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lowaltitude · 7 months

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Caffeinate | Eddie Munson, Coffee Shop AU

— Stranger Things. — One shot. — x Reader (Y/N)

❪ FEM! she/her ❫ ❪ prompt: ‘I write a bad pick up line on your cup every time i’m your barista’ AU ❫ Altitude

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, Coffee Shop AU, in which Edward “Eddie” Munson is the barista who’s casual flirty remarks you can’t seem to just brush off as nothing more than banter. OR in which Eddie‘s temporary job making coffee became a delight when he began flirting with a regular customer

𖥻 rewrite of this work from a year ago.

𖥻 No connection to Stranger Things series timeline. y/n references star wars like twice lol. slow burn? not smut or fluff, just crushing. only other title i could come up with was For Whom the Bean Tolls 13.3k words

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Seated in the cozy corner of the quaint town coffee shop, I found myself almost alone, a scene that mirrored many of my previous visits. Yet, on this particular day, a subtle shift in my surroundings caught my attention. My gaze drifted from the pages of the book I had been attempting to immerse myself in, the words blurring as my thoughts twisted.

I had lost count of how many times I had retraced the same sentence— My mind was captivated by the presence of the new barista. This coffee haven had been a constant during my journey through high school, a place of solace, but I had never fathomed the possibility of someone like Eddie Munson stepping behind the counter. The notion of him becoming an integral part of this familiar setting was beyond my imagination.

My focus was drawn to him, my eyes fixed on his form as he underwent training. Eddie, a person I had only observed from afar in the halls of our school, was now the center of my attention. His curly hair artfully gathered into a bun that teased with a few misbehaving curls springing free and brushing his face. The sight of him absorbed in learning the mechanics of the coffee machine, guided by the experienced hand of the regular barista, held an unexpected allure, a captivating scene that held me spellbound.

Little did they know that they were in the midst of instructing none other than Eddie Munson, a person often labeled as an outsider, an anomaly. As they patiently guided him through the art of crafting a cappuccino, oblivious to his more… clandestine activities, the irony was thick. Unbeknownst to them, Eddie's reputation extended beyond this cafe, as he covertly conducted his business within the wooded confines behind the high school.

Eddie's enigmatic nature didn't seem to waver even in this unexpected role. A Dungeons & Dragons pin, proudly pinned next to his name badge on his apron, showcasing an aspect of his identity. It was as if he refused to suppress his true self, boldly displaying his interests for all to see.

A subtle smile played on my lips as I observed him, absorbed in his task. The sound of spilled milk was accompanied by a muttered curse, his voice carrying across the sparsely populated shop. His authenticity was palpable, his frustration creating an oddly endearing picture that contrasted with the pristine surroundings of the coffee shop.

"Y/N," the voice of the other barista broke through my thoughts, jolting me back to reality.

"Yeah?" I responded, my voice coming out almost as a croak. Eddie wasn't someone I actively observed. Amidst the backdrop of girls swooning over Steve Harrington and now Billy Hargrove for the past few years, I had never really paid attention to the fact that Eddie possessed an allure of his own. His reputation had always preceded him.

"Need another drink?" They motioned towards Eddie, who remained engrossed in the milk frothing task. I shut my book, shifting my focus. "Eddie," their voice called out, capturing the young man's attention. I approached the counter, feeling his gaze on me as I did.

"Right," he replied, pivoting fully to face me. His eyes met mine, causing an unexplainable dryness to form in my mouth.

I had never shared a class with Eddie; he was a year ahead of me. To be precise, he held a two-year seniority over me. However, due to his recent failure to advance past senior year, he was about to join my class. It marked his third attempt at conquering that final hurdle.

"Good afternoon," the boy greeted. Though his badge read 'Edward,' the name seemed foreign, as everyone I knew referred to him as Eddie. It almost felt like he would correct me endlessly if I ever dared to call him Edward.

Resting his hands on either side of the register, he patiently awaited my order. It was a familiar routine, even though I almost always found myself drawn back to the same choice I couldn’t help but look over the menu board. His coworker stood casually beside him, a knowing smile directed my way. They had grown accustomed to my preferences, considering it was almost always them who took care of my order.

"Could I please have a large iced coffee?" I sighed, my gaze drifting over the tempting pastries displayed nearby. "And add a donut to that."

Eddie's soft chuckle resonated through the air as his fingers deftly captured the donut, and I watched with a tinge of excitement dancing within me. Swiftly, he nestled the pastry into a paper bag, extending it toward me. My eyes fixated on his hand for a fleeting moment before I reached out to accept the offering.

A slight twitch coursed through him as our hands brushed against each other, an unexpected yet oddly thrilling sensation. With the donut now in my possession, I handed over the money, my gaze lifting to meet his. Mesmerising eyes, a deep shade of brown, seemed to pour into mine, leaving me momentarily captivated.

"Um, a name for the order?" he inquired hurriedly, his focus returning to the task at hand as he fumbled to grasp a plastic cup.

"Y/N," I replied, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "I'm a regular, you'll be seeing this face often."

"Of course," Eddie responded, his hand moving confidently to write my name on the cup. In that moment, a single curl of hair made its escape, falling gently across his forehead. It was a sight I hadn't witnessed before; the owners must have made him to tie it back because I had never seen it out of his face. "It'll be ready soon."

"Thanks," I murmured, my voice soft as a breeze, feeling a mixture of anticipation and self-inflicted embarrassment. Stepping back, I shuffled toward my table, a gentle internal groan accompanying my fleeting moment of blush-worthy interaction.

Eddie didn't possess the same kind of conventional attractiveness that Steve Harrington exuded, nor did he boast the notorious reputation for winning over hearts like Billy Hargrove. In all honesty, the limited knowledge I held about Eddie leaned more toward the unfavorable side.

Still, I was aware that he led the D&D club and played the guitar. Gareth, one of his friends, happened to be a classmate of mine, though our interaction had been limited to a single conversation during an English assignment.

Gareth was a likable guy; his company was enjoyable, and he radiated kindness. Unfortunately, it seemed that others often treated him with a disregard that he didn't deserve.

From across the room, Eddie's voice called out my name. The space was compact, rendering his need for a louder tone unnecessary, as the small establishment rarely experienced a heavy influx of customers.

With the freshly brewed coffee now before me, I hoped that its invigorating aroma would help me reclaim my focus on the study materials laid out in front of me. I had managed to maintain my concentration since arriving after school, until the very moment Eddie walked through the door. Donned in a leather jacket with a flannel tied casually around his waist, he had effortlessly captivated my attention.

He nudged the iced coffee across the counter, his hands seeking refuge in his pockets as I made my way back. Lifting the drink, I narrowed my brows, my gaze shifting to the cardboard sleeve snugly hugging the cup. My eyes scanned the hastily scrawled message:

Oh, can you feel that? There is definitely something brewing between us.

For a few fleeting moments, I remained locked in contemplation, my gaze darting between the message and Eddie's face. A tension lingered in the air as he swallowed audibly, his throat clearing with a subtle rasp. The unease seemed to propel him into motion, and he pivoted on his heels, feigning engagement in some other task.

I brought the straw to my lips and spun on my toes, making my way back to my table, the thought of diving into my studies beckoning me. Eddie's first endeavor as a barista had resulted in a rather impressive cup of coffee, subtly personalized with the inclusion of a cheesy yet endearing pick-up line.

Sinking into my chair, my lips curled into a faint smile. My stomach danced with nervous anticipation as I glanced once more in Eddie's direction. It required a concerted effort to redirect my attention back to my studies, as his presence seemed to take away a significant portion of my focus.

After drumming my pen on the open notebook for another five minutes, I conceded that my essay wouldn't see completion today.

‘Definitely something brewing between us.’ I mulled over the words. It was a clever coffee pun, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of significance behind it. His reaction when our hands brushed suggested to me that it wasn't just a throwaway line. Yet, I doubted he was genuinely interested in girls at this point.

Closing my books, I reminded myself that summer was a mere three weeks away. Boys could wait. Prioritizing my pending tasks was essential to ensure I could unwind and make the most of the upcoming break. With the launch of the new Starcourt Mall, my summer promised an escape from the confines of our quaint little town.

Stuffing my belongings into my backpack and grabbing my partially consumed drink, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. "Bye," I uttered, fatigue lacing my voice as I waved to the baristas who were diligently cleaning the counter. The chime of the door's bell accompanied my departure.

Approaching my home, I noticed the sun had nearly surrendered to the horizon, casting the world in a dusky glow. My coffee had dwindled as well. Popping open the trash can's lid, I removed the cardboard sleeve and slipped it into my back pocket before depositing the plastic cup into the bin. With a final glance at the remains of my coffee, I turned and entered my house.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

A span of ten days had passed since Eddie's first day at the coffee shop. Over this period, his presence had grown more pronounced as he eagerly took on additional shifts. Each time, a fresh message adorned the cup he handed to me.

Words are not enough to espresso how cute you are.

Do you need more sugar or am I sweet enough?

I’ve been thinking about you a latte lately

I had taken to discreetly tucking these cardboard sleeves into my bag before leaving the shop. Safely nestled within my desk drawer at home, they served as small mementos to prevent them from slipping away from my possession. I recognized that these messages likely held no actual meaning, yet they kindled something within me. While I couldn't determine whether he practiced this gesture with all orders or solely mine—since I seldom witnessed other customers' cups—the personal touch made me feel valued.

Our paths crossed a few times at school since, brief moments during lunch when Eddie would be seated with his friends. Our gazes would occasionally connect as I passed by, but any potential conversation never transpired. I often yearned to speak to him on days when his happiness radiated so evidently or when he displayed an undeniable level of cuteness.

Clutching my books firmly against my side, I adjusted the backpack slung over my shoulder while stifling a yawn, my steps leading me closer to the entrance of the coffee shop.

Pushing open the door, the delicate chime of a bell welcomed me in. With a determined effort, I mustered my best smile for the familiar faces that greeted me, attempting to conceal the inexplicable fatigue that seemed to hang over me. It baffled me how, despite being just 4 pm, I found myself still yawning. The day hadn't even been particularly demanding; it mainly consisted of attending classes and occupying a seat in the library during the free periods.

Allowing my bag to slip to the ground near a table, I gingerly placed my books on the surface and retrieved my wallet. "Afternoon," I greeted with a yawn, my hand moving to rub at my tired eye as I approached the counter.

"Good afternoon," Eddie responded with a warm smile, his actions swift as he seized a cup and jotted down my name before I even had the chance to offer it.

"Could I get an extra shot today? I feel like I've been hit by a land speeder," I half-joked, trying to inject a touch of humor into the request.

Eddie's laughter filled the air, and he responded, "So you're a Star Wars geek, huh? I wouldn't have guessed."

A playful curiosity tugged at me, and I quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

Eddie's gaze slowly traced up and down my form, a smile forming on his lips. His nonchalant shrug left me momentarily flustered. I averted my eyes, allowing my hair to cover my face, creating a flimsy veil that concealed my reddening cheeks. Passing him the money, I retreated to my table, textbook open before me.

Pen in hand, I began jotting down notes, stealing a glance only when the bell above the entrance chimed. An all-too-familiar figure sauntered in—none other than the infamous Steve Harrington. His reputation wasn't entirely accurate; I had briefly tutored Steve a few months ago. If he wasn't on the brink of graduating, we might have formed a friendship.

He scanned the surroundings, his gaze landing on me as he sent a small, enthusiastic wave my way before proceeding to the counter. Steve's surprise at encountering Eddie in this setting was noticeable, evident in the slight tenseness that crept into his demeanor as he placed an order for a to-go drink.

"Y/N," Eddie called, placing the cup onto the counter for me. My excitement propelled me to my feet, and I moved eagerly to retrieve it, offering a polite greeting to Steve as I did so.

A smile graced Steve's lips. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, you too," I affirmed, my fingers tapping nervously against the cup in my hands. Anticipation gnawed at me—I was eager to unveil the message Eddie had penned. "Weren't you searching for a job? Did you manage to find something?"

A smirk played on Steve's lips, and he replied with a hint of swagger, "Oh, indeed. You're looking at a certified professional frozen dessert sales associate." He tugged playfully at the collar of his shirt, exuding a mix of confidence and amusement.

I gave a nod, my lips forming a contemplative purse. "So, your gig is selling... ice cream?"

"Exactly," he sighed, a hint of resignation touching his tone. "Scoops Ahoy, over at the new mall."

A smile played on my lips, and I responded, "I'll definitely swing by sometime." My attention shifted as Eddie set a cup before Steve, momentarily distracting me from our conversation.

"Thanks, man," Steve acknowledged, a nod of gratitude directed at Eddie. He retrieved the hot beverage, his gaze returning to me. I couldn't help but find it peculiar—despite the onset of summer's heat, Steve had chosen a steaming cup of coffee over any other option. "Catch you later," he concluded before turning to leave.

Steve practically bolted through the door, prompting the other barista to materialize seemingly out of thin air. "Who's that?" they queried, their curiosity evident.

I jumped slightly, my hand instinctively flying to my chest. "Jesus, you scared me," I exhaled, attempting to regulate my heartbeat.

"He was so cute," they gushed, a dreamy tone underscoring their words.

"Steve? Well, yeah, he's good-looking. But it's not like I have romantic feelings for him. He's just a guy I used to tutor," I explained, my gaze shifting to Eddie, who was busy arranging fresh pastries in the display.

"Hot and not the sharpest tool in the shed? That's my kind of guy," they quipped with a smirk.

"Hey, if you're interested, why not ask him out? He’d probably be into it." I suggested nonchalantly before returning to my table. I cast a glance at the cup, excitement bubbling within me, as the message written on it came into view.

This must be decaf, cause you're just dreamy!

My attention remained glued to my books for a solid hour, but soon the rising temperature began to make itself felt. Despite the air conditioning's persistent hum and the continuous supply of ice water handed over by the staff, I felt as if I were on the brink of melting.

Eddie emitted a low, almost reluctant groan, succumbing to the heat as he finally removed his leather jacket. Engaged in wiping down a nearby table, he caught my attention, his form-fitting shirt revealing intriguing tattoos on his exposed upper arms. A guitar pick necklace peeked out from beneath his collar, adding to his enigmatic charm.

I chewed on my lip, determined to curb my wandering gaze. He wasn't even engaging in anything particularly 'sexy'—it was the effortless allure he exuded in the course of ordinary tasks that held my attention.

As my study notes began to incorporate a sketch of one of his tattoos, I realized I'd been captivated by a mythical creature inked on his upper arm. My focus lingered for too long, leading my hand to unconsciously doodle on the paper.

"Do you need more water?" Eddie's voice interjected, causing me to look up from my paper toward the counter.

"No, thank you. I'm good," I responded, flipping the page, closing my book, and sliding it into my bag. Standing, I gathered my belongings. "I'll catch you on Monday," I murmured, my head slightly bowed. The prospect of meeting Eddie's gaze again felt almost overwhelming. I feared that another look could render me completely weak in the knees, causing me to collapse onto the floor. His hair had succumbed to the humidity, forming a frizz around his face; glistening beads of sweat adorned his skin, and his cheeks held a rosy hue, all of which only heightened his magnetic appeal.

The weekend stretched ahead with little to occupy my time other than lounging about. It was as if staring at the clock might coax it into halting its progress, leaving me trapped within the ceaseless heat.

With the arrival of Monday, I made a resolute decision: I was going to strike up a conversation with Eddie at school.

What was there to fret over? I had no reputation to guard, and given that it would take place in the bustling halls, the notion of Eddie peddling drugs right then and there wouldn't even cross anyone's mind. I hope.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I navigated the bustling hallways, my eyes scanning for Eddie. Our paths typically intersected around this time, but maybe the scorching weather had prompted him to change his routine. As lunchtime arrived, I resolved to seize the opportunity to talk to him, even though my usual tendency was to enjoy my meals in the library or outdoors.

I devised a simple plan: casually stroll past Eddie's table during lunch, offer a friendly smile, say, "Oh, hey Eddie," give a small wave, and continue walking. It seemed like an inconspicuous way to catch his attention.

Entering the cafeteria, I was momentarily taken aback by it all. Collecting my thoughts, I took a deep breath and scanned the room. Eddie and his friends were engrossed in conversation at a table, my gaze fixed on him.

Focused on my approach, I failed to notice Steve at the table behind Eddie. Just as I drew close, Steve's voice rang out, "Y/N!" His enthusiastic wave caught my attention, and I abruptly halted, finding Eddie merely an arm's length away.

"Uh," I turned to Eddie, then swiftly back to Steve, my smile wavering slightly. "Hey."

Steve was quick to offer a seat, pulling out the chair next to him with a grin. "Do you want to sit with us?"

"Really?" I glanced fleetingly at Eddie, sensing his eyes on me as his table fell into a hushed silence.

"Of course."

With a cautious step, I took the vacant seat and exchanged smiles with Steve. He introduced me to the others at the table, marking me as his friend. The back of Eddie's chair brushed against mine, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me. Amid the chatter and laughter emanating from his table, his voice remained elusive.

Steve chatted energetically, making an effort to include me in the ongoing conversation. However, I found myself mostly reticent, contributing only sporadically to the discussion.

My food remained largely untouched, my focus divided between my plate and the chatter from Eddie's circle of friends. Amid the exchanges, Steve's voice managed to cut through the noise.

"Y/N?" Steve's voice pulled me from my daydream, and I hummed in response, meeting his gaze. "We're having a party tonight, and you're invited," he extended the invitation with a grin.

"A party? On a Monday?" My skepticism was tangible.

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, it's not a crazy kind of party—just a chill evening by my pool, with some music and a few drinks."

I pondered for a moment. "Um…"

Leaning in a bit closer, Steve reassured me, "You don't have to drink."

I considered his offer, a tentative smile tugging at my lips. "Sure. I'd love to."

"Great," Steve's smile widened, and he gave my hand a reassuring pat on the table. With a soft sigh, I turned my attention back to my meal, determined to engage more actively in the conversations of Steve's friends.

