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theycallmebecca · 11 months

Note

Can I request either Ari or Chris jealousy prompt “do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it’s because - y’know what, never mind”

Hey nonny! Thanks for this fantastic prompt! I wrote most of this the other day and I had another ending in mind.. but it just wasn't working with me... but oh well.

This Memorial Day weekend, I’m accepting prompts. The information (and links to stories written for it) are in this post.

Title: Secrets of the Heart

Pairing: Ari Levinson x female reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context.

Women love Ari.

Ari loves women.

You love Ari.

Ari loves you like a best friend.

You sigh into your drink as another woman stops Ari on his way back to your table. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the same routine they all do when they see him in a bar.

She’ll touch his arm.

He’ll flex his biceps.

She’ll giggle and coo over his “big strong muscles”.

He’ll give her a panty melting smile.

She’ll give him her number.

He’ll pocket the number and promise to call her.

She’ll go back to her friends, who will all giggle and steal glances at him.

He’ll come back to your table and drop into his seat like nothing has happened.

“What’s that face about?” he asks, picking up his beer and taking a swig of it.

“Just thinking,” you lie as you adjust your expression. He doesn’t know you’re in love with him and it’s better that way. Afterall, you are the opposite of his type, judging by the women he’s gone out with.

“Sounds serious,” he says, leaning forward. Then, because he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, adds, “Tell Ari what’s troubling you.”

“I’m on my period and I have cramps,” you say, knowing that will make him uncomfortable. “So I’ve decided to go home.”

He cringes at the womanly stuff, but his expression turns to a frown when you say you’re leaving. “You haven’t finished your beer,” he says.

“I don’t need the calories,” you state as you stand up. “I ordered an Uber so you can stay and -” You motion in the general direction of the woman he was flirting with. “- do whatever.”

You don’t wait for him to respond as you cross the bar as quickly as you can. You have no intention on going straight home, instead, you plan to walk the two blocks to the ice cream parlor where you’ll get your favorite ice cream and eat it while you wait for the Uber to pick you up.

It’s still early in the evening, so you aren’t alone on the street as you walk to your next destination lost in thought. You know breaking ties with Ari would make your life a little easier, but the thought of not having him in your life is more heartbreaking than watching him flirt with nameless women in front of you.

You’re waiting for the light to change around the corner from the ice cream shop when an all to familiar voice says, “I thought you said you ordered an Uber.”

Spinning around, you stare at Ari in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you,” he counters, pulling you out of the way as another group of people walk past.

One of the women in the group stops and looks at his hand on your arm before looking at you. “Are you ok?” she asks.

Ari smartly let’s go and takes a step back, but you nod and assure the woman that you’re fine.

She glares at him and then takes his picture of the two of you with her phone. “Just in case,” she says then she walks away.

Ari curses under his breath before turning to you. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks, his tone calmer, likely to avoid anyone else stopping.

“Why are you following me?” you counter. “I told you I was leaving so you could go home with that wannabe model.”

Ari lets out a satisfied noise. “And there it is,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “The real reason you left the bar.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you demand.

“You always do this,” he says, throwing his hands up. “It’s Thursday, our night. Yeah, I flirted with her, but I wasn’t going to ditch you for her. I don’t even know her.”

You roll your eyes. Not knowing a woman has never stopped him from taking her home.

“You know what, fine,” Ari says. “Leave. Go home. I’ll see you later.”

“Do you ever ask why I get this way?” you call after his retreating back, the words coming out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He pauses and turns to look at you, his face unreadable.

“Maybe it’s because -” His eyes roll, obviously expecting another dumb excuse and you get control of your tongue. “- y’know what, never mind, fuck you, Ari Levinson.”

Taking advantage of the green light, you race across the street, embarrassed that you almost spilled your secret to that asshole.

A series of honks makes you turn and you see Ari running across the street, traffic lights be damned.

“Because why, damn it?” he demands once he reaches you. “I fucking need to know.”

“Ari, please, don’t,” you beg softly. “I -”

“Because I can tell you why I go home with those wannabe models,” he says. “Because I can’t be with the one person I want to be with.” He tilts your chin so he can look you in the eye. “You.”

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at him. “What?” Your brain is too stunned to say anything more.

“It’s always been you,” he says. “Just you. Perfect you.”

“But I’m not your type,” you state.

“You are my type,” he argues. “I only date the wannabes because they don’t look like you, don’t act like you… because they aren’t you. If I can’t have you, I don’t want a substitute. For the longest time, I’ve just been your best friend and I accepted that fact. But I want more, I need more. I want you, all of you.”

“You do?”

“I do,” he whispers. “But the question now is, do you?”

“Yes,” you say, on the verge of tears. “Ari, yes, always.”

“Thank fuck,” he says before he pushes you up against the brick wall of the closest building and kisses you, ignoring the cat calls and the ‘get a room’ comments from people passing you on the street.

That first kiss is better than you ever imagined it would be. The second kiss is even better than the first.

Pulling away, Ari rests his forehead against yours and says, “How about we get some ice cream then go back to your place. I think the rest of this conversation would be better in private.”

"Yes," you reply, looking down at your hand that clasped in his. "Ari."

His eyes meet yours in question.

"I love you," you say, needing him to know the full extent of your feelings for him.

"I love you, too," he replies.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fan fiction #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #Becca writes drabbles

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

devil | scream 4 ; c.walker

A/N; so listen up kiddos. Recently I watched Jack Goes Home and this.. It sent me down a Rory Culkin rabbit hole. And naturally, this led me to rewatch Scream 4 for probably the bajillionth time, holy shit. Look, this is just something weird, something a little... dark.. that came to my brain. If weird, kind of spicy and wildly inappropriate are not your cup of tea then this post is probably not something you'll want to read. In the spirit of all my late posts, this too is a reader fic. Because things seem to flow better that way. aka when i get my nerve up to post some of my oc fics on here it's over for my ass bc they're gonna flop hard lmaooo. But anyway, another reader fic. This time with Charlie Walker from Scream 4.

Tag List ; @schizoauthoress is the only person on my horror tags rn. If you'd like to fix this and be added to it, please by all means.. Click the link below.

Pairing ; Charlie Walker x Troublemaker!Fem reader, listen there is no other way to say this. Reader is.. a handful.

Summary ; The last thing you expected was to find yourself in the supply closet in the back of the classroom with Charlie Walker. When this happens, things get a little spicy.

Warnings ; for now, there are only vague hints that he's stone cold crazy and planning to slash bodies or in liason with Jill. As dark as it gets is him going on an internal rant about the mistakes Billy made and how those got him seperated from Sydney. Beyond the slight air of darkness / murdery hints, there's making out in a semi public place, swearing, panty theft, almost a fight / bullying situation between Reader and Kirby and Robbie Mercer being both a conscience and a cockblock simultaneously.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || rules + fandoms and some of the characters I write for || requests ; open, any fandom but pro wrestling with headcanons / nsfw alphabet and fluffy alphabet letters only please and thanks.

I do not consent to having my work reposted. I also do not consent to having my work rewritten / copied and changed to be reposted.

“Listen, I’m just saying… Virgins are always the first to go. The virgin is never the final girl. So if you want to live through this killing spree? Get laid. Do it now.. Screw the logic that says virgins live to the end because they don't I mean... Look who just died, there's the proof...” and as she says it, Kirby Reed settles back into her desk.

You roll your eyes to yourself a few rows away before smirking and speaking up. “Just say you’re a whore and go already, Jesus christ.”

You know it’ll start a fight but honestly, you don’t care. Because it’s Monday and Kirby fuckin Reed is already giving you a headache. You’d rather be anywhere but Woodsboro High to begin with, so the two combined and prompted you to look for a little spice. A way to make your Monday more interesting.

“Aw, look… It’s the girl who wants to be me so bad she can taste it.” Kirby barely looks at you. The jealousy in her tone might be missed by you, but Jill and the other girls pick right up on it. All Kirby has bitched about all weekend is how Charlie Walker is always following you around like some stupid little puppy lately. And she got angry as hell when Jill pointed out that she was upset, therefore, this meant she was jealous.

“In your dreams, bimbo.” you retort, twisting your hair around your finger. “I’d really rather not have to play pin the tail on the STD. How many are you up to this month, hm? Three? Four?”

She’s on her feet in seconds and you’re not a stranger to fisticuffs, so you don’t waste any time getting on your feet either. You’re pulling the big silver moon earring out of your ear as she starts your way and you smirk when Robbie Mercer grabs her. The only problem with this is about the same time Robbie Mercer grabs hold of her, you find yourself thrown carelessly over the shoulder of Charlie Walker.

You kick your legs, briefly flashing the entirety of the class behind you with the tear on the inside the leg of your favorite pair of fishnets and the faintest split second flash of deep black lace when your kicking sends your skirt flipping upward and shows your panties and the curve of your ass.

You pound on Charlie’s chest and midsection with your fists and you squeal out in mock horror, “Unhand me, you asshole! I’ll bite, damn it!”

Normally, Charlie Walker doesn’t say more than a word or two to you here and there unless there’s dire necessity. He’s too busy following Kirby around or doing Film Club things or the video yearbook with Robbie, his best friend.

So it catches you off guard when he glances over at you and smirks with a little shrug. “Is that an offer, princess?”

“It’s a threat, sleazeball!” you assert. When you actually do attempt to bite him, it’s his abdomen that catches the unholy wrath of your teeth and he’s rushing to put you on your own feet in a quieter corner of the classroom -which happens to wind up being the supply closet in back. All you can do is smirk in satisfaction as you tap your foot against the tiled floor.

“What? Why do you look so damned smug right now, hm?” Charlie leans into you a little. Studying you intently. A curious gleam in ice blue eyes. “Does chaos just make you happy or something?” he demands an answer as he studies you intently. Looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time and honestly, it feels like he has.

See, until recently, it was all about Kirby.

But then you caught his attention by a happy accident.

You were trying to fight Trevor because Trevor decided to play grab ass with you at one of Emma’s parties earlier in the month.

You’d dropped Trevor like a bad habit with just one slight movement, a simple sweep of your leg. Then when he tried to wrestle you down onto the floor with him because he couldn’t handle having his ass handed to him by a girl who was maybe 5 foot even at best, you’d straddled his hips and proceeded to squeeze his throat until he was struggling for his next breath.

Since that night, Charlie Walker had barely acknowledged Kirby Reed.. Not that you’d notice, you seemed to be completely oblivious to the subtle shift in his intent focus... But he tried to pop up near wherever you happened to be a lot more. Which proved to be handy when you did something stupid like eating a habenero in the cafeteria on a dare and nearly choking, which he prevented by hitting you on the back until you coughed it up only to walk away wordlessly.. Or when he caught you pulling the fire alarm earlier this week just because to quote you, if you had to sit through one more boring pep rally, you’d simply die on the spot. He’d picked you up over his shoulder when you tripped while trying to flee the scene of the crime.

You were excitement. You were breathing chaos. When he compared you to Kirby Reed, Kirby only had sex appeal going for her.

And right now, as he stood there staring at you, standing taller and right in your way so you couldn’t get to Kirby like you wanted, he was starting to see that the scale of sex appeal was tipping a lot more in your favor than hers too.

You were snapping your fingers in his face with an annoyed look in your eyes and that’s what brought him crashing back into reality.

“I said move, damn it.” you repeat yourself for at least the fourth time.

“Not gonna do that. Nope.” Charlie answers, stepping into your line of vision to block it. You pout up at him a little and laugh softly. “Oh, I get it… You know if I get past you, I’m gonna rip off your pretty little girlfriend's face and wear it like a Halloween mask. You don’t want me to beat her til she’s ugly inside and out… Right?”

“Nope. Not even close, kitten. Not even in the same galaxy as the answer.” Charlie’s hand raises and he drags it through his hair. You swallow hard because the smirk that tugs at his lips lets you know that he saw you when your eyes followed the way his hand dragged through his hair. He steps closer to you. Close enough that there’s no distance left between your bodies. Close enough that the scent of cologne and cigarette smoke and whatever body wash he uses and just… boy, those all combine and make you bite your lip just a little bit. You frown to yourself.

You try to focus on what he’s saying, anything but the way his lips move when he’s chewing you out or saying whatever you’re barely listening to at the moment. Or the way he keeps stepping closer. The way he’s staring at your mouth intently as he does it.

