Boomshackalaka - 19 Yrs Old She/her Women Of Color. - Tumblr Blog

boys that grunt and moan whenever they are masturbating or fucking you, are *chefs kiss* perfection.

thank you.

concept: extremely sweet and caring guys that fuck you like an animal in heat

Any song can be about gay sex if you are insane enough

“but gay people didn’t exist in the 80s”

yes, you’re right, we all just collectively spawned out of nowhere in 2004 with the release of toxic by britney spears

he cares and loves the gay

he hates and wanna explode the gay with his mind

BUT he protects the gays at all cost

jonathan byers, everyone!

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 8: shot in the dark.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - just when things were looking up, it all goes to shit.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 6.6k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - mentioned/described violence, mentioned/implied abortion, criminal justice system/arrest, angst, sexual harassment (attempted sexual coercion basically), hurt/comfort, injuries

Honestly, you'd been avoiding Eddie.  Even more than usual.  And you weren't sure if he could even tell the difference.

You had so many excellent reasons to avoid him: your budding, complicated emotions; your guilt for finding and reading letters meant for his dad; your fear of embarrassing yourself in front of him even more than you already had.

Also, the usual reasons, such as his annoyingness.

And he seemed to notice— and he couldn’t just let. it. go.

“I know the guys would love to see you,” Eddie tried to tempt you as you sighed and focused on the unfinished homework in front of you.

“But I don’t want to have to hear you again,” you explained.

“Okay, then instead of a Corroded Coffin show, you could come to Hellfire!” he suggested excitedly.  “No music, just games and stuff.”

“Really, Ed, I don’t have time,” you insisted.

He pouted, and it hurt your heart; “I thought we were, you know… I thought maybe we were friends.”

It reminded you of something you weren’t supposed to know— something you read in his scrapped letter to his father: I don’t know if we’re really friends.  You wanted to ask him which one it was— are we friends or not? —  but your frustration got the better of you and you asked the question that had been on your mind for nearly a week now.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna graduate this year?” you asked quickly.

“I—” he began, stopping quickly and tilting his head while he looked at you.  “How did you know?”

“W-Wayne told me,” you bluffed.

“Wayne doesn’t know,” he returned instantly.  “Did you…?  No…”

“Uh,” you choked, “listen, I wasn’t trying to snoop, really, I was just taking out the trash—”

“You… you really read them?” he realized, and you realized something, too— you’d never seen Eddie actually angry before.  You shrunk down instantly, wishing you hadn’t brought it up: better yet, wishing you hadn’t read the letters. 

“I know I shouldn’t have,” you said, “I’m sorry…”

“You just had to know, didn’t you?” he interrogated, stepping closer to you.  “You had to know what the deal was with my piece-of-shit dad, huh?”

“I— Eddie, it wasn’t like that—”

“Well, now you know,” he crossed his arms.  “Do you want the really gory details?”

“Not if you—”

“He’s got another eight years left,” Eddie interjected, “assault with a deadly weapon.  He robbed a convenience store and attacked the clerk with a switchblade.  He made a plea deal to get it down from attempted murder.”

You swallowed thickly.

“He writes a couple times a year, I haven’t written back since I was twelve.  Because what the fuck is there to say?” he laughed coldly.  “Well, I guess you know now what there is to say…”

“God, Eddie, don’t hate me—” you pleaded.

“I don’t hate you,” he promised.  “I just didn’t know that you cared.”

“Well… I do,” you stuttered, crossing your arms.

“Why do you care?”

You didn’t like any answer to that question, so you changed the subject slightly.  “I can’t believe you’re mad at me for caring about you!” you returned.

“I’m not mad that you care— I just can’t believe you’re still pretending not to know why.”

Maybe it would be easier if you just let him say— if he would give away that he really did know, that he figured it out ages ago, that he wasn’t just teasing you.  “Why?” you pressed him.

“Because we’re family,” he said confidently.

Ouch.  Did he even know that he just drop-kicked your heart across the street?

“Can’t you just admit that?” he continued.  “That I’m a part of your life now and maybe it’s not the worst thing that ever happened to you?”

“Okay,” you sighed, feeling like the breath you let out emptied your entire body.  “Yeah, okay.  We’re family.”

“And I’m your…?” he prompted.

“Stepbrother,” you added, “in a sense.”

He smiled proudly.  “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head; and he thought nothing of it, he couldn’t know why it bothered you so much.  He was willing to forgive your snooping if it meant being almost-friends again, in fact he was excited to— but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a little revenge first, right?

It was just a coincidence that he checked the mail on his way inside from school a couple days later, he hadn’t even hatched a plan yet— but Eddie smiled to himself deviously as he saw the letter addressed to you.  “Oh ho ho,” he laughed quietly, glancing back at the front door to make sure you weren’t going to catch him.  “Okay, sis, you wanna read my mail, that’s fine.  But I’m reading yours.”

