Candygram

They don't want us to call what's happening in Gaza a genocide not because there's not been an official ruling but because these things don't get set in people's minds via official ruling. Instead it is the oral history that sets an event into place in mass consciousness.

Us calling it what it is - a genocide - means they can't wriggle out of it in years to come. They can't continue to call it a conflict or a war if we cement it in public consciousness as a genocide.

So don't tone down your language. Call it what it is. Make sure the history books know what happened and the genocides that took place in Palestine, Sudan, Congo.

||Edward Nashton x GN!Reader|| devoted to you ||

summary: from the very first time you decided to step foot into that café, Edward had been infatuated with you. He couldn’t help himself. He had to get to know you, to be in your presence and be KNOWN. be FAMILIAR. he did everything to know you, he daydreamed about you and him, entangled. Fingers locked. He knew all about you. That’s how he liked it. He fooled himself into believing you and him were REALLY in love. But you had no idea who he was until he decided to let himself be known to you.

Cw: mentions of stalking, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, sexual content hinted at.

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As the Soft putter of The rain bellowed below onto the dark and foreboding place deemed Gotham, Edward Nashton sat quietly, hunched in his dingy and overcrowded apartment. His hair sticking to his rounded face, as he stared into his computer screen.

His clear glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he sat focused on the blinding screen, the light emitted from it being the only thing that illuminated his shadowy room. His lips curled into a heaving grin, his teeth busting through as he stared at the image. It was an image he acquired of you.

It was fresh to his collection and he couldn’t help but admire you as your blurry figure stood, admiring what had been below you, wrapped in your fingers. It was a letter. From him.

He cackled softly as he stared at it. He bit his chapped lip as he felt his body flare; and ignite with passion. Oh how he loved when you read his cards. He had been thoughtful, and he thought it showed.

Picking out cards he thought you would enjoy. Ones that through his secret alphabet, revealed how deep his passion burned. It was red hot, and scarlet, flaring as it flushed upon him, raining on him like the rain that proceeds throughout Gotham.

That’s how he felt the first time he saw you. When you had first stepped through the diners entrance, your hair matted and wet from the rain, your smile beaming through the desperation you felt to get to some sort of safety away from the thunder and rain. And then, you sat right next to him. Then right there, He felt something within him ignite that day. A hunger that never subsided, only grew to be progressively hungry.

A famished beast within him. At first, he didn’t know how to feel. Feel about the sweltering that grew raw within his chest. You looked at him, like no one else did. You stared at him with your glossed eyes, and Edward felt warm and welcomed to them. Being called in. Even as he sat there, his back curving to Shield his worn out diary; the pen staying stiff within his hand as he looked back at you. he smiled. And the best part was, you smiled back. Even then he knew that from then on, you and him were meant to be.

He wanted to crawl into bed beside you all those day you had wept and all those day when you were sick. He wanted to be near you, just like the first time he had saw you. He never saw you in the diner again but he always waited. Hoping you’d maybe one day come back. Even then he didn’t mind.

He knew where you went when you were absent. He watched you everyday. He knew when you woke up and when you went to sleep. He knew it all and he would rise when you did and fall when you fell, the moon shining down on you as you slept. He knew you like no one else. Your favorite music, your favorite food and more. He knew you better than you knew yourself even.

He loved you so much he even touched himself to the thought of just talking to you. His smiled always painted thin as his hand planted itself on his shaft. His lips shuddering as he whispered out your name, his body flaring again and again. He loved how you made him feel. But he felt as if he loved to much that it sickened him. He was beyond any normality and there was no-turning back. He ached and swelled in bliss. Just for you.

You sat waiting for response. There was nothing. He had ignored you again. You sighed softly, your eyes welting as tears slid from your puffed eyes. He ignored you again. How could he? Your fingers slipped around your phone as you attempted to call him. No response. You pulled your phone back frustrated as you angrily texted him a goodbye before you stood up.