And then your back’s against the blackboard behind you and his hips are pinning you between his body and the blackboard. One of his hands raise and catches against the side of your face. As the pad of his thumb rolls over your skin you shiver and before you can censor yourself, you melt into him. Charlie growls quietly. His other hand slips around behind you, settling against your ass as he squeezes. The fabric of your miniskirt bunching up in his hand. You whimper and your hand raises, tangling in his hair as your nails drag softly over his scalp.

Neither of you seem to stop and think, oh hey, this is a classroom and maybe we shouldn’t do this. Neither of you are focused on anything aside from just how good what’s happening feels. When Robbie’s throat clears from nearby, you two spring apart. Charlie glares at the taller boy and takes several deep breaths.

“I came to see if you got the spitfire under control. Apparently, she’s going to corrupt you now.” Robbie taunts him and you laugh, pouting a little as a hand raises to at least attempt straightening out the way Charlie had started to mess with and tug at your hair. All you can really do is shrug it off but the look on Kirby Reed’s face when she catches sight of the two of you looking as if you’ve just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar and are being reprimanded for it, that angry gleam is worth it all.

Even if Charlie only did whatever it is he was about to attempt just to get you to behave even a little. Robbie wanders back into the main area of the classroom with everyone else and the door to the supply closet bangs closed behind him softly but the damage is done. The trance has been broken.

Charlie steps back up to you and dips his head down, resting his forehead against your cleavage as he takes at least three long and deep breaths and grumbles out in a voice muffled by your tits, “Jesus. I swear the guy could unintentionally fuck up a wet dream.” as his fists clench against your hips when he grabs hold to pull you completely against him all over again.

“Were you going to kiss me, Charlie?” you ask with the softest of giggles. Melting against him which gets you a warning growl and the slightest nip to the side of your neck as the warmth of his breath tickles your ear when he responds “Thought about it, yeah.” laughing quietly as he gazes up at you.

“What exactly is stopping you?”

“We’re kind of in a classroom supply closet right now, babe. Look around.” Charlie gestures to the lack of proper ambiance and you shrug. “It wouldn’t be the riskiest place I’ve made out before.” but you smirk as you say it and Charlie’s prompt response is to jam his fingers into his ears while loudly humming because he doesn’t want to hear it.

See, he’s gotten it in his head. This all ends with him and you. Screw his little agenda with Jill. He’s gonna turn on her and this time, the grave error made by Billy Loomis in not keeping his girl at his side will not be repeated by him, the new slasher of Woodsboro.

If Billy’s taught him anything through years of idol worship, it’s that even your idols can fuck up. And this time, he doesn’t intend on it. If Billy had kept Sydney in the dark. Kept her in line. Kept her well fucked and love-drunk then maybe their story wouldn’t have ended in tragedy.

He just knows yours won’t.

After all, you’re built different than Kirby Reed.

Otherwise, he’d never have taken notice, fucked around and gotten obsessed.

In short, he fully intends to be the last guy those soft lips of yours -or any other parts of your anatomy, ever touch. One way or another and he’s fully prepared to eliminate the competition any way he has to.

“Charlie, c’mon. You’re looking at me all dopey right now.” you’re pouting up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. Batting those lashes. He decides to do the opposite of what his idol Billy would do in this situation. Instead of being a dick about it, he leans into the sappy romantic shit most girls want to hear.

His finger drags across your lower lip. His forehead settles against yours. “Maybe it’s because I wanna kiss you and I’m barely controlling myself.”

“Then don’t, oh my god.” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. You lean into him heavy enough that his back meets the closet door and he braces himself to stop the damn thing from flying open and both of you tumbling out just in time. His mouth latches against yours around the same time your leg raises to his hip and his free hand -the one not tangled in and tugging at your hair, grips your thigh right beneath your skirt. “This what you wanted, kitten?” he asks the question in the sweetest, most lovesick voice he can muster. It’s not hard to do at all and that surprises him. He’s been faking normal for so long now that when something is natural for once and it comes easily instead of being a tedious chore, it throws him for a loop.

Your whimper as you rock against him and melt into him has him drawing a shaky deep breath when the kiss breaks for a split second. “Answer me.” he grips your jaw gently in his hand and you pout because he’s not kissing you anymore. “Well it was til you stopped…”

“Babe, c’mon. Are you trying to drive me crazy here?” Charlie questions, frowning at you.

The class is still discussing the latest murder to have been gone viral when the two of you slip out of the closet and back into your seats. You’re dripping. And before you left the closet, Charlie Walker ripped off your panties and pocketed them while giving you that calm smirk.

He says he’ll come by tonight. He wants you to leave your bedroom window open. And while it’s everything you’ve wanted since middle school, there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder if you haven’t just entered into some kind of unholy union.

Because there’s always been something a little different. Just a little off with Charlie Walker.

#charlie walker #charlie walker fanfiction #scream 4 fanfiction #charlier walker fanfic #charlie walker oneshot #charlier walker x fem!reader #charlier walker x fem!reader fanfiction

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tryslora · 5 months

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Support your favorite creative(s) this season!

So, it’s the holiday season (for values of holiday which can be anything you care to celebrate during the winter months) and you would like to support your favorite creative(s). What are some good ways to do that?

Tell the world about them

If someone is a favorite of yours, there’s a good chance that you know someone else who will enjoy their work. Signal boost the creative’s posts. Create your own post with links to their work. Showcase some of your favorite pieces of theirs with a snippet and a link to the original. Talk about why you love the work (trust me, your favorite creative will love to hear this just as much as your friends will appreciate finding out about something new).

Important side note which I know you know but it bears repeating: please reblog and link to your favorite creative’s posts; do not repost their material. Reposting might sound like a great way to show off what the creative does, but it doesn’t help anyone find them. Please be considerate.

Post reviews of their work

Instructions for this depends on what type of creative you are following. If they are a writer, leave a review on Goodreads, Storygraph, Amazon, B&N, whatever platform you choose. Positive reviews are how writers get discovered.

If your creative is an artist and has a platform where they offer commissions, leave a review there if appropriate. Give them five stars. Help your creative climb the ranks from unknown to well-reviewed!

Follow them on social media

If your creative has a list of social media accounts, follow them! This gives you a better chance to help signal boost their cool stuff (as well as hearing about it when they post!). It also gives you a chance to interact, and to see what they’re like when they aren’t creating. If you like their creations, you might have other things in common.

Does your creative have a newsletter? Subscribe! You can even forward copies to your friends if there’s something really cool you want to share. A Patreon? Check to see if they have free material posted. Many Patreons allow people to follow at a free level, and while there might be paywall-locked material, there might be unlocked material as well.

Social media is wide and varied these days, with everything from Bluesky and Mastodon, to old-school Facebook pages, to even older-school platforms like Dreamwidth. Don’t forget the little known Pillowfort, or the highly fannish Tumblr. Even better, be aware that your creative may present different faces in different spaces. They are just as human as the rest of us!

Talk to them

I’m serious! Being a creative is like shouting into the abyss… if the abyss happens to shout back, that’s emotional food that can sustain a creative for days. Most creatives have several places where they can be found, either for private communication (check to see if they accept messages/DMs/emails first, please) or for public conversation (social media can be wonderful!).

Create a transformative work

This won’t work for all creatives. BUT. If your creative is a writer, I would place a bet that they would LOVE fanart of their work. Or maybe that’s just me.

Buy their stuff

Yes, this one requires money, and I am well aware that most of us don’t have the budget for monetary support. And that’s fine! As shown above, there are so many other ways to support your creative and help them grow. But if you do have the budget, picking up copies of their work means you can get great gifts for your friends (and help spread the word!). And if you’re up for it, monthly support via Patreon, or random tips are always nice and appreciated things.

Ask them what will help

In the end, every creative has their own list of things that will help them most, and almost every single one would be happy to tell anyone what would help Right Now.

I’m putting this next bit behind a cut/read-more/clicky-link — whatever is appropriate to the platform you’re reading this on. Because this is the personal bit where I add links to the places you can find me.

And if you are a creative and you are reblogging this on a platform which allows reblogs, please add your own list of helpful information. If it’s a place with comments, please comment! I want to help by giving other creatives a way to get information out.

Where can you find me…?

TrisLawrence.com is my professional website, with blog posts, upcoming appearances, and links to where to find my Stuff.

I post blog entries on Tumblr, Pillowfort, and Dreamwidth (which mirrors on Livejournal and Insanejournal).

I babble randomly on Bluesky and Mastodon. While I exist on Twi-X, I no longer post there.

I have a professional Facebook page. I have an Instagram. I have a TikTok that I am trying to learn how to use.

I am also active in several Discord communities, if you happen to find me there.

Want to support me? -- Patreon | Ko-Fi | Reblog & Comment

Want to hear more from me? — Join my mailing list

#on writing #supporting your creative #blog post

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streamafterlaughter · 11 months

Text

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XIV: Away To Nowhere Plains

nav | master list | playlist | pin board | chapter XIII

summary: a welcome home party in hawkins, a break from the whirlwind of rock n roll fame.

tags/warning: flirting, consumption of alcohol, weed, swearing, normal chill stuff nothing insane, LOTS of use of Y/n sorry guys nicknames are for couples!!!!! slow burn, mutual pining, tension as per usual

a/n: I MISSED YOU GUYS. i’m so sorry this took so long to update, i was following paramore around the east coast for a few weeks like a crazy person. should be posting waaaay more regularly now. please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. please reblog and comment to support the author!

—

December 1986

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you wake, Eddie’s pretty face slowly coming into focus. “Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” His voice is soft, soothing to your ears.

“Better this time around. I think you chased the nightmare off, I dreamt of you instead.” You weren’t planning on telling him, you blame your fatigue for the confession.

“Yeah? Was it hot?” He jokes, and you bite your bottom lip because yeah, it definitely was. “It was, wasn’t it?!” Eddie hops out of bed and starts pacing the floor. “Let me guess, we were somewhere cool, like the woods. We were camping! Yeah, and you forgot your tent, so we had to share, and bing bang boom we’re waking up the wildlife.” He looks back to you, eager for your confession.

You cackle at his guess. “Not even close, man. You were a fucking rockstar. Got up on stage at The Garden, and everyone was there for you. Kicked some fucking ass, might I add.” You leave the part where you jumped on stage out, not wanting to give Eddie any ideas for future Corroded Coffin shows.

“Can I tell you something?” He plops back down next to you, shaking the bed. “Remember the party? When you told me the band could be something, and I told you that was never really the plan?” You nod, and he sighs, “Well. I was lying. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. What you said meant a lot to me, and I wanted to believe you, but we’d just met, and I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or if you wanted to get in my pants.” He grins, and you know he’s joking.

“It was both, obviously!” You backhand him, and he fakes being hurt. “But mostly the former, I really meant it. I do mean it! You’re talented, you’ve got a great group of friends.”. You open your arms, and he scoops you into his, wrapping his legs around your waist like a koala. He mumbles something into your neck, sounding embarrassed. “What was that?”

He removes his head from your shoulder. With his legs still curled around you, he grasps you by the shoulders, as if to steady your already unmoving frame. He looks deeply into your eyes, and though he looks exhausted, he is absolutely stunning. You fight everything in you to jump him there, forget about a night out with friends, and just ravage the boy in your arms all night instead.

“I love you.”

You swear your heart stops. In fact, you are definitely dead. You died, flew into some deluded version of Catholic Heaven where you get everything you want, no consequence. Eddie tries to read your expression, and you hope to god he can because you sure don’t know what the fuck to feel. “You don’t have to say it back, in fact, don’t. Not yet. But I mean it.”

“I-“ Eddie cuts you off with a kiss, and you let him. You close the tiny gap between his chest and yours, and kiss him to convey all the feelings your words aren’t capable of.

“Now, put on something sexy, we’re going out tonight.” Eddie rolls off of you, snatching his towel from his chair on the way out of the room.

Holy shit.

Your POV

“Is anyone here to pick us up?” You ask, linking your arm with Steve’s as you exit into the terminal. The airport is bustling with families on their way to Disneyworld and Martha’s Vineyard for their summer vacations, meanwhile you’re about to spend a week in one of the most traumatizing towns of your young adulthood.

“Yeah, Nance and Jonathan are- and speak of the devil!”

Nancy and Jonathan approach from the other side of your gate, and you take off running. Nance catches you in her embrace, squeezing you tightly as you fall into her arms. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, keeping your old friend close.

“Hi, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” When she lets you go, you move to hug Jonathan as Robin and Steve say their hellos. Eddie and the guys are further back, sending waves to them. Nancy doesn’t accept that, though, and throws herself into Eddie. “Hey, Ed.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

Eddie’s POV

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

“Too long!” She separates herself from him and backhands his chest. “Visit more!”

