow you to stand.

You eyed the king who looked different from his people. Your curiosity was piqued by his wings. But you felt your breath catch with the water as he removed his head dress and revealed a very handsome and amused face. There was however something sinister behind his eyes. As he stepped down from his intimidating throne you felt you stomach drop.

"You may all leave. I can deal with our little invader," His voice was tinged with amusement. The room emptied out and you were standing before the king as he circled you. "Well, little one, what do you have to say for yourself?"

He was standing behind you, his skin was warm despite the coldness of the water around you. Your muscles were tense, ready to swim away at the slightest opening. You replied, keeping your voice even, "I was just looking for mutants like me. That's all. If I knew you were all so xenophobic I would have stayed away."

The chuckle he let out from behind you sent a shiver down your spine. He moved to stand in front of you, still in your personal space. The King gently ran a finger up your bare arm, around the curve of your shoulder, and to your neck. You flinched as he glided his hand up to wrap firmly around your jugular.

The tension was as tight as a bow string as he looked down on your face. He still had an infuriatingly amused look on his visage, all while you were worried about dying.

"You're quite a pretty woman, aren't you? I can sense your fear. But you don't need to fear me. I won't hurt you," He leaned in close to your cheek, then whispered in your ear, "not unless you want me to."

You tried to jerk away but his hold on your neck tightened. You had slowly been inching your left hand towards your thigh, trying to reach the handle of the knife you had strapped there. Once you had a firm grip on the shaft of it you swung it forward. But the King caught your wrist with ease. His crushing hold made you drop your dagger as he laughed in amusement.

The King pulled you closer, holding your wrist to his sculpted chest. He felt so hot, a contrast to the cold jewelry that was pinching into your hand. The devious look in his eyes was even more pronounced. He was playing with you and you had no idea what that meant.

The King spoke again, sneering, "Maybe it's just me, but the tension between us means we're either going to kiss or have a fight to the death. Personally, I'd prefer the kiss but the choice is yours."

His laugh was cold as you stared up at him in horror. Suddenly he pushed you away and took a few steps back. "Pick up your blade, invader. If you can cut me, I'll let you live. If you can't, then I'll do whatever I want to you. Maybe a kiss. Maybe something a little more, involved."

The suggestive look on his face and the way he sized you up kick started your fight or flight instinct. You scrambled to get to your feet with the dagger pointed out in self defense. Staring at the golden form of the King of this underwater nation as his muscles rippled and a sadistic expression played across his features.

``````````````````````````````

Thank you for playing!

[reasonsforhope]

A wild about post appears!

Me

Hey! Call me Cactus. They/them, late twenties. I also run Direct Action for Hope, for petitions/campaigns/protests that don’t fit on a good news blog, as well as my own takes and activism.

Queer, trans, disabled, white, USian, for context. (Please let me know if I accidentally post something offensive, btw! I promise I have like. an actual ability to take that kind of feedback gracefully and work to remedy the situation)

 Some Info about This Blog

Actual good news only!

No heartwarming stories that aren’t actually news. No stories that other sources THINK are heartwarming, but that are actually super depressing and dystopic!

All websites/sources are at least preliminarily vetted by me

If I don’t think a source and/or a news story I find is accurate or reliable enough, I find a new, better source with a new, better article

Relatedly, any links that have the url web.archive go to an Internet Archive copy of a paywalled article. Usually this is the LA Times, NY Times, or Washington Post. Not a weird suspicious link, I promise!

All posts are cited and dated at the end!

All posts should be tagged, including for major/common content warnings. I can’t promise that I won’t miss any warnings, but I am definitely keeping an eye on this

Filter the tag “not news” if you only want to see the news articles/posts

Feel free to send me articles to look at or submit posts! I’ll vet these before I feature them. That said, you might be waiting A While, because despite many efforts to the contrary I am the worst about checking/answering messages. Sorry about that

Posts are generally long because I have Many Words And Endless Details Disease. Hopefully the thoroughness and the bolded highlights make up for that

A couple people have asked me if I could share their donation posts, so I wanted to pin this up: I’m sorry, but unfortunately, I will not be sharing any donation posts, because I don’t have the time or skills to vet all of them and weed out any potential scams. If you’re struggling, please check out this post, which lists communities designed for donation posts and mutual aid. You’re much more likely to get help there than on tumblr. You can also find other mutual aid resource lists and wikis here, here, and here

If you’re struggling with depression or anxiety, especially around climate anxiety or climate grief, there’s a really, really thorough directory of crisis hotlines by country that you can find here. Seriously, they have so many countries I wouldn’t have expected them to list - try it, if it might help

Tip Jar

I put a lot of work and passion into this blog—and a not inconsiderable amount of time. Also, I’ve been too disabled to work much at all for most of the past year...rip. (but thankfully doing better now!) So, if you want to support my work, you can buy me a coffee!

Good News Source

You can find a comprehensive list of all the websites I’ve bookmarked as sources for this blog here!

Note about Gaza

I will be posting good news (as much good news as there can be in this sort of situation) about the ongoing genocide in Gaza, because one of the most important ways to help is to refuse to be silent. Palestinians in Gaza have asked us to please keep talking about it, that it really does help, so I’m going to listen.