As the school day drew to a close, I lingered in the bustling hallways, enveloped in a newfound camaraderie with some of Steve's friends. Their easy conversation made it feel as if we had been acquainted for years.

I waved to them as we parted ways, heading in opposite directions. My steps carried me toward the coffee house, where Eddie's car was already parked at the front. Hastily, I tried to tame my frizzy hair and blot my perspired face before entering the establishment, greeting Eddie with a warm smile.

Eddie glanced up from the book he had resting on the counter, his hand reaching for a cup as he swiftly scribbled my name onto it.

"Hi," I greeted, a smile gracing my lips as I reached the counter. Fidgeting with my thumbs, I met Eddie's gaze.

"Saw you at school today," Eddie remarked as he began preparing my coffee. I sucked in a sharp breath, my anticipation building as I awaited his next words. "With Steve Harrington," he continued, laughter evident in his voice.

I tilted my head slightly, a question in my eyes. "Why's that funny?"

"Just that he's him, and you're..." Eddie's voice trailed off, his expression becoming guarded.

"What do you mean?" I pressed, genuinely curious.

"Steve is a self-centered jerk wad, I can’t understand how you’d be his friend" Eddie replied with a wry smile.

I raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised by his assessment. "Didn't know you knew him," I commented nonchalantly, taking the coffee cup and making my way to a seat. As I settled in, I pondered the conversation, realizing that while Steve might have a reputation, openly voicing it felt a bit harsh.

Exhaling softly, I lifted my cup to my lips once more, taking a sip of the coffee before my eyes turned to the small note adorning it.

I better cut back on caffeine because my heart beats fast enough around you.

A fleeting smile graced my lips as I read the note, but soon my attention shifted to my backpack. With just a few days left of the school year, there was little left for me to occupy myself with. Taking another sip of my coffee, I rummaged through my bag in search of something, anything, to keep me engaged.

"Are you bored?" Eddie's voice floated over from his spot behind the counter.

"Kind of," I admitted, biting the inside of my cheek. "And I forgot my walkman. Maybe I'll just head home."

"Why leave when it's so nice here?" Eddie quipped. However, the reality was that the coffee shop felt stiflingly hot. My drink seemed to be more ice than coffee, courtesy of Eddie's efforts to combat the heat. Despite the air conditioning's presence, the temperature inside seemed to be unrelenting. I noticed another customer across the room, fanning themselves as they read, which only emphasized the sweltering conditions.

"Oh, definitely," I sighed with a hint of sarcasm, shuffling my belongings back into my bag. "This place is a paradise." My hair found itself pulled into a hasty ponytail, and I resorted to fanning my face with my hand before returning to my coffee. Eddie's smile caught my attention, and I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "What?"

"Hmm?" he responded, his gaze quickly shifting elsewhere.

A warm flush spread across my cheeks, and I instinctively turned to gaze out of the expansive front window. I wondered if Eddie had been looking at me, or if his focus had been elsewhere. The uncertainty added to my mild embarrassment.

Letting out a sigh, I swiveled slightly to glance at the wall clock behind me. The thought of heading home and collapsing on the couch seemed increasingly appealing, but the prospect of trekking the twenty-minute journey under the blazing sun felt like wandering through a desert in search of water. Maybe it was time to retrieve my bike from the garage, providing a more efficient means of transport.

"Checking to see how much time you have left before being at Harrington's?" Eddie's voice broke through my thoughts, drawing my attention once again.

"Huh?" I furrowed my brow, a small groan escaping as I realized his implication. "I actually forgot about that." The realization brought about an internal wince. Steve had told me to be at his place by 7, still hours away. "Eavesdropping during lunch, were you?" I quipped, a half-smile tugging at my lips.

"You're hardly ever in the cafeteria," Eddie shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. His casual response taking me by surprise. "And let's just say Steve's friends are quite vocal."

I sighed. “They really talk so loud.” The smile on Eddie’s face got bigger before he started laughing.

Eddie had noticed my absence from the cafeteria? The thought was oddly flattering, causing an involuntary smile to bloom across my face. In an attempt to conceal my amusement, I hastened to finish off the last of my coffee. Eddie's laughter danced in the air, further brightening the moment.

"Eddie," the other barista called out with a sigh, emerging from the back area and tying their apron around their waist. "You're done for the day."

Eddie wasted no time, a triumphant Yes! slipping from his lips in an almost hushed tone. He promptly vaulted over the counter, earning a reprimanding comment from the other barista, which he seemed to brush off.

He disregarded the comment, tugging the tie from his hair and allowing his curls to cascade freely around his head. He shed his apron, leaving it on the counter, and retrieved his keys from his pocket, twirling them idly on his finger.

"Someone's excited," I murmured, discreetly tucking the coffee slip into my bag before hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder. I offered a quick wave to the other barista before heading for the exit. Eddie jogged over, holding the door open for me. My gaze lingered on him for a moment before I walked through the door.

Outside, he stretched his arms overhead, capturing my attention as his muscles flexed. A gulp caught in my throat as he rubbed his eyes, his gaze eventually locking onto mine.

"Um, bye," I managed to say, taking a few steps before I was halted by Gareth's appearance on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Y/N," Gareth greeted with a warm smile, taking the keys from Eddie's hand as he acknowledged me. Meanwhile, their two other friends were steadily approaching Eddie's white van.

"Hey," I responded, tilting my head slightly as I observed the process of unloading equipment from the van. Amps, guitars, and a drum kit spilled out onto the pavement.

Gareth heaved the kick drum up onto the sidewalk, and Eddie pushed open the door to the adjacent bar for his friends. "You're performing here?"

"Every week this summer," Eddie replied, a note of pride evident in his grin.

"That's… pretty cool," I remarked, genuinely impressed.

Eddie shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a daytime slot. They don't want underage kids performing for the drunk crowd, apparently. But it's a start."

Gareth returned from inside, grasping a guitar case and placing it in Eddie's hands before turning his attention to me. "Are you planning to watch?"

"She's got other plans," Eddie chimed in, his voice slightly muffled by the guitar case pressed against him. He began walking into The Hideout, leaving me on the sidewalk as I averted my gaze to the ground.

A slight frown crept onto my face, but I attempted to shake off the twinge of disappointment. "Right. Actually, I'm headed to a party," I gestured animatedly with my hands, taking a few steps back to avoid the influx of band members hauling equipment.

Gareth hummed, stepping closer to me. "I'm sure Ed would've loved it if you stayed." He studied my face, his gaze narrowing slightly as if searching for a reaction. His assumption appeared to be correct, given the slow smile that graced his features. "You've got some time."

Blushing, I stared at Gareth with a slightly open mouth, taken aback by his remark. He walked over to Eddie's van, retrieving drumsticks and an amp before closing and locking the vehicle. Gareth handed the drumsticks and keys to me, then waited for me to open the bar's door for him.

Tightening my lips, I took a sharp intake of breath and held the door open for Gareth. He gave a nod in the direction of the small stage situated in the far corner of the bar. I followed him, glancing around as I entered. The bar was already populated with a few people, some appearing rather inebriated. The bartender eyed us cautiously as he cleaned a glass.

"Keys?" Eddie's voice sounded as he detected our presence behind him. Gareth looked at me, and I shifted to hand the car keys to Eddie. A slight jolt passed through me as our hands brushed against each other. Nervously, I clutched the drumsticks to my chest. Eddie turned around slowly, his gaze descending to meet mine. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then cleared his throat, eventually focusing his attention on one of his friends.

Feeling slightly embarrassed by the encounter, I hurriedly climbed onto the stage and knelt beside Gareth as he set up his drum kit.

"I should probably go," I murmured.

Gareth rolled his eyes, continuing to adjust his cymbals. "No," he stated simply.

"Wow, your powers of persuasion are truly impressive," I replied sarcastically.

Gareth swiveled on his seat, hunching over slightly with a blank expression. He stared at me, then glanced beyond me at the other three boys who were whispering among themselves. With a sigh, he placed one hand on my shoulder and took the drumsticks from my grasp.

"Go if you want, but we're only doing three songs tonight," he shrugged nonchalantly before standing up and going to converse with the rest of the band, leaving me alone on the floor.

After a brief moment of silent contemplation, I descended from the stage and claimed a seat at the bar. I ordered a glass of water from the bartender as someone took the stool next to me.

"Smart choice," the man commented.

"Chief Hopper," I acknowledged, looking at him.

"Y/L/N," Hopper greeted, waving to the bartender as he ordered a beer. "What brings you here?"

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure."

As the band members made some noise on the stage, a few more patrons entered The Hideout. Hopper sighed and lowered his head, focusing on the stage. "Jesus."

"What's wrong?"

He took a swig from his beer, glancing sideways to get a better view of the stage. "These idiots. You're not dating one of them, are you?"

"No, sir."

He hummed in response, taking another sip of his beer, and settled in to watch Corroded Coffin as they began their first song.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

As the band wrapped up their final song, the bar had grown more crowded. Chief Hopper and I had been engaged in light conversation, clapping when appropriate, and I did my best to mask any visible reactions to Eddie's singing and guitar playing. However, I suspected that Hopper had noticed how I reacted during the second song, where Eddie seemed to moan one of the lyrics.

The band members filed past, carrying their equipment out to the van. Eddie lingered behind, stopping at my seat.

"Heya Chief," he greeted casually.

"Munson," Hopper replied, giving the boy a once-over.

"You were good," I chimed in quickly, my fingers nervously fiddling with a loose thread on my pants.

Eddie chuckled. "I doubt a lot of people agree."

Hopper gestured with his beer bottle and drained the last of his drink. "I definitely don't." He placed some money on the counter, then adjusted his pants as he stood. "It was loud, that's all I have to say."

I watched as Hopper left, leaving behind an awkward silence with Eddie. In an attempt to fill the void, I picked up my glass and finished the water, then adjusted the straps of my backpack and got up from my stool.

Eddie and I navigated through the crowd, eventually reaching the front door. We paused as we encountered Gareth and the others.

"Well, you guys were really cool. I'll see you some other time," I offered a quick thumbs-up before attempting to walk home. However, Gareth stopped me.

"You're walking? In this heat?" He draped an arm around my shoulders, and I sensed Eddie's subtle tension. "I'd offer you a ride, but my mom's car doesn't have much room." He trailed off, observing a car as it pulled up and the other boys headed towards it.

"It's fine," I insisted, Gareth shrugged and walked over to the car. I resumed walking, head down and hands tucked into my pockets.

"I could drive you home," Eddie said cautiously, breaking the silence. "Or to Steve's, if that's where you want to go."

“I…” I found myself staring at Eddie, struggling to find the right words to decline his offer. With a gentle sigh, I managed to give him a soft smile. "Are you sure?"

A faint twitch appeared at the corners of his mouth, and he nodded in response. Eddie closed the van's back doors and moved towards the passenger side, holding the door open for me.

Climbing into the seat, I noticed an array of cassettes, guitar picks, and various Dungeons & Dragons items scattered around his car.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered as he settled into the driver's seat. I picked up a small figurine from among the items.

"Hand-painted?" I inquired, and Eddie nodded enthusiastically. I studied the figurine more closely. "There's so much detail."

"Can't be a disappointing DM; my boys need good-looking stuff," he explained. Eddie started the engine, and the stereo kicked in at a loud volume. He hurriedly turned it down, apologizing quickly before placing both hands on the steering wheel. "Which way?"

Carefully placing the figure back in the console, I looked at him. "Maple Street."

With a nod, Eddie looked over his shoulder, his hand resting on the back of my seat as he reversed out of the parking spot.

The drive was mostly quiet, with only the soft music playing and Eddie tapping his hands to the rhythm. I wasn't sure if Eddie wanted me to start a conversation or if he preferred silence. Maybe this whole situation was too awkward. After all, we weren't exactly friends.

"So, you're not going to Harrington's party?" he finally broke the silence.

"I might. It's still early," I replied, gesturing towards my house. Eddie pulled up, leaning forward to look out the window at my home. "Thank you for the ride, Eddie."

"Anytime," he grinned. I opened the door, and he placed his hand on my arm, causing me to glance back at him. "Seriously, Y/N."

I smiled at him, and he hesitantly withdrew his hand, letting it drop into his lap. I waved as I stepped out of the car and quickly closed the door behind me. Peering through the peephole, I watched Eddie drive off. He paused for a moment before restarting the car, the white van jerked forward, and he turned up the music before driving away.

When he was no longer in sight on my street, I dropped my backpack on the floor and flopped onto the couch, burying my face in a cushion and letting out a groan.

"Hey, Eddie, it was great sort of hanging out with you today, and by the way, I think you're really attractive," I mumbled into the pillow. "Stupid."

After a couple of hours of trying to avoid the heat, I finally rolled off the couch and changed into something more suitable for the party, making sure to wear a swimsuit underneath.

I walked into the garage, shuffling boxes aside and pulling out my bike. It hadn't been used since last summer, but the tires weren't flat and it wasn't covered in cobwebs, so I happily wheeled it out onto the road.

The ride to Steve's house took around 7 minutes by bike, a much better option than the 15-minute walk. Music was already playing as I arrived, so I left my bike on the grass and headed inside.

"Hey!" one of Steve's friends greeted as they opened the door for me. "You're Y/N, right?"

With a nod and some polite conversation, I followed her to the backyard where Steve was. He walked over to me with a welcoming smile.

"Thanks for coming. And, you know, sorry I didn't try to be your friend earlier," he said with a sigh. "Bad timing to fix that now."

"Are you looking forward to graduation?" I asked, as it was only a few days away. Hawkins High graduates left on Thursday, just before the official start of summer break.

"Not really," he shrugged. I nodded slowly, and Steve changed the subject. "That coffee place you go to is nice."

"Isn't it?" I smiled. I’d loved that Cafe for years and nobody ever seemed to notice, it was always just another place people passed by.

"Didn't you say freak Munson works there?" One of the guys chimed in.

I felt a slight frown forming, and Steve seemed to catch on.

"Maybe that's a bit harsh," he said, looking at me and lowering his voice. "Sorry."

I blinked a few times, feeling a bit puzzled. "What? Why are you sorry?"

"Because you and Munson… you know."

"I don't know."

"Really? I thought there was something going on."

"Why would you think that? He just makes my coffee."

"Because you're beautiful, and he spends all his time getting paid to stare at you," Steve explained, walking off to grab a drink.

One of the girls laughed, having overheard what Steve had said. "Stop flirting, Steve'o."

He rolled his eyes and glanced back at me. "Idiots."

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Graduation came and went, and summer officially began. I pedaled my bike toward the mall, narrowly avoiding being hit by Billy Hargrove as he carelessly sped down the street.

I started to genuinely enjoy Steve's company. It felt similar to the times we'd hang out during my tutoring sessions with him, except now I didn't have to explain big words as often. We would have probably stayed friends from that point on if he hadn't started dating Nancy Wheeler.

I locked my bike on the rack and pulled my hair out of its ponytail, shaking my head before running a hand through it.

"Woo!" A voice hollered. Turning, I was greeted by Gareth strolling towards me with his hands in his pockets. Eddie was a few steps behind him. "That was hot."

Eddie briefly frowned, glancing at his friend before looking at me. "Hey."

"Hi," I said breathlessly, locking eyes with Eddie.

After a few moments of silence, Gareth rolled his eyes. "Nice bike."

"Thanks?" I shrugged. "Need something to ride around."

Gareth smiled slowly and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sure Eddie would let you ride."

Eddie smacked his best friend on the back of his head, sparking an argument between them. I took a few steps back, putting my hands in my pockets, and turned to walk into the mall. The air conditioning hit me as soon as I entered the doors, and I took a deep breath, letting the enticing scent of pretzels from a nearby stand wash over me.

"Oh, that smells so good," Eddie said softly.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to see Gareth rubbing his arm as if he'd received a solid punch.

Eddie shrugged, walking alongside me carelessly. "Shopping. Loitering. Whatever else we're meant to do in a big mall."

I nodded and looked up at one of the maps, scanning it to find where Scoops Ahoy was located.

"What’cha looking for?" Eddie asked.

"Scoops," I muttered, smiling when I found it and pulling my backpack off. The boys watched as I took out my camera from my bag and headed towards the escalator, sharing a confused glance before following after me.

The boys stayed a few steps behind me as I walked into the relatively empty ice cream parlor. "Oh wow," I muttered, glancing at Steve. "What are you wearing?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Steve replied.

"You look cute," I shrugged.

"Do you mean 'cute' in the way girls say it about puppies and babies, or 'cute' like you'd want to date me?"

I pursed my lips, taking a moment to think. "Puppies and babies."

Steve groaned, and the door to the back room swung open. "Too loud, doofus."

"Hi Robin," I smiled. Robin waved and picked up her ice cream scoop, waiting for me to order something as I began to look over the flavors.

"You know each other?"

"Steve… we've gone to school with her for, like, forever."

"Yeah, but I didn't even know you."

"That's because you were self-obsessed," I said simply. Steve put a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. "I can't pick."

"Bubblegum?" Robin suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure." I watched her scoop it carefully into the cup, and then she handed it to Steve. He poked a tiny plastic spoon into it. As he held it out for me, I unexpectedly blinded him with the flash of my camera.

Steve opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds. "Wha… What just happened?"

"You look like a doofus, I need to make sure it's immortalized."

Steve groaned and leaned against the counter. "You know you're being followed, right?" His poor customer service skills began to shine through as he took a bite of my ice cream.

I snatched the cup from his hand, quickly passing over my money. "I'll catch you later," I nodded to Steve. He gave me a tired thumbs up, and I turned around just in time to narrowly dodge someone who had lined up behind me, accidentally bumping into a table and I made the choice to protect my ice cream from dropping instead of steadying myself.

Eddie stepped forward quickly, one arm snaking around my waist as he helped me stand up straight.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm gently brushing against my exposed skin. He was so close I could feel his breath hit me.

"Who's the doofus now?" Steve mocked.

"Still you!" Robin chimed in. Steve huffed and turned to attend to the next customer.