Eddie scoffs. “Hey, you’re in Boston now, don’t give me that shit!”

“Sure, but I come home every summer. I know you’re big and famous, but this is still your home!”

“How is the big guy?” He’s talking about Dustin, eyes betraying a glimpse of who Eddie used to be.

“He’s good. He misses you. We didn’t tell him, or any of them actually, that you were coming.” Nancy’s shy, suddenly.

“Because we weren’t sure if you actually were.” Jonathan explains, and Eddie nods, pressing his lips together. It makes sense, he’s made plenty of empty promises to visit already, only finally pulling himself together because of you.

“But you did! You came! Both of you came, which is even crazier. But it’s great! We’re having a party tonight, Steve’s hosting, we can all drive over together.” Nancy blurts, her mind moving faster than her mouth can.

“A party?” You ask, voice raising an octave higher than it usually sits. You sound nervous.

“Well, what us casual folk consider a party. You guys will probably see it as a pathetic attempt at one.”

“Oh, please!” Steve interjects, “My parties are never pathetic. I was the king!”

Eddie groans dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, man. We know, you peaked in high school.”

“I did not.” Steve crosses his arms, and your laugh draws Eddie’s attention back to you.

“I for one would love a Hawkins style party.” You add finally, a real smile spread across your face. “It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Nancy nods, taking your carry on from your grasp. “Great! Let’s get you settled.”

“Did you book us a hotel? Eddie asks, surprised. That’s above any level of friendship he’s had with these two specifically.

They both laugh. “A hotel? You’re staying with us!” Oh, fuck.

—

Your POV

“So, my parents happen to be away for the week you’re all here,” Nancy starts, unlocking the door to her childhood home, a building that housed many a party, many a D&D game. “so we have it to ourselves! The couches up here and downstairs, the guest room, and obviously Robin and Y/n will be sleeping with me, to catch me up on the Hollywood Gossip.” Nancy winks at you, and you smile. You’ve missed her, missed Hawkins, despite everything.

“When are the kids getting here?” You ask. You mean Max, specifically. You owe her some money. Eddie and the guys make their way downstairs before Nancy answers,

“They’re at Dustin’s, they’ll be over later today. Something about needing to catch up on the news?”

You bring your palm to your face. “Shit. I was gonna tell you over drinks, lots and lots of drinks, but uh, there’s a rumor flying around that Eddie and I are, y’know,” You trail off, fidgeting like an embarrassed child.

Nancy brings her manicured hand to her open mouth, quick to hide her pity. (It doesn’t work.) “Oh, god. Are you? Sorry, that was rude. How are you handling it?”

You laugh, unfazed by her curiosity. “I don’t really know what we are right now,”

“So you’re something?” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “We’ll always be something.”

She shrugs, a truce. “What are you gonna tell them? Tell Dustin? You know how he gets.”

You shake your head. “That’s Eddie’s problem.”

Nancy chirps a laugh, placing your suitcase at the end of her bed, and Robin’s backpack beside it. “Fair enough. But didn’t Max bet you the break up wouldn’t last?”

You snort, “Yeah, I owe the kid fifty bucks.”

“If I’d known we were putting money on it, I’d be freaking rich!” Robin teases, and you try to smother your grin. She’s right, she’d been betting on you and Eddie reconciling for the past two years.

“Sorry, Bob. Ya snooze, ya lose!”

“Speaking of snoozing, I need a nap before this party. Pretty sure I broke my neck on the plane.”

Nancy rouses you and Robin from your slumbers gently, shaking your shoulders while whispering that “It’s time to get up, rockstars!” The time on her old alarm clock blinks 4:15PM, both you and Robin had slept the day away. You take your time getting up, stretching your limbs slowly as your eyes adjust to the sunlight, streaming through the blinds. Your stomach growls loudly, and Nancy chuckles. “Pizza’s on the way! We’ll eat before we go to Steve’s. For now, though, go get dressed. Remember your bathing suits!” She’s in Mom mode, taking care of you and Robin while running around like a crazy person.

You dig through your suitcase, coming up empty handed. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yes you do!” She takes your suitcase from you, pulling out the skimpy bikini from beneath your piles of clothing. It’s black with cherries on it, and teeny tiny. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It’s a cute bikini, but it’s super inappropriate to be wearing around the kids.

Robin seems to read your mind, though. “They’re all adults now, y/n. You don’t need to walk around in a mumu. Plus,” she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, “we both know who’ll love this number.”

You groan, snatching the fabric from her grip. “Fine! But you have to wear your yellow one. I’m not gonna be the only one walking around almost-naked.”

She giggles, agreeing. “Doesn’t bother me!” She finds her suit in her backpack and leaves the room to let you change.

Eddie’s POV

“So, why are we staying here if we’re having the party at your place?” Eddie asks before biting into his pizza.

“Because Nancy insisted on staying here, but she can’t host a party to save her life. Plus, I have a pool.”

“Your parents have a pool. You live in a tiny apartment in Seattle with two other people.”

Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder. “Man, shut up. At least I have friends to live with.” Eddie’s face falls, and Steve notices immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright, you’re not exactly wrong.” He’s glad he’s not home right now, it gets lonely there. The thought of seeing all of his friends again, though, is still overwhelming him. He has no idea what he’ll say to Dustin, or worse, what Dustin will say to him.

Before Eddie can panic further, though, you and Robin enter the kitchen. You’re in shorts and a tight black t-shirt, the strings of your bikini visible underneath. Your short hair is clipped to keep it out of your face, the vibrant color having faded since the beginning of the tour. You send a small smile his way, melting Eddie’s insecurities, even temporarily. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from you as you walk over to the counter, helping yourself to a slice of pizza. He has to fight the urge to walk over to you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder. It practically pains him, when you’re out of his reach.

“Eds?” You snap him out of his trance, waving a hand in front of him.

“What?” He shakes his head, as if to rid the image from his brain. “Sorry.”

You grin shyly, and Eddie could melt at the sight. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.”

Your smile widens, and you hold your hand out for him. He takes it, expecting you to drag him out to the car, but you pull him hooking, hooking your arm around his. “Okay, then. Shall we?”

He can feel the eyes of the room on the pair of you, his cheeks warming. You don’t seem to notice, only looking up at him, your eyes shiny and warm.

Mere hours later, Steve’s parents’ house is full and loud, music bumping through the surround sound speakers. Eddie’s in the kitchen nursing a beer when Dustin enters. He’s grown taller and more muscular since the last time Eddie’s seen him, and the beginnings of a beard pepper his face, making him look more like a man than the last time he’d seem the boy. Susie’s on his arm, smiling kindly when she meets Eddie’s eyes. “You wanna drink, Dusty?” She asks sweetly, and Dustin nods. She exits the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“What’s up, Dusty?” Eddie tries to joke, extending his hand for Dustin to shake. He swats it away, instead pulling Eddie into a much needed hug.

“Hey, Eddie.” His greeting is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie returns the hug without shame, wrapping his arms around Dustin’s shoulders. The two stay like that, long lost brothers seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Missed you, man.” Eddie finally says when Dustin breaks the hug, holding Eddie at arm’s length. “You're lookin’ great.”

“I’ve been hittin’ the gym a little, check this out,” Dustin flexes a bicep, the beginnings of muscle protruding from his arm. Eddie chuckles, nodding an approval.

When the small talk dies, neither speaks at first, unsure of where to take the conversation besides the elephant in the room. “How’s tour treating you?” Dustin finally asks, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Susie returns with two sodas, handing one to Dustin and sipping the other.

Eddie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s been alright, pretty standard stuff.”

Dustin chuckles, and the sound is deeper than Eddie’s used to. “Standard, huh? Touring with the ex love of your life?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right to the point, huh?”

“Obviously, man! I haven’t seen you in years, and the one time you come back, it’s with all this new information I’m not aware of! You know I hate being out of the loop!”

“I know, and I owe you a lot of information. Trust me, I wanna tell you everything,” Before Eddie can continue, you’re stumbling into the kitchen, giggling drunkenly with Robin as you wobble to the coolers in the corner.

“Hi, boys! Oh my god, it can’t be. Is that Dustin freaking Henderson?!” You gasp dramatically, pulling a big smile from Dustin as he approaches you. You swing your arms around his neck, having to get on tiptoes now to reach him. He wraps his arms around you, and you sway as you hug him tightly.

“Hey, Y/n.” He greets warmly, then releases you to hug Robin with the same welcoming arms. “Hi, Bob.”

“Hey, buddy.” Robin hums, rubbing Dustin’s back as she hugs him closely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you guys have a lot of catching up to do. But we’re about to play chicken, and I need a partner.” You look from Dustin to where Eddie is, leaning against the counter, opening his fourth beer of the night.

“What, me?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously, silly. C’mon! It’ll be fun.” You’re wasted, eyes glazed over and posture loose. It’s impossible to say no to you.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay!” You sing, hooking your arm through Robins again. The two of you exit the kitchen, into the back yard. Eddie can’t look away as you peel your shirt over your head, revealing a tiny black bikini top.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Munson.” Dustin taunts as Eddie pulls his stare from your silhouette.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me that is how friends look at each other,” He mimicks Eddie, staring open mouthed at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s pathetic!”

“This is why I haven’t come back here, Henderson.” Eddie teases, backhanding the kid’s stomach. “Can’t deal with your know-it-all bullshit.”

Dustin snorts a laugh. “Hey, man, I'm just callin’ it like I see it.”

Your POV

You dip your toes into the cool water while you wait, letting the feeling contrast with the alcohol induced warmth of your body. You feel a presence sit next to you, another pair of feet meeting yours under the water.

“Hey, kiddo.” You greet her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up, big shot?” Max leans her head on yours, her way of hugging you without committing to it. She looks the same, despite being a little taller, and maybe her hair’s gotten a little longer.

“Oh, y’know. Same old.”

She snorts. “Word on the street is you owe me some money.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that to you this week. Nice to see you, too.”

“Hey! It is nice to see you! I haven’t in a while, I’m sorry.” Max wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I missed you, y’know.”

“I missed you too, Maxie. How are things?”

“They’re alright. I don’t live here anymore, that’s a big plus.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “Moved out after college, got a place in the city with Lucas. I’ll show you some time this week maybe?”

You nod. “For sure.”

“But enough about my endeavors, how are you? Y’know, with all this shit going on?”

You shake your head. “I dunno, dude. Weird, I guess. Everything’s weird.”

“I take it you and Eddie aren’t officially back together, then?”

“Not exactly. But not, not together. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all. Good to see you two haven’t changed too much.”

You giggle, nudging her shoulder with yours. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon! You two used to dance around the idea of dating before you started. You think we didn’t notice? I was fifteen, not stupid! It took you so much time to admit you liked each other, then even more time to figure out you needed to break up. Now here we are again, watching Eddie and Y/n tiptoe around their feelings for each other.”

You sigh, the alcohol not letting you fully grasp what she’s saying. “I hate when you’re right.”

She grins smugly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It happens a lot.”

Before you can respond, Eddie throws the screen door open. “Who’s ready to play some chicken?” He’s very drunk, but not in the sad and angry way you’re used to seeing him lately.

Max gives you another grin, and you roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “You’re in for it now, team Scoops.” You point across the pool, where Robin and Steve stand in their bathing suits discussing strategy. Eddie shoves his pants to the ground, revealing a too small pair of swim trunks you're sure have belonged to him since freshman year. He tugs his shirt over his head, discarding it with his pants in the grass. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos scattered on his torso, littering his arms. You refuse to look further than his chest, not risking even a glance at his waist, his hips. Instead of gawking like you want to, you pay close attention to undoing the button of your cutoff shorts, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the chair beside you.You’re completely exposed, standing only in the tiniest bikini you own because it was the only one you could find before leaving.

As much as you don’t want to draw his attention, the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on your body surges your confidence. Without looking back, you get into the pool, taking each step slowly to adjust to the temperature. It’s fairly warm, and you say a quick thank you prayer. You definitely cannot be walking around with pointy nips right now. Eddie wades in behind you, splashing you in his wake, steps clumsy. Once he’s settled, he turns to face you, squatting so the water reaches his chest.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You try not to seem fazed by his slip. He stopped calling you that after you broke up, and the only times he has since then, he’s apologized for it. Now, though, with his guard down and his judgment obscured, he smirks at you like he knows what he’s just done. You pretend you don’t get it.

“Sure thing, Munson.” No pretty boy, not even this drunk. He’s not yours, not now.