And honestly, my disabilities significantly interfere with my ability to take irl action like going to protests, so using what platform I have here really is all the more important to me. (Though I am also setting a notif on my phone to remind me to call my representatives every few days, and I encourage you to do the same if feasible.)

All that said! It is completely legitimate to need a break from horrific news (a huge part of why I started this blog), and it’s also legitimate to say “I need to find out about this stuff Not from my tumblr dash.”

If news about the war/genocide (esp on social media specifically) is making you spiral and shit, then I genuinely encourage you to filter out these posts. I’m not judging. I have significant filters around what Israel/Palestine stuff I see on here myself, because I want to be very intentional about the times I do engage with it. (Which is every few days and via the Actual News.)

I’m committing to fact-checking this stuff before posting, fyi, even with reblogs.

So, tl;dr:

I will be posting about Palestine and Gaza

I will still only post good news, eg: about successful protests, aid reaching Gaza, progress toward ceasefire

I’ll only post actual, concrete news, not just Politicians Saying Words

If you need to not find about this shit from tumblr and/or my tumblr, then filter out the tags “Palestine” and “cw war”

If you don't want to see my posts on this blog about the Israel-Palestine War, then block the tags "Palestine" and "cw war"

if you need a break, then take a break

[magnoliabutters]

• NOTHING BUT GOODIES •

pairing: eddie munson x (18+, she/her) reader 

summary: there’s nothing like falling for your weed dealer. you find yourself in an unexpected situation during your next meet with eddie. 

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni, adult language; mention of drugs (weed), mention of mental health (anxiety), smut, oral (f receiving), grinding, groping, dry humping, etc.

word count: ~3k

• stories of eddie munson •

note: hello there! i’m pretty late to the tumblr game, but i needed more of my dear eddie. i’m open to feedback and how to best provide these stories or ideas your way! thank you for helping me become a better writer! my writing style and formatting is heavily influenced by the great, the ultimate, the amazing, @theoreticslut​. if you enjoy, please give a reblog so others can enjoy too!

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Eddie yells in front of the cafeteria. You quickly turn your head to the sudden noise. The rest of the Hellfire boys begin to laugh and shush their king. You roll your eyes. You’ll never understand how someone could be so confident as to willingly draw all eyes toward them. Eddie was always an ambiguous creature. He struck curiosity within you. However, your anxiety would never let you explore a relationship with Eddie that didn’t consist of buying weed. One part of you wants to better understand his confidence, his ability to be loud and be heard amongst all people. The other feels a sense of envy. 

You keep your eyes on Eddie as he laughs and makes another dramatic gesture. You scan his body. You always enjoyed his style. He wore things you could only dream of wearing. You always enjoyed the way his shirt raised and exposed the skin of his stomach. Pro tip: any movement of his shirt and you’ll spot a new tattoo. You love how he’s let his hair grow out. The brown, frizzy curls you idolized running your fingers through. Before you know it, you’re finally able to take in his face. His jaw line was something to die for. You hope his lips are as plump and soft as you have imagined. You make it to his eyes and realize that they’re looking right back at you. Before you could look away in extreme embarrassment, Eddie smiles. Another sight to see. He mouthes to you, “I’ll see you at 1:00p,” with a nod towards the back of the school.

You skip English class to get some goodies. It’s definitely a better use of your time. Life proves difficult when anxiety isn’t a welcomed discussion in your home. Next thing you know, your psychiatrist and pharmacist are now a third-time senior at your high school. The walk through the football field and forest remains familiar. You have completed this trek at least once weekly for the past 5 months, starting right after your 18th birthday.

Of course, Eddie had found a deserted area to conduct his business on campus. You have never once seen another soul on your way to him. You recognize the tightness in your chest as you walk towards the clearing in the trees. You try to take steady breaths, but they are impossible. You lay your eyes on Eddie playing with a strand of his hair. He looks perfect doing absolutely nothing as he sits on the picnic table. 

“Hey Eddie. How are you?” you say with a small smile and hesitation in your voice. You join by awkwardly sitting next to him on the table. Eddie turns to look at you, a smile forming across his face. “Hey, y/n! Yeah, I’m alright. How about you?” he says with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. You laugh with a closed, tight smile. “I’m good, uh. Do you think I can get like a gram this week?” you say quietly and quickly. The question taking longer to leave your lips that you would have hoped. Eyes strictly to the floor as you spoke.

Eddie smiles and grabs a bag from his back pocket. While maintaining eye contact, he stands up. He bows towards you and extends his arm with the gram at the tip of his fingers. “Your wish is my command,” Eddie whispers. You smile and grab the baggie out of his hand. You place your twenty on his open palm.

At this point, you usually made a mad dash back to the field with a clear wave and yell of “Thank you!” in your exit. Before you have the opportunity to stand up, his hand slowly closes around your wrist. The comfort of his hand left you frozen in place. Not a bone in your body was intending to move. Your eyes surprisingly seeking his own, but he maintains his gaze on your hands.

