#i'll probably end up posting on there a lot

[copperbadge]

Immediate Writer's Block

Had a comment on another post where I thought I'd probably need more space than the notes in which to respond, so:

constant-state-of-self-discovery Oh I get the envy I feel it right now how the fuck do you manage to write without impassable writers block after 5-9 sentences because I haven't fucking figured it out lol

I do have some advice on this!

I think most writers get blocked from time to time, it's normal and my general strategy is just to wait it out, but if you're frequently blocked after only writing a very little bit, I think the problem is one of two things: either you don't know what you want to achieve with the scene you're writing, or you don't know what should happen next within the scene to achieve that goal. If you frame "I'm blocked" as "I don't have an answer I need" then often you move from just sitting there, sweating and staring at a blank page, to thinking productively about how you're going to get where you're going. It's the difference between not knowing an answer and not knowing an answer but knowing where to look for it.

An invaluable piece of advice for this, which I think I picked up from someone who got it off a National Novel Writing Month messageboard, is "When in doubt, ninjas attack." It's not meant to be literal, you don't need to have ninjas or fight scenes just because you don't know what to do, but it helps to get the creativity flowing again. If you don't know what should happen next, or you know but you're having trouble actually writing the scene, it can be very helpful to induce a moment of uncertainty or surprise -- to have a metaphorical ninja attack. One time I did this literally -- the POV character was just on the road somewhere and I didn't know how to get them from a pastoral country road to their actual destination in an interesting way, so I had them get attacked by highway bandits and have to fight them off, which also allowed me to demonstrate that the character had significant unarmed combat skills. But it can also just be like, two characters who are having a boring conversation can be interrupted by a third person, even just a stranger asking for directions, or there can be, IDK, an explosion, or something goes missing, or etc.

Sometimes it also helps to leave it alone but keep it in your mind and go do something else -- listen to a podcast, take a walk, read a book, not because those things are distracting but because all our inputs eventually feed into our brain and come out as reactions. If you're thinking about your book while you're wandering around a park, something you see in the park might have an impact on it. If you've got YOUR story in mind while reading someone else's, you might be more inclined to look at what they're saying and see what you think of it, how it might play into your work.

And honestly, sometimes you just gotta go past it. I'm working on the next Shivadh novel right now and it opens basically with Simon the chef getting into a spat with his love-interest-to-be over some cheese. He want the cheese, she won't sell him the cheese, so they get off to a very contentious start. But I suck at writing conflict especially when it's basically "A character I like is being pompous and another character I want people to find likable is being stubborn and somewhat unpleasant". I've been stalled on it for a while. But I know where the scene ends up, like I do know what the goal is, so I just...skipped it and went on to writing a scene I like better, where they meet a second time and actually discover each others' identity and that they're about to be forced into the grownup equivalent of a school project. Once I've gotten dug deeper into the story I'll come back and write it, and by then I'll have the benefit of knowing the love interest a bit better.

So yeah -- I think a lot of breaking a writer's block, especially when you don't need rest but are just stumped about what to do, is to twist and look at it from another angle. It's not that you don't know what to write, or don't want to write what you know you have to -- it's that you don't have the correct answer to a question, or you need to leave that part alone to ferment and come back to it later. At least, for me.

[havendance]

Okay, I want to play too. Building off of @dustorange's post and @silverwhittlingknife's post

I think, how I would play this: the circus still happens obviously.

And then Dick dies when he's 16 in circumstances similar to Batman #408, where Dick is shot by the Joker and it causes him to fall to his death. (Dick has to die by falling. To me.) Bruce isn't able to catch him.

Bruce is obviously devastated. Going off of Silver, we'll say no Robin!Jason in this AU. Jason can get away with stealing the tires off of the Batmobile of an extremely grieving Batman. As a treat.

Tim is also devastated. I usually have Tim being 3 at the circus, so I guess he's 11-12 when this happens.

I think the fact that Dick was the only Robin in this scenario means that Tim is more reluctant to push himself as a replacement Robin. That and the fact that his HERO Dick Grayson died means I think that he's slower to act.

Eventually though, things get bad enough in Gotham that he does just because someone has to and he ends up as Robin. We'll handwave the details for now.

I think that Dick should get to come back to life during the Knightfall Saga. As a treat.