If he notices, he doesn’t let it show, keeping the same expression as he motions you forward. You’ve done this hundreds of times, over the course of the few summers you had in Hawkins. You and Eddie used to drive over on Fridays and stay the weekend with Rob, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, babysitting the kids and enjoying your time as immature adults while you still could. It feels the same, even after all those years have passed, you’re still in the same small town, with the same group of friends, playing the same stupid games. You climb onto his shoulders, and try not to react when his hands grasp tightly on each thigh, locked on either side of his head.

“Alright, listen up!” Dustin has gathered the rest of your friends beside the pool, while scattered guests you barely remember from your semester in high school crowd around to spectate. “This is Drown The Chicken. The first person to fall off of their partner loses. There will be three rounds, each one five minutes. A shot of liquor will be taken by the loser after each round. If both opponents fail to knock the other off of their partner, a tiebreaker will take place. Today, the tie breaker will be…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Mike takes the opportunity to slap his legs in a drumroll. “A shotgun race!” The whole backyard cheers, and you groan. The worst thing about these kids being in college, is that they’re too young to realize drinking is not the only thing adults do. It is one of the most fun, though.

“Both members of each team will shotgun a malt beverage of their choosing. First one to finish wins the tiebreaker for their team, and therefore the round! At the end, the losers will have to drink a shot of the winners’ choosing!” The four of you nod in understanding. Regardless, you know you’ll have to drink at some point. “On your mark, get set, GO!” Will clicks his timer, and the party guests start cheering, egging you on. You hear shouts of, “I’ve got ten on Munson and L/n!” and “Kick his ass!” and Robin reaches for you suddenly, catching you off guard. The music is cranked through the speakers, giving the match a soundtrack of Pixies’ Here Comes Your Man. Steve wades toward you, Robin clutching a handful of his precious hair to keep her balance. You take advantage of his winces of “Ouch, Rob, not the hair!” and shove, sending Robin almost entirely backwards. Steve catches her at the last second, wobbling as he tries to keep her out of the water.

“Lucky shot!” Robin shouts, stretching her arms out toward you. You lean back, and Eddie catches you, gripping your thighs tightly on his shoulders. He moves with you, saving your equilibrium, and you stretch towards Robin. The two of you tangle your arms, while the boys below you swat at each other, hurling meaningless insults and taunts. Finally, you gain the advantage, shoving Robin’s shoulder with enough force to send her backwards, slipping quickly from Steve’s grasp. She splashes into the water, submerged up to her neck. “Shit.”

“That’s one for team Hellfire!” Dustin claps his hands loudly as he hands your opponents each a shot, and you giggle as Robin struggles to climb back onto Steve’s back, their skin now slippery with pool water.

“Nice moves.” Eddie cranes his neck, and you meet his eyes. His face is soft with intoxication, his guard lowered. Yours is higher than ever, though, and you look away before he can reel you in any further.

“Round two!” You repeat the motions, this time while Smells Like Teen Spirit blares from the radio, and your former classmates yelling and cheering for their preferred team. Robin catches you by surprise, kicking one of your knees enough to throw you off balance, then shoving you to the side. You topple off of Eddie’s shoulders, into the cool water. You stay there for a second, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at Eddie’s surely disappointed expression.

But when you dare to peek through one eye, the other still tightly shut, he’s smiling at you. Not his usual toothy grin, the one he gives to his friends. His smile is soft, lips pressed together as if to stop them from quivering with a rogue giggle.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. You have to remember he’s drunk.

“What now, Munson?!” Steve sends a splash at Eddie, and he scoffs in mock disgust.

“Boys, please, you’ll have plenty of time to play mermaids after Eddie and I kick your ass.” Eddie giggles as you climb his back, repositioning yourself on top of him. It’s more difficult, now that both of you are soaked from the neck down. Dustin hands you both a shot, Eddie’s whiskey and yours vodka, and you both down them easily.

“Final round, people! This round wins it all! See Max to confirm your bets. Are the teams ready?” The four of you give variations of a confirmation, and Dustin shouts, once again, “On your mark… get set… GO!” You square your body to hold better balance, as Eddie and Steve approach each other slowly. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs tightly, and you hope he can’t feel the heat growing between your legs. Not now.

You continue to dodge and dance around each other, narrowly missing one another as you swing your limbs, stretching and reaching for Robin as Eddie tries to sneak around Steve’s guard. After five long minutes, Dustin startles you with the newly found volume in his voice. “TIME’S UP! WE HAVE A TIE!” You can hear the conflicting emotions of the crowd, probably correlating to their own predictions. “Y’all know what that means!” The four of you sulk as you leave the water, defeated by the dreaded tie breaker.

Lucas passes you each a can and a miscellaneous tool to puncture it with. You’ve barely grown to like beer, even after months of being surrounded by it, but it’s the only thing available that you’re physically able to shotgun. You’ve chosen a Red Stripe, in honor of your teammate.

“The rules of the tiebreaker are as follows: You will puncture your can when I say go, and you will chug for thirty seconds before opening the top. The first person to finish their beverage wins the tiebreaker for their team. Got it?” Eddie groans a confirmation, while you and Robin nod and Steve taps each side of his face lightly to psych himself out. Dustin counts you off again, and you each stab your cans, quickly rushing the liquid into your mouth. Will counts from 30 out loud as he watches the timer, and the crowd is eerily quiet, focused on the race in front of them.

“30! Crack ‘em open!” You do as you’re told, quickly snapping the tab of the can to relieve the pressure. You can tell you’re slowing down, grossed out by the bread flavored piss water sliding down your throat. Luckily, though, Eddie is devouring his own, his head tilted to make sure he’s getting all of it. The feeling between your legs has returned, and you quickly shoot your gaze to Robin, who’s also struggling to finish her beer. In reality, this is a race between Steve and Eddie, winner takes all. All in this case is bragging rights, and probably a horrible hangover.

Eddie is the first to finish, lifting the can above his head in celebration. Thank god, too, because you definitely shouldn’t consume another shot.

“We have a winner!” Dustin runs between you and Eddie, hoisting each of your wrists to the air as the backyard guests cheer and boo and yell. You chance another look in Eddie’s direction, admiring his whoops of victory as he high fives his bandmates.

Eddie’s POV

It’s 3AM as the party starts to die, and people he’d never spoken to in high school approach him to say their goodbyes. Eddie is pulled into hugs, handshakes, and conversations with his former bullies, and girls that never looked at him twice. Though his eighteen year old self would be relishing in this sudden change, he’s tired. He knows it’s not real, that none of these people even care about his art. They care that he’s famous, and that they know someone famous. But the only person in this room that knows him is behind him, falling asleep on the basement sofa.

“Hey, Y/n?” Eddie is finally able to approach you, after breaking away from another pointless conversation. “You wanna get going?”

Your eyes slide to his face, glassy and warm with inebriation. “Aw, you’re leaving?” You pout, staring up at him, and he could melt. You’d been talking about going home not five minutes ago, but it’s clear your brain has stalled.

“Only if you wanna. We can stay as long as you want.”

“I can come with you?”

He can't help but laugh, you’re so cute like this, so soft. “Of course you can.”

“I thought you were sick of me.” Your face slips slightly, lips twitching into a frown.

“What?” Eddie shifts so his whole body faces you. “I could never be sick of you.”

You shrug, clearly not understanding the gravity of his words. “I dunno, we’ve been in close quarters since tour started, I don’t mind giving you space if you need it.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to feel his own drunken insecurity surface. “Are you sick of me?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear him.

Your eyes widen quickly, shocked at his words. “No! Eddie, of course not.”

“Okay, good.” He flashes you what he knows is an unconvincing smile. “You wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “Can we go for a walk?”

Predictably, you end up back at Hawkins High, the parking lot pitch black in the buzz of a summer night. Even looking at it, Eddie feels the chill of his memories washing over him. This is where he was stuck for six years, where Steve had shoved him into a locker their freshman year, where Jason Carver had made his final senior year miserable. It is the building that harbors Eddie’s darkest thoughts, where the seed of his shame had sprouted from. Where he had to deal with Chrissy’s death, and being framed for it.

But it was also where he met you. Where he’d introduced you to some of his closest friends, where he sat with you at lunch every day, dancing around each other until after midterms. As much as Eddie still hates to admit it, and as horrendously tacky as it sounds, high school is where he’d fallen in love.

Eddie lets his eyes wander in the darkness, knowing you won’t catch him in your hazy state. Your arms hang limply by your sides as you stare up at the school building, seeming to admire it. He wonders how being here must make you feel, as someone that left as soon as they could. It hadn’t been easy for you either, restarting your entire social life in your senior year.

“Do you ever miss it?” Your words catch him off guard, your voice almost inaudible even in the quiet.

“Hell no,” He scoffs, and feels you shift beside him. “I spent way too much extra time here to even think of missing it.”

“Okay, maybe not the actual, physical place. But, don't you miss how easy it was?”

“You’re joking, right? We fought an underground of Hell Monsters, Y/n, that wasn’t what I’d call easy.”

You groan, and he chuckles at your drunken frustration. “Christ, okay, I mean how small our world was, before all that hell monster shit. We didn’t have to worry about people outside of Hawkins, outside of the little bubble of our friends.”

“And you miss that?” He’s genuinely curious. You had always been looking to move, spread out beyond the small town your parents dragged you to. He never expected you to miss it.

You shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Despite everything that happened, I was happy here. I had a home.”

Eddie’s vision blurs with the implication of your words. Of course, you’d had a physical home, but you'd also had him. And Steve, Robin, Nance, the kids. You’d never had a solid friend group in Boston.

“I miss parts of it,” He finally confesses, turning his head to fully look at you again. “Some more than others.”

You look for him, finding his eyes easily in the dark, and he adjusts quickly to see you better.

“You think things will ever be that easy again?” There’s a hint of optimism in your voice, and it begs him to join it, just for a second.

“I really, really hope so.”

Your POV

Somehow, you and Eddie find your way back to Steve’s, tiptoeing clumsily through the front door to a mass of passed out Hawkins alum. Steve is sprawled on the couch, while Dustin and Mike are on the floor beside him. In the basement, Will and El are cleaning the empty bottles and red solo cups from the absolutely destroyed basement, bobbing and weaving around members of Corroded Coffin and DDA, and they inform you Lucas and Max have gone back to Nancy’s already. Upstairs, the rest of your friends are in respective bedrooms, sleeping to prepare for their unavoidable hangovers.

“There’s one room left.” Eddie leads the way to Steve’s parents’ bedroom, the only one left untouched by party guests.

You peel the heavy comforter back, shimmying off your shorts, so tired and so absolutely plastered at this point, you don’t realize he’s watching as you untie your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor.

“Whoa! Um,” Eddie spins himself to face the window, losing his balance as he does. Even though he can’t see you, he still smacks his hands over his eyes. “I, uh, I’m gonna go find a spot on the floor.” He begins to sidestep towards the door, still refusing to look at you without a top on.

“Eddie,” You know the alcohol is making you flirty, and you’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but fuck it. You’re on vacation. You tug on Eddie’s shoulder, turning him to face you. He keeps his eyes glued to your face, barely blinking, definitely not letting them wander. “Stay here.”

He clears his throat, wincing. “Y/n,” Your pout cuts him off. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s weird, hearing my name out of your mouth. It was always sweetheart. Or baby, or pretty, or love. Now I’m just Y/n.” Your words slur together, exhaustion taking hold. You let your fingers dance up his bare arm, his shirt still somewhere in Steve’s yard. Still not daring to move his eyes from your face, he has an answer almost immediately.

“You’re not just Y/n, you’re Y/n! The Y/n, actually, a songwriting, vocalizing, rockstar badass. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Well then, the Y/n wants the Eddie Munson in bed with them.” It’s a bold choice of words, but you don’t care. You need him right now, even through the thick fog of the liquor.

“I want to, you have no idea how badly i want to, Y/n, I promise you that,”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He’s blunt. There is no arguing, he’s made up his mind.

And still, you prod him with inquiries. “Is it because we’re drunk? Because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Ed.”

He sighs, his hand finally moving to caress your burning cheek. “It’s because we’re drunk, but not because I'm scared of hurting you. I can’t let our first time together in two years be something you’ll regret tomorrow, but I also can’t chance either of us forgetting it.” He says it quietly, like he’s had the volume on himself turned down. You’ve heard him anyway, but it takes you a second to digest what he’s said.

“Okay,” You accept his answer, and before he can turn to leave you add, “Can you just sleep next to me?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, searching your expression. He must find an answer, because he nods. “Okay, sweetheart. But I gotta have you put a shirt on. For my own sake.”