"You alright?" Eddie's brown eyes seemed to search my face. Voice soft, feeling like we were the only 2 people in the world.

My mouth felt dry, but I managed to spit out the words. "I'm fine."

Eddie smiled down at me, and Gareth cleared his throat loudly. "If you’re done canoodling…"

Eddie quickly moved away from me. To distract from the awkwardness, I raised an eyebrow at Gareth. "Who the hell says 'canoodling'?"

"Me."

Eddie, Gareth, and I walked and talked for an hour before Gareth decided he was ‘starving’. We headed to the food court and took a seat at a table as Gareth went to order.

Eddie was beside me, his knee and arm touching mine, both of us just looking ahead and not saying anything.

With a deep breath, Eddie turned to me. "You and Harrington are pretty… friendly now."

"Yep, we're friends. Just friends."

"Oh," Eddie said, and I couldn't quite read the look that flashed across his face before he turned to look ahead again. Another long silence enveloped us, and I found myself staring at Eddie's side profile until he spoke again. "I guess... I just know Steve's reputation, and how he acts with pretty girls. So I thought, maybe..."

He turned to look at me, our eyes locking, and his words trailed off as he seemed to forget what he was going to say. My face felt like it was on fire. He thinks I'm pretty.

Suddenly, a bright flash caught our attention. I blinked and snapped my focus to Gareth, who was sitting across from us with his tray of food. "Sorry," he said, putting my camera back down on the table.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Seated in the coffee shop, Eddie poured my coffee while I idly read a book. Instead of calling my name as usual, he jumped over the counter and walked over to my table, holding two cups. "Can I sit?"

"Your job isn't to 'sit,' Eddie." I pushed the seat across from me out and closed my book. He pushed a cup across the table, and I spun it around to read the note. A smile played on his lips as he noticed how much I actually enjoyed his terrible puns and jokes.

No amount of coffee could keep me awake as you do.

We sat in silence, and I could feel Eddie's eyes on me, but I just kept my head down.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie whispered gently.

I glanced at him while sipping my coffee. "Sure."

"I hate coffee," he admitted, taking a sip. "This is basically 90% milk and sugar, at least."

"Well, I must say, even if you don't like it, you've got a talent for making it taste good," I remarked. Eddie chuckled softly, and we lapsed back into a tranquil silence.

"We're, uh," he started again, swallowing hard and catching my attention. "Gareth and I are thinking about going to the pool tomorrow."

I nodded, sipping my coffee. "Oh, that'll be nice."

"Do you want to come?"

We'd talked more and more in the cafe over the summer, and we'd run into each other and just hung out for a while. But he'd never asked me to hang out with him. It was always just a coincidence. "Sure."

Eddie softly smiled and sipped his coffee. "I'll pick you up at 11?"

"Sounds good." I felt like melting. Gareth would be there, but he clearly had some push to get me and Eddie together, so I trusted that he'd be pretty aloof and I'd basically get to spend all day soaking up the sun and chatting with Eddie.

The bell above the door rang, and Eddie got up to serve the new customers, two of the kids Steve was friends with. They ordered some pastries, and as the boy paid, the girl noticed me. She thought for a second before recognition ran across her face.

"Y/N, right? You're Steve's girlfriend," she said, making the boy snap his attention towards me so fast I thought he'd break his neck.

Eddie slowed his movements.

"Yes, and no. Y/N, Steve's sort of new friend," I awkwardly smiled at her.

"Right." She nodded, the boy now staring at me.

He blinked a few times. "You're friends with Steve Harrington?"

"Unfortunately." My comment made Eddie snicker, and I noticed his shoulders relax. Whenever someone else mentioned Steve, I'd noticed Eddie would tense, not wanting to look at me. Was he afraid I liked Steve? I kind of hoped so.

"He's pretty cool."

"Yeah, I heard about him letting you guys sneak into the theater. Who's this Dustin kid, anyway? You?"

"No, I'm Lucas."

"Max." The girl tiredly waved. "Dustin's still at his nerd camp."

"Steve talks about him a lot. His whole vocabulary is basically just: dating, Dustin, and occasionally, sports."

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anxious, I sat beside the door, fidgeting with my hands. The clock had just struck 11, and I awaited Eddie's arrival with nervous anticipation. Dressed in my swimsuit, I had prepared by packing cold water bottles, snacks, and sunscreen in my bag. I was fully equipped and ready to go.

The sound of music reached my ears as Eddie's van pulled into the driveway. I wondered if he would come to the door, or if he would opt for the 'honk the horn and you come outside' approach. Without fully pondering it, a knock sounded at the door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door calmly.

"Morning," I greeted, observing Eddie's nervous rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Hi," he responded with a friendly smile.

Lifting my bag from the floor, I slung it over my shoulder. Gesturing towards his car, Eddie stepped back slightly. As I locked the door, he positioned himself beside me. We walked side by side to his vehicle, our hands lightly brushing against each other a few times.

"Where's Gareth?" I asked curiously, noticing that the fluffy-haired boy was absent from the passenger seat where I had anticipated seeing him.

Opening the van's door for me, Eddie clarified, "He's meeting us there."

I hummed softly and settled into a seat. Eddie's van had been tidied up, with only a few Dungeons & Dragons figures occupying the cup holder.

"I hope the pool isn't too busy," Eddie sighed as he started the engine.

I chuckled, responding, "It's summer; it's bound to be bustling."

"I don't want to take my shirt off in front of that many people," he protested, his pout catching my attention.

"Too bad you're already committed to going to the pool. No escape," I playfully retorted.

"We could always do something else," he suggested, and I could feel my heart rate quicken at the idea.

"But then you'd just be leaving your best friend behind," I pointed out.

He shrugged casually. "Eh, who needs him."

I bit my lip and shook my head, diverting my gaze to the window to hide the blush that had crept onto my cheeks.

Eddie let out an overly dramatic sigh as he maneuvered into the parking lot. "I guess I need him."

After parking, we walked towards the entrance, where Gareth was already waiting, leaning against the wall.

"You took forever," he groaned.

Eddie rolled his eyes, and the three of us entered the facility, engaged in casual conversation until we discovered a suitable spot in the shade to set our belongings down.

"Later, dorks," Gareth teases as he dropped his bag unceremoniously and sauntered toward the water.

Eddie situated himself, sitting down with his hands behind him and his legs stretched out in front.

"I thought you were planning to take your shirt off," I playfully remarked.

"Patience," he grinned, a hint of bashfulness in his expression. "I need to gather some courage."

"You, Edward Munson—"

"Eddie."

"You're not feeling courageous?" I arched an eyebrow, and he confirmed with a nod. "I didn't expect that. I suppose the image of you in my mind is more audacious."

I swiftly pulled my shirt over my head and stepped out of my shorts, placing them in my bag while pretending not to notice Eddie's either sudden appearance of sunburn or the unmistakable blush spread across his face.

Upon reaching the water, Gareth swam over to me. "Don't leave him by himself."

"He's your best friend; you should be with him," I suggested, gesturing towards Eddie's spot.

"He wanted you here, so I'm pretty much just a bystander," I raised an eyebrow, and Gareth let out an exasperated groan, dramatically throwing his head back. "He deserves this for thinking those dumb puns were a good idea."

"Well, I actually enjoy the notes on my coffee," I frowned, and Gareth shot me a look.

"Seriously? You like those?" I nodded. "Well then, are you stupid?"

"That's not very nice."

"Okay, so you are stupid. You," he playfully pushed me back toward the edge of the pool, "go talk to Eddie. Tell him you want to kiss him or whatever embarrassing thoughts you have about him when you're alone."

I gasped. "What the fuck, Gareth?" He shooed me away, and I climbed out of the pool, pushing my wet hair back from my face as I started walking. However, I was interrupted by a whistle.

"Oi, Y/L/N!" Billy descended from the lifeguard chair.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to respond to 'Oi' Billy."

"But you just did," he smirked, stopping in front of me and subtly flexing. "You a strong swimmer?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I can offer you private lessons," he shrugged, adjusting his aviators.

"How many girls has that line worked on this summer?" I questioned.

"A few, but uh," he looked me up and down, "I think this one could be the winner."

I crossed my arms over my chest and instinctively stepped back from Billy. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to devour me."

Billy took a step closer, his hand on my arm and a sinister grin on his face. "I've got a lot of thoughts about what to do with you."

"She said stop," Eddie's voice came from beside me. I instinctively moved behind him as he glared at Billy.

"This doesn't concern you, freak."

"Y/N is my," he hesitated, "friend. And you can't act like a dick and expect girls to suck yours."

I blinked a few times, looking up at Eddie and stifling a laugh at his words.

Billy furrowed his eyebrows. "You're lucky there are witnesses, Munson," he said, knocking Eddie's shoulder as he walked past.

"Here," Eddie took off his shirt and handed it to me. I pulled it on and looked back at him. Eddie had tattoos on his chest: a face of some kind and a spider. He took my hand in his, our fingers intertwining as he led us back to our belongings. "What a jerk."

"It could have been worse," we sat down, and I continued to observe the tattoos. "You took your shirt off," I blurted out before thinking.

"You needed it more than I did."

"I do have my own shirt, Eddie."

"But you look good in that one," he smiled, his gaze fixed on me. Our eyes locked again, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I noticed him inching a little closer to me, and in an attempt to calm my nerves, I clenched my fists. "Ow," Eddie winced, withdrawing his hand from mine and rubbing it.

I had forgotten that we were holding hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," he laughed.

Gareth approached us, dripping wet, and his shoulders starting to turn pink from the sun. "I may have forgotten sunscreen."

"I got you," I said as I rummaged through my bag, pulling everything out and arranging it in front of me. Eddie picked up a few items, examining them, and my camera's flash went off as he took a picture of Gareth standing hunched over, his hair stuck to his forehead.

When I reached the sunscreen, Gareth poured a generous amount onto his hands and quickly spread it on his skin before tossing the bottle back to me and heading back into the water.

“He’s so stupid” Eddie laughed, still toying with my camera.

"And you’re any better?" I giggled, taking the camera from his hands. Eddie struck a pose, and I captured a photo of him. A smile automatically adorned my face when Eddie reclaimed the camera and instructed me to smile.

"Absolutely flawless," he grinned, causing a blush to creep onto my cheeks.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Eddie had started calling me regularly. We would have long conversations, and with each new detail I learned, my fondness for him grew. He'd casually mention things like, ‘You're going to love my Uncle Wayne. He's got this collection of mugs that I'm excited for you to see.’ It was as if he just naturally assumed that I would be around.

We had reached the midpoint of summer, and Eddie and I continued to spend time together, with Gareth in the vicinity, occupied with his own activities.

As we stepped out of Steve's car and headed towards the coffee shop, he playfully shoved me. "Watch it, Harrington," I retorted with a mock glare.

The bell above the door chimed as I pushed it open, Steve nonchalantly slipping his hands into his pockets as we entered the coffee shop.

A series of crashing sounds resonated from the back of the shop, and suddenly, Eddie emerged from behind the counter. His apron was loosely tied around his waist, and he struggled to brush his hair away from his face, a hair tie between his teeth.

"Hey, you're early," Eddie remarked, his voice slightly muffled by the hair tie. I chuckled, leaning against the counter and stealing a quick glance back at Steve.

"I'm here at the same time I am every day," I replied with a casual shrug. Steve nodded in agreement, his gaze wandering to the wall clock.

"I was just hoping to—" Eddie started to say, but he paused as he pushed his curls out of his eyes and tied them back. He seemed to notice Steve standing behind me and greeted him awkwardly, "Uh, hi."

Eddie glanced between me and Steve, a hint of discomfort evident in his expression. He carefully reached for a cup, keeping an eye on Steve as if he wasn't pleased with his presence. Hoping to what?

"Not even letting me pretend to look at the menu anymore?" I quipped, playfully leaning onto my toes to peek into the back kitchen. "I need another barista."

Almost as if on cue, a voice growled from the back area of the coffee shop, shouting, "EDDIE! What the hell did you do back here?"

Eddie's response carried mock innocence, "What do you mean?" He shot me a look, and I chuckled, stepping away from the counter. Steve briefly scanned the menu before speaking up.

"I'll just have the same," Steve shrugged, not entirely concerned about the menu.

"He's paying for both of us," I chimed in, causing Steve to snap his head in my direction. Eddie suppressed a laugh, and Steve begrudgingly retrieved his wallet and handed over the money.

As I waited by the counter, I asked Eddie, "You playing tonight?" Steve wandered off to explore the café.

"Yeah," Eddie half-smiled as he prepared the two iced coffees. I nodded, glancing around to see where Steve had gone. Once the drinks were ready, Eddie slid them over to me.

"Thank you," I grinned, feeling a slight shiver down my arm as our hands briefly touched. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

Eddie nodded swiftly, and I called out to Steve. Both of us left the café, Steve taking a cup from me. As we settled into his car, I examined my cup, my brow furrowing as I realized it was blank.

Steve settled into the driver's seat, and I took his cup from his hand as he went to take a sip.

"Dude," he protested, giving me a perplexed look. "We got the same thing, why did you take mine?"

Blank. Both cups were blank. "Uh, I wanted the one with more ice," I hastily lied, passing one of the cups back to Steve.

He seemed skeptical but didn't press the issue. After a sip, he placed the cup in the tray and started driving in the direction of my house.

Steve waved goodbye as I walked up my driveway, and I entered my house, sinking into a seat in front of the television. The show playing on the screen didn't capture my attention; instead, I found myself fixated on the condensation droplets trickling down the sides of my plastic coffee cup.

After finishing the drink, I headed to the kitchen to dispose of the empty cup in the bin. Then, I made my way to my room and collapsed onto my bed.

There sat my camera on the dresser, a reminder that I had yet to check the photos I'd had developed. Shaking off my lethargy, I retrieved the envelope from my backpack and settled onto the bed to go through them.

Among the photos were shots of the coffee shop, various locations around town, Steve, and the moments we had shared with his friends. I couldn't help but smile as I came across the picture Eddie had taken of Gareth during our first pool outing, the one of Eddie that sent my heart racing, and the shot of me taken by Eddie himself.

But the last photograph in the stack was something special. It captured Eddie and me at the mall, a snapshot from the early days of summer. Taken accidentally when Gareth was handling my camera, resulting in a slightly tilted angle.

In the photo, Eddie and I were seated side by side, our gazes locked in an intimate moment. My cheeks were flushed, and now, looking at Eddie's expression, I realized he was blushing too.

"Gareth, you wonderfully dumbass," I muttered to myself. I placed the other photos down on the bed and began searching my room for a pen.

I don’t need to have caffeine in my system, you manage to make my heart jump.

Satisfied with the message I had chosen, I rushed around my room to spruce up my appearance and feel more presentable. The relentless heat made everything cling to my skin, but that was a minor concern. After checking the time, I hurried outside with the photo in hand, jumping on my bike and pedaling toward the coffee shop.

As I approached The Hideout, the sound of Corroded Coffin's music grew louder. A few people were scattered around outside. I locked my bike, keeping my head down, and made my way to the bar door. Inside, I ignored people calling for my attention and giving me strange looks. It felt like the first time I had come here, Chief Hopper seated at the bar.

"Hopper," I sighed, approaching him.

He raised an eyebrow as I stopped near him. "Exactly how often do you come into this establishment?"

"I'm here with a purpose."

"Munson's band?" He sipped his beer and glanced at his watch. "I've seen you running around with him for a while."

"Well, I mean..." I awkwardly laughed and shifted my weight.

"Not my business," Hopper muttered, placing his now-empty bottle on the bar and getting up. He strolled away, leaving me standing alone at the bar, nervously toying with the edge of the photo in my pocket.

Eddie thanked the crowd for listening to their performance, and a few people clapped, making him smile with pride. Gareth, having spotted me, got up from behind his drum set and walked over to me with a smile.

"Usually Eds tells us when you're coming. Did you like the show?"

"Always do," I smiled, although I hadn't really been listening today. I was too nervous, not sure if Eddie would interpret the note correctly.

"Hey," Eddie raised an eyebrow as he approached us. "No Steve?"

Gareth slowly backed away, walking to join the rest of the band as they packed up their equipment.

"I think he has a date tonight, actually."

"Oh, and are you... okay with that?"

"Of course, I am," I laughed. "My friends deserve to be happy. Steve's not very lucky in the relationship area anymore."

"Really? Steve Harrington has trouble with girls?"

"All the time. It's pretty much all he talks about," I said, reaching to pull the photo from my pocket. But just as I was about to do so, Gareth came back over to us.

"All good to go," he announced, passing Eddie his car keys. "Y/N, you want to come to Eddie's tomorrow?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" I glanced at Eddie, who was just looking at his friend.

"Watch a movie with us," Gareth suggested, giving Eddie a significant look. They seemed to have a silent conversation before Eddie turned his attention back to me.

"Yeah, you should come," Eddie said.

"Oh, sure," I replied with a smile.

"Eddie will call you with the details," Gareth said casually, slinging an arm over my shoulders. Eddie reached forward, pulling his friend's arm off me and giving him a stern look.

We walked outside together, the other two guys already engrossed in conversation by the van.

I headed toward the bikes, pulling mine off the rack and groaning when I heard the familiar sound of Billy Hargrove's car engine pulling up beside me.

"What is it this time?" I asked. He had made various attempts to pick me up since the incident at the pool, showing up at my house, the cafe, the mall, Scoops Ahoy, and even once at Steve's house.

"Let me drive you home," he smiled, reaching across the car to open the passenger door.

"I'd rather you ran me over," I replied, turning back to the guys who were all watching intently.

"Come on," Billy growled. "It's just a ride, nothing serious... And if you so feel inclined to seek more, I won't complain."

"And when I don't?"

"Oh, you will," he said confidently.

"Will my bike fit in your van?" I asked Eddie, a little concerned about what Billy might do.

"We can fit it," one of the guys said, opening the back doors and making space by moving some of the band equipment.

"Come on," Eddie reached his hand out, and I took it, while Gareth grabbed my bike and shot a disapproving glare at Billy.