He hastily tore through the envelope, but he slowed down when he unfolded the paper inside.  What caught him off guard was a picture of you— he nearly let it slip out onto the ground, but he got it just in time.  You were holding your instant camera up over your face, but he could still just barely see your smile beneath.  You looked happy.  Eddie’s heart hurt when he realized how rarely he got to see you like that.

The letter was short, but it still took Eddie a moment to read because the handwriting was so scratchy (though he wasn’t in much place to judge).

Sorry I haven’t been in touch as much.  Truth is, I really miss you.  Call me more, okay?

Here’s the picture you asked for.  The original is still in a box I keep of all my favorite shots.  I’ll never forget the day we took these, and not just because it’s the day I got my Pentax.

Oh, and by the way, I meant to tell you this on the phone, but that guy you were talking about?  I know it’s gonna sound weird, but he probably likes you.

Jonathan (your PBPB… that stands for Peanut Butter Pecan buddy)

Clearing his throat, Eddie stuffed the letter in his back pocket— you didn’t need to be reading that and getting any ideas in your head.

And the picture?  Well, he’d keep it, for now, so he could see you smile whenever he wanted.

There was that ‘calm before the storm’ feeling with Eddie now— you tried to convince yourself that this was the new normal, polite but aloof, like adult stepsiblings should be; but you knew, deep down, that something was coming.  Still, you never expected this.

Eddie had left without any announcement or preamble, because he was a grown man with a car and he didn’t need to explain himself, but you almost missed his little announcements: off to Hellfire, wish me luck and good dice rolls!  I’m grabbing Burger King, want anything?  I’m checking if the record store has the new AC/DC album yet, wanna come?

You were curious as to what he was up to, leaving the house on a day off from school, knowing that it most likely wasn’t Hellfire or band practice just from your passing knowledge of his schedule.  Could just as easily be a cigarette run or a random drive around town.

Could even be a date!  Probably not.  Hopefully not.

Your curiosity only grew the longer he was gone, and that was what led to you looking at him so carefully when he returned about an hour later.

You could tell he was trying to hide his face when he came home— and it wasn’t hard, with all that hair hanging down— but you tilted your head when you saw what looked like a bit of dried blood on his chin.  “What’s that?” you asked, pointing to it, and he shuddered as he walked past you and wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“What?” he mumbled.  “Nothing— cut myself shaving this morning.”

But it wasn’t there before he left, so that was a lie.  

You jumped up off the couch to stand in front of him and brushed his curls back behind his ear with a gasp.

“Jesus, Eddie!” you yelped.  He winced as you held his cheeks to get a better look at the black eye and cut lip, tilting his head away while you tried to hold his face still.  Finally you got a grip on his jaw and forced him to look down at you— and you had to stop for a second when his eyes met yours and looked at you like that.  “What… what did you do?” you whispered.

“What did I do?” he asked with a smirk.  “I thought you’d be more concerned with who did this to me.”

“Are you gonna tell me?” you tilted your head.

“No.”

“Exactly,” you frowned.  “You’ve got a cut on your eyebrow, too— Ed, you need to disinfect that.”

“No,” he said again.

“Then I will,” you decided.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  “Not my first time getting my ass kicked, I promise.”

"Was it Jason?"

"I said I wouldn't tell you."

"But it was, wasn't it?" you pressed.

He sighed.  "No!  Would you just let it go?"

“I won’t ask about it again if you let me clean this all up a bit, okay?” you bargained.

He looked to the side as he considered it, those long eyelashes fluttering for a second.  “Okay,” he mumbled.

You had him on the couch a minute later, holding a bag of frozen peas to his eye while you dabbed at his lip with some hydrogen peroxide on a rag.

“Ow,” he frowned.

“Stop talking,” you mumbled back, focused mainly on trying to clean the small remnants of dried blood.  His injuries weren’t severe, of course, but you knew these could scar if they weren’t dealt with quickly.

For the most part you continued in silence, finding yourself spacing out a bit as you used the water-soaked end of the rag to carefully wipe his cheek…

You moved to the other side, and he lowered the bag of peas for a moment.  “Does it still hurt?” you asked as you noticed the slightest wince cross his face while you wiped near the purple spots on his skin.

“Yeah— you gonna kiss it to make it better?” he smirked.

Your eyes lingered on the bruise under his eye, and you imagined doing it— imagined holding his jaw in both hands as you sat up and leaned closer, carefully pressing your lips to his cheekbone.  If you breathed out a sigh through your nose, he’d feel it on his forehead; if he blinked and looked up at you, his eyelashes would tickle your cheek.

If he held your waist and pulled you down to really kiss you, you wouldn’t stop him.