Your mind racked with images of him tangled with someone else; an image of them strewn about a messed up bed as you attempted to focus on getting ready. You were going to get out. You needed the fresh air. You sniffled softly as you made your way towards the diner, unbeknownst to you edward followed your pursuit. Once he had realized you were going to the diner he did a blunt turn, slipping through an alleyway to make it there before you. He needed to be there before you. He needed to see if you’d sit with him.

When you arrived, your eyes scanned the booths. All filled. Your eyes then traveled to the counter at The front. The man you had saw the first time you were here was sitting, hunched over as always. You laughed slightly; assuming he was a regular. Slipping up beside him you looked over to him and decided to talk to him. Lord knows you needed some human interaction, especially after being locked inside your apartment everyday. You were horribly terrified to go out alone. It was all because of the letters you kept receiving from someone. The letters and cards resembled that of the riddlers work. It horrified you. You knew what the masked vigilante was capable of. Your hairs stood on end as you thought of it.

Edward had been watching you the whole time. Reading your expression; that of sadness mixed with some unthinkable fear. What could be causing your face to twist into one of dread? He didn’t know but he stared at you as you looked back at him. His eyes quickly evaded yours. He cursed himself for looking away. A perfect opportunity to stare into your eyes yet again, so up close and personal and yet he chickened out. Ashamed he sat as he scribbled at the crossword in front of him.

You cleared your throat making the male look up at you. You smiled as you attempted to make conversation.

“Gothams gloomy as always..”

Edward nodded slowly, pushing his specs up. Yet again Edward felt it. The festering obsession, building up and swelling within his chest, cracking up through his heart, to his face. His face curled into one of surprise. Looking at you from his shoulder as he responded.

“Gotham is quite the dark and unforgiving place isn’t it?”

You nodded into you cup, sipping as you cast your cup down.

“Indeed it is…my name is y/n, and you?”

Edward grinned as you told his name. He already knew your name. How silly of you to give it to him when you both knew eachother. He was elated to breathe the same air as you. He wanted to seep his love deep within your skin and allow it to grow, and plant itself in every part of your body.

He loved that you were playing this little game with him pretending you didn’t know him. He played along serenading it as he danced around it. He didn’t mind so long as you came rubbing against him, giving him the attention he desired.

“My name? My name…yes my name is…Edward…”

He answered truthfully. How could he lie anyways? You knew him and he knew you. It would be unfair to play his alter identity when you both were so close and played with one another. He watched as you smiled, extending your hand to him. He hesitated. He didn’t know why? He had craved to finally touch you for so long. So why now had his hand grown so clammy and stiff? He stayed like that for a brief stance, before slipping it into yours.

You smiled. You admired the males courage, despite his shy demeanor. He was odd, but his face and overall presentation was comforting enough to not make you uncomfortable nor distressed. His froggy and timid demeanor was inviting.

You studied his face, round and thin chapped lips, his wide green eyes that sat directly behind a shield of clear plastic and glass. His hair that stuck to his head, somewhat tamed. You admired his cute face, and his personality was somewhat cute. It almost made you forget that you were only here to get your mind off your now ex.

“Edward? I like that name. What brings you here? Is it me?”

You teased. Edward looked at you with a look of pure hunger. You knew him so well. He wanted to throw himself into a warm embrace, locking lips and wrapping his arms around you, but he contained himself. He loved to play your games.

He liked it just as much as his cards littered with riddles he loved to send you. He loved it almost as much as you. You were as warm and inviting as his riddles were. Yet you we’re also just as mysterious as them. Maybe that’s why he was so infatuated with you. Even if he thought he knew you he’d never fully know you or your thoughts. He’d never be able to dissect that wonderfully curated brain of yours. Never, which almost tortured him as much as the life that is, what he deemed his very own riddle.

Cruel and unwelcoming. But he never blamed you for that no. He couldn’t. That’s just how it was. And he had to play by the rules, and so he did. He slipped from his thoughts as he looked back at you.

“You caught me! in fact I’ve been following you around everyday.”