Gareth loaded my bike into the back of the van, and Billy revved his engine before speeding off down the street.

"Thanks," I mumbled, looking down at mine and Eddie's intertwined hands.

"I said I could drive you anytime," he shrugged, "I really meant it."

I smiled at him, carefully dropping his hand and walking over to the other boys. I climbed into the back of the van, sitting with two of them in the cramped space while Gareth shut the doors and walked around to the passenger seat.

We chatted and joked as Eddie drove, stopping at the first house.

"Bye, Jeff," I waved, and he gave me a small nod, picking up his guitar and climbing out of the van to head home. I really liked talking with Eddie’s friends, it seemed to me like they followed Gareth’s lead and kept referring to me and Eddie as an item.

We made it to my house, and I bid the three boys farewell before heading inside. Eddie's van stayed in the driveway until I had closed the door, and I saw his lights pass by the window.

An hour passed as I waited by the phone before it finally rang. "Hey, Eddie," I said as I put the receiver to my ear.

"Ouch, why are you never that eager to talk to me," Steve asked, and I frowned a little.

"Oh, Hi Steve." I shook off the sad feeling that maybe Eddie wasn't calling because he didn't want me there. Maybe he was just friendly, and I'd been reading into things. "I'm always happy to talk to you, but…"

"You love talking to Munson. I get it." Steve yawned on the other line. "I was just calling to ask what you were doing tomorrow."

I felt like I was grinning from ear to ear. "Hanging out with Eddie."

"And Gareth," Steve laughed. "Told him you want to have his kids yet or what?"

"I do not want to have his kids, Steve Harrington," I reprimanded.

"I'm pretty sure I read in your diary that—"

"You read my diary?!"

"No, but now I know you have one," He cheered. "Do you draw little hearts around Eddie's name in there? Oh, you definitely write about how amazing it is to be my friend."

"I have a list of ways I think about killing you in there," I said in a faux-serious tone, Steve laughing lightly.

"Come by my house if you get sick of being around Munson and his boyfriend tomorrow," Steve said simply. "And when he calls, count to 3 before you pick up."

Steve hung up, and I put the phone back in the wall, sinking back into my chair and looking at the ceiling. The phone started ringing again, and I excitedly went to grab it, stopping myself momentarily. "One… Two… Three!" I answered. "Hello?"

"Y/N?"

"Oh, hey Eddie," I said as casually as possible.

"Gareth is coming over at 3 tomorrow, is that good for you? We're just watching some movie I picked up at Family Video."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll be there."

"Cool," He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Cool," I whispered back

"So, did you enjoy tonight's show? I didn't think you were coming."

"I wasn't, I mean, I missed most of it, but yeah, I think you're really talented."

"Me?"

"Yeah! You look so cool when you're on stage, it's like a version of you that's not letting fear kick his ass... No offense."

"Please," he laughed. "Tell me more."

I twirled the phone cord on my finger and started telling Eddie how great I thought he was at performing. He seemed so unafraid, and I only got glimpses of this fearlessness. When he held his guitar, he was a new man.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I went to the store and slowly walked the aisles, picking up different mugs and deciding which one I liked the best. Once I had made my selection, I got back on my bike and rode across town to the trailer park.

As I dropped my bike on the grass, and smoothed down my clothes, I pulled the mug's small gift box out of my backpack and knocked on the door. There was a light ruckus inside before it swung open, and Eddie hurriedly smiled at me.

"Hey," he leaned against the doorframe, and I blushed, looking up at him. "Gareth's not here yet, but you can come in. Sorry, it's kind of a mess."

"You weren't kidding, your uncle really likes mugs," I said, looking around the small space. I held up the gift box, and Eddie tilted his head to the side.

"What's that?"

"It's for him"

"He's not here right now, but I'm sure he'll love whatever it is."

"It's just another silly mug," I muttered, putting the box on the table. Eddie and I stood in silence, looking at each other.

"Do you... want to see my room?"

"Um," I blinked a few times, not expecting that question. "Sure."

Eddie led me down the hall and showed me his room. It was messy, cluttered, and dark, but it felt cozy. It suited him. Eddie kicked at some clothes on the ground, moving them into a small pile.

"Sorry, I guess you're supposed to clean your room before girls come over," he muttered.

I laughed, looking at his little things when the phone started ringing. Eddie excused himself, leaving me to my own devices as I chuckled at the 'World's Best Mum' mug on his bedside table with a red marker used to cross out 'Mum' and write 'Dungeon Master' in smaller letters.

Eddie started arguing quietly with the person on the phone, and I peered out of his bedroom. "Everything okay?"

"It's Gareth," he said bluntly, holding the phone out for me.

I slowly walked out to the kitchen and put the phone to my ear. "Have you not left yet?"

"I'm not coming."

"Huh?"

"Go. Canoodle."

"Nobody says that," I protested, but he'd already hung up. I looked at the phone in confusion, and Eddie took it from my hand.

"Nobody says what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's just the way he um..." I couldn't think up a lie. "All he said was 'Have a groovy time,' and I don't think anyone says 'groovy' anymore."

"Can't believe he's sick," Eddie shook his head. Sick, yep, that's what he was. Sick in the head, maybe.

"I should probably go then."

"No!" Eddie said quickly, and I stopped moving completely to look at him again. "You're already here, stay for the movie."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, friends do stuff together all the time." Friends, because that's what we are.

Eddie pressed play on his VCR and threw himself down on the couch, looking over at me expectantly.

I sat beside him, our arms touching, but I couldn't look at him. Even when we talked, I just looked ahead at the TV set.

"Do you always sit like you're being interrogated?" He joked.

I turned to give him a quizzical look. "Interrogated?" I laughed, relaxing a little. "Not everyone is a menace like you."

"A menace?" He snorted. "You mock the stuff Gareth says, but you need to update your vocabulary."

"Well, I'm sorry that my vocab isn't, like, totally tubular, Edward."

"Eddie," he corrected quickly, making me laugh. With a sigh, I moved back and sat comfortably on the couch, Eddie smiling at me from my peripheral vision as I continued watching the movie.

"Can I help you?"

Seemingly caught in the act, Eddie looked away quickly and cleared his throat. "This movie isn't exactly what I pictured it to be."

"Mhmm, and why's that?"

"It's very... musical. I thought it would be scary."

I looked at him in amusement. "Did you think that it was a horror movie just because it's called Rocky Horror?" He nodded sheepishly, and I smiled. He's so cute.

Moving in my seat, I inched a little closer to Eddie, getting a bit nearer each time I could until he noticed. His hand brushed against mine, and he pulled it away before looking down at my hand.

"If you wanted to be this close to me, you should have just asked," he laughed.

I smiled at him. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Just saying, we could have moved things to my bedroom."

"Oh, you mean that mess you kicked around?" I raised an eyebrow and tried to hold back my grin.

"Hey! I wasn't expecting a girl to go in there," he pouted. "Would have cleaned it for you." Eddie patted my leg in a friendly, joking manner, looking back to the TV and leaving his hand on my thigh. “I really like having you as my friend, Y/N”

Right, Friend. I sat through the rest of the movie with my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that it was ringing in my ears. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk ruining our friendship by saying, ‘Hey Munson, I have a crush on you!!!’ and having him reject me.

When the credits rolled, Eddie stood up and walked over to the VCR, stopping the movie and looking back at me.

"I should get going now, huh?" I tried to clear my head, getting up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I opened the door and looked back at Eddie quickly. "Bye."

"Wait, what?"

"I'll see you later, got to go."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all. It's just, uh, it's getting late, you know? Bye." I walked quickly to my bike, stood it up, and pedaled out of the trailer park.

I rode my bike home in silence, throwing it carelessly on the lawn when I got home. I dropped my backpack on the floor and walked to my room, ignoring my family's questions.

Sitting on my bed, I looked at the different photos stuck on my wall. With a soft smile, since I wouldn't be giving the photo to Eddie, I could at least stick it up for myself. I made my way back to the front door, picking up my backpack and digging through it blindly. I huffed and tipped the bag upside down, watching the loose change and miscellaneous items fall to the floor.

"Shit," I muttered. "No." Did it get stuck to the gift box? That fucking mug!

I pulled open the door, set on racing back to Eddie's and taking the photo. But there he was, standing outside the door with the photo in his hands.

"You did my thing," he said, his voice soft and breathy.

"It's stupid," I reached to take it from him, but Eddie pulled his arms back.

"Why is it stupid?" He frowned at me. "What did it really mean?"

I sighed. "That I think you're cute, I don't know. See? It's stupid." Frustrated, I ran my hands over my face.

"Why is that stupid?" He asked again.

"Because it just is, I don't know, Eddie," I sighed and looked at him. "Can I just have it back?"

"No, I want to keep it."

"What?"

"Because it's not stupid," I raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. "But clearly you are."

"Hey!" I protested, confused. "Why are you laughing?" Was it that hilarious that I had a crush on him? I was younger than him. Maybe he thinks of me as just some kid.

"Y/N," he said slowly. "It took me one note to think you felt something at all, but you didn't understand anything from the fifty I've given you?"

"You're just friendly."

"I'm really not," I looked up at him finally. "Y/N. I think you are amazing, and everyone else sees it except you. I like you."

"I... like you, too?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"A," I blinked a few times, swallowing the lump in my throat. "A statement."

"Good," Eddie huffed out a breath, and in an instant, his head ducked down to mine. My eyes widened as I felt the warmth of his lips against mine before slowly closing them and moving so I could wrap my arms around his neck.

His kiss was not like those in movies or books; it was the primal desire that lives in us all. Eddie cupped one hand on the side of my face, moving closer so our bodies were pressed against each other. He embraced himself rather than hid as a copy of those romantic idols as he kissed me.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

bonus epilogue kinda:

Eddie opened his locker, and I raised an eyebrow at the picture of us. "I don't remember that having a cigarette burn and a stain."

He looked at it and back at me. "Clearly, you're remembering wrong."

"Of course I am," I laughed, pressing up on my toes to briefly kiss Eddie. I went to move away, but he wrapped his arms tightly around me.

"Nope," he said against my lips.

"I have class," I said simply, still kissing him and melting against his chest.

"Skip it," he suggested.

I shook my head, and he groaned, letting go and pouting at me. "I see you every day; you can survive 45 minutes while I go to Chemistry."

"Not true, some days you hang out with Steve. And half the day when I get to see you, I'm pouring you drinks," he protested. "Besides, we have our own chemistry."

"You're not funny."

"What are you two doing?" Gareth asked as he approached us.

"Canoodling," I replied blankly, earning an unimpressed look from Gareth.

"You're not funny," he retorted.

Eddie laughed, and I lightly elbowed his side before looking back at Gareth. "Let's go."

"Bye, Eddie," Gareth said, slinging his arm over my shoulders as we turned away. Eddie quickly stepped forward to remove it.

"Stop that," he said simply, and Gareth and I laughed as we walked down the hall to our class.

#fanfic #stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #coffee shop au #eddie munson barrista #eddie munson au #stranger things au

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dairy-farmer · 7 months

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Genuinely asking for advice on how to write smut. How do you write a scene so that it comes off as sensual and lewd but not in a way that sounds disgusting? I read your stuff and it's the best kind of pornographic. It feels like plucking a fruit from a tree and biting into it.

How can one strive to achieve something like that??

SOS please help me.

Smut is such an unattainable art form to me but i look at it longingly all the time.

wow thank you so much for your kind words about my writing!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i will do my best to answer it!!

i think one of the first steps is figuring what type of smut you want to write-there's definitely different kinds of porn that you see in writing. some of it, despite the fact that it's porn, is like...grossly objectifying. that kind you can see plenty of examples of published in old straight cis male authors where they spectacularly fail at writing intimate scenes to the point you get second-hand embarrassment reading it.

so when you read a type of smut that you don't like a good tip is to figure out what exactly about the quality of writing puts you off. maybe it's their use of first person, excessive use of the word 'jiggle', or an outright refusal to call a cock a cock and using chaste words like 'rod' or 'shaft' which implies...embarrassment of the act occurring.

the thing is, when you write porn you need at least a little bit of shamelessness about it. otherwise, your reservations and hesitance about what's happening will enter into the writing and you won't be able to vividly paint the picture of what's happening.

i think in general for a lot of the smut i write i do put a lot of emphasis on one thing and that's providing as clear of a picture of what's happening as i can: sights, sounds, emotions, physical reactions.

a few years back i got a similar ask to this one about smut writing and i found that a lot of what i recommended then still rings true today so i'll include that below:

"the number one thing i think i do is try to use all the five senses by the end of the scene, describing in detail something they touch, see, taste, smell, and hear.

-where are they? what are they doing? how are they acting?

if they’re in public or scared of being caught, areand if under a time constraint and trying to get through it quickly they might whisper lowly to each other, so they’d have to lean in close to each other when that happens when that happens they might use one of their five senses smell cologne, or sweat, they might feel warm with the proximity, they might get ticklish from having someone whisper in their ear.

if they’re alone and have plenty of time to themselves they might be louder, more willing to yell or make sounds.

when it comes to avoiding repetition in both cases it might be better to disperse ‘telling’ and ‘showing’ writing like ‘he groaned’ versus an onomatopoeia like ‘hnnnng’ ‘ah ahhh hahhnn’ in which the sound indicates they are groaning/moaning. another thing you could do to sort of spice up the former would be to add a motion with the action like ‘he groaned into his mouth, he moaned into his shoulder, he whined against the pillow’

-where is their body? how is it doing?

a good way that i use to make sure their actions are consistent is thinking about their body placement and keeping track of where it is like how at one point lance was bent over a storage unit and with keith pushing him up he had to stand on his toes, it’s a small detail but gives off a sense of not being fully in control, not being able to find his footing and making it more that he was getting lost in the sensations.

if they’re on top they have more control, they control the pace, they can hold down hands, etc. on the bottom they might be more constricted, the amount of movement the have is limited so when they’re trying to express what they feel they might ‘writhe’ etc.

a way ive seen in all the great smut fics ive read is that the writing makes a lot of emphasis on the povs experience, basically trying to get the person reading into their state of mind, emotions, feel what they feel.

so in sex: are they out of breath? are their thighs sore? are they slipping and have to keep maintaining their footing? are they sore? if so where?

and then their bodily functions/condition: are they drooling? are they cold? are they hot? sweating? panting?

-how are they feeling/emotional connection?

another factor i feel is really important is emotions

depending on the ship, fic, situation, etc there might be no emotional attachment in which case it’s a matter of amplifying how the character feels physically.

for emotional connection: do their meet eyes? how does it feel when they do, do they take a second to stare and just absorb? what is the stare like? soft? tender? sweet? loving? hazy because they’re lost in lust?

there’s lots of ways to show emotional care, intertwining fingers during sex acts, stroking hair, sides, backs, cupping someones face in your hands, kisses, etc.

and then physically how their body is doing: in smut the focal point is whatever is giving or receiving pleasure,- in that case how does it feel?

it will differ depending on the action like if it’s penetration (different for fingers tongues, dildos, or dicks), blowjobs, going down on someone. each actions has certain things attached to it like they heat of a mouth, slickness or stickiness of saliva, flexibility of a tongue or fingers.

- the buildup

when i first started writing fan fiction i tried doing a lot of research into writing and things and ended up coming across lots of critique posts like people saying that anal without lube is a turn off for readers, that bad prep scenes in writing are no good, etc.

truth is, all that is really preference based and not actual valid critiques since they didn’t even offer alternatives or options for how to write differently.

buildup is like, implying certain actions i think. depending on pace you’ll either write out all the prep or if it’s more faster paced implied actions can also suffice.

like placing a sentence that’s like ‘he pulled the lube out from under the pillow’- that by itself is good enough for me in some cases because obviously if he’s pulling it out he’s going to use it, and everyone’s read 101 different ways how.

(**** also side not just to make sure, fanfic sex doesn’t have to be realistic, in most cases smut and sex in fanfiction is idealized and while adding elements of realism to fics is good and all it’s really a matter of personal choice and writing style it’s not necessarily a strict ‘you have to’ it’s okay to write slightly or completely unrealistic sex, plenty of people out there will like it either way****)

buildup is also trying to play up the feelings of horniness to the max (depending on the atosphere of the scene, it its more emotional it might be better to go slower and focus on actions rather than feelings of arousal)

and then finally

the finale/climax

in smut you’re building up towards the finale which is them orgasming or feeling some deeper emotional connection. this could precede the physical actions since something in a lot of cases catalyzes it like someone looking into someones eyes and feeling love which is followed by their release.

and this is, in my opinion, probably the hardest to pin down consistently in writing and a adore the people who’ve got it down pat. the feeling itself could be described ina variety of different ways:

- like heat, like sparks behind their eyelids, like shivers traveling down their spine, etc.

in additon to that are their other body reactions

-their toes curling, their hands gripping something in a white knuckle grip, biting down on their lip to muffle their sounds, gasping, squeezing their eyes shut, their eyes rolling to their back of their heads, crying, etc.

and after all this, if all else fails- porn is always a great reference. (sure a lot of it is acted up but it could serve as a good model if you’re really stuck)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hopefully this helped!!!"

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #smut help

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magnorious · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel is the Perfect Musical for People Who Hate Musicals

*Spoiler Free!*

I watched this on recommendation and the pitch was “the cast is filled with Broadway performers, also there’s an aro/ace and he’s amazing”. Broadway is never an enticing detail for me.

I heard the name “Hazbin Hotel” and assumed the plot would be about “has-been” performers staying at the hotel trying to regain relevance through a series of convoluted musical numbers and big dance numbers and boy, was I completely wrong.

Charlie, Lucifer’s daughter, is attempting to redeem souls in Hell so they get a second chance at going to Heaven to save them from extermination by the forces of Heaven, because Hell is becoming overcrowded with sinners. She created the “Hazbin Hotel” as sinner rehab to save her friends.

The show reminds me a lot of Phineas and Ferb in that every single episode features a song and dance, in a show about kids living up their summer vacation building wild and wacky inventions while a pharmacist battles his arch-nemesis platypus in the B-plot. That the show is at all a “musical” is just icing on the cake — not the entire cake.