That was exactly why you didn’t do it.  “You wish,” you scoffed instead, dabbing at the cut on his eyebrow next.

There was a quick lull in the conversation before Eddie admitted suddenly, “I missed this.”

You sighed.  “Don’t tell me you got beat up so we could have some bonding time.”

He snorted.  “No.  But I don’t know why you stopped talking to me.  I mean, I guess I’m okay with it… if that’s what you really want.”

Instinctively, you looked him in the eyes— but you looked away a second later, because what if he could see everything in your stare?  “What do you mean?” you asked quickly.

“I mean that I thought we were having fun,” he shrugged.  “I thought maybe you didn’t hate me so much…”

He sounded so defeated, and your heart twisted.  “I don’t hate you,” you admitted.  “A-and I meant what I said, after you found out that I— well, anyways, we’re family.”

“But are we friends?”

“No,” you answered instantly.  “Friends are a choice.  You moved into my room four months ago and ruined everything.”

He laughed, because he knew you were exaggerating (slightly) and you laughed a bit too— though it was quiet, you were still focusing on tending to his cuts.  “So, friends are a choice,” he agreed, “and you’re choosing… none?”

“No,” you denied with a frown, “I thought maybe Jonathan and I were gonna start talking more again— but he promised to mail me something and never did, so I dunno.”

Eddie cleared his throat; “Could’ve gotten lost in the mail,” he offered.

You shrugged, “I guess.”

And he let the silence sit this time, thank god— he didn’t usually let you get away with it.  But it was quiet after that, in a new way, a way that didn’t make you expect any other shoe about to drop.  You were wrong, of course, but you still believed at the time that that was the end of it: that you and Eddie had finally talked about not talking, and that whatever happened to him that day would be a mystery you were just too disinterested to solve, and all would be well.

Instead, after the evening had begun and just before you were thinking of getting up to get ready for bed, there was a knock at the door.  “Can you get it?” you asked when you heard it, since you were busy reading a book at the table and he, laying on the couch, didn’t seem to be doing much of anything.  You figured it was a package or something; Eddie hesitated, and in retrospect, it was like he knew who it really was— but you didn’t notice it at the time.

You heard the door open, and straightened up when you heard Eddie greet, “well, good evening, officer.”

Fuck.  You immediately imagined all the drugs Eddie had likely hidden in your room, getting blamed for them, going to prison— and Eddie would have the room all to himself, finally.  Maybe that was his plan all along!

You tried not to seem too eager as you slid off of your chair and stood up, approaching the door to get a good view of the policeman: "I noticed some bruises on your face,” he said sternly, pointing at Eddie, “did you get into a fight?"

"No, actually, I just fell off my bike,” Eddie lied quickly— he was eerily good at that, actually.

"Were you aware that Gary Thompson was assaulted today?" the officer asked point blank.  And then it clicked.  You tried not to react, knowing that if you were too obvious, the cop would notice and start questioning you as well.

"Hm, can't say that I knew that," Eddie replied with a smile, tilting his head.

"We're looking for who might've hit him," the officer continued.

"Well, you're gonna be looking all night," Eddie smirked, "Gary's quite punchable, could've been anybody."

"That's the thing," the officer explained, pulling a photograph out of his pocket, "it couldn't have been anybody." He unfolded a picture of Gary's face, specifically Gary's injuries— just a massive bruise on his cheek and nose, a couple small cuts, the bridge of his nose starting to swell.  "Do you see that bruise, right there?"

Eddie narrowed his eyes as the officer pointed at one specific part of the picture; you shut your eyes with a silent sigh.

"It's the shape of a cross," the officer noticed.

"Oh, wow," Eddie beamed, "it's like when people see Jesus in their toast!"

"Don't you have a ring with a cross just about that size?" the officer pressed; Eddie promptly clasped his hands behind his back.

"Nope," Eddie answered quickly.  The officer raised an eyebrow at him.  "Do I look particularly religious to you?"

"Son," the man frowned, "I think it's time you took some responsibility for your actions."

You stepped closer, reaching one hand behind Eddie that brushed against his own; he jumped a little at first when he felt you touch him, but tightened his jaw and stayed still.  "When did this happen?" you asked the officer.

"This afternoon," he replied.  At the same time, you found Eddie’s hand, behind his back, and felt each of his rings.  Skull, no.  This one’s kinda pointy, with two little things on each side?  Fuck, that’s the pig…  When you found the cross and skulls by touch, he uncurled his fingers and you pulled the jewelry off, holding the chunk of silver in your palm tightly.

"Oh— Eddie was home then, with me," you insisted.

"He was here?" the officer pressed.

“Mhm,” you nodded.  “We watched our favorite movie.”

“And what’s that?” 

You spoke at the same time Eddie did: “Sixteen Candles.”