“Y/n, I’m curious about you,” Eddie says while rubbing his thumb on the inside of your wrist. “We see each other almost every day, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.” You look into his dark chocolate eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. He slowly releases his gentle hold on you and beings to walk away. Your body aching for his touch, as if the distance was physically painful. “Also, I have no idea what to think when I catch you staring at me all the time,” Eddie looks back with a smirk.

You sigh, fully prepared to accept the unbelievably awkward consequences of this experience. “I’m not going to deny it. It’s pretty confusing for me too,” you say, quickly darting your eyes to the trees behind him. Eddie places his hand to his chin, his other hand wrapped around his torso. “See? I didn’t expect that answer from you,” he says with a smile. “Well, there’s no use in lying,” you say, placing your gram into your front pocket. As your eyes finally meet his, you could tell he was deep in thought. You recognize his eyes are observing different parts of your face and neck. You keep quiet as to not disrupt his thought process. “Y/n,” Eddie says as he takes a step towards you. “I’d like to know you more.”

You breathe heavily, unsure of what that might mean to him. You stand up and lean back onto the table, now feeling unsure of the situation. This was new territory for you. “What do you want to know, Eddie?” you ask softly. Eddie takes his jean vest off and neatly places it onto the table. With another step, he is finally close enough for you to grab him – if only you were capable of doing something like that. “I’m positive I’d like to know more,” he said. You nervously laugh aloud, partly due to that unbelievable statement and, also, the fact that that was the cheesiest line. “Oh really?” you chuckle. Eddie takes another step, finally closer than you would have ever hoped.

“I think I’d like to know what would happen if I just leaned down and kissed you,” Eddie says with a slight bend to his neck, peering down at you. Your cheeks immediately redden. Before you have the chance to overanalyze your next words, Eddie’s lips are on yours. His warm, gentle hands upon your cheeks. Shock runs through your body. The signals almost painful as they reach the tips of your limbs.

Then something shifted within you. You felt a burst of adrenaline rush through your chest. Suddenly, you are leaning into his kiss. You slowly trace your tongue along Eddie’s lips. His lips begin to part ever so slightly. Your arms circle his neck, pulling him closer. He lowers his hands down from your cheeks, tracing the tips of his fingers down your torso, and finally onto your waist. You feel a gush of strength pull your waist forward, closer to Eddie’s belt line.

You feel his hands travel underneath your shirt, exploring your lower back. The hands you expected to be cold, now confirmed to be as smooth and tender as you dreamed. As you continue to pull him closer, you feel his hands reaching towards your ass. You take small, rapid breaths between each embrace. Eddie’s tongue meeting yours with an increasing force. He grabs the back of your upper thighs, picking you up. You adjust your arms around his neck to better support yourself. He promptly drops you back down on the table, onto his vest. You let out a gasp.

You have imagined this moment, accepting that it would never be true. Eddie holds your waist so tight it almost hurts. You wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer. Finally, Eddie leans over you with his hands on your waist. His breath heavy against your lips. You can feel a bulge rub against your thigh. You moan, finally leaning away from your thoughts and into your instinct and needs. You begin to rock your hips back and forth against his waist. 

Eddie begins to take sharp breaths, looking down at your hips and back at your eyes. There is a sudden hesitation in his touch now. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This doesn’t really happen,” he stumbled over his words, pushing a piece of his hair back from your face. You finally feel comfortable enough to give him a true smile. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you say while grabbing the back of his hair and pulling him into a deeper kiss.

Eddie begins to dig his hips into your own. You are so wet. You can’t stop thinking about the fact that he had to know. He moves his kisses from your lips, falling to your chin, and finally onto your neck. You moan into his ear, moving your hands from his hair to his upper back.

Eddie finally found his hands under your shirt again. He slowly crawls his hand to your nipple. You gasp as he places it between his two fingers and gives an abrupt squeeze. Your hands begin to lower to his hips, determined to feel him. You distinctly feel how hard his cock is. It was so evident through his jeans. You begin to rub the base of your palm against him, wanting nothing more than to touch him skin to skin. Eddie leans closer to you. You could feel his pick necklace hitting your upper chest with each grinding thrust.

“Eddie,” you say with an exasperated breath. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep going. I won’t be able to stop.” He pulls his mouth to your ears, kissing closer to your cheek. “Do you want to stop, beautiful?” You laugh half-heartedly, “Fuck no.” You slowly lean up, using your arms as support and guiding Eddie with you. You drop from the table, keeping your eyes on him. You turn around, leaning your back onto his chest. Your chin held high, exposing your neck. You hold his hands back. His body feeling perfect against your skin. His hair brushing alongside your shoulders. Eddie releases a sharp breath that blows the hair past your face.

Both of you breathing heavily as you begin to unbutton your jeans and grind your ass further onto him. You slowly lean forward, creating distance between you both. You lean onto the table, almost resting fully on top of it. You slowly pull your jeans down, shimmying the waistband side to side. You reveal your panties. What an unexpected introduction to this part of yourself. You slowly move your hands back to the table, allowing Eddie to do the rest if he so chooses. 

Eddie begins to tug on your jeans. He struggles between slowly bring them down and forcefully ripping them off. With grace, he pulls your jeans down in a swift motion. Euphoria rushes through you. You feel his hand on your lower back. Eddie pauses, almost to take in the sight of you bent over for him. “Fuck, y/n,” he says in shaky, quiet tone. He takes in a quick shot of air. 