I might not like Broadway, but I respect it for the art form that it is, and still this show didn’t feel “Broadway”. The songs were explicitly not-meta, no huge cabaret dance and chorus, and except for one single track, no song felt mis-matched to the images on screen (Carmilla’s power ballad felt a little over the top, if great independently).

And, like Phineas and Ferb, everything was so sincere that it went so far into ridiculous and came out the other side wildly entertaining. There was not a single boring character, a single dull voice acting performance, a single scene where I lost interest.

This show is hysterical if you don’t like comedies either, because the dialogue is so fast-paced and witty, throwing insults and slinging dry humor in blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments. I have to watch it again just to pause and catch all the background details.

And speaking of details! This show is also a perfect example of why animation is not inferior to live action. It’s so refreshingly un-Disney in its character design and so far removed from attempting to ground its animation. I did have trouble at first distinguishing characters from background elements because their silhouettes are so zany, but that faded fast. Arcane and Spiderverse are beautiful achievements in animation, but this is a cartoon through and through.

Every single character (except Adam, his minion angel, and the English Vee demon) are adorable and every silhouette is unique. For a show that’s four hours long, every major character gets the chance to shine and they pack a ton of characters into four hours. Every single character is sincere in who and what they are, fully marinated in this wacky world that would crumble if any one performance didn’t embrace the craziness.

And among the performances, every time they cursed and sang about wildly inappropriate content, I pictured posh Broadway performers in the recording studio having the time of their lives in a role they could never put on stage in front of mass audiences and it was hilarious.

The main cast is also fantastic. Main character – Charlie – could so easily have gone from endearing to annoying with her optimism but she rides that line perfectly. Characters might find her annoying and her rank as the Devil’s daughter is her shield, but no one who calls her their friend makes fun of her behind her back. They know she cares, and they care about her.

Four hours isn’t enough time for plot contrivances and the show knows it. Anyone else would draw out the “liar revealed” plot line for drama and filler fodder for an entire episode and Hazbin doesn’t. Another show would have the double-agent act do more damage and not get them discovered immediately. Another show would draw out a heroic sacrifice with rousing violins and horns and slow motion — not Hazbin.

The rest of the main cast – Vaggie, Alastor, Nifty, Husker, Angel, Sir Pentious — have incredibly strong personalities in the time they were given to shine and even the side characters aren’t lost in the shuffle. I think Alastor is most everyone’s favorite and he’s mine as well. I liked that, as I said above, he genuinely cares about something he probably shouldn’t with the success of Charlie’s hotel. He’s plotting and scheming in the background but he’s not a liar or a pretender and everyone is aware of those plots and schemes. A lesser show would have made him a shrewd villain. I was rooting for everyone to escape their lots in life and succeed almost the moment they appeared on screen, endeared to the entire main cast in seconds because this is a group of friends that are genuinely friends.

The show is Amazon’s, and with that comes permission for all manner of foul language and mature content and it does get dark but never gratuitously dark like Amazon’s Invincible or The Boys. There’s a very polite and considerate content warning for depictions of assault and while I guessed the character it happened to, I expected a lot worse given the platform I watched it on. It didn’t need to be violent or graphic to get the point across, so kudos for respectful restraint.

Lastly, the musical numbers themselves. I grew up watching the Disney Renaissance movies and I have seen productions of Broadway shows. It’s the culture that bothers me, not the performances. So I never anticipated hating the songs and, save for one sung by a random minor character in Heaven, every single track was a banger with incredible variety. The lines are sharp and witty (and take full advantage of being rated 16+) and insanely catchy.

I already feel late to the party with this review and the season just wrapped up. For anyone else who either looked at the title, or the art style, or heard “it’s a musical” and kept scrolling, Hazbin Hotel will surprise you at every turn with its refreshing sincerity, incredible animation, and endearing characters you can’t wait to see more of in season 2.

#hazbin hotel #review #prime video

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hangingfire · 2 months

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The day's activities commenced with a tour of the garage. In the garage, there are many mysteries one is not allowed to know or see. The use of phones is forbidden lest one incur accusations of espionage. When we got into the garage, Lewis's car was naked, its insides visible for all to see. I think this was the moment where my respect for the sport as it exists really made itself clear. It is hard to describe what I felt looking at that car. The closest phrase I have at my disposal is the technological sublime. I pictured a living, breathing animal of extraterrestrial origin, hooked up to a thousand arcane sensors that delivered messages in little pulses. All the tubes and sculpted carbon-fiber parts and the endless net of wires all working in service to the godhead engine, formed something totally incomprehensible to me, a feat of engineering so vast it breached the realm of magic. Hamilton himself walked through in his helmet, unexpectedly on an errand. After being in the presence of the car, I perceived him differently than before, when he was just a guy driving in circles on TV. The scope of his capabilities became more directly known to me in the face of that which I believed to be unknowable. All of that was built in service of him.

[...]

One thing that strikes me about Formula 1 is its unexpected resemblance to fencing— it is an absolutely poised and disciplined affair. Recently, for my 30th birthday, I took up medieval sword fighting—historical European martial arts, they call it. For the first two weeks we worked on standing in a good medieval stance, always prepared to move. Sword fighting is learned through what are called set plays, specific motions of sword and body combined into one fluid action. But when you watch people who are really good at sword fighting, an ornate, flowing dance emerges from these seemingly disparate parts. Formula 1 is like that. When the cars line up on the grid, everything is totally neat and rehearsed, completely in its place. Tires, people, staff, even journalists. The teams are meted out in perfect sections—they don't call it the grid for nothing. But when time comes for the sprint to begin, team members move in perfect coordination, synchronized. They have stances and footwork. This is most true of the pit crew and the astonishing speed at which they travel through space as one organism, totally practiced in set plays of their own. This was beautiful to watch in real life. The unfurling of the apparatus of the setup, groups peeling back one by one until there are only these alien cars, these technological marvels kissing the ground. Before the heartbeat, they respirated.

[...]

After the second sprint, the INEOS folks informed the journalists that we needed to leave early in order to avoid traffic and make it to dinner on time, where, apparently there would be a special guest. Frustrated, I returned to watching the cars as they started up again, knowing that the drivers were pushing them to their limits, engrossed in their personal kaleidoscope of motion and color. Hamilton was in one of them. In the last shootout, he drove differently than before. A great verve frayed the lines he was making, something we can only call effort, push. Watching him, I understood what was so interesting about this sport, even though I was watching it in its most bare-bones form— cars going around in circles. The driver is the apotheosis of quick-moving prowess, total focus and control. The car is both the most studied piece of human engineering, tuned and devised in lab-like environments and at the same time a variable entity, something that must be wrestled with and pushed. The numbers are crunched, the forms wind-tunneled. And yet some spirit escapes their control, and that spirit is known only by the driver. Yes, we watch this perfect blend of man and machine, but we speak of the machine as though it were not of human origin, as though the machine, being born from science could— eventually, through its iterative processes— sublimate human flaws. The driver, being human, knows this is false. His intimacy with the machine is the necessary missing connection, and even if the machine were perfect, it was made for imperfect hands. But it is never perfect. The gaps in its perfection are where disasters transpire, but also miracles.

—Kate Wagner, "Behind F1's Velvet Curtain"

(Putting aside the controversies around this article, this might be some of my favorite writing about Formula 1 and why it can be so goddamn captivating. The drama and the pretty people are entertaining, but these passages really nail the ineffability at the heart of motorsport, and beautifully.)

#formula 1 #handsome men in fast cars

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solarisgod · 4 months

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❝ There aren't any pictures of me as a kid . ❞

The pair stands before the floral wall of photo frames . They are in what the Everlove compares this special place to an art gallery . The craft room , once a spot for guests to sleep in . The roof is the window glass . Each side of the room have a wall that displays one to two specifics form of art : Visual arts with photos , poems ⅋ short stories , DVD discs ⅋ VHS tapes , ⅋ lastly , craftworks . In the center , there is a large table with art supplies surrounding it . This is where love begins ⅋ spreads forever . Micah notices Warlock have been staring at the images of themself when they were a child , Mimi . The tone lacks envy or relief , anything . It's a simple reopen of a feral dog's wound that consumed everything . Eyes away from its own , Micah cups Warlock's cheeks to analyze its sharp details .

❝ Well , if you like , I can draw one of you as so with the best of my imagination . ❞ They kiss its forehead . ❝ I wasn't much of a photo person , actually . . . ❞ Micah shares gently , leaning back to brush its hair . ❝ I broke my parents' camera when they showed me my image for the first time . ❞ Warlock's head perks , surprise evident in its sudden motion , as if it couldn't ever believe that they , the softest little star , would do such a thing . Micah chuckles in warmth , like they're appreciating the memory despite its mishap . ❝ My neighborhood ⅋ school called me Breaker . Many adults thought it's 'cause I break my bones often jumping off high areas , ❞ Micah's hand leaves Warlock's strands , their smile weaker .

Mimi Everlove the Breaker . She's always breaking everything ⅋ especially herself . ❝ But I was so easy to ruin everything . They didn't know it's often in fear . I broke the camera , seeing an image of myself , 'cause I thought I was going to get hurt by someone I couldn't recognize . ❞ I thought I , a monster , was going to hurt myself . ❝ So my parents encouraged me to draw myself as a star so I could associate myself with something familiar . . . That's me over there . ❞ Micah points at a framed image with a star , small ⅋ shining on the center . ❝ You can look like anything you wish at any point of life , so tell me what you see yourself as before , I'll draw you . ❞ They will love it in every forms .

#BONE INJURIES CW #CHILD DISTRESS CW #SELFSHOWNOWPLAYING #DEVEILS #///#//#/#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ WARLOCK . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ DEVEILS . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ IC . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ ANSWERS . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ V : MAIN / ACT I.III. . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . ›#[ hooo man....... oh gosh. ]

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whalien52hzero · 9 months

Text

BASICS

FULL NAME: NIRAN SRISUWAN [ นิรันดร์ ศรีสุวรรณ ]

» MEANING: Niran [ นิรันดร์ (Thai) Means "forever, eternal." ]; Srisuwan [ศรี (sĕe) meaning “glory, majesty, splendour” combined with สุวรรณ (sù-wan) meaning “gold, golden.”]

OTHER NAME(S): The Inuits called him ‘Kitsanik’, it means ‘sadness’ in their language. He was also sometimes called ‘Aput’ because of his brighter color than other Baleen whales they’ve observed.

VERSE: The Meaning of Forever; Serendipity.

NICKNAME(S): Zero.

AGE: 203 years old before reincarnation; human form is 26-years old.

DATE OF BIRTH: 8th November 1997, Saturday, early morning.

PLACE OF RE-BIRTH: Bangkok, Thailand.

OCCUPATION: Works part-time at a 7/11 at night for fun; employed at Amarin Media Group as part of the Production Department.

RELIGION: Buddhist.

ORIENTATION: Bisexual, Biromantic.

GENDER: Cisgender male.

STRENGTHS: Extra-ordinary ability in the water.

WEAKNESSES: He has human’s weaknesses; he can get sick and injured.

PERSONALITY

STRENGTHS: Resourceful, Powerful, Brave, Passionate, Loyal.

WEAKNESSES: Obsessive, Jealous, Violent, Manipulative, Distrusting.

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Net Siraphop Manithikhun.

HEIGHT: 5'10 ft. [179 cm.]

WEIGHT: 154 lbs. [79 kg.]

BUILD: Lean, muscular.

GAIT: TBA.

HAIR COLOR: Black.

EYE COLOR: Brown.

BIRTHMARK: TBA.

OVERVIEW:

» SCARS: Small scars from minor accidents when he’s growing up.

» TATTOOS: Yes. Tribal tattoos on his arms of a whale.

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Bangkok, Thailand.

RESIDENCE: Nonthaburi, Bangkok, Thailand.

NATIONALITY: Thai.

ETHNICITY: Asian.

FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper-class.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Zero graduated from the Department of Motion Pictures and Still Photography under the Faculty of Communication Arts in Chulalongkorn University.

DEGREES: He graduated in 2020.

HOBBIES: Traveling, watching movies, taking pictures, aquariums, swimming.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Zero is mute but he learned to speak through therapy when he was little. His first language is Thai. He knows English since he was little because of his parents who are educators and professionals who practice and use the language. Zero picked some Mandarin, Filipino, Korean, and Japanese while attending Chulalongkorn University.

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Nisa [mother]; Pongsakorn [father]

SIBLINGS: Natthawut, Napha, older brothers, 29 and 26 years old.

CHILDREN: He has no children.

PETS: A male calico cat named Goblin.

SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIPS: » TBA.

FAMILY HISTORY: Zero is the youngest of three children. He was born in a supportive family and each member is talented in their own way. Zero had a happy childhood for the most part; being the youngest he was protected and spoiled but also taught to be compassionate and humble but sometimes, he does get a bit stubborn. Zero has two older brothers, Saam [three in Thai] and Sky [nickname is literal translation of the name] and they got along growing up. They were very popular in high school and also in their university. Everyone in Zero’s father’s family side went to the same high school and university and had always held a place and popularity in these establishments. Zero, along with cousins, were one of the youngest in their family that attended the uni and reaped the benefits of carrying their last name. Zero exceled academically and also in sports. Many of his juniors looked up to him and although he realized that it was an honor to be in such position as he did, he felt that the attention and popularity was also due to his inability to speak. Did they pity him? He had many friends but often time, he preferred being along and spent his weekends doing his own thing instead of hanging out like other people his age. Zero had been gripped by a deep loneliness that he believed is beyond the many concerns that he currently possess... Since he graduated, Zero has been working at Amarin Media Group in the company's production department, working on ads/commercials for big brands in Thailand and other neighboring countries. Despite not being able to speak, Zero is a good communicator and was able to prove that he can handl whatever job was given to him. He worked his way up as one of the youngest directors/producers in their department. Although many employees in the company, most of them jealous of what Zero was able to accomplished at a very young age, would say that he got the position and popularity because of his name.

BEFORE HIS REBIRTH: Zero was also known as Kitsanik and sometimes Aput by the Inuits who observed him as he roamed the ocean searching for potential friends and partner. But his inability to communicate with other whales of his kind prevented him to create his own pack, causing him to live alone own his own as no whale ever heard his call out to them.

ROMANTIC HISTORY: Zero had been linked to various people but he never had a serious relationship. He felt many people who wanted to date him only liked him because of his popularity or they show interest in him because they pity him.

PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS: Zero became good friends with the company's founders.

THOUGHTS ON LOVE: "There’s someone out there for me.”

HEALTH

PHOBIA(S): Being alone and yet, he also prefers being alone.

HANDICAP(S): None.

MENTAL DISEASE(S): Depression.

PHYSICAL DISEASE(S): None.

PREDISPOSITION(S): Alcoholism.

#{ character sheet: zero }

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alaricmacdonald · 2 years

Photo

The pied piper

Do I feel a sense of pride in what I’ve managed to conjure for myself in this moment now sitting here at 31 years of age? I’ll remove that first sentence as that is more or less the explorative idea to the bones of this piece, I’d prefer to be a little subtler about it. They don’t out-line a film to you in the opening credits, you gradually ‘get the picture’ as you go along. To start scribbling this out now, I’ve got a creeping sensation though that I’m not going to be able to touch on it as seamlessly and as eloquently and as intuitively as I can when I loosely let the thoughts wash over me.

To say one thinks about something does not imply there’s a dialogue that runs through your head but to “think” on something is to feel it in multi-faceted ways, to think on something goes well beyond speech or text and then now to try and constrain a thought, to mould the fabric of thought to a structured format such as that of words, an essay, to reign it in to the ones and zeros of data as they appear on the lcd screen of my laptop feels like I’m undermining what it is to know something of the heart, to breathe it in and also out. To let it orbit the brain and the white heat it stokes within the depths of your belly. It’s better suited to a war chant coming from savages than it is to word and page.

Perhaps this is true of all forms of art, could there be something out there that gets close to the source or is it only by frequency and repetition that we get close to transmutation. But this white heat exists and that it exists, the battle is won, success. Any form of rendition, of reference to something beyond is only prayers, an alter to the white flame, a mirror in which to engage and enrage it.

I’ve been trying to get this piece, this grouping of words together for a little while now. There always seems to be something I can pull from to give reasoning for prolonging this hiatus. Possibly, it could be yesterday’s forgetting of my pen that I could look at as being the only genuine reason for not being able to write. The rest is bullshit and you know it. In another of the endless acts of procrastination, I literally lay my head back in the grass, I breathe in and gaze up lovingly at the clouds. I say literally as I’ve used this as an exact example more than once for what I’d be happy doing or satisfied doing, what my goals are, what experience I need or ask of the world. Well now I do it, and the grass at Place des Vosges cradles me softly, a gentleness beyond the arms of a woman, the stark blue and white of the sky glowing with a radiance I’ve never seen in any sunset.

With no real accolades, career prospects, savings, no assets aside from one or two cameras, I come back again to whether this dream is worthwhile. The forefathers have etched it in stone, to follow that feeling, speeches cast in celluloid, tattooed into the pages of all books that matter. Follow it, do not buckle, do not give in and the light will warm your face even in the darkest days. Aside from Bukowski, I can’t remember another who also warned so clearly of the pain and destruction that comes along with it, walking hand in hand with the beast we call dreams.

I’ve given myself all the advantages I can think of to set the stage now for a reasonable conclusion to this thread I’ve been pulling at. A rather light way of describing what feels more like pulling my intestines up through my throat. It’s the end of August, the last day in fact. The tress are no longer a lush green and while they’re not yet a yellow or orange, the transition has begun. These are summer thoughts, bearable in the warmth and sun filled evenings but these are the kind of thoughts that if left to fester could kill a man in the autumn, or flay him alive in the winter.