You stared at him, laughing the remark off. He was joking, it was apparent to you, just teasing you for the remark you had made. Of course it was a joke. But it rang true to your current situation, which sat with you. You ignored the feeling though, stirring the now cold coffee you had purchased.

“That’s funny you mention that. I’d been doing the same thing.”

Edward sat up slightly. His ears enjoyed what they had now just processed. They were delighted. They wanted to hear more. You liked him just as much as he liked you? Oh but of course, he knew this. Yet his chest couldn’t help but thump, thump loudly as his heart banged against it. He was never going to be over you. He was truly devoted to you. He’d never let you go.

“Oh? I…If that’s so…then…why don’t you come over? Since you’re so interested in me?”

You laughed it off slightly. The remark. Did he actually want you to come over? You hummed in response. Not saying anything as you ran the waitress over to you, paying and briefly scribbling on a napkin before you left. Edward stared at it, his body aching as he read what message you left for him.

“Hey Ed, why don’t you call me? Let’s have Lunch sometime?”

He giggled slightly, staring at your phone number. That was one thing he didn’t have. It was now in his possession. He grinned, shoving the napkins into his inner coat pocket, slipping out into the rain as he looked above, to the deep dark Gotham sky. He laughed, extending his arms out as the rain enveloped him. He love your little games. He loved it all. He was simply and utterly devoted to you.

AND THATS ALL FOLKS!! I haven’t wrote anything in awhile and I thought it was about time I finished one of my Edward fanfics I had on the back burner. I hope you enjoyed!

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

Fan-Fiction Recommendations: UNCHARTED EDITION.

Hi, everyone! I tried to post this a couple of days ago, but Tumblr literally ate it all up and I was like "Cool".

I was in NO headspace to do THAT for a second time.

Anyway.

In light of very recent devastating events in the world, I was forced to stay at home and, thus, hop back into the deep dark hole known as Tumblr. Now, I have delved into every fandom I love, but since I write for Uncharted/Naughty Dog games exclusively, I thought I'd compile a list of my absolute favorite authors on this site, with links to their Masterlists and some of my nominations for my favorite works from each of them, along with a synopsis so you know what you're diving into.

I just think that there are so many underrated writers on here who truly have such a good sense of the characters we love and have such a good way with words, no matter the genre I read from them. From fluff all the way down to smut and angst, here are my favorite authors and my favorite pieces: 

1) @the-drakeboys : Annie is an extraordinarily talented writer with such a broad range of genres. You can tell by her writing that she's very emotionally connected to everything around her and that she has a great deal of empathy. She works in the film industry, too, which makes her dialogue and her ability to build up events more professional than anyone I've ever read for. Here is her Masterlist and here are a few of my recommendations:

Darlin' (One-Shot. Category: Fluff): Apart from this piece being so very close to my heart for the sole reason of introducing me to Annie, it is a testament to how beautifully she writes with so little effort. This piece has minimal dialogue, but will – for SURE – give you the feels. (Synopsis: Sam can't get his eyes off the reader as he musters up the courage to ask her a question..)

Scars (One-shot. Category: A bit of everything. Fluff, angst, tiny hints at NSFW): A while back, I requested something that packs a lot of emotional weight and a tad bit of angst and fluff and Annie did NOT disappoint. Approximately 6K words displaying her UNGODLY amounts of talent. (Synopsis: After a passionate night together, the reader is pushed by her curiosity to finally ask Sam all the questions she’s been wondering for months.)

What I Deserve (One-Shot, Category: Angst, Fluffy ending): If you're looking to ride aboard a rollercoaster of emotions, you've come to the right place. This.. EXQUISITE piece.. is so well-written that every scene could easily be made into a movie. It's romantic, it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once and you're definitely gonna need a box of tissues. (Synopsis: In the heated passion of a fight, Sam pushes you away... not realizing his mistake until you’ve already gone.)

Annie ALSO has a mini-series she's been working on that should definitely be included in this list. "Come Back To Me," is – once again – gut-wrenching and absolutely sappy and exciting all at once. I recommend jumping on it right now when everything hasn't been updated yet to preserve the heat of suspense as we all impatiently wait for a 6th chapter ;) (Synopsis: When Sam doesn’t make it out of a Panamanian prison, the reader desperately goes after him in the hopes there may be a chance to save him.)