He comes back to Gotham just in time to see that there's a new Robin and watch Bruce get his back broken.

Tim's been Robin longer before Knightfall in this AU, so he's got a little more experience, but he's also 14, and while Bruce is lying in the Batcave and they don't know whether he's going to wake up or not, and he's fetching the medicine in that one comic, he runs into this unknown, edgy looking vigilante who blames him for Bruce getting his back broken and it's just everything he's been thinking to himself.

Dick sticks around in Gotham long enough to see that there's a new Batman and of course Bruce has someone else he can get to do that. Of course he doesn't need Dick. He runs off to go do like, black-ops vigilante work somewhere.

I think he and Tim do run into eachother once more before Dick leaves town though and Tim's like 'I know I'll never be as good as the first Robin, but that just means I need to learn everything I can' and tries to bother Dick into teaching him stuff because he can tell that this mysterious vigilante is way more skilled than him.

Dick mostly avoids Gotham, but I think they keep running into each other, coincidentally. Tim ends up teaming up with him during Contagion instead of Catwoman and they're both in Paris at the same time etc etc.

And eventually on one of these team-ups, Dick does a quadruple somersault and Tim sees it and everything clicks together and he imminently runs away because that's Dick Grayson and Tim has been talking up the first Robin all this time and it's a lot okay?

I think this is about when No Man's Land happens so Tim goes to go hide in Gotham and help out Batman and become a National News story and all that jazz instead of thinking about it.

But afterwards, Tim is ON THE CASE. I think he doesn't tell Bruce about this because if Dick hasn't told Bruce then he probably has his reasons? And what he was actually wrong? (Even though he knows he isn't)

And then, um, let's put the Dick and Bruce finally confronting each other during Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive because Dick comes back to Gotham when he hears that Bruce murdered someone because he doesn't want to believe it, but I think he also can't have that same bone deep belief in his innocence that he does in canon because of all the estrangement.

So he attacks Batman and demands to know the truth (without revealing who he is) and Bruce won't answer. Bruce also doesn't know how this mysterious vigilante knows he's Bruce Wayne/got accused of murder, so he low key suspects DICK of framing him, which normally he'd be too busy being Batman full time to care, but here he also recognizes some of Dick's fighting style so he starts investigating him to uncover the mystery.

Meanwhile, Tim noticed that Dick is back in town, so he's trying to recruit Dick to help him get to the bottom of this. He knows Dick's identity now, but he doesn't tell Dick that, he just drops various hints that he knows and hooks Dick up with a line to Oracle (who he has also not shared his conclusions with other than a vague 'there's something about him')

And hmm somehow this all resolves with like, Dick's identity getting out and him and Bruce talking face to face. Bruce is just so desperately amazed that Dick is there, meanwhile Dick still has various issues that are not resolved and it probably ends with Dick running away again and Bruce holding himself back from chasing after him like he desperately wants to. Because if Dick doesn't want anything to do with him then that's just his right because Bruce WAS the one who got him killed.

He does stalk Dick from afar though. Just without initiating contact. Tim and Barbara are more pushy about trying to hang out/talk with Dick in the aftermath.

To skip ahead, I think Bruce leaves Dick the Batmantle after he 'dies' as this last ditch attempt to share how much he loves and respects Dick.

And this getting long so I think I'll call it here.

[dropthedemiurge]

Some language comments for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], just like I promised!

"Do whatever/however you want to. (literally: 'Do it the way your heart desires') You do things how you want to anyway."

"I'm sorry" - the translation is correct, it's just it's funny how Yoondae's level of apology to his friend he just lashed out at last time + he wants to ask him for HELP, and all he says is: 미안 (mian). The most informal and short way of apologizing possible. He's so teenager-minded still.

Even when he asks "Can I leave my stuff in your dad's warehouse?" it comes out grammatically more of a demand, like 'Let me do that'. Yoondae is talking like someone who has a lot of walls and doesn't reach out to people, he doesn't talk kindly but he's honest and straightforward and he cries easily but he's very angry about it.