You giggle, the satisfaction of hearing your nickname making you malleable to his words, nodding in agreement. Eddie exits the bedroom, and returns a bit later with a piece of fabric in his hand. His shirt. Of course it’s his shirt, what was he gonna do, give you Steve’s to sleep in?

You’re surrounded by his smell, his warmth, instantaneously. You crawl into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You hear Eddie’s pants drop to the floor, before he climbs into bed, hoisting the covers to slide underneath them. You scoot back, and he knows now to wrap his arm around your waist, without the weird hesitation and awkward shuffling before you give up for the sake of comfort. Eddie rests his face behind your neck, the warm exhale of breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of your-slash-his shirt, and your body vibrates with glee.

“Goodnight, baby.”

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @gaysludge @poisonedluv @eddiesguitarskills @kellsck | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader #gn!reader #afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #slow burn #mutual pining #fundamental differing #new kid fic #stranger things #strangerthingscentral #st4 #bff!steve harrington #bff!robin buckley

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evelhak · 10 months

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🫧🖌️Free art requests🎨✨

So, I’ve never done this before! Probably because I didn’t feel confident drawing fan art until recent years. But I’m planning to apply to an art school next year, and taking requests from other people will undoubtedly challenge me to draw things I wouldn’t think of on my own and learn new things, improve my weaknesses and better my chances of getting in. I currently do some work as an illustrator, a few book covers and posters a year, and I wish to be an actual professional one day. Soon. So, in case you were wondering, this is completely self-serving. (Not that I don’t enjoy giving things to fandom, obviously I do!)

Please, read the instructions below. I go into quite a lot of detail about what kind of styles and mediums you can request, but you can also always leave that stuff up to me, if you want and just focus on the characters and scenarios you wish to see.

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What to do

Send me an ask or a message, describing what you would like me to make, in as much or as little detail as you wish. Please don't send anon requests, from now on I won't be answering them.

Be patient. This is still a hobby.

Be realistic. There’s no limit to how many requests one person can make, and you can make another request even if I’m still working on one from you, but don’t flood my inbox. :)

✨Please, reblog this post. ✨

Reminder: the requests are free but that doesn't mean my art is free to use in any way you like. Do not repost or post in other platforms without permission. Reblogging and linking to my work is naturally encouraged. Feel free to use for personal purposes such at printing out my art for a friend's birthday card or your journal if you want.

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Fandoms

My main fandom is KnB, so I’m likely to prioritize requests for this fandom.

Other fandoms I have drawn fan art for in the past include SPOP, Kaleido Star, Princess Tutu, W.i.t.c.h. (off the top of my head) and other fandoms that I’m actively engaged with or always return to include H2O, LotR, Sherlock Holmes (mostly the original and BBC), BBC Merlin, Gilmore Girls and BTVS, so it shouldn’t take me too long to get comfortable drawing for these fandoms.

Other than that, I’m open to anything you can find on my anime and manga list or Goodreads that I at least somewhat enjoyed. They’re not 100% comprehensive, and obviously don’t include all media types I engage with, so you can always just try your luck too and ask if I know your fave!

I will not draw characters I’m unfamiliar with, (OCs are an exception) or have practically no memory off, because I need to know who I’m drawing as much as I need to know what they look like. I also won’t draw something that I personally dislike too much, or don’t want to support for other reasons.

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OCs

You can request art of your OCs as well. Please, note that I will also only draw OCs from fandoms I know. I’m willing to draw based on a description as well as pictures. You can request I draw the exact character design based on your own work, or you can request me to design it myself based on description or references you would like me to use. HOWEVER OCs are limited to portraits (list in the next section) unlike fan art requests, because I want to know the characters I'm drawing in more complex situations.

(OC for @vespersposts)

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Types of art you can request

🧝portraits🧛

(One or more characters in a certain mood, clothing, background etc. For OCs this is the type of request I will do.)

🫂scenarios💃

(One or more characters in a certain situation or action.)

🗨️SHORT comics💭

(Ideas that can realistically be expressed in up to 3 pages.)

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Style

I lean towards cartoon style in drawing characters, and impressionism in colouring and background. You can absolutely challenge me to go out of my comfort zone, but my preferences will likely show.

If your request involves anime, manga or other types of cartoons, I will always stay close to the original character design, but other than that you can request different kinds of styles when it comes to colouring, background, other details and the overall feel of the picture.

I’m not currently interested in attempting to draw hyper realistically, so keep that in mind if your request involves characters portrayed by actors, or your OCs. You can request anime/manga style or my own blend of styles that I use in my original art, or something else you have in mind.

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Mediums you can request

digital art

(Digital art can of course mimic pretty much any traditional medium but I'm not so far in learning digital art that I would be comfortable taking more specific requests for what digital medium I use, it will pretty much always be very mixed.)

watercolour

acrylic

pencil

markers

inktense pencils

mixed

If you have something in mind not listed here, you can always see if I might be interested in trying it out.

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Some rules for the content of the requests

I won’t draw romantic/sexual content of ships that contradict my headcanon. I’ll attempt to make a more comprehensive list that I’ll link here, until then you can use my drabble request rules as reference, do some math (if you know that I ship KagaKuro exclusively, then I won't draw other ships for the characters in question), or try your luck.

I won’t draw sexualizing content of minors (which is under 18 in my country and apparently generally considered to be that online)

I do not think nudity is or should be inherently sexualizing, so mild/partial nudity of any character is fine, HOWEVER requests that seem like an attempt to sexualize a minor anyway will automatically be denied. (Like a request that focuses on the nudity as opposed to it just being a natural part of the scenario.)

I won’t draw full/graphic nudes of any character no matter their age, because I’m just not interested in knowing any character that intimately

Age appropriate/realistic romantic/sexual situations for characters who are minors are fine, the key is that it should not be sexualizing from the viewpoint of the viewer: the character is not objectified. Teenagers have feelings and urges, and it’s hypocritical to not be able to portray that in a way that is true to the character in question.

(For example, depicting a sixteen-year-old character drooling over the sight of their crush in a towel is not sexualizing/pornographic, it’s a completely realistic depiction of being a teenager and censoring that kind of stuff does more harm than good. However, depicting the crush in a towel in a way that exaggerates perceived "sexiness" for the viewer is sexualizing, and that I won't do.)

I won’t draw clear nsfw content of characters of any age, because I’m not very interested in the first place, and I don’t want to get flagged, however borderline cases might be okay, depending on the level of detail.

When making the request, just ask yourself this: Is this a realistic situation where this particular character at this particular age would willingly get into? If not, then I won’t draw it, and I might or might not have a stricter view than you. I will always draw these types of requests in ways that leaves more up to the imagination than it shows anyway, no matter who it depicts.

No non-con and dub-con.

I won’t draw death, gore or graphic violence, minor injuries etc. are fine.

I won't draw cross-overs between characters from different fandoms, but characters from one story depicted in the context of a different story are cool.

Obviously, there might be other reasons not listed here that your request could get denied, in which case I’ll let you know.

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Subjects I love, in case you're interested

🧞fairy tales

character interaction, slice of life, fluff👩‍❤️‍👩

🌬️metaphors, mystery, riddles

mermaids, angels, elves, fairies🧚

🗡️medieval fantasy, magic, swords

vibrant emotion, situational comedy, suspense 🎭

🍃nature, domesticity, dreams

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As the main subject I'm not interested in

(but it's fine to include moderately)

🐭animals

buildings, vehicles, cities🏙️

food🍲

🖱️electronics

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You can check the pinned post on my blog for more references if you'd like!

I know that was a lot, so thank you if you read it all. 😊

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✨I hope to see you in my inbox.✨

Eve

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#art requests #knb #fan art #multi fandom

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teacupsandcyanide · 1 year

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how to customise your blog from within the app

With the whole Twitter exploding into a million tiny pieces situation we’re seeing a lot of people who haven’t been around for a good while or are completely/mostly new to Tumblr, and I’ve been seeing a lot of posts from regular tumblrinas saying “please change from the default icon and settings, you look like a bot”. I’ve been wanting to make some posts about fun ways to customise your tumblr experience and I thought I’d start with a basic bitch tutorial on what you can customise from within the app.

To give the app version of your blog the equivalent of a sick new haircut, go to the lil guy who lives in the bottom right? (?? I think it’s the right. I have dyscalculia but I promise I’m otherwise mostly reliable) side of your dash. Give him a smack on his phat bald head to gain entry to your profile page. Then go to the paint palette icon at the top of your profile.

From here you can change four five things:

Your blog title. This is different from your url and it doesn’t have to match your url or be unique, unless you personally feel the need to be unique. You can change it by tapping it to start editing; when you do you’ll see three menus come up. “Title” is where you change what the title is. “Font” allows you to select a font and some of the fonts have a bolded option. “Colour” will give you a colour sampler to pick a colour from. You don’t have to have a title and you can turn it off under the “font” menu, but having one will make it clearer that you aren’t a bot, especially if you don’t choose “sexyangiebabymilf6969” for your title.

Your bio. I have a Van Gogh quote because I have a separate about page*, so I’m fine letting my bio just be a faintly pretentious smudge of mystique. Other people will often have whatever name they go by online, their pronouns, and sometimes their age and what their main interests are, eg fandom, hobbies, special interests, you know, the neurodiverse slut stuff. People also put links there sometimes using html coding*, like the kids put their caard and some people put ko-fi. You can change your bio by tapping on it to edit. You don’t have to have a bio and can turn it off, but if you have one people will be much less likely to think you’re a bot, and they’ll get some vague idea of who you are and what content you like to paste into your online scrapbook.

Your blog background colour. This can be changed by tapping on the “background” button.

Your accent colour. This can be changed by tapping on the “accent” button.

Your header image. This can be changed by tapping on your header, and you’re able to zoom into a chosen picture to or drag it to reposition. You can also turn off your header or choose whether or not to stretch the image to the necessary size.

Your icon/avatar. This can be changed by tapping on the icon. You can choose to hide your avatar on your profile (it will still be visible on the dash), and select a square or round frame.

Extra note on colour customising. You can pick out a truly custom colour by messing about with the slider and colour sampler, but if you want quick and easy or you’re shite at colour sampling you can click on the circles of colour above the slider to see a range of different preset shades, including greyscale. Each circle has a range of a few pages you can swipe through. If they all turn out to be shite you can go back to the slider by clicking the rainbow circle.

Each time you change an aspect of your profile and are satisfied with it, hit “update” up in the corner before moving to the next thing. Once all the edits are made save them by hitting “save”, also in the upper corner.

Resources for headers and icons can be found by looking through the “headers” and “icons” tags. Please follow the rules of the people who make and share those (they’re usually just “don’t claim it’s your edit, don’t repost, and leave a like or reblog” but each person has their own). I’d also recommend image searching for patterns, as you can tile your header if you use a seamless pattern image, and looking through livejournal for icons (again, please follow creator rules, icons take time to make).

*This post is hopefully a precursor to a post or numerous posts about how you can customise your blog outside the app appearance, including adding pages and using coding to put links wherever you want, and I plan to link to more resources for customisation in said post/s. When/if I get around to writing that I’ll drop a link in a comment or reblog of this post.

Godspeed, have fun finding out how much of the bee movie script you can fit in your bio I remain ever faithfully yours etc

#tumblr tutes #Twitter refugees #Twitter refugee reading material #tumblr how to #hmp42

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shewritesinblackink · 4 months

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The missing hunter - a supernatural fanfic

reposting this because i originally posted it on my main "private" blog but since i started writing more and posting more i thought why not make a blog just for that :) this fanfic takes place in the early years of the show since i’m only on season 10. I really like the vibe of the three/four first seasons. That’s also why Sam can’t crack the security camera– they haven't learned that yet :)

here's the AO3 link because i like posting there too, and i get more feedback thanks to the tags there!

part 2

words count: 2k

tw: blood, swearing, mention of a gun

part 1 - the missing member

“I don’t know what to say, Bobby,” Dean declared to the man at the other end of the phone.

The brothers were in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. Bobby had sent them there to find someone dear to him that disappeared a few days ago. But so far, they had no lead.

“Her stuff is still in the room, uh?”

Dean turned around from the parking lot to take another look at the small place. “Yeah, still here.”

There was silence and then Bobby’s voice broke through the phone’s speaker.

“That’s not like her. She might be in some kind of trouble.”

A frown appeared on Dean’s face. He'd never heard Bobby sound so helpless. That person, that woman whoever she was, must be someone precious to him.