2) @missdictatorme : One of my VERY good friends who's EXTREMELY funny and also incredibly kind and supportive. I literally could not have been writing and publishing ANYTHING without her encouragement. While incredibly filthy, she poses a threat to every writer who has ever hoped to write some juicy drama that'll for SURE keep readers glued to the screen. Here's her Masterlist, and here are my top recommendations:

First Touch (mini-series. Category: A bit of everything: Angst, Fluff, and a WHOLE LOTTA NSFW): Before I'd joined Tumblr, I'd stumbled upon this marvelous series on AO3, but was disappointed to find it only had around 5 parts only posted there. I'd then joined Tumblr, where I'd coincidentally found missdictatorme. I realized that she was indeed the author of one of the most SCANDALOUS pieces I've ever read. (Synopsis: Sam is a close friend of your father. You always had a crush on him, even in your highschool years, so when you return after finishing college still as a virgin, you ask him for a favour. Will he help you?)

Sex-Ed (Mini-series. Category: Fluff, NSFW, a healthy bit of angst.. And did I mention NSFW?): I mean… It's in the name. That's exactly what it was. Think online classes, though. Very.. interactive classes. Practical work involved. ALSO a scandalous and dramatic piece that is possibly one of my favorites ever. (Synopsis: This story basically will contain a shitload of sex ed from Sam, because if he sees a woman in need he just has to help. Even if he is not there physically.) 

And just in case someone likes a certain Englishman who's as handsome as he is cunning, check out her Harry Flynn works:

In Like Flynn (Two-Shot; Category: NSFW): This one's just pure filth with a pleasant turn of events to keep you on your toes. (Synopsis: Harry thought he had an easy job breaking in a rich collector’s house to steal a valuable artifact, but the work turned out to be… harder.)

Slow and Steady (One-Shot; Category: NSFW): Literally porn without plot. I don't know about you, but sometimes that's just what my.. "soul".. needs. 

As for a series I'm currently reading, she has one that's in progress that I think everyone would adore if you're into the idea of AUs and just.. kids, then you should check out "The Stubborn, The Headstrong, and The Persistent." (Synopsis: AU where Sam is the CEO of a big marketing company and he also has an 11 years old son. Sam is very busy with work, usually staying in his office late in the afternoon, sometimes even at the evenings, attending meetings and dinners, while he hires nanny after nanny to watch his son, but they all quit after a few days. Will a certain smartass, irritating, insufferable neighbour be the solution to the problem? Well, as much as he hates it, yes, yes she will.)

3) @desertvvitch : Not only are they one of my favorite people whom I love talking to and definitely the kindest soul on here and one of the funniest, but they're SUPREMELY talented. They have such a great way with words and always paint the perfect picture with them. They've published but one work on Tumblr (@desertvvitch 's Tumblr Masterlist), but have so many others on AO3 that I'd like everybody to check out along with me! (@desertvvitch 's AO3 and Masterlist), but they are working on what seems like another installment of the Uncharted game series and it is such a fun read. Sam and the reader have such a complex relationship that slowly builds up as they progress through their adventure. Stuff slowly unravels and I love NOTHING MORE but some juicy drama and a tad bit of angst and she maintains this balance effortlessly. You can show the story I'm talking about, "Seaside Beauty", some love by clicking on the link I attached. (Category: Angst, a handsome amount of fluff, and a classy amount of NSFW; Synopsis: She craves adventure so much more than he does, and no one thinks he expected that.)

4) @unchartedterritoria : I mean, holy shit, where do I even start? This woman is the connoisseur of diversity in her works. It's ALWAYS a joy getting to read anything she's written. Despite not being online most of the time, she has an incredible Masterlist that will for sure keep you entertained for the LONGEST time. Here's her Masterlist, and here are my top recommendations:

Selfish (Mini-Series; Category: Fluff, ABSOLUTELY NSFW): Also one of the series I've stumbled upon on AO3 and found later on Tumblr. 100% recommend curling up under a blanket and reading this one. (Synopsis: Sam Drake, your friend and also your Uncle Sully’s business partner, owes you a favor. What you’re looking to cash in? Your virginity.)