Suddenly, Eddie grabs your waist and pulls you up. He spins you around faster than you thought possible. He drops you onto the table and slowly got on his knees with eyes fixated on yours. You take shuttered breaths as he slowly lowers your panties and frees them from one of your legs.

Eddie takes one good look at you and inhales a shuttered breath. He licks lips and twists the rings on his fingers. His eyes strictly on his hands. You find comfort in his nervousness. He slowly places his thumb onto your clit, softly beginning a circular motion. You breathe heavily, never having someone explore your clit before. His breathing became heavier the more he felt you. He squeezes your naked thigh. “You’re so damn wet, baby,” Eddie says in an almost disbelief. 

With more circles, you catch yourself leaning further back onto the table. Your bare ass laying on his jacket. It’s rough, slightly uncomfortable texture providing an additional sensation to the experience. As you laid back onto your elbows with eyes closed, completely vulnerable, Eddie adjusts his hand and begins to circle your entrance with one of his fingers. With every new movement, he watches your expression to ensure that you are enjoying yourself and he did not go past what you’re comfortable with. 

You continue to let out low moans. Your thighs continue to close, wrapping around him. Eddie whispers, “God damnit, you’re so tight.” You let out a whimper and try your best to keep your thighs down so you could feel everything. Eddie begins to kiss your inner thighs. It becomes harder and harder to stay quiet - as if anyone would be walking around in these woods anyway.

Eddie notices the shift in your body language: the movement in your hips, the way your hands brush through your hair. “I want you,” he says with a squeeze of your upper thighs. “Please,” escapes his lips. You whine as your clit aches for his tongue. “Eddie,” you whisper as you gently push his head down.

Eddie’s kisses get closer to your pussy. You’re dying under the pressure from your clit. You need him. You need all of him. His hands grip your thighs and pull you closer to him. His lips finally clasp around your clit. You let out a moan, increasing your volume. His tongue lightly flicks your bean. You continue to be impressed by how gentle he really is, as though you initially perceived him to be rough. Two fingers begin to circle your opening now, slowly pressing in. Your hands now tangled in and tugging on your hair. You need him. You desperately need him inside of you.

Eddie quickens the flicks of his tongue, while pushing his fingers deeper. You slam your thighs together as his fingers curl within you. You feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. A sensation you couldn’t possible achieve on your own. Eddie begins to suck on your clit, driving you mad. Your hand now deep within his brown locks. Fingers gripping his curls at the root. Eddie slowly thrusts his fingers within you, all while sucking your clit and maintaining a consistent rhythm. You feel a tightness in your stomach. You feel your toes begin to curl...

“Oh, Eddie. Please don’t stop,” your grip on his hair tightens. Eddie feverishly sucks and lightly nibbles on your clit. His fingers pressing in and out with quick motions. His other fingers circling your nipple. Your breathing begins to quicken. Your body begins to tremble and becomes overwhelmed with any new affections. Eddie thrusts deeper into you, harder now, continuing to curl inside of you. His breathing heavies as he increases his speed. He watches with adoring eyes and a gaping mouth his fingers disappear within you.

“Eddie, I-I,” you’re unable to complete your thought, so overwhelmed with a rush of pleasure. “Cum baby, I want it. In my mouth. Please,” Eddie says with a smile. His eyes fixated on you, determined to see your face as you cum for him. He quickly returns to his rhythm, leaving you weak. The quick thrusts of his fingers and tongue lapping of your clit leave you with a strong rush of release. You quickly clasp your hand around your mouth, never allowing yourself to be too loud. Although, a moan loud enough for you both to enjoy escapes from your lips. Your other hand deep within his beautiful hair. Your thighs tight against his ears, leaving him little to no air.

Eddie moans alongside you, enjoying your muscles tighten around his fingers. His unoccupied hand pulling one of your thighs closer to him. His body stiff against your body. Without hesitation, Eddie begins to lick away all of your release, taking his time. He slowly pulls away from your throbbing pussy. He begins to kiss your thighs again. You find yourself thankful as you are so close to being overstimulated. Never wanting his touch to become painful. As your back flattens against the table, you feel Eddie’s hand traveling up your stomach; still wet from you.

“Y/n?” Eddie said in an almost whisper as he began to stand up. You look down towards his face with such exhaustion, as if you had just woken from a nap. It was enough to make him chuckle. You could see your release glistening from his shaven chin. You shoot up and kiss his chin, leading your kisses towards his beautiful thick lips. “Eddie,” you pull away while shaking your head, “that was-” “Amazing?” he interrupts with a nervous laughter. You quickly nod, releasing a quick breath. Eddie smiles. He pushes back a strand of your hair before landing his hand perfectly onto your cheek. “Are you going to be okay for the rest of the day?” Eddie says. You giggle. “I may need a new pair of panties, but I think I’ll manage.” Eddie laughs alongside you. “I think I know what you mean. I can feel all this pre-cum.”

You smile and place your hand onto his chest. “Well let’s at least make it worth it,” you say softly. Your other hand reaches down to the tops of his thighs, feeling a rock-hard cock pressing tightly against his jeans. That oughta hurt, you think. A smile comes across your face as you revel in how girthy his cock feels. You let out a breath, desperately wanting his cock in your mouth.