“What do you want us to do?”

Sam was seated on the single large bed in the room, his laptop on his knees, fidgeting with the keyboard.

“I’ll give you her number. Maybe she’ll answer if it’s not me.” The pain in those last words made Dean sad. Who was she for Bobby to care so much and act like this?

Dean hung up, closed the door and walked toward Sam.

“What’d he say?”

“To try to call her.”

The look on Dean and Sam’s face said it all. They were aware the worst could have happened. Dean dialed the number and waited a few seconds before a ringtone was heard in the room. The two of them released a small sigh, stood up and searched for the device. The eldest found it under the bed, the battery almost dead and the screen cracked in half. He held it up for Sammy to see, and they both exchanged a look. Something bad definitely happened here.

They decided to go back to town and retrace every last step of the missing person. It led them to a bar on the avenue. A row of motorcycles were parked in front of the establishment, and the facade was all dark wood which added to the pouring rain and gloomy atmosphere. Everything in this town is dark and creepy, Dean thought.

They entered and were welcomed by suspicious glares from guys all around the place. Some were seated at tables drinking beer , others were playing billiards but stopped the moment the brothers appeared. The bartender shot them a look of annoyance. Clearly the people here didn't like strangers.

Nonetheless, Sam cleared his throat and asked, "Um, hi. We're looking for a young woman.”

"So am I." said a voice somewhere and the other men laughed.

Dean felt exasperated by their behavior and wanted only one thing at the moment: to get the hell out of there. So he talked, a bit too abruptly maybe. "Young, brown hair, pale skin, and approximately this size," he measured by holding up a hand. Truly he didn't know the woman, but Bobby gave them a description since he had no recent pictures of her.

The bartender snorted noisily and kept swiping off drops of water on the beer mugs in his hands.

"Depends what I get for helping you?"

There was no cooperation, and the Winchesters started to lose patience.

"Listen, buddy, it's a life or death situation here. She might be in danger, we need to find her." Dean's voice was low and raw, he could barely control himself not to punch the man in the face.

He slightly opened his brown leather jacket with the hand holding a shiny silver gun. The barman repressed an insult and took a quick look around.

“Look, if i were you, i wouldn’t show this to anyone here.” “Question of life and death.” he added pointedly to mock the brothers.

His sarcastic tone did not escape Dean, whose gaze became sharper, harder. Finally the man behind the bar started saying something interesting.

“There aren’t a lot of women comin’ in here, so yeah i remember some chick comin’ in. She sat at the bar and drank a scotch.”

Sam leaned forward, “Anything else?”. The man grunted but continued. “There was something weird about her, like she was on edge. She was constantly looking behind her shoulder.” He put the glass behind the bar and leaned on the counter, then added “I mean maybe she didn’t feel safe here since she was the only woman.”

“Did something happen? Did she leave with someone?” Dean pressed, raising his eyebrows.

The barman seemed to think for a moment. “Yup, I think I remember her leaving with some guys.”

“Anything weird or unusual about the guy?”

“He was grabbing her by the arm. Not in a gentle way, you know. It seemed she wasn't willing to go with them.”

“And you didn’t call the police or stop them?” asked Sam almost with a shocked tone.

“Why would I?”

Dean's patience was more than thin now. If he stayed one more minute he would definitely shoot the man right here, right now. “Alright, enough. let’s go Sammy.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “which direction did they take?” The barman didn’t even bother speaking, and just pointed the way with his head.

And so they strode out of the bar toward the Impala, in the light rain that hadn’t stopped since their arrival. “Oh I swear this rain is making me crazy. Everything about this town is weird, man.” Dean muttered, his hands on the wheel, driving the car out of the parking back on the road. Since there was nothing for miles in the direction the man had indicated, they decided to go back to the motel room and wait in the car in case she showed up.

Sammy also tried to take a look at the security camera, but his skills with a laptop weren’t that sophisticated. He couldn’t break into the town website to access the cameras. So they waited. Dean eventually went out to fetch dinner, and they waited for hours.

Finally, when they were both struggling to keep their eyes open, a silhouette appeared. In the dark night it was impossible to guess who it was, but the stranger stopped at the door of the room they were watching, and after a moment struggling with the key, the shadowy silhouette disappeared inside the room. The Winchesters didn’t waste a second and got out of the car toward the room’s door as if they weren’t about to fall asleep a second ago.

It wasn’t locked from the inside, so they pushed it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible because who knows who was- or what was, that silhouette.

The boys entered the small room slowly, guns in hands. The lights were on but the place was empty. A noise came out from the bathroom followed by a grunt. At the very moment the brothers appeared at the bathroom’s door, the silhouette turned around and held a gun at them.

“Drop the gun! Now!”

“Who are you?”

“You, who are you?”

The three of them pointing guns at each other and yelling in confusion would’ve been a funny image if the tension was not that palpable and if the stranger was in a less miserable state.

“You’re two against one, that’s not really fair.” The voice was calm and steady but felt a bit out of breath. Indeed, the silhouette was soaked in blood, her clothes dirty with mud and rain. Her hair was a mess, clearly she hadn’t had access to any commodities for a few days.

“Wait,” said Sam, “are you y/n?”

Suspicious, the woman kept the boys at gunpoint, clutching her weapon like a lifeline. “How would you know?” she asked, her brows furrowed and her chest heavy with short breaths.

“Dean, I think it’s her.” And with that assumption they both lowered their guns. “Bobby sent us looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” she asked, as if she hadn’t understood Sam’s sentence in the first place and needed confirmation of what she heard. But all of a sudden the world started to spin and she wasn’t steady on her feet anymore. She stumbled back against the sink and let her arm fall down by her side, the gun pointed toward the ground. She placed the back of a bloodied hand against her forehead and closed her eyes tight, trying to make the room stop spinning and the white stars popping in her visions disappear.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean knew it was a stupid question considering how dirty and tired she seemed, so he added, “you hurt?”

And all y/n was capable of doing at this very moment was to stare at the two boys in front of her, her memory working like a DVD on fast forward. She couldn’t stop. Maybe didn’t want to, because her brain brought back memories she thought were long forgotten. She doubted they even remembered her at all, and at that thought her heart skipped a beat.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” Dean pressed sarcastically, like he was talking to some stupid teenager.

Getting back her senses, y/n cleared her throat and articulated a week “yeah” that sounded more like an exhausted plea. The brothers didn’t seem to buy it either, judging by the concerned look they both shot at her.

“Seriously, I'm fine. Just.. tired.”

“Where the hell were you to make Bobby worry-sick?”

What? Dawn almost choked on her own saliva. Bobby being so worried he’d send John’s boys after her? Why would he do such a thing when she’s already proved numerous times she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? And suddenly emotions flooded in her. Not good emotions. “Why are you here? I’m a grown up, I can watch out for myself. I’ve been hunting my whole life y’know.” The words came out more harshly than she’s intended to. She stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into the boys, barely suppressing a wince because of her bruises.

In her backpack was a first aid kit. She took it and sat on the bed while taking off her dirty sweatshirt. But by the time she was opening the kit to fetch out something useful, Dean snatched it off her hands. “Hey! We’re talking to you here! We drove hours to come here because Bobby asked us to! Because he was worried you’d get yourself into trouble, and that’s how you’re thanking us?”

Dean was pissed. Sam though didn’t say a thing but gave his brother’s arm a slight hit. “Dude, c’mon. Look at her.” That’s what Dean did, he took in the messy states she was in. Blood on her left temple, trailing down her chin and neck, the right cheek looking slightly bruised. Cuts all over her arms and dirt on her hands and under her nails, even on her face. She seemed like someone who had just spent hours in filthy air ducts. Or in the forest running after something– or running for her life maybe.

No one said a word for what seemed to be an eternity, then y/n stood up slowly and walked back to the bathroom to try to wash out her hands, arms and face. She winced every time she touched a cut or a bruise but did not let it show. She was facing John’s boys, and she knew by experience that there were nothing that could make them flinch. So she did what she always forced herself to do since she met them when they were only kids. She clenched her jaw, and kept her composure as neutral as she could– but she was so tired, the dark circles under her eyes said it all.

#fanfic writing #fanfic #writing fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #fanfiction blog #supernatural dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #supernatural bobby #supernatural sam #y/n x dean winchester #dean x y/n #mc insert #original character #original main character insert

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years

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APOCALYPSE-SHUFFLE+

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(pic of: GHOUL from batman beyond: rotj)

hi, I’m Trix (19yrs old|black), and this is my writing blog where I post imagines and the such.

about: character imagines/x readers/headcanons (here’s my masterlist)

50+ (fics, hc’s, & imagines)

I repost stuff too

connected blog: apocalypse-boogie

my ao3 (note that my works are set to only show my work to registered users)

my wattpad

Authors Note: I cannot write for every type of person. Please don’t act like I can or should be. I am one singular person who has a life and feelings, not a genie in a bottle and I don’t have to do any one thing. Thx

DNI: minors; on my posts/reblogs that are 18+ (because I want peace of mind).

racists; because ‘fuck you’ that’s why. race fetishists; see above quote in orange for why.

homophobes; because I’m not and never will be in the mood.

terfs, misogynists, & pedophiles

one more time, y’all

me: Trixie

19yrs of age

black; as in brown skinned

18+ only on posts tagged “18+”; minors dni with those (I’ll just block you)

ALSO FREE PALESTINE

I don’t care about how you might want to argue with me about this, I don’t support genocide and I just want to make my stance on that clear. (Unfollow me if you want, you won’t be missed.)

Once I gather all my links together I’ll be putting resources and information on Israel’s occupation of Palestine and ways to help right here.

To learn about Palestine and the ongoing conflict there: thepalestineacademy.com

USCPR’s toolkit for calls (what you do - in the US - to call for a ceasefire & the end of the US’s support of Israel)

Make sure to state your name and address (& at the very least your zip code when calling) so that your call/voicemail/email is recorded by your local representative.

Here’s global protest information to look into if you are able to physically attend a rally.

Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! (We have spending power let’s put it to good use.)

Siemens, Puma, Garrefour, Ahava, Sodastream, HP, and AXA (a multinational insurance company based in France that provides its services throughout the West) all support Israel. x x

This post gives a lot of info.

Also, protest tips to keep yourself safe out there because the right to free speech in America is a joke. If you can, look into faraday bags (or alternatively tinfoil) to combat the police tracking your cell (but, really, just try not to bring your phone at all). Look into temporary burner phones (that you can discard), and in order to better combat facial recognition wear goggles as well as a mask.

[via: comicsareforkids]

THERE IS NO BLACK LIBERATION WITHOUT PALESTINIAN SOLIDARITY (and FYI Black Palestinian Lives Matter too)

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cuppa-ale · 1 year

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long post ahead, not about anyone I follow or who follows me.

I don't know if who needs to read this ever will. I don't know if it will do anything, or if it even matters. But it matters to me. I continue to feel so deeply frustrated by everything I've seen, and I still do not understand... why.

For starters: wanna know why I didn't just block y'all and move on when I called myself "proship" and said that people shouldn't be doxxed/harassed/belittled etc over fiction? Because we had known each other for so long, and I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to let it be your decision, your choice. I even debated talking to you about it, but I don't know if that would have made a difference.

Above all else, I could not stand the uncertainty. The uncertainty killed me, and I didn't want to live that way. I needed an answer. I guess I got it. If my thought process was wrong, if the way I went about it was wrong, then so be it. I can accept that.

But there's still so much I don't understand. Like.... why on Earth did some of y'all think it was okay to put someone's private and clearly labeled NSFW/18+ account(s) on blast, when you claimed to be "protecting" people from that content?

If you're protecting people, especially minors, from seeing this supposedly "harmful" content, why on Earth would you give people a DIRECT LINK to it in the form of a "callout"?? When they otherwise would never have seen it?

Why was it more important to express your disgust and your discomfort, instead of actually respecting someone else's boundaries between their sfw and nsfw spaces? Why would you repost stuff, even censored, that you literally compared to irl abuse material, and to your following that apparently includes minors?

Is it just because the targets you picked out were "acceptable" targets? Because you thought they were gross or weird or whatever, you had free reign to use them as a punching bag and nobody would stand up to you, or up for them?

Why did some of y'all lazily drop the username of someone who you thought was a "freak" and give a direct line to them, as if that wouldn't lead to them being harassed or isolated, and... over what? Fan fiction??

Why is your definition of "consequences" someone's life being ruined over fan art that you thought was "gross", and how do you not realize how horrifying that is? What about the consequences for stalking and harassing someone, for sending death threats, will you ever face consequences for that? What about those consequences?