A Scathingly Brilliant Idea, Not So Much (Two-Shot; Category: Fluff! It's cute. Just a lil' bit of language, but I'm sure nobody minds that): This is SUPER fun to read. I giggled ALL the way and I absolutely wish there was more of this but I also believe that it's perfect the way it is. (Synopsis: You and your friend Jenn spend time scoping out your hot neighbor Sam Drake. What happens when you add 3 bottles of wine?)

Hashtags (One-Shot; Category: Uh.. I do not know what to put this under but it's just PURE comedy): ALSO super funny to read. I had a big smile on my face all throughout. DEFINITELY read it if you're feeling down. (Synopsis: What if Same Drake went through and read his own hashtags?)

She also has an amazingly written series of her own that could ALSO very easily be another Uncharted installment. Very well-written, perfect build-up of events, and a perfect splash of drama to spice it all up. Naughty Dog, please have a chat with this woman and, you guys, make sure you check out "Dangerous" and spoil her with feedback. (Synopsis: Description: Faith Spencer, after finding an old Bible hidden in her mother’s things, ends up on an adventure with Sam Drake. While unearthing information about President Abraham Lincoln, the two are taken to places physically, mentally and emotionally that they thought they would never have to go…or go back to.)

5) @elledrake : Absolutely the coolest, sweetest human on planet earth. So welcoming and humble and supportive. I 1000% would die for her. Not only is she such a good person to talk to, but she's also secretly a VERY talented writer. For her, I can't compile an entire list because, unfortunately, she's only written but one piece with two parts. It's warm, it's domestic, and her descriptive writing will for sure make you gawk. So make sure to check out "Tell Me More" and leave feedback to encourage her to write more!

HONORABLE MENTIONS: 

@smokydrake : I've never personally talked to them. They're currently on hiatus, but rarely ever reblog anything, so it'll be easy to just scroll down their account and consume as much Rafe or Sam content as your hearts so please. They're effortlessly and MASSIVELY talented. 

@unchartedwrites : Their Masterlist is MASSIVE. You'd definitely want to go give 'em a follow and spoil the hell outta yourself. I have never talked to them, either, but I adore their writing and I'm sure you guys would, too!

And that's it for this one, guys. If you've any more suggestions of great writers I could add to this list, please don't hesitate to come forward 🥰 I'm always super glad to discover and learn and read more. Don't forget to support your favorite writers, guys! Especially in those tough times. 

Much love!

~M 

Baby, I'm Home

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wrap yourself up as an early Christmas present for your boyfriend Eddie to surprise him as he gets home from work.

Word Count: 2.5K

Content Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut, Shower sex, Fingering, Oral m receiveing

You frowned in front of the mirror as you fumbled with the flimsy material of your lingerie, if you could even call it that. The ensemble was definitely for novelty purposes, and you suspected you wouldn’t be wearing it for long anyway but you were still uncomfortable nonetheless. It was Christmas Eve and you were waiting for your boyfriend to get home from work, it was the first one in your small shared apartment and Eddie had been working overtime for months to help pay for everything you needed to make your new home feel like home. You had told him he had no need to work so hard, to you, home was wherever he was. You didn’t need anything but him, but he was hearing none of it. He wanted you to have the fancy bedsheets you ran your fingers over last time you were shopping, he wanted you to have the expensive coffee that made you close your eyes in content every morning, he wanted you to be able to buy all the plants and candles and little trinkets you wanted no matter how many times you told him they weren’t necessaties. 