I especially love his facial expression, even when he's at his most miserable, he'll make it everyone else's problem, as if being pitiful is the worst thing that could happen to him. "I have no one else I could ask for help but you >:(("

Fun fact about Korean's sentence structure, when you quote someone or express your thoughts, you put your sentence this way: "quoted phrase" and then + "that's what they said/what i thought/etc". So oftentimes, I see Kdramas use that trick when characters say a phrase... and then take it back with "that's someone else's thoughts" or "that's what you thought I'd say, right? LMAO". It's funny how the translators' way of transferring this was using the word "Sike!" xD

"It wasn't a mistake to me." "If it wasn't a mistake, then [what]? Since you started talking [about it], let me ask you. So what if it wasn't a mistake? What do you want to achieve with me?" "Can I do anything about it? In the past or now, you're the one who runs away and avoids me. I asked you, can I make a decision (do I have any choices)?" "You made the move but you want me to decide? Fine, then. Let sleep together once and end it once and for all. Go wash up first. I don't have time, I only left office for a short time."

The way they both care about each other but their dialogues and words are very sharp and bitter almost all the time, especially here, aaaah. That's the contrast that hooked me for all these 5 episodes. Soohyuk doesn't swear but he's talking to Yoondae very harshly and emotionless here, and for Yoondae harsh talk is the default, it's like Soohyuk is lowering his manners to talk on his level, to provoke him (or maybe that's also how he distances himself from the discovery that Yoondae has feelings for him).

And Yoondae is holding back his frustration and tears, but he understands the way such words were aimed to hurt him, so instead of lashing out back at Soohyuk, as he probably wants him to, he swallows and unusually calmly, almost softly says: "Let's talk when you can be honest. Because I will shut up and wait for you."

And it makes Soohyuk stand there in shock and contemplate.

I'll add next scenes in READ MORE since this post is getting long!

Here's the moment when the boss asks their youngest employee to write something more 'trendy' for their marketing text xD It's very true that trends in Korea come and go very quickly, they also love to invent new terms and phrases all the time. Like "MZ slang", there are many phrases, and the one trendy phrase the boss uses as the example is 킹받네 (king-pad-nae) which literally written as 'receive the king' but means "I got angry" - but with a teasing/playful subtext, like friends could say each other 'ah you're so cute, it makes me angry'.

If I'm not wrong, this phrase was widely used like 1-2 years ago and not really in its trendy peak as well right now but kudos to boss to even learning it xD And it's funny how translator chose to (I assume) use "[living in my head] rent-free" phrase as a substitute. Another fun fact, they ended up using some trendy lingo in their ad that translator gave us as "no cap!" but that part of phone msg was so blurry, I couldn't see which exact Korean phrase they ended up using x)

"Hyung, if you have any ask for help, say so. For you, 2 million... No, I'll try to give you until 3 million won in any way."

Can I just say that we had this character for one moment and I'm so not ready to let him go, I want Jeongwan to have his own storyline and everything and he's too sweet and also caring for strangers/his colleagues, and so he stole the spotlight for me xD

Yoondae said there's no food at home. But also, as you can see, there is: beer, water, rice that you can cook in the microwave, kimchi for a side dish and some other microwaved food. According to my Korean friends, typical Korean person (poor like student) can survive if they have rice, kimchi and also ramyeon. That's their the most basic food. Just a fun fact. xD

Also he was on his third can of beer, and he already made a drunken longing call on the verge of tears to Soohyuk, lying about being hurt and bringing trouble just so he'd return home. "Is that okay with you?" - just shoot me, please. :')

"I called [the cleaning service/you] to tell you to stop it [sleeping outside of home]" "Let's have that dinner [that I promised you] today. Wait for me."

After days, Yoondae was ready to give up, he "tricked" Soohyuk to return home just so he could tell him he'll move out and stop pushing any talk. And then, Soohyuk brought up the dinner (the feelings) that he kept avoiding. No wonder Yoondae looked so struck and confused. It just gave him his hopes back (and viewers too, but we probably should've known better with this kind of series haha)

Interesting cultural context: they are getting samgyeopsal - grilled meat, chosen by Soohyuk because Yoongdae said there wasn't anything he wanted to eat. And usually, the youngest one has to set the cutlery and grill meat, out of respect for the seniors. And here we see that Soohyuk is the one choosing the place, menu and even grilling the meat and pouring soju for Yoondae.

Once again, it shows that despite Yoondae's emotions and pleads, he is not mature enough, he is not ready to focus on other people. We know he can't plan his own future, he doesn't know what to do, and we see where their relationship stands now - Yoondae is still more of a burden than an equal partner to Soohyuk, and Soohyuk is more of a parent.