The officer raised an eyebrow, letting the moment linger for a second before he sighed.  “Listen— we could play this game all night, but the reality is, we have witnesses that have identified you already, including the victim," he informed you both as he crossed his arms.  "So either you come with me now, or I take you both in for obstruction."

"Leave her out of it," Eddie barked instantly, "I'll go, okay?  I'll go with you."

“Eddie, don’t,” you pleaded, “it was self-defense, right?  He hit you first?”

You whined as Eddie shook his head.  “Put your hands behind your back,” the officer ordered, and Eddie turned and kept his wrists together as the cop got out his cuffs.

“This is ridiculous,” you began to complain to him, “this is— he didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I have a warrant for his arrest,” the man frowned at you, “so it seems pretty standard to me.”

“But—” you whimpered.

“Just stay out of the way, miss.”

You sighed as you looked up at Eddie.  “Don’t sweat it sweetheart, s’not my first time in handcuffs,” he smirked.  “Though I prefer the fuzzy toy kind.”

“Got anything in your pockets?” the officer asked Eddie.

“Uh— wallet, cigs, lighter,” Eddie listed.

“Your girlfriend can keep the cigarettes for you,” the man offered.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Eddie corrected.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you said simultaneously.  

The officer rolled his eyes, but you reached into Eddie’s back pocket and pulled the box of cigarettes out.  “Can she light me one?” Eddie asked the policeman, who nodded.  

You shook the pack until one popped out halfway, pulling it out as he leaned down so you could put the filtered end between his lips.

“Lighter’s in this pocket,” Eddie explained, muffled by the cigarette in his mouth, by tilting his hips forward to put his right front pocket towards you.  You gingerly reached inside, trying to touch as little of him as possible while you grabbed the plastic lighter, but you could still feel the warmth of his thigh through the pocket’s fabric.

A couple tries and you struck the lighter, holding it up so Eddie could lean into the flame, moving his jaw to tilt the cigarette how he needed it.  He nodded a little as he pulled back, and you let the lighter go; he took a slow drag with his eyes shut, blinking them open again when he exhaled through his nose.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and you let him take one more puff before you reached up with two fingers to hold the cigarette and pull it away so he could exhale normally.  He looked at you through the cloud of smoke in front of his face, something impossible to describe in his eyes.  

“Time to go,” the cop announced firmly, and you reached up to let Eddie have one more drag.  He took it quickly, smiling around his exhale as he turned to walk down the pavement to the officer’s car.

"Finish the rest for me?" he called over his shoulder with a crooked smile.

You watched in disbelief as the cop helped Eddie into the backseat.  “When can I come bail him out?” you asked quickly.

“After his arraignment,” the cop replied.

“When— when is that?!”

“Tomorrow morning!” he called back as he shut the driver’s door.  

You blinked quickly, wondering when this bizarre waking nightmare would end— but it didn’t, and your heart jumped when the car started to move as the officer put it into drive.  “Wait!” you yelled out instantly, running down the porch steps barefoot, onto the pavement— still warm even in the evening as the heat of the day faded— out into the street, chasing the car for just a few feet before you saw Eddie smiling at you through the back window.  He didn’t look nearly as scared as you figured you did; you slowed down to a stop, standing in the street and watching the car turn away.

You didn’t sleep that night.  You just stared up at the empty bunk bed above you; it felt so strange, you kept expecting the sounds of him up there, the rustling of sheets or heavy, slow breathing.  

All you’d been waiting for, since Eddie got here, was silence.  You never thought you’d miss all that noise.

Wayne came home late; your mom was spending the weekend with her old college friend in Indianapolis, the closest thing to a bachelorette party that she was interested in, and you figured you would wait until she got back to tell her what had happened instead of calling her now and worrying her more.

You heard Wayne’s heavy boots walk by your door, down the hall to the bedroom, and you knew you should go tell him.  He had no way to know, with your door closed and Eddie’s van still parked out front, unless that ‘one call from jail’ thing from the movies was true (which you were pretty sure it wasn’t).  But you decided to wait until morning to tell him— or, at least, you knew you just couldn’t tell him right now… you didn’t want him to see you cry.

You were watching the clock tick, one minute at a time, to six-thirty.  If Eddie wasn’t up by then, Wayne would notice and come storming in, find an empty bed, and find out the worst way possible what happened.

You hated to do it, but that thought was the only way you could psych yourself up and tell him yourself.  Of course, the way he did find out wasn’t all that much better…

He only glanced up for a second as you stood an awkward distance away; he was sitting there eating his bowl of cereal and reading the paper, and you were just staring at him.  “Mornin’,” he offered you with a quick smile.

“Eddie was arrested last night,” you blurted out.  Wayne stood up instantly.

“What happened?  On what charges?” he rushed.