As you trace your fingers to his belt buckle, Eddie stops your wandering hands. You look at him with clear confusion on your face. Eddie takes a good look at your expression and laughs to himself, such a devious laugh. He slowly shakes his head “no,” with a smirk on his face. He leans in for the softest kiss you have ever experienced before, while helping you put your panties back on. He then reaches down for your pants. Reluctantly, you follow Eddie’s lead as he supports your balance when you put your jeans back on, one leg at a time. With a furrow to your brow, Eddie smiles to himself again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you again next week.”  

next part • return of the girl •

[be cool, join the taglist - comment or reblog. be like shia and "do it"]

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[dearmrsawyer]

my GARDEN is DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It took 2 years but we made it 🎉🎉🎉 its life story under the cut

last year i dug up all the roses that the previous owners of this house had planted in this space. I HATE ROSE PLANTS. They're VERMIN. It took me a year (interrupted by la niña) to finally get them all out because i had to dig so far down to remove as much root system as i could. i learned that after the first attempt at removing them, where they all simply grew back because i left too many roots in tact 🙃 due to continued la niña last summer i wasn't able to get the space all the way ready so i spent autumn weeding everything that grew in the rain, digging about a foot into the ground to remove as much old dirt (and more roots) as i could, and tidying up everything we'd dumped there while the space was disused. I had pictures of that stage in the process but i can't find them, just know it looked like a garbage dump hahaha. i got all that done right as the temperature started to drop so i laid out a bunch of tarps to minimise the number of weeds that would grow back over winter and waited.

and then! SPRING. I ordered the soil back in September, 8 cubic metres of it which was definitely more than i needed sdkjlgfdkj but how am i supposed to know what a cubic metre is 😅 i was SO excited when it arrived (first photo), quickly followed by 'oh god i need to move all of this myself.' thankfully we had great weather in september so i could use every free moment i had for two weeks shoveling it into our wheelbarrow and then wheeling it down to tip into the garden area (the conclusion of my work in photo 2 lol). It was only at that point that i was like oh boy okay i REALLY have too much soil here. i filled up every single pot i could find and i added some more dirt to to our citrus tree garden in the courtyard since the existing soil had settled by that point and could use a top up. it still felt like way more than i had planned to buy BUT i thought you know what would be good, i could create tiers to organise the vegetables by how deep their roots grow! i laid down a couple of layers of newspaper to deter anything from the existing dirt growing up into my new soil and then started flattening it out. when we first moved in here there was a tonne of random building material around that the previous owners left behind, and we never got rid of it because we figured a purpose would eventually arise. and my garden was it. i collected all the cement blocks and bricks down the side/behind the house, plus the random lattices that had been piled up where our yard meets the neighbour's, and a scrap of fence leftover from the one we put alongside our driveway last year. There were also heaps of random planks of wood, and some logs from a tree that we trimmed earlier in the year. and i used ALL of it (picture three).

Then a couple of weeks ago i finally got to plant my seeds :D (final product, final photo) the tall section up the back is for the deep root veges, so i've planted pumpkin and cucumber there. in the middle i've planted zucchini, cabbage, cauliflower, silverbeet, radish and green beans. and the shallowest area down the bottom has beetroot, celery, lettuce, broccoli and snow peas. also a passionfruit plant in the corner :) i've also scattered flower seeds all over as i've read that it helps to attract pollinators/insects that will eat other insects that want to eat my vegetables. i've put a couple of flowering herbs into pots down there too, and i marked where i planted everything with sticks so i can remember dskfdklj also i drew myself a map.

i'm so thrilled with it :') its such a good space and now it will be useful! there's a good chance some of my seeds won't sprout as they're a couple of years old, but some of them are new and anyway i don't care, whatever grows will grow and whatever doesn't i'll try again in autumn. its just so exciting to have a garden to tend again, i know that i need to be able to just put my hands in dirt sometimes, it is a very helpful outlet, and also will maybe save us grocery money \o/

[the-s1lly-corner]

I'm back on my silly goofy haha bullshit once more. [This time with itward]

Itward with a reader who likes to make bread and tend to plants, maybe they make flower crowns and gifts for itward like bread and plant related things! [A basket made out of dead grass or handmade paper/books! Paper can be made from a bunch of weeds and just plants in general mixed with baking soda and boiled!]

Make sure to take time to rest, get water and eat something, such as a snack! :D

Itward x reader who bakes and does plant stuff !

LETS GO ITWARD FANS WE EATING TONIGHT!!!!!

God I'm so so sad that fran bow and little misfortune is.. not that popular <\3 or at least doesnt have a huge active fanbase

Which sucks because it deserves the attention! The game is amazing and did a lot for me growing up (comfort media am I right?) And you can tell the creators put so so so much passion into the games

Also itward pretty

Honestly until we are confirmed otherwise, I like to think that everyone returned to ithersta after the end of the game... and until more content comes out (iirc they are working on a DLC bonus chapter! Dont quote me on that !!) And disproves that, I am going to believe that itward raises fran in ithrsta

Anyways

Whether the reader is human or from a different reality, they're here in ithersta, too! Plus I think that's the most fitting place given the prompt :0

You and itward love baking together, often exchanging recipes and sharing tips on how to get the best product!