Even when they drink soju (in Korean drinking etiquette usually you don't drink alone, you toast together and drink together), notice how they don't even clink their glasses together, then Soohyuk is the only one drinking and Yoondae wants to follow him but puts the glass back. He's taking a shot later, when Soohyuk grills the meat again. They are totally unsynchronized at this point of their lives, and it's painful to watch.

"I said he [my father] was dead because that's the truth/reality for me. There was no other [hidden] meaning. I didn't plan to lie to you."

"I moved out completely. If I don't organize my life starting from doing this, then I don't think I'll be able to live like all the other [normal] people."

The fact that Yoondae started thinking about improving his life (the word 'organizing'), immediately made Soohyuk stop in surprise. So he started asking what does the normal life like others mean to him, hopeful to find that equal adult footing from Yoondae... but Yoondae's thoughts stopped there. And Soohyuk offered his own goal and life meaning: "to have a place to go back to, that's enough for me".

Here's when Yoondae thoughtfully agreed with him: "It's important to have a home", and took the meat tongs from Soohyuk, saying how high-maintenance he is. Yoondae embraced that realization, he took the responsibility (even a small cultural gesture) and even though Yoondae nagged him, Soohyuk smirked. Because it wasn't a completely hopeless situation. And Yoondae proved it, by saying how eating like this and going home together is his normal life as well. (and yet they were still unsynchronized until the very end! we can't have happy ending yet)

AND HERE IS WHERE I HAVE TO MAKE A SECOND POST! Because tumblr only allows 30 images in one, and I can't stop screenshotting the last conversation so I'm going to make another post that you can find in 'gray shelter comments' or 'dropthemeta' tags (upd. or here's the link to the post!)^^

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

[cannibalsforbreakfast]

Cruel Summer - Chapter 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The "Eddie Munson is a speedway racer" high school AU no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. Enemies to friends to lovers | No-Upsidedown AU | Fast cars, fast times | Reader moved from "the city" to Hawkins

Tags [will be updated as things progress]: swearing, underage drinking, dangerous driving, Jason sucks as usual, mentions of weed, light angst, misunderstandings, reader is afab, not sure if I'll have smut yet or not

A/N: Chapter 1 is already on Ao3 but here's the Tumblr version! New chapters will always be posted on Ao3 first, with a week or so delay to here.

CH1: 3,780w

-- -- --

“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around / Trying to smile, but the air is so heavy and dry”

If anyone had asked, you wouldn’t have said car racing was something you’d be interested in. Watching hunks of metal speeding around in circles always seemed pretty pointless to you. When combined with the auditory chaos of engines and screaming crowds, and nauseating smell of gasoline and burning rubber, it had never been high on your bucket list.

Then again, neither had moving to Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, here you were: stuck in small-town nowhere for (just, you hoped) the summer. But a summer practically felt like forever to you.

And so you were at the speedway car races with your cousin, Robin. Because apparently, she said, it would “be fun” and “social” and “lots of people went.” 

You supposed you should be lucky Robin was pretty chill about hanging out with you. After all, having your city-slicker cousin practically dumped on your doorstep without so much as a “by your leave” by your parents — who had gone off to “rediscover themselves” and hopefully salvage five years of impending divorce — probably wasn’t high on HER bucket list, either. She and her parents had been more than welcoming, sticking you and your five overstuffed suitcases in the spare room on the second floor, just next door to Robin, without hesitation and urging you to make yourself at home.

If you saw Robin and her parents exchange some pointed and pitying glances, well, you’d just try and ignore them. Because they were right. Your parents clearly didn’t care enough about you to take you with them on their wild second-honeymoon or whatever, so they’d abandoned you without looking back, saying they’d pick you up in a couple months before school started up again. They thought. Maybe homeschooling had been implied as a possibility if they happened to return a bit later than assumed from…Panama? Costa Rica? Whatever warm, probably tropical, place they’d gone to. Without their only daughter. 

Honestly, sometimes you just felt the truth of it in your bones when, at the height of their marital Cold War, they’d each called the other some variant of “frigid bitch.” Only the coldest of the cold would up and abandon their offspring like that, without any evident desire to really take responsibility for them ever again. If you just wandered off at the end of the summer, got a job waiting tables in the nearest big city, didn’t bother to send a forwarding address, you didn’t think they’d be too fussed. Depressing.