“U-um, he assaulted someone,” you answered.  “He took some hits too, but, apparently he started it, so—”

“Shit,” Wayne frowned, crossing his arms and shaking his head.  “S’better than drugs, I guess— but I never thought he’d hurt somebody.  You’re sure he started it?  Did somebody say somethin’ to him?”

“I-I don’t know, I wasn’t there,” you sighed.  “I’m going to pick him up— I don’t want you to miss work.”

“I can miss work,” Wayne assured, “I can— I’ll call—”

“No, Wayne, let me take care of it,” you begged.  “I don’t think he’d want you to see him like that, anyway.”

“Like what, beat up?  Wouldn’t be my first time to see that,” Wayne scoffed.

“In cuffs,” you corrected, and he sighed.

“You’re right,” he agreed, “and I don’t wanna see it either.  But he’s my responsibility.”

You almost smiled, somehow, with everything going on.  “You know, he is a grown man.”

“Barely.”

“Legally.”

That seemed to finally get him to calm down a bit, begrudgingly, and he sighed through his nose.  

“Please let me go for you,” you pleaded.  “Go to work, and it’ll all be dealt with by the time you get home.  Let me do this for the both of you.”

The keys to the van were on the table already; he picked them up and tossed them to you lightly, nodding as you caught them.  “Just make sure he gets home safe,” Wayne instructed, “so I can kick his ass myself when I see him.”

He could play the part of the gruff, stern uncle as much as he wanted, but it wasn’t as convincing of a portrayal as it used to be— you could see how worried he really was, how concerned, how heartbroken.  And you only insisted on going to spare Eddie from seeing that for just a little longer.

You hoped in the driver’s seat, noticing the stillness and silence of the empty car.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself as you stared at the steering wheel.  You hadn’t driven in months, and even then it wasn’t a beast like Eddie’s van.  “You like me, right?” you asked the van quietly.  “Remember when I washed you?  So be nice to me… no backfiring, please…”

You turned the key, and even though it sputtered, the engine turned and the car started.

You sighed with relief.  “Thank you,” you whispered.

Next order of business: reversing out of the driveway and getting to the courthouse.  Without hitting anything.

The silence in the car was so heavy, you were amazed the thing could still drive.  You refused to let Eddie take the wheel, even though he obviously felt strange watching you drive his van.  But he also couldn’t exactly put up a fight against you after you waited at the courthouse until nearly three in the afternoon for his bail to be set, then drove to the bank and back to pay the two-hundred and fifty dollars down payment on said bail out of your savings.

He kept looking at you for a few seconds at a time, then looking at the road, then back at you, back at the road— occasionally mixing it up with a glance down into his lap.

“Feels good to be out of the cuffs,” he said finally.

“I’m sure.”

You focused on driving.  You could say a lot but you didn’t know what good any of it would do.  You hadn’t even picked which of the multitude of emotions you were feeling to focus on yet.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, eventually.

“After jail, or after fighting Gary?” he wondered, and you sighed when you heard him admit to it for the first time.

“Both,” you replied.

“Jail was fine,” he shrugged, “it’s a small town so it was empty except for me and a drunk guy who… spent pretty much the whole time passed out.”

Well, that was a relief, if nothing else.

“And the fight,” he continued scoffing, “that was nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeated, still mostly restrained but letting some of your incredulousness seep into your tone.

"I can take a punch," he rolled his eyes.

"Good."

He yelped as your fist collided with his shoulder.

"The fuck were you thinking?!" you hissed.

"Hey!" he pouted, rubbing his arm.  "You're stronger than you look…"

"You attacked Gary?!  In the middle of town, in the middle of the day…?"

Eddie huffed and looked away, still holding his arm.  "He had it coming."

"Did he say something to you?" you asked, lowering your voice a bit, only sparing small looks at him while you drove.

Eddie shrugged.  "He said he was Gary Thompson.  The guy that cheated on you, treated you like shit, and broke your heart.  That's all he had to say."

"So, what, you think you did this for me?"

"Well, yeah!"

You laughed coldly.  "That's bullshit!"

"What?!" Eddie replied defensively.  "Of course I did it for you, that asshole deserved it after he humiliated you like that!"

"And that's what you think I want?  I want you to go starting fights, get your shit wrecked—?"

"Okay, first of all, I won that fight," Eddie insisted.

" — and then make me bail you out?" you concluded.  "You can't act like this was anything but selfish.  You made me clean up your mess and you expect me to thank you?"

"I didn't make you bail me out," he reminded you.

"Oh, please," you rolled your eyes.  "Did you really expect me to leave you there?"

"I mean… kinda…"

"Come on, you know I couldn't do that," you sighed, "we're family."

He nodded.  "Yeah, that's why I had to do it to him."

You shook your head.  "Eddie… I'm a grown up.  You don't need you to fight my battles.  Or my boyfriends."