Imagine you two start a garden in order to be more self sufficient! Berries and veggies (get creative with the bread flavors!!!!) and the like are grown in your garden as well as some herbs and such! As well as other general plants that may be needed for whatever; potions, ointments, ect!

Plus itward just seems to be the type to be as self sufficient as possible, doesn't tend to buy things unless it's something he truly cant produce on his own..

Very friendly but asides from Fran, mr midnight, palontras, ziar, and the great wizard, and even cogwing, I dont think itward speaks to many people, given his introverted nature... at least according to the character sheet KMGs posted a few months ago!

Keeps every single piece of paper you've made for him. Compiling them all into multiple books! Keeps all his books in a little shelf he built in his ship... they're all kept neat, tidy, and dusted!

Ooouuugh he looooves when you make him flower crowns, loves slipping them around his hat and letting them rest on the brim of it

Dries out the crowns so he can preserve them for as long as possible... adds them to the main area of his flying ship, where the little shadow theatre thing is!

No thoughts only you two in the garden and he tucks a flower behind your ear.. looks at you with so so much love

You think his eyes can get all huge? Like cat eyes? Because I think so... his eyes get all round when he looks at you

Full of love

Okay back to the baking portion of this because I'm kind of neglecting it a bit, I feel

Theres nothing sweeter than baking something with your loved one, and enjoying your team work and company

I think you guys would have music softly playing in the background while you both work together

Maybe I want to rewatch fried green tomatoes, but you guys end up having a lighthearted food fight

Completely out of character for itward, but I think you can spark this silliness in him

Plus despite what the suit may imply, I think itward doesnt mind getting dirty... I mean he literally is an engineer! Bro probably gets greasy sometimes! Please help him clean the crevices between his bones

... that's another idea I absolutely adore and have talked about ^^^

Hold his hand and help him clean between his bones, please please he'd be so still and patient

[vanitygirlsclub]

Willing to work | Self Growth Habits & Life Hacks

"Willing to work to me means.... Working on myself to achieve whatever goals I have set to accomplish." 

Image Credit Source: @theambitiouswoman​ via Tumblr 

Say it with me; "In 2023 I will be...."

Making more money $$$$

Curating more love in my life (Platonically and Romantically)

Practicing Better self care

Happy and developing better daily habits

Healthy and Mentally Secure

Here are a few personal tips to better help you "fall in love", with the work you have planned this year to create a better you! 

Life hack #1 - Do the Work

I didn’t say finish but start just like anything new in life we must try. Through repetition and practice things will get better and improve on the inside and out; trust me! 

Your confidence with grow, your skin will glow, and the world will be bigger than ever before. 

That Youtube video or creative project isn't going to create and edit itself (Side note: I say this because sadly, I know). 

Write out a few ideas and try your hand, I'm sure you're better than you expected, and the world wants to see.  

Have faith - You can do it :) 

Life hack #2 - Discover your Purpose (the real reason) 

This requires honesty and self reflection All things start from within so ask yourself..

Why am I doing this?

What am I learning from this experience?

What do I hope to gain and accomplish?

Do everything with reason and always remember your purpose - this is why you started. This allows you to see the true motive for why you are doing something.

Really weeding out the truth and integrity from what’s fake and how you really feel vs what others influence on you may be

For example: Wanting to buy a new car or bag; because it’s popular or following a trend without true relative feelings or intention

Life Hack #3 - Learn patience if you want to see progress 

Slow and steady wins the race Making sure you're taking the proper steps to gain and really develop better habits skills and routines into your life or craft. 

Remember; With patience there's also grace.

Give yourself a pat on the back and whatever you do... DON'T GIVE UP.  All things happen with time! Which can be hard to believe; but it's true.

Everything has its season. You have to learn how to crawl before you walk and walk before you run - there are complete steps in life for everything and everybody.

That on its own makes each one of us unique.

Give yourself some grace and take a deep breath - you're not behind woosah; and relax. You’ll be better than you were tomorrow - I promise <3

Life Hack #4 - Have fun and Enjoy the ride 

Have you ever noticed whenever someone accomplishes their goals the first thing they reflect on is their past? 

Just like being at the top of a mountain or the pinnacle of your journey all their is left to do is look down. 

So remember on your way up to look around and admire the moment. You're own your way up so things are bound to never look the same again. 

Appreciate the present moment and learn to love yourself no matter what position or circumstances you are dealing with at the moment.

I love you and the world needs you. Stay grounded :)

Life Hack #5 - Be true to you and who you are 

We all go through changes, life decisions, and experiences that are not what we wish to see or even imagine happening to us in our lives. What happened today can't affect tomorrow - only if you let it.

The past is the past and that's where it belongs.

Alway be true to yourself no matter what you’ve been through or where you're going. We all make decisions and choices in our lives that we honestly thought were the best for us at the time. 