Your Christmas Eve had always been special ever since you were a child, always spent with family preparing for the festivities, huddled up with over indulgent hot chocolates and home baked goods and a long list of cheesy holiday movies. So when Eddie broke the news that he agreed to work the late shift you were more than disappointed, but you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled when you knew he was doing it for you. So you decided to do something for him in return, an early Christmas present. Your body being the present, and he was allowed to use it however he pleased. Your chest was wrapped up by probably the least supportive “bra” you’d ever owned, the huge ruby red bow barely containing your breasts. Ruffled panties of the same shade covered your nether region, held up by the silky ribbons tied on either side of your hips. 

You were expecting him home at any moment, after adjusting your bow one last time until you were satisfied with the way it rested you shuffled your way to the living area. Pouring out two glasses of wine you placed them in the centre of the coffee table before lighting a few candles to set the atmosphere you were going for. You knelt down on the rug facing the front door and waited, your thighs parted slightly, hands clasped together between them while you squeezed your arms to accentuate your breasts. You started to feel fidgety when you finally heard the jangle of his keys in the lock. Your stomach somersaulted as the door swung open, your beautiful boyfriend coming into view, his palm dragging down the front of his tired face as he sluggishly crossed over the threshold. 

“Baby I’m ho- ohhh my god,” he faltered, his keys slipping from his fingers and clattering to the wooden floorboards. “What- what is this?” 

You beamed up at him, not used to seeing him at a loss for words. 

“Merry Christmas baby,” you purred, lips pouting seductively. 

He stalked closer to you, his lip tucked between his teeth as his dark eyes roamed over you. He stopped in front of you and smirked, you gazed up at him with big round eyes, purposefully wide to try and make yourself look as innocent as possible. He reached out to grip your chin, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. He hummed and moved his thumb to your plump bottom lip, pulling down the flesh before demanding you to open your mouth. You did as instructed and opened, moaning as he slid his thumb in along your tongue. You closed your lips around the digit and sucked before biting down gently. 

“Naughty,” he scolded, retracting his thumb and smearing your saliva across your cheek as he cupped your face in his palm. 

He dropped to his knees to match your height and surged forward to capture your lips in a dizzying kiss. Your hands gripped his wrists where they held your head to steady yourself, you whined he sank his own teeth into your bottom lip and tugged. 

“Are you my present sweetheart?” Eddie asked, one hand toying with the ribbon. 

“Mmhmm,” you nodded in affirmation. “You can have me any way you want.”

Eddie got to his feet and took a few steps back, wanting to savour the sight of you a moment longer before he unwrapped you. When he had your every curve committed to memory he reached out his arms to you encouraging you to stand. You grabbed his hands and stumbled when he hoisted you up, your legs numb from being knelt for so long. He grabbed your hips to stop you from toppling over and searched out your lips once more. Open mouthed kisses dragged along your jaw and down your neck, latching onto your pulse point Eddie sucked an array of purple bruises along your throat and across your collarbones. 

Once the feeling had returned to your legs and he was sure you wouldn’t fall down his fingers traced soft lines up your waist and along your ribs, pausing as he reached the edges of the ribbon. He yanked the material harshly, eyes wide in awe as he watched the bow unravel and drop to the floor. You gasped as he wasted no time taking your nipple in his mouth, his hand palming the one which wasn’t getting attention from his tongue. He licked his way down your stomach to your hips, kissing his way across the waistband of your panties he simultaneously pulled at the bows holding them in place. 

You squirmed at the feeling of him pulling the silk from between your thighs, his kisses immediately travelling lower until his tongue darts out to swipe at your clit. Your fingers tangled in his curls as you leaned forward into his touch. He chuckled into your heat at how hard you were pulling his hair. He pried your fingers away from his head and rose to your height, tenderly pressing his forehead against our own. 

“Care to join me in the shower my love?” He was tired and aching from his long shift, wanting nothing more than to ravish you right there in the middle of the rug but also wanting to wash the sweat and grime from his body. 

You agreed and walked him backwards in the direction of the bathroom, tiny pecks of affection against each other's lips as you led the way. You helped strip him of his clothes and climbed into the shower behind him. Your earlier antics were halted as you helped wash away the tension he was holding in his muscles. 