This one has been harder than others to face head on, the response is always dictated of course by the mood I’m in. But still I wonder, has all this been worth it? When I’m in motion, on the train or at the airport bound for somewhere like Milan with all expenses paid or when it’s a Tuesday and the sun is heating the atmosphere to 29 degrees and there’s no job I need to call in sick for to have the freedom to lay naked in the backyard reading Murakami, if I stop to think about it, I get a feeling of elation for the path I’ve chosen and the choices I’ve made.

Or to put it more realistically, it’s down to the paths I’ve been careful to avoid, stubbornly refused, spat on and turn my back on. There’s never really been a dream in the traditional sense, a goal or something to strive for, the choices I’ve made have only been in active revolt toward what looked to me like damnation. A wasting of life and its sacred moments. I can take consolation in that it’s never really been a choice, to have passion guide you is to have your hands taken off the wheel or your hands are on the wheel but you no longer read the map or the street signs. I’ve tried but I can’t pull my face away from the warmth of the sun or the white heat within and I know if I stare long enough I’ll eventually go blind. If having held my ground is all the achievement my nowhere life leads me, Ill chalk that up as another win for the living.

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californiaprelawland · 9 months

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The Writer’s Strike of 2023

By Juan Cruz, California State University Dominguez Hills Class of 2024

August 9, 2023

It has been nearly 3 months since the Writer’s Guild of America went on strike due to low pay and wanting a revised pay structure along with fair deals and contracts for their writers in Hollywood. 1 The strike has had a massive impact on entertainment as many shows, movies, and other forms of media have been on hold or canceled in response to the strike. This is not the first writer’s strike to have happened in the entertainment industry. In 2007, the WGA went on strike regarding an ever-expanding media and a new online economy that changed how one consumed media. This strike would last for 14 weeks and would cause a rift in the production of shows, movies, and other media as they would either go haywire with no guidance from writers, get rushed to the finish, or get canceled outright. 2 The current writer’s strike that we currently are on has gone on for 89 days as of writing and no progress has been made to end this strike and this is evident with both sides refusing each other counter offers and proposals.

On one side is the WGA, which represents writers in the entertainment industry and argues that their issues with the studios are the erosion of working conditions due to the advent of streaming services, better residual pay as this income is crucial for “the middle-class writer who has been upended by streaming”. 3 Along with these issues is the “abuses” in the so-called mini rooms which have a small group of writers that are tasked by studios before a show is given the green light. The mini rooms according to them are used by studios to justify paying writers less for work and only have them work for as little as 10 weeks before the writer has to go find another gig to work for. 4 The WGA points to the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, or the AMPTP, as wanting to create a “gig economy” out of writers who chose their profession as a long-term career, refusing to guarantee weekly employment for episodic TV, creating a “day rate” in the comedy sphere and curtailing all the labor force into an entirely freelance profession. 5

On the other side is AMPTP, representing studios such as Warner Bros., Apple, NBC, other studios, networks, streamers, and motion picture and TV producers. 6 The AMPTP argues that regulating the usage of AI and mini rooms is cumbersome and raises tons of other issues, The issue with AI is that it’s ridded with legal questions as writers want to use this to help with their creativity without changing or revising on how credits are determined but are not able to since AI art is not copyrightable. 7 The current agreement with the WGA defines a “writer” as a “person” so AI-generated art cannot be credited or given contract coverage. 8 As for mini rooms, they argue that the current proposal of having a minimum size and duration of employment on the fact that it will require titles or productions have to hire writers when they don’t need them and stifles the creative freedom of writers. 9 They also counterargue that a good portion of TV writers work on a weekly or episodic basis with guaranteed weeks or episodes of employment with access to pension funds, health plans, and paid parental leave. 10

As of writing, there has been no progress with the WGA and the AMPTP on negotiating a new deal. This has halted the production of entertainment projects and put some on hold such as SNL. The WGA guild members cannot perform any services or work within their current contracted work within the jurisdiction of the striking guild. 11 During the strike, employers can either replace the union member with a replacement on a temporary or permanent basis. If the replacement is temporary, they have to offer the guild member their employment back when the temporary replacement work concludes. in the case of a strike ending without a replacement, they must offer the job back to the guild member back his employment before hiring elsewhere. 12 The employer can also choose to eliminate the job position without a replacement according to the Supreme Court for reasons of business efficiency and falling under “substantial and bona fide reasons other than considerations relating to labor relations”. 13

There’s not much one can do during this strike. Some productions have still gone on with replacements or had historically been against using union writers. At this moment, one should still get in touch with their union or their employer regarding their status of employment or prepare themselves for any legal issues that may spring up in the future.

______________________________________________________________

https://www.today.com/news/hollywood-writers-strike-2023-explained-rcna83508

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2023/may/04/2007-writers-strike-bond-movie-heroes

https://www.nytimes.com/article/wga-writers-strike-hollywood.html

https://deadline.com/feature/hollywood-writers-strike-wga-explained-1235341146/

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/writers-strike-amptp-negotiations-issues-ai-1235479953/

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madi5on · 1 year

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I remember when my depression/anxiety/neurodiversity became an issue. I mean it only makes sense. My entire world was falling about. My mother had just gone through a nasty divorce. I lost half of my siblings. Both I was extremely close with.

I won't ever forget when my father figure of 10 years told me to never call him again. He doesn't want anything to do with my mother, therefore he wants nothing to do with me. So I didn't.

I kind of am the epitome of daddy issues. Some more stories for other days.

My room was crazy. It was just a mess. I hardly showered. My favorite thing was to tub wash my hair. This was definitely more difficult to do that actually just taking a shower, yet a shower felt invading. I just wanted my hair to look nice.

There wasn't a lot I like to do. My main form of entertainment was books. I wasn't allowed on social media. I wasn't playing when I said I wasn't a very good child. I did as I was told on surface, but under the covers I was sex crazy maniac so my mom handled that with the best of her ability.

When she was going through my conversations she found a picture of me in my bra and panties. I told her it wasn't that big of a deal. I was like a bikini. So her natural response was to smash my phone.

My mother was a neat freak. No, like OCD compulsive cleaning. She was diagnosed with it.

That wasn't me. To be honest it was easier having everything out in front of me. I was stack up my book in random spots. Clothes were organized in a dirty pile, clean pile, until my hoard of clothes got too big. I was a little artist myself so I had piles of art supplies and projects everywhere as well. Most unfinished.

Seeing this was very stressful for my mother. So eventually she flipped out.

I had a pile of books next to my bed. About 3 or 4 of my current reads. This was a habit I collected from my step mother. She is a reader. She would take us to the library and we would pick out book on books. She would keep hers in a grocery bag tote. We would return them 2 weeks later.

None of these books were those. These were my comfort books. These were the books that had been worn down from years upon years of reading. My absolute favorite dystopian novel was on top.

My mother had come up my metal spiral stairs. This was a rarity because she had always been afraid of see through surfaces. She was screaming. Ranting and raving about the state of my rooms. She picking up items and throwing them around the room. I did what I usually did.

dissociated.

I was sitting on my bed. This was a comfort place. I'll just take a nap after this.

She stepped toward me. My heart skipped. Is she gonna hit me?

"YOU NEVER TAKE CARE OF YOUR SHIT!"

She picks up my pile of books. I cry out.

"NO!"

Tears stream down my face as I watch pages fly across my room. I watched them fall in slow motion to the ground. The short woman became a giant crushing the paper beneath her feet. The words rendered nothing.

It's been hard trying to read ever since.

#digital art #artwork #painting #blogger #diary #online diary

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choosevideoproductionservices · 2 years

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Hiring a Video Production Service

Hiring a commercial video production miami service is an easy way to create high-quality video content. Instead of hiring expensive production companies and incurring travel expenses, you can work with professional video producers on your project remotely. They provide all the necessary services, including filming, editing, and post-production. The convenience of a video production service makes it ideal for those with little to no experience in the field. It is easy to use, with an online booking process and remote staff that is always available to help.

A video production service can also help organizations introduce themselves to new markets, investors, or employees. These videos can highlight the company's mission, values, culture, history, profit-sharing plans, and vision. Some companies use these videos to recruit new employees, while others use them as company onboarding videos. The most important thing is to hire a video production service that produces high-quality videos.

Before hiring a video production service, be sure to review the video production process and pricing. A poorly-planned video will fall apart quickly, costing you money and time to correct. Video production services will be able to estimate the cost of each shot. A video production service should also provide you with a detailed timeline for the project.

Developing a video marketing strategy is essential for creating videos that rank well in search results. To attract viewers, make sure to include keywords that are related to the content of the video. In addition, you should have a catchy title that will grab viewers' attention. A clickbait title gained popularity briefly, but that is not a good idea.

Video production services will typically use a crew of experts who can handle all aspects of a video project. Typically, the director is the creative lead. They will handle concept development, storyboarding, and other aspects. In addition to the creative side, they will work with the various departments, including lighting, sound, and a director of photography. Check out this link for more information on this topic.

While television commercials are the most common form of video production, they are also used on the web. Online videos and social media are also popular places to promote a business. A video production service can produce a commercial for you. However, commercial production is not always a profitable option for a video production service.

A commercial video is an effective marketing tool that builds trust between your audience and your product. It can be used on your website, business card, and apparel. It can help increase your conversion rate. A video produced for a business website should be easy to understand and should include a compelling story. Ideally, you should also include a strong call to action at the end of the video.

A video production service can create many different videos in a single day. This can turn a simple day rate gig into a multi-video package. There are several popular video formats, including vlogs, documentary films, and even a wide variety of broadcast television shows. Depending on the style of the production, the length of the videos can range from 30 seconds to over 60 minutes. This post: https://www.britannica.com/art/motion-picture elaborates more on the topic, so you may need to check it out.

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v-literacy · 2 years

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Critical Analysis of a Selfie

Hi there! My name is Naomi Listokin, I go by she/her, I am a sophomore and am majoring in Communications. I am from the border of Connecticut and New York. A little city called Stamford, more specifically, North Stamford. Growing up less than an hour away from New York City I would go there a lot in addition to having family there. I used to hate the town I grew up in but learned to appreciate it. Living on the border of New York state also gave me the opportunity to become more immersed in the New York state community. I gave a lot of thought for the object I would chose as this is your first impression of me. I chose a book, not a specific book per say just happens to be the book I am reading at the moment. I chose this object as a more general object instead of the object being Conversations With Friends by Sally Rooney it is just the current piece of literature I am reading. From a very young age my book loving mom introduced me to the incredible world of literature. I have always been a bookworm and loved to read. I almost always have a book with me. I like to say as long as I have some water and a book that's all I need. There would be times in my life that I felt reading became more of a chore than a pleasure due to my workload with school. I have been able to create a balance and still have reading as a hobby and passion rather than a chore. I am always reading a book whether it take me months at a time or be an audio book. I have always been a creative person who has always loved different forms of media. I have taken several photography programs and have had experience with Lightroom and Photoshop. I love to draw, paint and collage. I have dabbled in adobe but do not have great skill in it. I find it easier to create with my hands using collage or mixed media so I look forward to challenging myself and learning more. I have not had much experience with motion pictures but really appreciate them as a lover of art. I have had friends who make animation so I know a little bit about it but not much in practice. I can appreciate the skill because I recognize the difficulty.

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thee-crimson-witch · 3 years

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Modern reader from another world

Headcanons: Venti and Albedo

Anon requested: Hi! Um I may be here quite a lot, call me ☁-chan! Can I get headcanons of Venti and Albedo with reader, neutral pronouns, from another world who's maybe from a modern setting like ours but more advanced to, they carry all sorts of technology that seems so different from the norm of Teyvat and just curious bois who are so entranced by it. (But what would they do without Wi-Fi!!??)

Fluff

A/N: I love this ☁-chan! And welcome my love 😌 I can't wait to see more of you in the future. But assuming the tech is phones and laptops and stuff. Significance without Wi-Fi: ⬇⬇. They won't get to see the good memes and stuff, oh well, you're there. Lisa just became your personal charger. All art seen is official art from MiHoYo, not me!

Through your father who's a technological genius, you find machinery that may or may not have yeeted you to another world, you weren't exactly intending for it to happen though! You had taken your phone/laptop oh-so conveniently...

Venti: Reader with an iphone.

I already call it, Venti took a bunch of selfies-

But for real, he found you on the ground by a Statue of the Seven at Windrise of course.

With a, rectangular object in tow?

"Owiee..." You rubbed your forehead, then checking to see if your phone screen had cracked or anything. You still failed to notice the boy in front of you.

"Hello?" He looked down at you, tapping your head, then calling to you again.

You seemed hurt, but the rectangular object was flashing now. He slipped it from your hand to take a closer look.

Your lockscreen was you, and another person beside you, doing peace signs with a smile.

Strange, he hadn't seen such a gesture before.

The screen kept flashing 'Signal not found'

"Hey! Gimme that." You reached up for your phone.

It was just constantly you chasing after him - not without the occasional limp because your leg still hurt like hell.

Ooo, how could he see himself when he swiped over? So simple compared to the Kameras from Fontaine.

When he moved, it'd show up on the screen! Cue the stupid grin on his face as he began to make some silly faces.

"Um, click this button here." You motioned to the camera button.

"Oh."

Where'd your phone storage go?

Constant pictures of him winking in different locations.

While you were just waiting around, trying to find a way back home.

He most likely finds a way to change the wallpapers to just be him alone.

Not like you were complaining. 😩😩

He looks through your gallery, modern culture is certainly interesting.

Eventually the battery died as night fell, a small pout made its way onto his face.

He just got the high score on Subway Surfers!

"How do you get it to..." "Well you'd need electricity." "Electro?? Well then the librarian can help with that!"

Somehow he gets Lisa to charge it for you.

Albedo: Reader with a laptop

Found you shivering cold in a cave on Dragonspine on the way to his lab.

With your laptop too.

Couldn't just leave you there though, he contemplated the effects of hypothermia.

You woke up on a soft pile of arranged blankets that Sucrose brought in.

"Is everything alright?"

You looked up to a beautiful male, like, drop dead gorgeous.

Like someone out of an anime!

Your laptop wasn't anywhere to be found though.

"Are you looking for your strange device?"

Unable to form words, you nodded.

"It's on the desk, for a short moment I suspected it was a death machine."

You dropped laughing on the floor, like???

Death machine 😭

So you pop in your password

Your wallpaper was (Insert favorite tv show character)

He's never seen such technology like this,

But when you pulled up the webcam, all hell broke loose.

Videotaped an experiment of him growing a ley line sprout

Tutorials fill your computer as you re-watch them over and over again.

Gets Sucrose on it too, but she got a little nosey and found your downloaded video games.

Lisa became your personal charger, again...

Albedo totally forgot what he truly went to the lab for, also he mastered the keyboard and now types faster than you, literally a master at Friday Night Funkin

#albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin albedo x reader #albedo fluff #venti x reader #genshin venti #genshin venti x reader #venti fluff #genshin fluff #x reader #alternate timeline #gender neutral y/n

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 || werewolf!Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: being the sherriff’s department’s crime scene photographer means seeing terrible things. following lee bodecker into the woods means experiencing terrible things.

word count: almost exactly 4k

warnings: smut (noncon but she comes around eventually, if you will), werewolf sex (so...pseudo-bestiality??? but like... not really??), breeding kink, knotting, some a/b/o tropes?, kinda some degradation?, violence, vague-ish description of gore

Something undeniably wicked was lurking in the woods behind Knockemstiff, Ohio. That much was obvious.

It wasn’t your first gig as a crime scene photographer, so you knew what to expect; or, you thought you did. This town was nothing like Toledo, though, in all the worst ways. You’d left the big city in hopes that you wouldn’t have to see another drive-by shooting, another stockbroker who jumped out of his office, another mafia job left out in the street to serve as an example for would-be testifiers. You’d left to escape some of the brutality that the urban environment brought. And to be fair, it wasn’t anything like that, but it wasn’t at all better.

You’d never seen a cut this deep before. You’d never seen a body nearly turned inside out.

“It’s that damn bear,” the officer nearby announced, his words failing to distract you from your task of photographing the bloodied remains. “This happened a couple months ago, body just like this turned up. Thought we shot the damn thing but I guess we got the wrong one.”

“That can’t be right,” you frowned, stepping back and lowering the camera from your face; it looked worse when it wasn’t seen through the viewfinder, it looked more real. “Bears might maul people, but they don’t… eat them.”

“They do if they get hungry enough,” he sighed.

“Do you really believe that?” you pressed.

“I need to.”

The conversation was still echoing in your head as you drove back to the station, which was still bustling despite the day being just about to end.

You stopped by your desk to grab a folder from your top drawer, "FOR SHERIFF" written in big letters on the front. Tucking it under your arm, you navigated through the officers and secretaries mulling about to the back hallway of the station, finding the last door on the left and knocking even though it was already halfway open.

“Good evenin’ little lady,” Sheriff Bodecker greeted with a smile when he looked up at you, “got somethin’ for me?”

“Photos from yesterday,” you explained, stepping inside and setting the folder down on his desk. He opened it and flipped through your shots, nodding slightly.

"Looks good," he praised— gruff and monotone, but praise nonetheless. "I think it's enough to prove who was driving recklessly and who was just driving."

"Think they'll be all right?" you asked, remembering how one of the car crash survivors looked as they were being wheeled into an ambulance.

He sighed a little, setting the folder down. "Seems so, last I heard."

"That's good…" you trailed off, toying with the strap of your camera nervously, studying his face as he looked down at some paperwork in front of him.

You were a career woman, working in a male-dominated profession, and you had so much to prove… but god, if you didn't sometimes fantasize about the Sheriff in ways you knew you shouldn't. In spite of the fact that you were sure he wanted an obedient housewife, and that that was something you could never be, you'd been known to daydream about another life where he wasn't your boss and you weren't so worried about what other people thought and the two of you could be together.

Or, on other occasions, you just wished Knockemstiff was as liberal as Toledo, so you could have a fling with him and not worry about everybody calling you a harlot.

Either way, it could never happen. You worked with him and he worked with you; he was looking to settle down and you were looking to start your life. It was a basic incompatibility. That didn't stop you from letting your gaze linger on his hands, admiring how strong and thick they were. God, you wish he'd just grab you—

"Anything else I can do for ya?" he asked slowly, that deep voice making the question sound just a bit more dirty than he likely meant it.