If it didn’t work out, its okay. 💗

If it didn’t go as planned, I understand. 🫂

We all make choices and nothing is really guaranteed. You did what you thought was best and love yourself for that!

Appreciate what you have done; even if it didn’t go as planned because through that you still learned a lesson in the end.

Remember storms truly don’t last forever. 

———————————————————

I love you guys and I wish you the best transformation imaginable this new year!

Sincerely - Tia Ray 💗

Follow me on Instagram and Youtube @girltiaray​

[roosterbruiser]

GIRL i miss jake and filly so bad i will take crumbs minuscule crumbs

I have 8 pages of scraps...here's a few crumbs for you <3

You’re tired--you feel like you’re always tired when you’re at work, especially when it gets so dead in here. You’ve already swept the nasty floors and wiped the sticky counters and counted the register and made things stupidly easy for your coworker who comes into work reeking of sweat and weed. 

Now you’re just buying time until Jake picks you up, tapping your fingers against the counter and seeing how long you can hold your breath. You haven’t gotten past thirty-four seconds. 

This is literally the kind of boredom that kills people. 

It’s been empty in here for a couple hours now--this sad little ice cream shop on Clearview Street, nestled between a shoe cobbler and a dog groomer’s. It’s barely even three in the afternoon--of course no one wants ice cream right now. Even when it’s this achingly hot outside, there’s always a lull in business around this time. 

But that at least means you can turn the radio up. Right now, Plastic Jesus by Tia Blake is playing. It’s the only other sound in the shop besides your chipped nails tapping against the fridge in the back. 

You’re taking your stained apron off when the bells above the door chime. 

Sighing, you slip your apron back on and turn so you’re lingering near the cash registers and glass-lidded freezer. But you’re instantaneously relieved when you find that it’s not another ratty-haired brat waiting for another free sample before you--it’s Jake. He’s leaning over the counter, grinning at you, his eyes heavy but shining in the harsh fluorescents. 

“Well, howdy,” you greet with a huff, mirroring his position so your elbows are pressed together. “Thought you were gonna be another rugrat.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. 

“Disappointed?” He asks. 

He’s trying to take you in without you growing uncomfortable--not that his gaze has ever made you uncomfortable. You’re wearing the ugliest hot-pink collared shirt with the Dairy ‘N’ Berries logo on the breast, a faded pair of blue jeans, and clunky tennis shoes that he thinks used to be white. Your hair is pulled back--as much as you can pull your hair back--and your face is free of any makeup. You look tired like you always do during a morning shift--which is stupid because who the fuck gets ice cream at eight in the morning?--but you look happy to see him. 

“Entirely,” you tease right back. You glance at the clock. Only a few more minutes until your coworker is to come in and relieve you. You have time. “Pick your poison. Quick!” 

Jake glances down at the buckets of ice cream, all six of them, and ignores the fat black fly buzzing around in the glass. Beggars can’t be choosers. He points to the strawberry and you nod at once, grabbing one of the shitty paper cups from beside the register and scooping the ice cream hastily. 

“How was work, honey?” Jake asks, taking the cup from you and leaning against the counter. You don’t hand him a spoon so he simply digs his two fingers in the cup and sucks the ice cream off them. “Make enough money to get us the Hell outta dodge?” 

You shake your head, frowning. You untie your apron again and hang it up on a crooked hook. 

“Someone tipped me in fuckin’ dryer lint today,” you say, pointing to the measly tip jar. “Honestly, maybe they thought that was our trash can. Can’t blame ‘em, I guess.” 

Jake is making a proper mess--like he always does. He’s scooping the pink ice cream out and sucking his fingers clean devilishly, making lewd noises when his tongue twirls around his fingernails. He has cream all around his mouth now, doing his damndest to finish the secret cup of ice cream before your coworker relieves you. 

“You poor thing,” Jake tuts, sticking out his lower lip. 

You nod, throwing your hands up. 

“I know. People should just throw their money at me,” you say. “Like a stripper.” 

“Would if I could,” Jake sighs, eyebrows raised. 

That makes you laugh. 

“What’re you implyin’? Think I’m stripper material?” 

Jake snorts, his eyes falling to his fingers dipped in the quickly-melting ice cream. His cheeks are dusted pink, which is strange because you hardly ever see his cheeks get pink. Not unless he’s pissed off or very drunk. But this is a new blush, surely--one that has something to do with the thought of you taking all your clothes off and performing for Jake. 

This is your usual banter, something you’ve probably joked about before. But now there’s something sitting between you two, something that makes your thighs feel weak and your tongue dry. The two of you still haven’t spoken about the night of graduation, even if it’s been consuming both of your thoughts. Even though both of you are tossing and turning at night, replaying every moment from the encounter, neither of you have been brave enough to say something about it.  

So now you’re stuck thinking about it--about you being a stripper. About your naked body in front of his naked eyes. You’re thinking about what lace would feel like covering the meat of your ass, thinking about what it would feel like if Jake touched you through the lace. And Jake is just thinking about you, the heat between your legs, the way you clamped down over him. He’s thinking about the phone call his mama’s gonna get later from Mrs. Odette, too, but he’s trying not to.

“I think you can do anythin’ you set your mind to,” Jake decides on. 