"I just…" Eddie began, sighing before he met your gaze.  "I wanted him to hurt."

"I did too," you admitted, "a long time ago— but I moved on.  You can't solve pain with more pain; not his pain, not your pain, nothing fixes what already happened."

Eddie’s silence must have been his relent to that, and you two stayed that way for a moment until he reached to the radio and turned it on.  About four seconds of Crazy Train played before you reached forward and turned it off again.  “Hey,” he frowned and turned it on again, “my car.”

“I’m driving it,” you noticed, turning the radio off again.

“My stereo,” he replied, turning it on again.

We’re going off the rails on a crazy—! You slammed the power button and shut it off.  “Pay me back for that bail payment and you can put on whatever you like!” you decided, and he pouted, but slumped back into the passenger seat and stayed silent.

That silence lasted a long time, until you were almost home.  He broke it eventually with a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, and that was the last that was said of it for the night.

When you pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, you just sat there, and Eddie looked at you.  “Are you gonna get out?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you breathed.  “Just gimme a minute, I’ll see you inside.”

He opened his own door and hopped out, leaving you in the quiet alone after it shut.  You watched him walk behind the van in the rearview, then looked out the window to see him bound up the porch stairs and through the front door.  The living room curtains were open enough for you to see him meet Wayne near the doorway, and throw his arms around him instantly for a tight hug.  Wayne pushed his lips together and wrapped his own arms around his nephew, rubbing his back briefly through the denim vest.  You sighed.  Great ass-kicking, Wayne.

But you knew he needed this more.  You wished you were strong enough to comfort him like that— it’s funny, how people would think it takes more strength to actually deliver that ass-kicking than it would be to hold him.  But you knew it was the other way around, because you were too weak to be vulnerable; you weren’t tough enough to be soft.

Your eyes filled with tears and you held your fist up to your mouth to try to stop it.  There was so much overwhelming you in that moment, but most of all you were simply exhausted.  The good news is, you slept great that night.  Even with your mind racing with everything you went through today, even contemplating the consequences of yesterday, even knowing what you would have to face tomorrow, you slept like a fucking rock.  Because after you slipped in bed for the night and Eddie got out of his much-needed shower, he was there above you: breathing, stirring, rustling the sheets.  Not only was it the best you’d slept since he moved in here, it was probably the best you’d slept since you moved in here.

That was what was so perfect, and so horrible, about Eddie.  He was making you realize all the things you never knew you were missing.

She was chewing bubblegum when she answered the door— she must’ve known it was you already, maybe she knew before you even knocked, because she was prepared with a snarky sneer on her face.  "Hey, Tammy," you greeted awkwardly.

She scoffed, crossing her arms.  "You know, you've got a lot of guts coming here after siccing that freak on my brother.  I'll give you that."

"Just tell me Gary's okay?" you pleaded, and she dropped some of her attitude as she looked at you.

"Yeah… he's fine," she assured.  “But I’m not gonna let you in or anything.”

You sighed.  “I only wanted to check on him.”

“Then send a Get Well Soon card,” she offered sarcastically.

Losing patience, you shoved in past her and ignored her whining complaints.  You swung open the door to Gary’s room, causing him to sit up in his bed quickly.  “Hey,” you said flatly.

“H-hey,” he returned, “shut the door.”

Tammy groaned as the door was shut in her face.  You looked back at Gary, and it was hard to look at him, especially with the bruises and cut nose.  “Looks like some of the swelling is going down,” you offered politely.

He rolled his eyes as he threw the covers off of himself, revealing he was only in boxers, and you cleared your throat quietly as you looked down.  “How, uh… how are you?” he asked, and you smiled.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” you returned.

“People have been asking me that non-stop since it happened— oh, how are you?,” he did an impression of a pitying voice, “it’s annoying after a while.  It’s not like I got hit by a truck or anything, just a random psycho.”

He glanced up at you.

“Well,” he added, “not so random…”

"Gary, listen," you breathed.  "I didn't ask Eddie to do that— I didn't want Eddie to do that."

Gary scoffed.  "Uh huh, sure."

"Really."

You sat down next to him on the bed, grabbing his hands and clutching them as he looked at you through a swollen eye.

"I'd owe you for life if you dropped the charges,” you pleaded.  “Eddie's got enough trouble with the law, but I know he's so close to turning his life around.  He's gonna graduate this year— finally— and he just needs a little grace right now."

Gary raised his eyebrows.  “You know, you’re different.”

You tilted your head, “How?”

“The girl I went out with would’ve never been this brave.”

You snorted.  “I don’t have any other choice now, if he has to go to trial and prison— if I have to pay the rest of his bail—”

“Do you ever think about us?” he interrupted suddenly.  

“U-uh, well…” you trailed off.  “I dunno.  Sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “I think, sometimes, we could’ve made it work.”