Just... what was the point? What was the goal? Was it worth it?

Was it funny to you? Because it's not funny to me. Like at all.

It is so deeply frustrating to me. And I know it extends even beyond this. All of this was a symptom of a larger phenomenon that continues to happen.

I'll never forget seeing "callouts" where people apparently felt it necessary to list all the petty things they disliked about someone, down to what band they liked, as another "indictment" against them. Like... what in the actual fuck does that have to do with what the person actually did? What in the hell kind of nighest nothing bullshit is that? And what are you saying about innocent folk who also like that band or whatever, what message does that send to them?

Or the times where I saw people be like, "I never liked their work anyway" or "I always knew they were weird." Like.... okay? Good for you? It's not somehow an indictment against you even if you DID like them. What kind of performative bullshit. I still don't get it, but it was so fucking awful to be there to see some of this stuff.

What it does to you, the complexes it gives you, the paranoia and fear of being that "problematic" person that all your friends ridicule. Not to mention who decides what's "problematic'" and worthy of a "callout" in the first place. It became less "this person is dangerous / harmed someone" and more "this person drew / wrote something I don't like in their own space, so I'm going to make it everyone else's problem because nobody else can read." Or, if they did both, the "bad art" would somehow take precedent over the actual human being they harmed???

I resent growing up here because of all that. So much unnecessary anxiety and guilt and self doubt. Nobody should have to live that way. Nobody deserves that.

What's doubly frustrating to me, and confusing, is how you could easily take some of the stuff I've drawn and used it in any of those callouts. How come no one ever took issue when I did it? Was it because I was your friend? That's somehow worse. Was it because I didn't "rock the boat" so to speak? Because I kept to myself?

But all that instilled in me a sense that I could also be on the chopping block at any moment, before even knowing the full extent of what was going on. And in a way? A lot of the stuff I drew was almost like a rebellion to that. I can't quite explain it, but it was like.... a plead? A call for understanding? Because I really just drew stuff that spoke to me, that makes me feel something. But I knew that others could find it "problematic" if they tried hard enough.

Maybe that call wasn't heard. I'm fine with that. I still think my art is like that in some ways. A plead, a rebellion, a call for understanding that human beings and the art we create is so much more complex than the black-and-white veneer of purity bashing thought police would lead you to believe. It's okay for it to be ugly, dirty, gritty, uncomfortable, messy, complicated, because the human experience is all of those things and more!

Maybe that's even pretentious, but I don't care. I've already had my time worrying about that, and quite frankly I think that's a boring way to think!

I don't know if posting this will matter. If it will change anything, if it will be ignored. All I know is that it's important to me.

I don't really expect to get any answers. I don't want anything from anyone. I just think that, if nothing else, that someone needs to acknowledge this. That these things happened. That I'm not crazy, and the people who were subjected to this are not crazy.

I don't want to pretend that these things didn't happen, just because most people don't know about it. The effects are still felt by people today. They are felt by me, and all the people that were targeted back then, and even continue to be. If I'm wrong, please correct. Show me where my error lies. It just makes me feel so sick, knowing what happened and how the stalkers, the abusers, the outright bullies will probably never face consequences. If I am wrong, I would love to be.

At the end of the day, you get to log off and move on with your life. Good for you. The rest of us can't do that.

#long post #d/on't re/blog//#Xandri Speaks #I don't even want to use the discourse label for myself but that's. besides the point

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sh1-n0bu · 7 months

Note

MOMMY NOBUUUU /p i need someone wise’s advice !!!!

i like to make silly looking “art” (i don’t even consider it real art, it’s more like memes/doodles) (like the ms paint art style, that looks a bit like pixel art and also looks sketchy and simple) and i CAN’T DECIDE if i should make an account to post it??? i really want to but i know NOTHING about ig and its algorythm (even though i did use to have disney and anime fanpages with a decent amount of followers when i was, like, 14). i don’t wanna end up with an account with like 2 followers cuz what if affects my self esteem and the way i view art hsjsg ???? i like my cringy artstyle but.. idk im probably overthinking this AGHH

yk it’s just that when i was a fan account it wasn’t my art so it’s not like i got offended if people didn’t like/comment/save. with things i created it would be different i think??? i’ve been wanting to make an art account for YEARS and i just got into the artstyle (i had a “normal” artstyle before) but wait wait lemme try to link the pics

(hope they work)

so this is the first thing i’ve ever drawn in this style https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-AJt9jSnPo1Enyg4B8Dnm0HMYeFIhxYX/view?usp=drivesdk

and then it just kept going. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-I8x_U-9_ZVwpPE6aDAWlW0ApEuJ2r5Z/view?usp=drivesdk

and going (yes that’s a gyaru trying to talk to a golfball and yes it’s a remake of this meme https://www.reddit.com/r/memes/comments/d6udnl/why_wont_it_move/)

and then i saw this. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-1qO6MbBOo51PK-jhMltsnpfCb0yTGV2/view?usp=drivesdk

and i went “this is so hsr main trio” https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-5MwpEQLIFx_iLdif6R9o66Xc2HW5vjw/view?usp=drivesdk

this is cursed, i’m aware.

then i started making these https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-60FA9_FROx2c0SQrzh1RXOXxm7tFl5G/view?usp=drivesdk

you have NO IDEA how many of these i’ve made. because idk either. all i know is that in three days i had made 20+ of them (which may sound like it’s not much, but for me and how little i used to draw it’s a lot)

and now i REALLY want to make the account but i’m TERRIFIED bc what if no one likes that kind of cringy stuff?????

i’m literally so sorry to bother you with this /gen it’s just me overthinking stuff as always :/ don’t feel pressured to answer me ofc!! <3 also i rlly rlly hope things are going better for you! sending love and support <33

gratefully yours

breaker anon~~<3

MOMMA NOBU HAS ARISEN /j j j j

first, those arts are fucking GORJUS my sweettums. as someone who has lost the ability to draw, that is beautiful. i used to think of becoming a free style painter or to learn how to draw digital but somewhere along the way i just gave up and decided to simply settle on writing instead. even now, when i see art tiktok or recommendations of compilation videos on yt, i feel a bit of an ache in my chest. its just there, y’know?

second, i think you should do for it. maybe try opening up an account on a platform ur incredibly familiar with. perhaps tumblr? or even ig? or even tiktok works too! just any platform you feel safe and comfortable and know how to navigate is good.

and yeah, i can def say felt to the “it will make my mental health worse if i only get 2 likes or smt” bc same same same. i try to write good and capture the characters’ personality correctly while keeping the fic ‘alive’ only to end up with like,,,, hundreds of likes but no feedbacks or reposts or smt LMAOOO

as for a single tip i would give is to expect everything. not everyones going to like ur content and they will suddenly crash into ur inbox talking abt how they hated this fic or smt of yrs bc it was disgusting or not their thing. that has happened to me like,,,, 3 times???? i think?????? and and!!! be sure to do a bit of research beforehand, me thinks. see what kind of attention you would get when u start to post on ur page or account.

honestly, i started this blog as only reposting blog. but then one day my very first 🦝 anon came and i decided, why not write a thirst thought i had with friend and see how it goes? and it just spiraled from there.

main thing is, have patience and love what ur doing. don’t burn urself out over it too much or else what u used to love will end up being what u hate and take good care of yourself sweettums<3

#nobu.nobu.chat #breaker anon

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hithren · 2 years

Text

Update

Been a little while I feel eh?

Mostly rambling and where I feel mentally under the cut to save y’all. But long story short, I’ve been feeling really disconnected recently, from both tumblr, art, and FFXIV in general. I want to get out of this headspace, but not sure how just yet.

I’m finding it increasingly harder to focus on tumblr anymore. The changes to the site that make it look like ass, aside, I just… feel like it’s so empty these days? Or maybe I’m just outside of too many circles now.

The XIV RP community feels different now, or again, maybe it’s me. I’m too old, I guess. I haven’t really RP’d in ages I feel, save for some stuff with close friends in Discord, not even in game. I can’t find a FC. It’s either I feel I don’t fit personally, or my characters don’t. I’m beginning to think it’s impossible to find what I’m looking for/need out of a RP group. Even RP aside, I find myself more often than not logging in and doing stuff alone, which triggers several days of me not even desiring to log in at all.

But… I don’t really have another game I feel I want to play either. And it’s certainly not that I want to give up on XIV, but I’m beginning to feel the same feeling I did in the final days of my RP ‘career’ on Aion (god that was so long ago). Has the XIV sphere really changed that much? I feel so lost.

I’m beginning to feel like I won’t find what I’m looking for unless I run the FC myself. But that’s such a huge undertaking and at the same time I feel I don’t have much to offer anyway. I’m just… craving the type of RP that focuses on character growth and story. A small group of like-minded people who consistently grow together, whether through big plot or just… repeated interaction, I dunno.

I did dig up my old twitter, finally putting it to use. When I stopped focusing on tumblr, I tried my hand at doing art for another fandom. Part of the reason I haven’t really advertised it here is, well, I assumed everyone who followed me here would really only be interested in XIV content. But I’ll be honest and say… I’m kinda tired of only doing art for one fandom, one game, whatever. I admittedly don’t really know much about twitter, nor how to balance creating interest in my art if it’s not singularly focused but. I’d like to try.

I really do need to do commissions. I’m still not in the greatest living situation and that money kept me afloat and kept my family off my back. I even made a new commission site and everything. I taught myself how to make Vtuber models recently, trying to tap into that market. But I’ve been gun-shy in advertising. Because I have… no real followers over on twitter and again, I feel that anyone left over here followed me for a specific type of content.

I just feel so disconnected lately, with everything. Watching streamers play co-op games with their friends, etc. I’m like, shit, I want to do that. Man maybe I’m just lonely, imagine that.

Ah well. If you read all this rambling and are curious, you can go peek at my twitter. I warn you, there’s not much there, and the stuff that is has no relation to XIV at all. Though I have considered reposting some of my old art over there. If you want to take a peek at my new commission site, it is also linked over there, though again, I haven’t begun to advertise. So I guess I consider myself… semi-open for them? A secret? Kinda?

#ooc #Im alive #in all ways except mentally

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

wanna be yours pt III | mcu ; p.maximoff

A/N ; And here we are. Another chapter and even more intense sexual tension. Maybe a lil softness here and there too. This just came to me on a whim earlier so I present it to you without any beta whatsoever because honestly, I fly by the seat of my ass here. Anyway, let's get to it, shall we? There will be more parts to this incoming.

Pairing ; Pietro Maximoff x Stark!Fem reader. I realize this possibly narrows the whole 'reader' thing, but alas... I will try to be as vague as humanly possible so that anybody who wants can imagine themselves in this, I'm still new to this tho.

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; part I || part II can be found by clicking the links I just gave. Again, let it be noted.. This is after AoU. Before all the other shit and Pietro's death is ignored. Also, Spidey makes an intro to the fold a little sooner because sue me, Reader needs her psuedo lil bro and she will in the future parts of this too. We're also pretending that Stark Towers is not destroyed or that it's been renovated / rebuilt and the Avengers are now staying at the tower and working at the compound. Makes sense? I hope so.

Tag List ; @beardedbarba is the only person on my MCU tag list. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including fandom piece in question is for, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; Even more heavy lingering sexual tension, babes and dolls. Even more. This is going to be one of those intense ones, me thinks. There is just a little touching, an intimate moment here and there but overall, this one is safe to read.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters and I'm not accepting wrestling / wrestlers in my ask box. Any other fandom/character but wrestling that I happen to write for is fine and I beg of you -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

Translations if any; — ��i-e foame, prințes��? - “ are you hungry, princess?” -- thanks to google translate. as per usual, draga mea means my darling / my dear and I'm basing Sokovian on Romanian.

--------------------------

“It’s impressive.” Wanda mumbles from beside her twin. Pietro’s eyes flit around the massive foyer of Stark Towers and he shrugs. But his eyes are still wandering and Wanda doesn’t need her nifty little abilities to know exactly what her twin is searching for. Or who, more to the point. She gives him a nudge as Natasha tosses keycards on a lanyard in their direction. Pietro catches his and turns it over in his hands, gazing at the credit card sized plastic just to avoid the pointed look his twin is giving him.

Natasha speaks up. “The living space out here, the game room, the kitchen, the bar, the home gym and the home theater and the spa are ours to use too. We just have to stay out of the garage, the basement lab and the fourth wing.”

“What’s the fourth wing?” Peter Parker asks.