The two of you look at each other for a long moment, watching each other’s mouths. 

“Slap that on a poster,” you whisper finally, biting your lip. 

Jake looks at your face--how earnest and lovely it is, even in this dingy ice cream shop with the awful overhead lighting--and decides that he should say it now. He should say it here and if things don’t go well or they get awkward, there will only be a few minutes until you’re off shift anyway.

“Emma--you remember her?” Jake says, grinning when you pretend to think. He’s glad that landed--glad you’re not running for the hills at the first mention of Emmaline Odette.

“Rings a bell,” you shrug. 

You know where this is going. 

Your heart is racing. This conversation, for all its non-causality, feels like it’s about to get even more serious. You know that Jake sometimes likes to tease and crack pathetic little jokes when he doesn’t want to say something. You’d be willing to be he said something stupid to Emmaline when breaking up with her--and you know, know with your entire aching chest, that is what he is about to tell you. 

And Jake is watching you carefully, noting how slacked your face is and how quickly your chest is moving even though you’re trying to hide it with your hair. He wants to take your hand, but he knows you’d just feel like he’s drawing more attention to it--which is probably precisely what you don’t want. So he just keeps eating his ice cream, letting his eyes fall down to where your hand is gripping the counter. 

“Yeah, well…” Jake says with a shrug, “she’s history. Well--we’re history.”

Biting a small smile, you nod. 

“As of?”

Jake glances at the clock. 

“Fifteen minutes ago,” he answers. 

“Oh,” you say, blinking at him. 

He’s not looking at you as he eats his ice cream. And because you know Jake better than you know anyone else in the world, it suddenly registers on his face that things didn’t end nicely. He’s got that little crease between his brows, the one that is practically the word anguish written across his forehead. And his lips are bitten, his cheeks still a bit pink. 

“How’d it go?” You press very softly. 

Your heart is still racing. You’re worried that maybe he’s realized that this is a mistake--that there really wasn’t a reason for him to break things off with Emma. 

“Bad,” he answers with a small smile. “Told her why people call her butter.” 

Your face scrunches in displeasure. You don’t like Emmaline Odette--you would probably delight in never seeing her again if you had it your way--but you know that butter is a particularly cruel nickname. 

“Wicked,” you say, sighing. “Maybe she needed to know, I guess.” 

“Here,” Jake grins, scooping some more on his fingers and nodding for you to come closer to him. “Ice cream makes everythin’ better.” 

You’ve done this before--of course you have. You’ve ate out of his hands more times than you can count between spilled pudding cups and melting popsicles. But when you open your mouth and he rests his fingers heavy against your tongue, when you sloppily suck that sweet cream off his fingers while blinking softly up at him--it washes over you again. Those fingers were in your cunt a few nights ago. And the two of you still have not talked about it--not fully, not the way you want to talk about it. 

[serpentandthreads]

I'm having the time of my life right now getting back into family genealogy, and since I'm also a witch now I thought about trying ancestor work.

I can't buy a book on it right now, so I wondered if you had any tips and suggestions? Like first interactions, or whether you should start with someone you knew in life? And is it safe to initiate contact with an ancestor you have limited information about?

The first thing I'm gonna do is reference this post on my infodump account. I feel like everybody who does (or wants to do) ancestor work should hear.

To answer your questions... Initiating contact with an ancestor you didn't know in life is about as safe as contacting almost any other spirit you don't really know. In other words: proceed with caution, but don't overthink it.

There is an increasingly common misconception that once people die, they somehow become elevated beings of wisdom that transform beyond their behavior and actions from their lifetime. That's not the case. If your ancestor were shitty in life, they're probably shitty in death, too. That being said, they are still human spirits. I believe they're capable of going "oh, maybe I fucked up there" and moving forward. Only if they want to though.

Most people start with the ancestors they knew in life, but some people don't always feel comfortable due to reasons related to that ancestor's behavior or actions. I think that you should use your own discernment. Did you like them when they were alive? Did they treat you well? Were there ever any hateful words or behavior from them directed towards you?

If you have an ancestor who treated you poorly in life, or just generally any ancestor you feel uncomfortable with, you absolutely can tell them they are not allowed in your space. You can tell them to leave you alone until you feel ready to speak with them.

In regards to first interactions, I'd set up a little shrine or altar space for your ancestors first. It absolutely does not need to be expensive, spacious, or impressive. Some kind of fabric for an altar cloth, some things that belonged to your ancestors if you have any, pictures of them... Pick out some cups and plates for sustenance-related offerings. A lot of people also like to leave flowers and money on their ancestor altar as easy offerings. If you're of age in your country, tobacco (or weed) and alcohol (whiskey is my go-to) related products are also common offerings. I'm one of those people who struggle with daily devotionals, so I picked one day of the week for leaving offerings.

From there... just talk to them. You can choose to call them by name or say something along the lines of "ancestors who approach me with nothing but genuine love and compassion for me" if you wanna be more open to being contacted by ancestors you don't know directly.

One last thing I wanna mention is that ancestors can absolutely be resting, busy, or just not wanna talk. So don't get too frustrated or upset if you don't get a response every time.