Your nails gently raked against his scalp as you massaged the shampoo into his hair, a satisfied groan rumbling in his throat. With delicate fingers you cover his skin with body wash, the shower head drummed against Eddie’s bowed head, his palms resting against the cool tiles in front of him. Stood behind him you placed loving kisses between his shoulder blades and down his spine, your hands snaking around his front to run along his chest and down his stomach, teasing along his happy trail. You felt the back of your hand brush against his erection, wrapping your fist around him you gave his swelling dick a squeeze at the base. He lets out a soft moan at the contact, the sensation sending a tingle down his spine. Eddie grinded his forehead to the tiles as your hand stroked him at a slow steady pace, every nerve in his body lit up at your touch, your teeth scraping at his shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum,” Eddie whined breathlessly and you smiled into his skin as he rocked his hips in time with your fist. 

“Good baby,” you assured him. “Tonight’s all about you.”

“Nuh uh, not yet,” he gripped your wrist stilling your motions and rotated to face you, his pupils blown wide. 

He cupped your neck and waist and pulled you forward to his chest, desperate to taste every inch of your tongue. He reached down to run his fingers through your slickness, enjoying the way you writhed against his touch. You moaned as he wedged his thigh between your legs forcing you to open wider, two fingers breaching your entrance and curling perfectly inside you. He growled as your nails sunk into his shoulders, he hooked his free hand beneath your knee hiking your leg up high on his hip. 

The air around you felt too hot, the steam from the shower combined with the ferocity he was pumping his fingers in and out of you was making you feel light headed, his tongue still caressed your own as you whimpered into his mouth. Your brow furrowed as you felt him smirk against your lips, his eyes darkening even more as he had a sudden idea. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, firmly dragging them upwards over your clit and once again gripping your hip. He breathed heavily against your lips when he broke the kiss, the lust coursing through his veins making his brain feel cloudy. 

“Fucking Christ,” he sighed, the hand on your hip reaching up to unhook the shower head from its catch. “You make the prettiest little noises all for me don’t you?” 

“Uh huh,” you fussed, your stomach flipping excitedly as you watched him twist the head to set it to a harsher spray. “For you Eds, all for you.” 

He smiled at you wickedly as he brought the shower head between your trembling thighs, hoisting your knee back up over his hip to keep your centre exposed. You threw your head back when the water ran over your folds, the pressure of the spray making your toes curl and your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Careful angel,” he whispered as he heard the thud of your skull make contact with the tiles. 

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, your nails biting into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped indents as you fought to keep yourself upright. “Oh my god Eddie, oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Mmmm, that’s it pretty girl, let it all out,” he cooed softly into your ear as he nipped your lobe between his teeth. 

Your hips started to buck involuntarily as your orgasm drew closer. Your brows knitted together and your lips open to form a cute little oh shape. Eddie wished he could snap a picture of the moment, he always thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on but right now you looked like a fucking goddess. The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, you flung your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling over, the force of your release knocking the air from your lungs. He pressed gentle kisses to your temple as you came back down to Earth, hooking the shower head back in its place in the wall he wrapped his now free arm around your waist to hold you tightly to his chest. Slowly lowering your leg he rubbed soothing circles against your hip bone with his thumb. 

You could feel his cock rock hard and stood to full attention pressing into your stomach as he held you, a fresh wave of heat flooded your body despite your still trembling limbs, when it came to him you could never get enough. You pulled away from him tapping gently at his chest. 

“All good?” he asked a little breathless, his heart racing from how turned on he was. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, holy shit that was amazing.” 

He chuckled looking proud of himself, the grin falling from his face when you grabbed him by the hips and switched your positions, hissing as his back made contact with the cold tiles. You sank to your knees in front of him, nipping a path from his pulse point down his chest and stomach, your tongue soothing the sting left by your teeth. He whined as you licked a line from the base of his shaft to the swollen leaking tip, lapping up the bead of precum pooling at his slit. You were too impatient to tease him, wasting no time taking him fully in your mouth. The growl that ripped from his throat was primal as the warm, wet heat engulfed him, you bobbed your head hungrily swallowing the urge to gag as you took him deeper and deeper. 