Bucky chuckles and reaches out, smacking the bright eyed teenager in the back of the head. “That’s baby Stark’s personal wing. You oughta know that, kid.” and briefly, the hardened soldier locks eyes with Pietro Maximoff and shakes his head while mouthing, “Don’t you fucking dare either, kid or so help me God.”

And almost as if summoned, you wander out into the living room, pausing at a control panel on the wall. The ambience of the room goes from soft classic rock to loud and angry hard rock with heavy emphasis on guitars and screaming. It's Avenged Sevenfold, this is what they're known for and also, they happen to be one of your many favorite bands...

You wander right past the group lingering in the room and into the kitchen, your nose stuck in a thick book as you walk.

Wanda elbows her twin. Pietro’s gaze is locked on you and he’s biting his lip. He’s doing that thing he does where he’s thinking entirely too hard about doing something that’s likely not a good idea. Wanda palms her face.

Peter nudges Pietro. “Dude, I’ve seen her leg sweep a guy.” Peter nods at you and laughs to himself in amusement upon seeing the way Pietro is staring at you like you're on fire and he's got a hose.

“Mhm.” Pietro’s only half listening, instead he’s watching you as you slice tomato on a carving board. You pile the tomato into a bowl. A few seconds later, you’re tearing lettuce and letting the leafy green vegetable fall into a slightly bigger silver bowl. Then you’re scaling the counter, poking around in a cabinet that’s way over your head, pots and pans clanging together noisily as you dig into the cabinet as deep as you can. You find the frying pan and in your triumph, you lose your balance a little.

Before you even have a chance to steady yourself on your own, Pietro’s taken off in a blue streak blur and he’s scooped you up into strong arms bridal style just as you nearly take a tumble off of your high perch. You stare at him with a raised brow and wide eyes as you blow some hair out of your face. Pietro stands you on your own feet in the kitchen and he’s doing that thing again where he lingers, towering over you. Staring at you intently as if he wants to say something.

Blue sky eyes settle on the various ingredients spread out on the counter and the battered Ace of Spades playing card that’s marking your page in the thick textbook you’d been reading as you navigated the living room a few minutes before. He nods to the ingredients and chuckles quietly.

“— Ți-e foame, prințesă?” the question is asked quietly. You tilt your head and you’re pouting at him. “English, please? Or at least, y’know… Teach me your language?”

Pietro leans in a little. “I asked if you are hungry, princess.” as he nods to the food on the counter again. You glance back at it and laugh softly while nodding. “Starved, actually. I kind of missed lunch today. I was working, it slipped my mind.” you shrug as you say it.

“How do you forget to eat?”

“Uh, you realize who my father is, yeah? It’s a genetic thing.” you shuffle bare feet against the marble flooring of the kitchen as you try to look somewhere else, anywhere else but his eyes. But you’re lost in them and drowning all over again.

You jump a little, startled when Natasha makes her way in, watching you and Pietro like a hawk. A little smirk on her face as she opens the fridge and digs around until she finds her usual beverage of choice. Once she’s popped the cap against the edge of the quartz countertop, she shotguns the drink down and drags her hand across the back of her mouth, glancing at Pietro.

“Stop bothering her, Speedy.”

“He’s not, uh.. He’s not bothering me, Nat. It’s fine.” you smile to reassure the older woman. You nod to the thick book sitting nearby. “That’s what’s bothering me and if Finals week doesn’t hurry and end I swear to God I’ll punt that book out of the Tower.”

“I thought you were in the dorms.” Natasha questions.

“I was. But my roommate is in the honeymoon phase with this idiot she met on a dating app, so…. Home it is, I guess.” you grimace and Natasha laughs. “Yeah, I don’t blame you.” and she’s made herself comfortable sitting on the kitchen island as she takes a tomato slice and pops it into her mouth, much to your chagrin.

Pietro’s gaze lingers on you. You reach for the soda you’d gotten yourself while foraging through the fridge across the kitchen and you twist off the cap and take a sip, staring right back at him. Stepping just a little closer before you even realize you’ve done it.

Natasha clears her throat and glances from you to Pietro and then hops down from the counter, sauntering out of the room. You take a deep breath or two and they come out just a little shakier than they should have. Pietro chuckles. “Relax, draga mea. You seem so tense.”

“Tense. Yeah, that’s uh.” you raise a hand to drag it through your hair and blue eyes fix on the movement intently, distracted by it for a few seconds. “That’s one way to put it, I guess.” - oh you're tense alright. the sheer sexual tension you feel right now is almost overwhelming but you're not admitting to that, oh no.

A throat clears from the kitchen door and a girl wanders in. When she lapses into the same language Pietro uses around you a lot, you glance from one to the other. Scarlet Witch.. Pietro's twin, Wanda Maximoff...Your father told you about both of them joining the team, he mentioned it casually a while back.

You smile when she happens to look up and catch you watching them. Then you grab the package of bacon you’d been about to fry for the biggest bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich you can possibly make yourself in one sitting and you turn your attention to the stove, turning it on.

You plop down a few pieces of bacon into the pan and the whispering back and forth heatedly continues behind you between the Maximoff twins. You can’t really understand it and you’re really not trying to listen, but every now and then a word or two grabs your attention and you wonder what they mean.

Grease pops out of the pan and splashes your wrist and you swear under your breath, holding your wrist against your body for a second or two to dull the sting. You didn’t realize he’d come across the room until he reached out and grabbed hold of your wrist, studying it with brows knit in concern.

“It’s just a little bacon grease. It’ll sting then it’ll be fine. Just hurt like hell.” you reassure him. Pietro nods and he mutters something under his breath and in his mother tongue that you can’t understand. That you’re probably not meant to understand. Which has you frowning a little because you want to know what he’s saying when he talks to you in Sokovian.

Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold begins to play and you hum along quietly as you grab a pair of tongs from the utensil holder by the stove and begin to pull crispy strips of bacon from the hot pan. You turn to Wanda and Pietro. “Do you guys want one? It’s fine, there’s enough tomato and lettuce. Definitely enough bacon.” you nod to the bowls in question. The twins share a look and Wanda politely shakes her head No. Pietro shrugs. “ I could eat.”

“You’re always hungry.” Wanda retorts, giving her brother a teasing look as she laughs.

Wanda turns and walks out of the kitchen and Peter, the kid your father has taken under his wing, he wanders in. You grin at the bright eyed teenager. “Hey, Parker! You hungry?”

“Is it bacon, lettuce and tomato?” Peter asks with a broad grin.

“That’s the only thing I know to make beside grilled cheese, buddy.” you smile back and shrug almost apologetically. "Sadly.. My dad's great at a lot of things.. Cooking so he could show me how is not one of them. But he's learning. At least one of us is," you laugh softly.

“Yeah, that’s right. The last time you tried to cook the fire department was called in.”

“Oh fuck you!” you pout at the teenager and he laughs. Raising one side of your thick text book to look at the title. “You’re in medicine? I thought you were going into somethin else?”

“Mhm. Nursing. I decided I wanted to go into it to help people as best as I can.” you smile as you say it. Peter grins and pulls himself up onto one of the tall stools. Pietro, you notice, is giving the teenage boy a dirty look. You laugh softly. And despite trying not to, you find yourself stepping even closer to Pietro Maximoff.

He mirrors it and one of his hand lingers close to one of your hips. You glance down at his hand when it grazes your hips and you bite your lip quietly. Peter makes his way out of the kitchen after mumbling something about needing to breathe and you swallow hard.

Now that he’s mentioned it, the air is thick again. When is it not thick when Pietro Maximoff is present, though. That's the real question.

You spread mayonnaise on two slices of bread and begin piling tomato, lettuce shreds and bacon onto your sandwich. Pietro is still lingering close behind you and when his hand grazes your side again you gasp quietly and glance sideways over your shoulder at him. A soft giggle leaving your mouth.

You start to make another sandwich for Pietro and you feel his chest press into your back carefully as he watches you, reaching out to steal a strip of bacon before you can swat away his hand. You finish making the sandwich for him and turn to face him, holding it up to him. Smiling a sweet little smile that Pietro stares at for longer than he probably should have. He wants to stop staring, to stop touching you and stop being so painfully aware of you but it’s like he can’t. He’s tried everything he can within reason to do so. Nothing has worked yet.

You’re literally the one girl he wants more than any one in the past and you’re also the one girl who happens to be off limits.

And it’s driving him crazy, he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

You take a bite of your own sandwich and Pietro reaches out, dragging his thumb across your cupids bow. Fighting off the urge to groan at the way your lip felt like velvet under his thumb. Or the way it quivered.

He licks his thumb quietly and chuckles. “Messy eater, draga mea.”

Your eyes are glued to his thumb as he does it and you can feel your thighs clench so much tighter. To counter this, you shuffle your bare feet against the marble floor. And you finally manage to look anywhere else but his mouth. Or his hands.

“Kind of.” you shrug and smile. “I’m gonna go watch General Hospital now.” you announce as you gather your soda and the massive sandwich you’ve made yourself and wander into the living room. As you flip through the channels on the massive television on the wall, you can feel Pietro’s sister watching you intently.

You glance over as you stop the tv on General Hospital right as the opening credits roll and you take a bite of your sandwich. Wanda moves so that she’s sitting next to you.

After a long pause when you’re getting absorbed in the latest drama to befall your favorite mob don, Sonny Corinthos, Wanda gasps quietly.

You glance over at her.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” but Wanda says it quickly. A little too quickly.

The reason for her gasp was because she accidentally brushed against you and the second she did, she got to see in high definition clarity exactly what you were thinking in regards to her brother, Pietro. She also got a real good glimpse into the way he’s been plaguing your filthiest dreams every single night and exactly how frustrated you are because you can’t figure him out.

Wanda smiles to herself. Nods to the television. “What is going on here?”

“That’s a mob meeting. Sonny’s trying to take down a rival family, I think.. Or he’s being threatened by one. They’re discussing how to handle it.” you explain, throwing up your hands in annoyance when Sonny’s wife wanders onto the screen. “Go away, Carly, oh my god.” you groan as you palm your face. Wanda laughs softly and nods to the screen again. “You don’t like her?”

“I mean, she’s okay? She’s just very, very… Involved. It’s invasive. And nine out of ten, when she does get in the middle of something she makes it so much worse..” you cringe as you listen to Carly talking to someone on the phone a scene later. “I swear to God, if she even thinks about it.”

Wanda laughs again. And she watches you quietly, smiling to herself.

Maybe she could drop a few hints with her brother, ease his mind. She’d never seen him twist himself inside and out quite so much before. Normally, he kept it fairly surface level, stealing the girl who caught his eye little gifts and trinkets, flirting openly. For some reason, whenever he tried with her he claimed that the words wouldn’t come.

Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he needed to keep doing exactly what he was doing.

Wanda rose from the couch and made her way into the kitchen where her brother sat eating the sandwich you’d made for him.

“It might interest you to know that she feels… Very intense things for you as well. Don’t make a mess of this, Pietro. This better not be one of your little whirlwind flings. She’s been hurt a lot, I think.”

Out in the living room, you yell at the television set and as you make your way into the kitchen to grab another soda for yourself, you’ve got your hands thrown up in disgust. “I can’t with that show.” you grumble aloud as you step past Pietro and open the doors to the fridge, digging around until you find your usual brand of soda.

You can feel Pietro’s eyes fix on you intently. Practically burning a hole right through you as he stares. You pretend you don’t as best as you can and you wander over, picking up the textbook you left behind on the kitchen island. Then you wander into the living room and switch off the television set. You settle in on the couch with every intention to study, but at some point, you doze off.

Pietro happens to catch sight of you sleeping on the sofa and he shuts the book open in front of you, careful to place the battered Ace of Spades on the page where you left off. Then he tells himself he’ll just walk away, but he can’t. It’s as if his feet have grown roots.

He spots a sweater knit throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch on one end and he grabs it, spreading it out over your body. Then after smoothing his hand over the way your hair is fanned out all around you, he hurries off to his assigned wing in the tower.

And he knows he’ll try and try but given what Wanda’s told him tonight, sleep probably won’t come fast or easy because now he knows that whatever he feels right now is mutual. And he knows he’ll never be able to keep ignoring it or pretending that he doesn’t feel the way he feels.

You’re under his skin. Deep under his skin. And now, he knows that he’s not the only one affected.

Now, the only question is… Does he abide by what everyone keeps insisting -that you’re off limits, or does he act on what he wants most?

It’s gonna be a long night for Pietro Maximoff. A very long night.

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