You shook your head, laughing through your confusion.  “Where’s this coming from?  You never called or anything, now you’re waxing nostalgic.”

“Well, seeing you is different,” he explained, “and you— you’re—”

“Different?” you remembered.  He laughed, and it was familiar.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “I mean, you’re still you, and you’ve always been, you know, pretty.  I always… well, I hope you know I really loved you.”

You sighed, staring down into your lap.  “I believed that for a long time, but after the way everything ended…” you trailed off.

"Yeah, I messed around with other girls,” he admitted, “but you were always the only one I wanted to be with.  I really thought we were gonna get married someday."

You sighed.  "Well, obviously I thought so, too."

"I think if you gave me another chance, I could be faithful this time," he announced.

"You think?" you repeated incredulously as you whipped your head around to look at him.

"Yeah— I've been thinking about you a lot lately, actually.”

He leaned a little closer, giving you a certain look (as best he could with a beat-up face) and you scoffed.  "That's never happening.  I learned my lesson from the last time I dated you."

"If not another chance, then just one more time together— for old times' sake," he suggested with a smile.

He stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently hold your hips as you fought off a grimace of disgust.  "Old times?  I spent the last two years trying to forget those times."

"I'll say this: if you stay here tonight, I can promise those assault charges against your friend will be dropped tomorrow…"

You shuddered as he leaned in, kissing gently under your ear.  "Gary— there's gotta be something else I can do—"

"There's that one thing you were really good at, remember?" he purred.

"Uh, no," you frowned.

"Oh, right— I don't think that was you."

You shoved him away with a sneer.  "Where do you get off?"

"Wherever I want," he smirked, "you?"

"Not with you!" you snapped.  "Not even once!"

As you stormed out of his room and towards the front door, Gary followed you.  “Guess I’ll see you in court then!” he shouted smugly, making you spin on your heel while you were on his porch.

“You know something?” you began, and you could see his smile fall a bit because he knew he was in for it.  “I came here because I thought you’d do this for me— do you think I would’ve driven all this way and gotten attitude from Tammy if I didn’t think you would listen to me?  Even after everything you put me through, even after you told me you loved me the same night you slept with Harriet Kingsley—”

He winced.

“Even after you convinced me I was crazy for questioning you,” you continued, “made me apologize to you for accusing you, had me worried that I was the worst girlfriend ever because I was so untrusting—”

The way his face changed made you wonder if he ever realized before that that’s what he had done.  It made you wonder if he ever really thought about what he’d put you through before, until now.

“Even—” you choked up a bit as you tried to go on— “even after you found out I was pregnant and you told me you’d break up with me if I didn’t get it taken care of—” when he tried to look away, you yelled sharply:  “No!  Look at me!” 

He looked at you.

“Even still, I really thought you’d do this for me,” you admitted, a few hot tears running down your cheeks as you spoke.  “I honest to God thought that you were still the guy I remembered thinking that you were, when we were together.  When I didn’t know who you really were.  You acted so sweet and fun and gentle— you acted like you cared about me.  I believed you, and honestly, I think you believed it, too.  I so want you to be that guy, I still do, even after everything.  So I guess I’m just fucking stupid.”

You let it sit for a second before you turned and began walking down the front yard again, towards Eddie’s van that you borrowed— he couldn’t exactly deny you when you asked for the keys now, after what you’d done for him, even if you refused to tell him where you were going.  “I’ll drop the charges,” he suddenly announced as you stepped down into the street to cross to the driver’s side.

“Honestly, Gary, I don’t give a fuck what you do,” you informed him flatly as you opened the door for yourself, “just please don’t talk to me again.”

That last part was a lie— you gave several fucks, more than you knew you had left or were willing to give out for free, but you gave them.  You cared because it was Eddie’s future, and he was so close.  You only told Gary that you didn’t care because, if he thought you did, he’d keep trying to use it against you.

The assault charge against Eddie was dropped the next day.  It was over.  

Wayne called it a miracle; Eddie just sighed and announced that he’d have to start studying for his math final now that he was trying to graduate again.  Your mom looked at you, and wondered, but said nothing.