"No, that'll be all," you decided, giving him a polite nod before you slipped out of his office.

Sometimes, it felt like the only chance you got to really think during the day was when you were alone in your darkroom. The photo development equipment here was significantly more primitive than what the Toledo Police Department had been able to provide, but you didn’t mind; if anything, it brought you back to your roots, when you were just a newbie photographer who wanted to make compelling art, take photos that would end up on magazine covers or beside hard-hitting journalism.

That dream had been dashed quite some time ago, but you really did enjoy your job more often than not. Sure, it came with a lot of gruesome imagery, but at least it was important, and interesting.

You couldn't be sure what time it was— with no windows and no clocks, and with hours always flying by when you were developing film— but the lack of any noise from outside your darkroom made it clear that it was quite late and everyone had left.

It was odd, then, that you did hear a noise from outside the room, like floorboards creaking. You were ready to blame the old building settling until you heard it again.

“...hello?” you asked hesitantly, the sterile echo of your voice only making you just that much more paranoid. “Is someone there? I’m just here developing my film…”

The red lights cast everything in an eerie glow— bright enough to see, but not enough to assuage your fear.

You opened the door to your darkroom slowly, careful not to let too much light in, and peered down the dark, empty halls. An uneasy feeling awakened in your gut and you swallowed nothing before hesitantly stepping out into the dark.

Another creak from around the corner made you turn, walking towards the noise and considering calling out again but suddenly afraid to speak at all.

A man's form appeared in front of you out of nowhere.

“Oh!” you gasped, but you sighed a bit when you recognized the badge glistening on his chest. “Sheriff, shit, you scared me…”

“Sorry, little lady,” he breathed, “didn’t know you were still here…”

“Come in, if I leave this door open too long it’ll let light in,” you explained, pointing to where the street lamp outside shined into the window and ushering him past you into the darkroom.

“What’re you still wearin’ that damn camera for?” he asked, pointing to your hip where it was slung at your side from over your shoulder, making you giggle a little as you shut the door behind the both of you.

“Force of habit. Never know when something worth photographing might take place,” you explained, returning to the tub of ammonium thiosulfate where you were dipping another glossy print.

“If somethin’ worth takin’ a picture of happens while you’re stuck in here, I think you’ll’ve got bigger problems than not having your camera,” he smirked.

“Fair enough,” you scoffed. “Let’s hope I never need to take pictures like these—” you tilted your head towards the pictures you’d hung to try— “unexpectedly.” Lee sauntered over to where you’d motioned, pulling one the more developed photos from the clothespins. “That’s the body we found in the woods,” you informed him, “I’m surprised you weren’t called in— it’s pretty gnarly.”

“Sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to see stuff like this,” he shook his head, sighing somberly.

“I can handle it,” you shrugged, “Believe it or not, I saw worse working mob cases.”

“I’m going with ‘not,’” he answered quickly.

He was right not to believe you, and you weren’t sure what to say now that he’d called your bluff.

“What… what perfume are you wearing?”

The question threw you off but you figured no harm could come from answering honestly. “I’m, uh, I’m not…”

He stepped closer, his footsteps soft but audible on the carpeted floor as his form settled behind yours. Your breath caught when his fingers trailed over your arm and he leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your head as he breathed in. “You smell good,” he stated plainly, deep voice vibrating in your ears and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Um… thank you…” you answered, hearing your voice waver.

Just when you thought he might make a move (was this already a move?), and just when you thought you might actually reciprocate if he did, he pulled away. “I should… I’m sorry, I oughta— I have work to get done.”

Before you could even begin to wonder what he was talking about, he had already slipped out of the darkroom and back into the hall. Oddly enough, you were sure you heard him start running the second the door was shut. You considered shrugging it off and getting back to work, but the more you thought about it, the more you were worried. Most of all, you wondered if he had seen something in your photographs that gave him a lead on what killed the poor old man.

That possibility needed to be investigated further.

So, you powered down your equipment and left the darkroom, leaving just in time to see the Sheriff stumble out of the back door of the station, seeming to be limping slightly.

Too curious now to stay away, you followed his path and pushed the door open with your weight, seeing him making a mad dash for the nearby treeline.

“No, Lee, the woods—!” you warned, horrified to imagine that he could meet the same fate as the man in your photographs. You weren’t dressed well enough for the weather— already the evening breeze blew against your bare legs and made you shiver— but you forged ahead regardless.

The moon light was just enough to illuminate your path at first, but as the clouds moved and the tree cover grew thicker, squinting just didn’t do enough to help you see. Generally, you weren’t afraid of the dark, but this was different… it was cold, and you were alone; but you didn’t feel quite as alone as you would’ve liked to. You called out for Lee, only hearing the gentle rustle of the leaves and the occasional snapping of twigs on the ground.

At about the same time you considered turning back and using one of the station phones to call some officers for a search, you heard something. A whine, maybe, or a whimper. You weren’t sure what it was; it only just barely sounded human.

“Lee, are you out there?” you called, whipping your head around wildly.

In desperate need of light to navigate your way, you had a moment of insight and reached for the camera slung by your hip. You relieved yourself of the shoulder strap, pointed the camera ahead, and opened up the flash.

CLICK. A brief moment of light gave you at least an idea of where you were standing. It was impossible not to notice how similar it looked to the background of the photos you had just been developing. You realized, then, that you’d worried so much for Lee’s safety in these woods, but hadn’t considered your own.

Lee, at least, had a gun. You just had a camera. Both could shoot, but only one could protect you.

CLICK. You moved in the direction that you remembered as clear. It was even harder to see in the dark after the bright light had burned your eyes slightly, and you longed to reach out ahead to feel out your path yet found yourself too terrified of what you might touch. You could hear the flash charging between shots, you knew well enough by now what it sounded like when the camera was ready to shoot again.

CLICK. Something white reflected back in the distance, so you moved that way, nearly tripping on a root for your trouble.

The cloud over the moon finally blew away, and just barely— finally— your eyes could make out the shape of Lee, leaned against a tree and breathing deep and fast. His back was turned to you, but even then you could see he didn’t look well, his back bending and swelling with each panting breath that grew louder as you stepped closer.

“Oh my god, Sheriff?!” you squawked, sprinting closer. “Are you alright?” you asked loudly, but when you reached out to touch him he spun to look at you, eyes wild and teeth bared.

“Leave,” he growled between panting breaths.

“You… you’re…” you tried to begin, but you were speechless as you tried to imagine what trick of the light could make him look like he was getting taller, like his eyes and face were shifting.

“GO!” he bellowed.

You stumbled back, dropping your camera but too terrified to even hear the bulb shatter as it hit the ground. Your legs couldn’t move right, your eyes couldn’t look away from what you were seeing, and what you were seeing… you couldn’t describe it, couldn’t understand it.

It didn’t look like what scary stories and picture books told you a werewolf was. It didn’t look like an animal; it sure as hell didn’t look like a person. Disturbingly, it still looked a bit like Lee, even though his Sheriff’s uniform was tearing at the seams from his morphing, swelling body. His cries were broken and twisted as his face seemed to be overtaken by teeth— so many teeth— and dark fur.

Ultimately, one last command to "go" was lost to a howl.

You finally managed to get your brain and body on the same page, turning and scrambling to run away, hearing him chase behind you.

He walked on two legs but ran on four, his snarls coming closer and closer as you made a mad dash for the distant light of the police station. Cold wind blew past you as you sprinted, coming to a sudden halt as you tripped and landed on the ground. Leaves crunched under your hands and feet as you tried to stand back up, but he was already above you, tossing you to the ground again and pinning you at your shoulders.

You tried to kick him away once he'd turned you into your back, but it was laughable— pitiful, even. When he curled his lips back to brandish his glistening fangs, growling deeply, you were too stunned to fight. But you could beg.

“Lee, please, please don’t eat me,” you sobbed.

“I didn’t turn to feed,” he informed you, and it almost sounded like Lee, aside from the depth and roughness that shook you to your core. “I turned to mate.”

“No…” you whispered, denial more than rejection— and as you looked down between your body and his where he hovered over you, you choked on your breath at the sight of his cock, erect and reddened and.... for lack of a better word, enormous.

You weren’t excessively familiar with human cocks (not all the rumors about the new girl who moved here from the city were true), but this one seemed different than what you’d seen, most notably in the size but additionally in how you could see it pulsing and throbbing. His teeth were bared as his claw-laden hands grabbed your legs, lifting and spreading them. Your stupid dress just fell away and exposed you easily, like it didn’t even care that he was a monster.

Your panties were already damp, like you didn’t even care that he was a monster.

A deep breath in through his snout-like nose made it clear he was picking up your scent. He grinned and you shuddered.

You’d seen how deep those claw marks could go, so you were surprised when he was delicate enough to tear your clothes off without ripping your skin. The fear that he could or would, though, kept your heart pumping plenty fast— or maybe that was because of his dark blue eyes scanning your nude form hungrily.

He adjusted your hips as he held you with his… paws, one might call them, pulling you closer and bumping his thick, swollen head against your entrance.

"No, you can't—" you stammered, not sure if you meant morally or physically. There was no way that would fit in you, right? There was no way Lee would force himself on you… right?

The noise you made when he pushed into your channel was, ironically, animalistic. His intrusion stretched you wide and filled you deep, and he wasted no time in setting a brutal pace that slammed his rough, strong thighs against the back of your soft ones.

Fear paralyzed you, made you unwilling and unable to fight back. He was all claws and teeth— where could you reach to try to push him away, without the extremely high risk of him just biting your weak little hand off? No, it was better that you just laid there, whimpering and sobbing and trying with all your might not to moan at the feeling of being fucked, hard, in the woods, by a beast.

His tongue on your neck was an odd sensation, another way he forced you to acknowledge that this wasn’t normal— because no human tongue was this long, this thick and hot, nor surrounded by sharp teeth that grazed your jaw and cheek.

“Gonna breed you,” he informed you coldly. It made you squirm beneath him with renewed vigor, desperate not to be filled with the seed of— well, of anyone, but especially not this thing. Could it get you pregnant, were you even biologically compatible? You didn’t want to find out.

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“If you hate it so much then why is your cunt sucking me in so tight?” he whispered gruffly against your ear before licking it, too, with that cursed tongue.

His question was probably rhetorical, but either way you couldn’t answer it— you had no idea why your body was submitting so easily, why your walls welcomed him so eagerly, why your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer. Further, you had no idea why you were about to come.

Numbness and sensitivity warred across your body, everything feeling tighter and hotter and heavier until you finally snapped and your body shook and convulsed. His arms reached beneath where your back was arching, and you clutched at his shoulders as your fingers weaved into the fur you found there.

Of course he didn’t stop when you reached your peak, he wouldn’t stop for anything now, so you were forced to take him just as deep and hard as always even as your body went limp and became overwhelmingly sensitive. It was clear, then, that your pleasure was only collateral damage to him; he was using your body for whatever he wanted, to sate his biological drive to impregnate something. Like everything else about this, it was disgusting yet annoyingly arousing.

It's hard to say how long you laid there, limply jolting with each of his thrusts, dripping your arousal onto the cold earth beneath you, moaning weakly as you alternated between pleading for mercy and pleading for more. You watched the clouds blow through the night sky, afraid to look up at his monstrous face, at his pointed ears and shining teeth. Occasionally you glanced down and noted the way your stomach bulged from the size of him; you couldn't look at that anymore because it would either make you sick or make you come again.

You gurgled and choked as you felt his cock swelling inside you— bigger, wider, until your body was stretched beyond its limits.

"Take my knot," he instructed darkly, "my little bitch."

Disturbingly, you realized he probably wasn't calling you that to insult you: it was literal. You were his breeding bitch, a womb to carry his litter, and you whined at the way it made your gut sink in shame.

His noises were more animal-like than ever while he came inside you, thick come all but pouring into you as he panted and growled. Funny thing was, it just didn't stop: he kept coming for so long, giving you so much while the knot kept every drop inside.

You'd never felt so full in your life, of anything, let alone hot come that made you feel warm and sticky and dripping wet.

The knot kept you plugged and showed no signs of going down as he caged your body in, nuzzling into your neck. He could bite you now and end it all, but you weren't afraid of that since he seemed to have found a better purpose for you. His heavy breathing made his back rise and curve above you, his clawed hands pinning your wrists beside your head while he started to lick and nibble at your ear, neck, and collarbone.

You didn't even notice that you'd fallen asleep until you awoke in the wee hours of the morning— that time just before sunrise where there's light but no real color in the sky yet— with Lee asleep on top of you. Regular Lee, that is, naked with no fur whatsoever and a normal cock that had softened inside you.

Okay, maybe "normal" was a strong word considering it was still pretty big and deliciously thick despite not even being hard anymore, but at the very least totally human.

"Lee," you whispered harshly, shaking him to try to wake him up. "Sheriff."

He stirred, and his cock moved inside you; the subtle stimulation on your sore insides made you moan lowly and involuntarily squeeze your walls around him. That got his attention, and you heard his breathing change beside your ear before he groaned a little.

"Mornin'," he greeted, his grin audible in his tone as he sat up slightly and looked down at you. You reached up and brushed your hand over his chest, happy to find a much thinner layer of hair there than last night. "Of all the times I woke up in this forest with no fuckin' idea what happened the night before… this has got to be my favorite."

"What's the last thing you remember?" you asked.

"I told you to run… I must've caught you, huh…"

You nodded and bit your lip.

"You know I can't stop, when I'm like that… I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," you sighed, "you didn't— it wasn't you."

"But it's my seed in you," he remembered, his words sending a little tingle up your spine.

He must have felt it, must have seen your eyes widen or heard you gasp a little, because he grinned proudly as he looked down at you.

"Oh, you really love it, huh? Love bein' mine…"

His hands held your arms tight as he pinned them down, making you whimper a little while he leaned in to suck on your neck.

"Love bein' bred like a bitch, ain't that right?"

You heard the deep, desperate moan before you even realized it had come from your mouth, his chuckle beside your ear making your heart twist.

"Yeah, I can tell… who knew you were so dirty, little lady? Sweet girl like you shouldn't be gettin' off on being ravaged in the woods by a monster."

"Y-you're not a monster," you protested weakly.

"I eat people," he reminded you, letting go of your hands which you instantly weaved into his hair.

"Well, that's… everybody's got flaws, that's all."

"Yeah? And what's yours?" he teased.

"I've got a crush on my boss," you answered with a grin, "and I came harder than I ever have in my life being fucked by… what are you?"

"The clinical term is lycanthrope."

"Right," you nodded, "that."

"And what would a pretty girl like you have a crush on me for, hm?"

"I dunno," you smiled coyly, running a finger down his chest, "guess I just thought you were cute…"

"Cute?!" he scoffed incredulously.

"Yeah… and sweet… you know, you go around actin' all tough and stuff, but I think you're really just harmless."

He cut you off with a growl as he lightly bit at your neck, holding your arms down again and tightening his grip on your wrists until you yelped and giggled happily. "Oh, honey, you have no idea yet just how monstrous I can really be…"

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #werewolf!lee bodecker #?? how do I tag this lol

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kittehkwrites · 3 years

Text

Streets

“No Final Fantasy can we end these games though? ” - Doja Cat, ‘Streets’ (2019)

Summary: Trevante finally decides to say something, revealing to you how he feels and it leads to something the both of you only thought could happen in your dreams.

Warnings: Fluff, angst?, smut

Can be read as a stand alone, or as a continuation to Like I Want You

No backing down now. He thought.

I've been goin' through some things

I struggle with my inner man

“I have something that I have to get off my chest.” He said.

There was no hint of playfulness laced in his voice like usual.

No this was serious and it made you shiver.

Trevante couldn’t help but still get nervous around you and it took everything in him to not kiss you again.

The feeling of your soft lips gently caressing his back in shock but with such fluid motion and the current running between you both was something you wouldn’t mind feeling again.

Baby, we tried to fight it

We all been there some days

“ I like you. Ok? I’ve liked you since we started hanging out more and i got to know you more but

Thought I needed something else

And acted like I was okay

“But I always thought you weren’t interested in me like that cause you’d always call be your friend and yea there may have been a few times of playful flirtin but I figured that just how it’d be with us and i didnt want to say anything when you would talk to me about those assholes you’d go one dates with and clearly didn’t know how to treat you”

We just had to work it out

“If I knew this was how you’ve felt, or what you thought we could’ve saved us so much time and mindless pinding over the wrong people...”

You thought of all the times you went on those dead-end dates with guys that couldn’t hold a conversation to save their life or the ones that talked so much that it irritated you to no end and how you’d go to Tre and he’d be there. Waiting on you with open arms, hanging onto your every word and giving you advice.

That’s why you thought he didn’t feel the same. What man would be so selfless?

You wanted to leave and try to move on in hopes of protecting yourself when really you were causing more problems and you could’ve potentially caused him to lose interest..

And baby, I needed space

“I’m sorry for trying to basically avoid you at every cha-”

“It’s alright. I guess you wanted to protect yourself from disappoint like you’d normally be on the receiving end of, but i'm not them and I can definitely say that without a doubt, you’d be my queen and not second fiddle against the juvenile excuses some of those dicks told you back then.” He was right. He’d always treat you so nicely and you misread it as friendly behaviour when for him he didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay out of fear that someone would take you away or treat you in a way you didn’t deserve.

There was a bit of silence between the two of you.

You're pouring your heart out

“we are idiots aren't we?” You both laughed, breaking the silence and it made you both feel lighter knowing you’ve spoke your peace and to have the next person feel the same made you want to float above the clouds even more than you were now.

“I guess we are, but it makes it interesting.” He said, softly in your direction.

His smile was gracing his face and it made you melt to know that he felt the same and to know that he was there even when you tried to leave, made you feel so dumb to keeping your mouth closed about how you felt and you were sure your friends knew but wanted to leave you both to doing what you were doing incase they were wrong.