You expected him to tangle his fingers in your hair as he usually did to guide your pace but instead he placed his hands on either side of your face. His thumbs brushing the soft skin of your cheeks tenderly as he tilted your face up to look down into your eyes. He shuddered as your gazes locked, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings wildly. You reached your hands around to grab onto his ass, raking your fingernails over the soft flesh and down the backs of his thighs. The sensation causing his hips to jerk forward, you gagged softly as he hit the back of your throat. 

“Sorry, m’sorry baby,” he croaked through a strangled voice as he continued to soothe your cheek with his thumb. 

You huffed a laugh through your nose and pushed yourself further forward again, your face almost buried in the wiry hair surrounding his cock. He was close you could tell by the divine little whimpers falling from his lips, you watched the muscles of his stomach clenching as his hip movements became jerky and uneven. He was done for the moment you reached up to lightly cup his balls, rolling them in your palm as his orgasm rushed to the surface. 

“M’gonna cum, oh- baby m’gonna cum,” he choked out hurriedly, warning you in case you wanted to pull away. 

Not a chance you thought as you braced yourself. Hot ropes of his salty pearlescent release coated your tongue, you concentrated on your breathing so you wouldn’t choke before swallowing every drop of him. You hummed dreamily as you released him from your lips. He slid down the wall so that he was kneeling next to you, his hands never leaving the sides of your face. He pulled you towards him to crash his lips to yours, the possessive part of him loving that he could taste himself on your tongue. Your breaths mingled when you broke apart for air, both panting heavily as he brushed the bridge of his nose against your own and laughed from the giddiness his high had brought. 

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

I loved it, they're so creepy and cute together

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

Pastel Pins {G.E.}

✰ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: The word "simp" is used

✰ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gareth Emerson x fem!cute!reader

✰ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 385 words

✰ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Gareth is a protective simp over something his girlfriend gave him.

✰ 𝐀/𝐍: Tagging @ur-local-geek-fest because Cleo did this to me. Just a little blurb written a 11 at night <3

You had a small paper bag behind your back from a store you would never go to but you did for Gareth. You wanted to get him a little something because you felt like doing it since you just wanted to see your little curly haired boy smile.

"Gareth! Hi!" You greeted happily as soon as you saw him, bouncing a little as you walked.

Gareth smiled at the sight of you being so excited. "Hey, what's got you so excited?" He asked, slightly curious at your slightly unusual behavior.

You brought your hand around from behind your back, handing him the bag. "I got this for you, to add to your vest thingie." You told him, swiping a hand across his chest, making him blush.

He pulled out the brightest Pac-Man pin he had ever seen. He felt as if it could be seen from space. "Oh... It's..." He faltered, trying to find the words. He still smiled genuinely because it was the sweetest gesture.

"It's cute right?" You asked excitedly." I tried finding one that would match but I couldn't help myself. I love it!" You finished all giddy and bouncy.

He handed the pin back to you and held a part of his vest out. "Help me pin it on?" He asked, pinching the fabric where he wanted you to pin it.

"Of course!"

You almost stabbed him in the finger with it but you got there. You were all smiles the rest of the day.

. . .

Gareth sat at his usual table with the Hellfire Club and as soon as he did Eddie and Jeff were staring at him.

"What is that?" Eddie grimaced, pointing at Gareth's new pin.

Gareth shrugged and pretended to not know what Eddie was talking about. "What's what?"

"That," Jeff reiterated, pointing at the same spot.

"It's a gift," Gareth responded simply.

Eddie's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "It doesn't at all seem like you're sty-"

Gareth cut Eddie off loudly. "It is my style! My girlfriend got it for me so that's what makes it my style. Gotta problem?" He asked aggressively, immediately backing down.

"Simp." Jeff and Eddie teased.

Boy did Gareth get teased that lunch period by all the club members.

me pulling eddie’s fine ass back up into the portal after he cuts the rope just so he wouldn’t sacrifice himself for a town that hates him

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.