Mustard

@pixaldateblue @teddy-the-teddybear

word association game! write the first word that comes to your head and tag 3 people to keep it going

starting word: rubber duck

Boat

@selisdead @lets-dance-to-joy-division @freedle-8a

I’ll make you pretty rings :)

I'm not scared of lions, tigers, and bears...... but I'm scared of losing you ♡♡

Let’s hold hands 🤭

I’ll make cookies ;)

I'm not scared of lions, tigers, and bears...... but I'm scared of losing you ♡♡

Let’s hold hands 🤭

Thank you for tagging me

𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛: 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚢: 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝

𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎: 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚢 𝚟𝚜 𝙹𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜: 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗: 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 :(

𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝/ 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚢 / 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝟷𝟶𝟶%

* TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER * tagged by my lil bun bun @wrenniebaby <33

favorite color: sage green and burnt orange currently reading: every single fic by @magicchai last song: careful - paramore last series: how i met your father last movie: witch hunt sweet/spicy/savory: i'm a sucker for spicy things currently working on: - chapter six of oasis - a potential eddie series - rewriting some old fics to re-upload

no pressure tags: @magicallovdrms @magicchai @royalmaybank @ladylannisterxo @rockstarmunson @hellfire-munson @fairyverse @kinqsteve @alexdaydreams

I'm not scared of lions, tigers, and bears...... but I'm scared of losing you ♡♡

Let’s hold hands 🤭

Here’s mine @teddy-the-teddybear

J-just gonna leave this here...

Of course!!!

I love you too bby 💕💕

I’ll come to you for anything and everything

I can’t breath— 😳

back by very popular demand, crop top eddie

inspo from: @verdandis-blog

I keep thinking about Eddie and reader having a baby girl (because he is 100% a girl dad) and her dressing as him for Halloween because she adores him

DAD EDDIE DAD EDDIE

i literally have no idea what eddie would really dressed up as but here you go <3

eddie's excited for halloween. maybe even more than his daughter.

he's dressed up in ozzy knows what — black eye make up applied by you because the last time he did it it looked like he'd sunken his face in black coal; sleeves of his metal t-shirt ripped last night (which you watched with a slacked jaw as he ripped it with his bare fingers and the night ended with you naked); and his usual ripped jeans that he had since he was twenty, plus some fake blood over his lips and fake vampire teeth adorning his pearls.

"you look nice, babe," you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest, resting your hip on the doorframe. eddie looks up and meets your eyes, fake blood smeared over his teeth. "you've really devoted all your effort into this."

"what? to look like a sexy metal vampire?" he scoffs, walking over to you. "y'know, i was aiming for kas, but i wanted something metal in it so i went for metal vampire. still look hot,"

eddie's got a hand on your waist and an arm up to flex his biceps, all muscly and thick. you wrinkle your nose at him and kiss his skin before you kiss his lips, blood tasting of something like mint and chocolate as you both cheekily mix in your panting tongues.

"gross."

you both break away, looking down at your daughter who's standing behind you in a costume that looks awfully familiar. but it clicks eddie well:

her sneaky little hands found eddie's old hellfire club shirt, a little too big for her as it slips past her knees like a dress, her own leather jacket and denim vest over the shirt. her hair's never a problem to do for the costume, seeing as she and eddie have the same hairstyle. the only difference — it's well cared.

"oh, well would you look at that?" eddie smiles, pushing himself away from you to kneel in front of his daughter. "who's this little freak, huh? she looks awesome."

"i'm you!" she beams, tugging on the oversized hellfire shirt. "i found this underneath your closet. i see uncle dustin wear it alot when i would bike around."

"thought you wanted to be a princess, honey?" you ask her, smiling at how she looked like a smaller version of her dad, who's kneeling in front of her looking like he's going to cry.

eddie whips his head to you. "why would you—"

"because he's way cooler than a princess," she tells you. "they don't fight dragons like he does."

"princesses fight dragons too—"

"you are so right, sweetheart," eddie takes her little face in his hands and kisses her forehead with a loud smack. "but your mom's right. princesses do fight dragons. just not in a way that i do. literally."

he means that he uses dices and painted figurines. you laugh when your daughter smiles at the brightness on eddie's face, squealing when he takes her into his arms and lifts her into the air.

"alright, eddie munson," he raspberries her arm. "lets get a lot of candy, get fat, then die of a heart attack."

"don't say that to a seven year old, eddie."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

imagining eddie doing the thing where he tongues the inside of his cheek with that half little smile when you make a joke abt him having a small dick. "sure do, sweetheart. so small."

you are like papa.

Imagine laying with Eddie…….

After a long day of fighting inter dimensional monsters all you want to do is lay down and relax with your favorite boy Eddie Munson. You’re laying on your stomach reading a book or listening to music, and Eddie comes and lays his head on you ass cuddling into it, falling asleep.

He seems like the type to bite your ass cheek while you’re dozing off, he bites it hard enough to make you jump and smack him while he’s laughing his ass off. I want this. I miss him sm :(

reblog to kick the duffers in the ribs

I’m done. So fucking done. EDDIE DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER!!!!

reminder that this is a pro choice blog, because access to a medical procedure shouldn’t be a debate, and if you think otherwise, fuck off

"this filter will show you if your teeth are yellow" "this filter will show you if your nose is perfect" "this filter will show you if your face is symmetrical" "this filter will show you if your lips are big" how about if we all blew up our phones forever

johnny depp winning his case would actually be a win for feminism, some of you are just too delusional to accept that.