You held me so down

All those nights you’d go to him about those aint shit niggas that wasted your time...

So down I never grew

You didn’t see that as a sign of his attraction. Just as a sign of his friendly nature and you blamed it on your lack of healthy relationships before meeting this great man that you knew no one could compare to.

Yon knew that no one else could hold you down like he did.

I tried to find out

All those guys were nothing.

They meant nothing like the man sitting next you did in your whole time of having feelings for him but you wanted to make sure that it wasn’t you that was self-sabotaging these short term talking stages or relationships, if you can even call them that.

When none of them came through

But it wasn’t you. You thought, as you looked at his structured face, glancing over every little feature from his eyebrows to the hairs in his beard. They just weren’t him and you knew that now.

now I'm stuck in the middle

And baby had to pull me out Like you

That night brought on an onslaught of feelings and emotions but you both remained outside until your friends called it a night and he sobered up to drop you back to your place.

The ride was comfortably silent with fluttering glances and the soft music playing through the speakers made you feel safe and right about the future of this “friendship” between you two.

Like you

Over the next few days, you both facetimed, called, texted whatever way you could keep communication open, you both did it and it was like old times again, except you both knew the others feelings and it changed from “friendly” to him essentially courting you in a way you both hadn’t put an exact label on but you both knew it was exclusive and no one could break that apart.

After a few dates and some more group hangout, you both managed to agree on having a “sleepover”, but this time it wouldn’t be like normal ; no friends or interruptions, just the two of you and it made you nervous but excited for the days to hurry past.

The days indeed were passing quickly and you made sure to pack an extra set of clothes and some nice undergarments incase you got the chance to change into it, or you’d have another opportunity to wear it for him and you knew he’d appreciate it with the way he always compliments you and your body when given the chance and it made you even more sure that he was the one that was it for you as he didn’t comment on the weight but when you wouldn’t be noticeably be eating a lot around him because you were worried about your college work and submissions he’d subtly give you food during the shared study sessions you’d have with him and your other friends. Similarly, you’d make sure he was eating when he had finals or a sports event.

You guys felt that bonding and caring was leading towards the formation of something beautiful and stable.

When the day finally came, you told him you'd forget to mention the offsite visit you’d be taking to see an exhibit on african american and afro-caribbean art being held for the month

He was happy that you were happy.

The way you were gushing about the work you’d see and how the artists all incorporated the ideas of the diaspora, feeling lost but building some form of unity in their situations brought chills to you and the other students that accompanied the tour.

He loved seeing your pictures that you sent when you got there and when you got the chance, you’d take pictures with the artists and creators.

He knew you’d forget to text him when you reached back to the campus or if he’d need to come get you, to which you’d appreciate seeing as the others seemed to want to stay longer than you had hoped and others had already gone and you didn’t feel like getting in other people’s cars that you werent too close with.

Could you come for me in the next hour?

You asked and saw the three dots before his text came through.

Send your location.

That was his text to you and you weren’t about to lie and say you didn’t feel the little “flutters” as you pictured him laid up and thinking about you like you were him.

Location sent.

This is it. You thought.

No holding back. You convinced yourself, mentally as you continued moving around the exhibit to look at the other pieces you didn’t get the chance to yet when you guys were allowed to take a break as they were opening up some of the other areas for public viewing now

Closed mouths don’t get fed and you were hungry you argued as you saw his latest text that he was on his way, wondering where the time went but anticipating the activities you’d both get into.

You began to look around a few more times before making your way to the front of the building after saying your ‘bye’s, nice to meet you’s and see you later’s.

Leisurely walking to the front you stayed in the cool conditioned air of the building, awaiting the man that managed to continuously surprise you with his bold, straightforward nature.

Glad I brought my bag and waxed the other day so no worries about any fuzz being down there, if things went as you’d hope, you thought before opening the glass door seeing the next he was around the corner and then seeing him pull up to the front.

He pulled up to the front of the building as you made your way outside of the facility.

You watched as he got out of the 1973 Chevrolet Impala you would often watch him work on,

or he’d offer to take you in to go on those long drives that would make you think things once you saw him drive with one hand and his seat back.

Like you said, it made you think things.

He came over to you and walked you back in silence.

Damn papa, you a rare breed, no comparing

The cool air brushing over his exposed arms.

The wind carrying his scent that hit you as you slightly trailed behind him, before coming up to the car door and opening it for you while taking your bag and placing it in the back.

And it’s motherfuckin’ scary

He shut both doors and made his way round to the drivers side, getting in and buckling up himself before stealing a quick glance at you as you did the same.

“Ready.” The click of your seatbelt heard before your voice altered him.

He looked over at you, one hand on the gear stick, and the other on the wheel before racking his dark pupils over your shy-seated form. You saw as he but his plush bottom lip before his lips formed a smirk that made your thighs clench.

She better be ready. He thought as he knew that this shy act you had going on was only turning him on more and he wanted to hear that sweet voice of yours yell his name like he dreamed.

Y’all made it back to his and you were met with the warmness and enticing scents coming from within his space.

“I made your favourite.” He watched you walk in slowly, eyeing you again before waking in the light trail of your perfume and body lotion that left you smelling like candy and he wanted to have his dessert now.

You were so consumed with what he said and what he’d done that you hadn’t responded. He turned and looked to you as he made his way ahead when you stood frozen at what he had done for you when you thought no one would ever do such a thing.

Tryna keep him 'cause I found him

“Princess?” There goes that nickname that had you shivering slightly and gave him a chance to openly gaze into your beautiful eyes with a look of confusion at your silence in regards to food.

“Huh? Oh! No! that’s great. I was starving.” You expressed and progressed to his smaller dining room, still shocked at the set up of your favourite laid out and you knew it wasn’t order either because you’ve watched this man cook and always taste tested so you knew you weren’t about to be dissapointed.

“I told you to stop starving yourself. You need me to start bringing you lunches again?” He cared. The fact that this fine, tall, dark and handsome man was willing to come to you and bring you lunch still was getting you all warm, along with the delicious food that was hitting the spot.

This man is bout to get it, you thought before sitting and enjoying the food he prepared.

Both sitting under the dimmed lights and intimate atmosphere he managed to create with what he had, intensified your emotions and the glasses of wine you had with dinner got you to loosen up.

He didn’t want to force conversation. He was ok with just being in your presence and for that, you knew he was the one and you’d do anything to keep him happy and ‘Let a ho know I ain't motherfuckin' sharing’ (or whatever it is Doja Cat said.) You’d thought as he ushered you to his couch after collecting the plates and placing them in the sink before returning to you.

He saw you and couldn’t help but think about you being his. Like actually his.

I could take you to the parents, then to Paris

Plan a motherfuckin' wedding

Tonight i’m gonna make her mine and there’s no doubt about it.

He sat so close and for a second, you felt those shocks you felt the night he first kissed you when your legs touched.

You couldn't help but look at him and see the burning desire he had in his eyes. It was the same for him, seeing your deep pools looking at him with adoration and contemptment that he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for your love, even though he could guess you loved him the way he did you.

You the type I wanna marry (Yeah) and keep you merry

I'll put the ring on when you ready

There was a split second.

Then clothes began to drop around your retreating forms, leading to his room.

The kisses were hard and passion filled. Hands grasping body parts.

Hot skin against hot skin.

The soft glow of the candle he’d lit in his room providing him with enough light to tell that you were ok with this but he still had to make sure

“You sure about this babygirl? Cause once we start...I don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.” He voice dropped many octaves and resonated deep in your soul to the point of setting off a gush between your legs that had you mindlessly nodding your head at the man.

“Words Princess.” He gripped your chin and kept that intense eye contact.

“Yes sir.” The name set off something in him and he had you flung across his mattress, head between your legs and hands gripping your thighs while he kept his eyes on your face contorting in pleasure.

We play our fantasies out in real life ways and

No Final Fantasy, can we end these games though?

He made you cum with a powerful orgasm but you knew he could do better and he knew that he was just warming you up for one of the best nights of your life...besides marrying him and having kids together.

THAT’S how sure of himself he was that he’d ruin you for anyone else.

Could you blame him tho? He finally has you how he’s been dreaming about and he isn’t gonna hold back in let you know how much you mean to him. He’s gonna make sure you feel his love for you like he’s been saying.

You give me energy, make me feel lightweight (Woo)

He saw you come down enough to get on your knees, staring into his face like he was yours.

You saw your essence glistening in his facial hair, the moonlight that made its way in and added to the soft glow of the candle made him look like a beautiful shade of blue and near obsidian black.

Your hands making their way up his sculpted arms, joining at the chest and making their way down his sculpted torso, leading to his happy trail and the prominent tent in his jeans that you couldn’t help but rub your palm against.

“No teasing, Princess.” His voice snapped you out of your day dream of the erect member laying between his thick thighs, encased by the light washed jeans.

You looked up at him through innocent eyes and you swear you saw his pupils dilate even more, overtaken by lust as he brought his hand up your stomach, corse palms over your delicate skin and thick fingers wrapping around your neck for a tight squeeze before he gently pushed you back onto the bed once he saw you close those pretty eyes and bit your lip at the action.

Like the birds of a feather, baby

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed before he started to remove his denim bottoms. Eyes never leaving yours as he pushed his jeans down his muscular legs, taking his boxers off at the same time before standing at attention once kicking them off.

You couldn’t help but look down at the one-eyed monster between his legs and he took notice at the way you looked at him.

He gripped the base of it before calmly saying “Don’t worry baby. You’re a big girl and I know you can take it.” His hand pumping slowly at the look in your eyes and the wetness between your legs.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, rolling it over his tip causing you to let out a whine at not being able to feel his girth in your mouth.

“Don’t worry Princess, you can have a taste later. Right not i want to feel that sweet pussy gripping this fat dick, that alright?” He said a soft voice but it was gruff that it had you getting slick even more at the dominance he had in that moment and the way he put receiving on the backburner.

You just nodded you head and he got close to you to rub his tip between your folds, lubricating the condom with what you supplied. It was a sight for him that he had to think of anything besides busting in the condom then and there.

We real life made for each other

He made you look at him before pushing into your wet valley. He took his time as you relaxed and felt every hot inch insert itself so deliciously slow.

And it's hard to keep my cool

You weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t like the gentle strokes he was giving to let you adjust, however you knew he wanted to go faster and harder if he was as sexually frustrated as you were from subpar partners.

Cause you’re a one in a million

There ain't no man like you

It was like he was reading your mind.

After he noticed you moving your bottom half off the bed to meet his strokes, he grabbed your legs, placing them over your shoulder, not missing a beat and going deeper into your depths.

“Oh shit tre!” He had to let out a breathy chuckle before he felt you grip his dick with your tight walls. That caused his body to jerk even deeper before he could process it and had him releasing a deep grunt you don’t think you’ve ever heard from him before.

“Shit Princess. Got this tight pussy grippin me like this? Who said you could do that?” He was gonna make sure you knew who was incharge in the bed room but you had a surprise for him when you were able to catch him off with the slip of a whispered ‘daddy!’ that made his hips stutter and him lose focus.

You were able to get him on his back, his large member not slipping from your clenching muscles and managed to start grinding on the massive amount of muscle lying beneath you.

“I did. Nigga” You went in after that.

Trevante watched in awe at the way you were taking him, knowing this position meant you’d definitely feel him in your gut if you sat completely over his pulsing, thick pole.

You planted your feet on either side of his hips, hands moving through the wisps of hair sprayed across his chest and switched the pace of your movements.

Up. Down and grind then up again.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that you were riding him like the perfect woman, like he’d always imagine after hearing about the way a woman could trap a man with good sex, he finally believed it with you over him.

That intense i contact was adding to the pleasure for you both and he couldn’t help himself. He brought his hand down on your ass quick and hard before gripping the round flesh in his hands and picking you up to lay back on the bed again before he started to pound into you faster once he saw your eyes rolling back and felt your pussy clenching him even harder.

“You gonna cum on this dick babygirl? Huh?! Answer me and take it like a big girl!”

all you could do was nod your head and repeatedly chant “Yes Yes Yes Yes” even after he finished speaking to you.

You layed under him a blubbering mess but wanting to prove to him you weren’t a punk.

“Cum on this dick Princess. I want to feel that pretty pussy cum all over this -fUCK! THAT’S RIGHT!-yea cum on this dick! Make it yours bitch!”

That word did something for you.

“I’M CUMMING.”

“Then cum bitch.” He whispered into your ear and it ignited the spasms and feeling of pure bliss of release.

He watched you convulse under him and he felt his sack tighten at the way your face looked that he couldn’t take his eyes off yours even for a second.

“Look at me bitch! I said look at me!” He gripped your cheeks between his large hand and got you to face him, seeing your dazed state and then he recognized you were going to cum again.

“You gonna cum again? You like this? Huh?” He waited and raised his leg onto the bed, bending it and forcing your legs to go wider by taking them from around his hips.

He had you so confused in this position.

You didn’t know if you wanted to run or stay there but you knew it had you cumming closer. Then you felt a smack to the face.

“I asked you a question! Answer me!” His loud voice, deep and all baritone like bounced off the walls at his command.

“Yeees I’M CUMMING!” You responded, equally loud you were sure the neighbours would hear but they should mind the business that pays them you thought.

You were getting the pounding of your life and didn’t want to have to stop because of nosey people calling security to check on the unit.

If they didn’t know what was going on, then that’s tough. But you were gonna make sure you got railed well tonight.

He didn’t know what came over him but he had to say it

“You love this dick baby? You love how I feel inside you?” His voice was still deep but that roughness made you tingle and he felt the flutter of your walls over him

“Yes!” You squeaked out.

“FUCK! I feel that pussy gripping me even tighter!”

He looked at you and you managed to pry your eyes open and stare into his as he said what he felt was right in that moment.

“You wanna be my girl? Huh?” His eyes still held list in them, but there was a softness as he slowed down to ask this, coming closer to you to pepper kisses over your face and embrace you.

“Yes!” You loved the way he felt but you wanted him to go harder so when you pleaded “Harder Tre! Please? I need you to go harder” He fixed his position and granted you your wish by pounding into you harder and faster, his gentle thrusts out the window and your ecstasy written all over your face.

You tried pushing his hips away but he smacked your hands away, grabbing both wrists and coming to you closer and to your ear.

“You gonna cum when I tell you to? You gonna be a good girl for me?” He watched you in pleasure of maintaining his composure and not cumming the first minute he sunk into your velvety pussy that he couldn’t even manage would feel so heavenly as it does now.

“Yes” You sounded so pathetic and it turned you on more than you thought possible at being so dominated but the big heap of dark, thick hefty muscle plowing into you made you feel safe even with his belittling of you but you knew it was only for the sex.

“Yeah? My girl huh? You’re so pretty under me.” He whined. It was so beautiful to hear so loud into your ear in the close position he was in.

This close proximity made you feel so connected and had you tearing up a little at the fact you knew he was still being gentle with you and it brought you closer.

Trevante looked down at you and saw the cloudy look in your eyes. He knew you were cumming again and he was right there with you so he let you go and pushed one of his hands between your sweaty bodies, finding your clit and stimulating you double time to climax together.

He saw your eyes rolling back when he felt that tightness in his sack before he shouted out to you,

“CUM! CUM ON THIS DICK!” He roared out to you.

It was a rush you hadn’t been prepared for as he managed to get faster but his rhythm started to become irregular. He still managed to hit that deep spot in you that had you going crazy when his tip would rub over it and all that could be heard was you both climaxing then heavy breathing.

He continued to grind into you slowly, careful that it may hurt you but he wanted to ride out the best orgasm he’s had in awhile, and knowing that it was with you made him want to keep his dick deep in you.

If it wasn’t for the condom, he’s sure he would’ve gotten you pregnant and totally stepped up to the plate to take care of you and his seed.

Like you

He couldn’t believe that you were here, in this moment with him and he had to make sure you know that you were all he could ever want and more.

He raised up and you whimpered at the loss of warmth he provided and the way his body calmed you down after such a session.

“None of that.” He said, leaning back down to place a gentle kiss to you lips “I’ll be back Princess” and then slowly pulling out of you to tie the condom and through it away.

You couldn't help but watch his retreating form go into the bathroom and come back with a damp rag to wipe you up and then leave the room to get you some water and lay back in the bed with you next to him.

You both stared at eachother once he got back in the bed and you managed to fix yourself in a comfortable position, not caring about the sweat or the way you may look like a mad woman.

Instead, you brought your hand up to his cheek and watched as he closed his eyes before puckering his lips, leaning to you for a kiss that you happily gave him and he pulled you to lay on his chest.

He thought you had fallen asleep as you hadn’t moved in a while and knew he had to catch some sleep to if he wanted to get up early and make you something for breakfast.

He planted a soft kiss onto your forehead, gripping you tighter and released a content sigh.

I found it hard to find someone like you

He wasn’t going to let you go and for a moment he thought he heard you say something but he passed it off as fatigue from the intense session the both of you just carried out after months of sexual frustration and tension.

Trevante didn’t know that you were still awake and said that you loved him

I can't be without you

You knew you weren’t gonna run anymore and he was it. Your one in a milllion and you would do everything to keep him, like he would you.

He held you tighter before finally closing his eyes, a small smile on his face.

And I can't be without you

He hadn’t heard you say you loved him...

but that’s neither here nor there.

You’d be alright with saying it again when you both were awake and not high off sexual energy.

Like you.

Taglist:

@killmonger-fics

@browngirldominion

(Dm to be added to the permanent taglist or let me know which actors/characters you’d want me to tag you in when I write)

——————————————————————————

Hey y’all!

Sorry this took so long🥴 Been busy with uni and some other personal stuff so I put this off longer than intended🥴

But what’d you think, hope this met the standards and was worth it?

Don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment 😊

Hope you’re staying safe, checking in on your friends and loved ones and taking time for yourself :)))

Love you all and thanks for the support.

-K💜

#kittehkwrites #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes x reader #black!reader #black!oc #lyric prompts #imagine #trevante rhodes smut #trevante rhodes fluff #friends to lovers trope

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