The frozen atmosphere at home had gone on so long, you’d practically adopted aloofness yourself as a survival mode. What you didn’t feel, couldn’t hurt. Didn’t help you with making any friends once you’d entered high school, but it kept anyone from really bothering you for three years. The summer before your senior year was supposed to be this golden eternity of afternoons at the pool, perfecting your tan, or giggling at the local mall while licking ice creams and debating who-liked-who-liked-who. 

Not wasting away in Hawkins, a town small enough you bet you could count all of the stoplights on one hand. 

You missed the city so much it ached . Missed the dizzying heights of the buildings towering above you, missed the way the very air seemed to thrum with an energy, a beat that got into your pulse and made you feel alive. Missed the hole-in-the-wall restaurants on every street and the used bookstores piled high with more volumes than you could read in a lifetime. Hawkins was…quaint, but inside you worried if you stayed here long enough it would drain the life out of you until you couldn’t make it anywhere else. 

Not that you’d say any of that to Robin, who was babbling cheerfully away at your side as you strolled up to the local speedway just out of town. She was wearing a loose striped men’s shirt with the cuffs rolled up and jeans, despite the lingering heat of the evening. Robin, you’d come to learn, was pretty much always babbling about something or another, a natural condition that tended to get even worse whenever she was flustered or nervous. Given your tendency to listen, rather than speak, you actually balanced each other out rather well. With her, surprisingly, you felt you could be…yourself…that little bit more. Felt a bit of that icy shell melt away. 

You tuned back in to hear her say, “We’re going to meet up with Steve, he’s gotten there early to stake us out a spot. You wouldn’t think it but it can get really crowded and picking the right spot out of the sun and the dust and on the right side of the track is, like, crucial to the enjoyment factor. Steve’s a boy, by the way. He’s not my boyfriend – well, he’s a boy who’s a friend, but we’re not like that, actually he’s more like an annoying brother. But he’s not annoying, I promise!”

You smiled to yourself as Robin rambled on. Truly, you found it more endearing than not. 

“I’m sure he’s nice,” you said, cutting in so Robin could actually take a full breath. She smiled back at you.

“Yeah, he’s great. But don’t tell him I said that, I swear his hair grows an inch every time someone says something nice about him.”

You smiled and promised that, of course, you wouldn’t breathe a word. 

The two of you step up to the bored-looking teenager taking tickets, and you passed over your paper stub, slightly sweaty from being clutched in your hand. Stepping through the entrance gate, you’re immediately assaulted with the smell of deep-fried foods mixed with beer, the raucous laughter of crowds of families and teens here for an evening out. A fine dust permeated the air, making your eyes water. The track, a packed dirt oval that was both bigger and smaller than you imagined, spread out before you, bordered by some haphazardly stacked rectangle bales of hay you assumed were there for the “safety” of the crowd, though they looked anything but. You imagined any car crashing into those at serious speed would take them out easily…as well as the onlookers setting up their camp chairs frighteningly close to the barrier. 

Across the track, a small elevated building rigged with wires and a mounted loudspeaker was clearly where the announcers were situated. Tinny commentary was blaring from the PA system, but it was almost impossible to hear above the general din. 

There were mullets and wife-beaters on display everywhere. As you looked around, you noted that everyone – and you mean everyone – seemed to be dressed in nothing more formal than jeans and a shirt. You hadn’t batted an eye when Robin left the house like that, because that’s what your cousin always wore. And she’d told you to dress casual but…

“Robin,” you asked, “am I overdressed?”

She’d been herding you along the track toward one end, but at your question she glanced over at you and winced, which you supposed was answer enough. 

“Robinnnnn,” you whined. 

“What?” she protested. “I said ‘casual,’ that’s what you came out in, so I figured it was fine!”

Up until you saw the sea of daisy dukes before you, you’d thought what you were wearing was casual. It certainly was back in the city. The simple, white-and-red polkadot dress you were wearing, cinched at the waist with a plain wide belt you’d dug out the bottom of your suitcase, cute frilly sleeves sitting just below your tanned shoulders, wouldn’t have been anything your classmates back home blinked at. You hadn’t even done your makeup, besides a swipe of lip gloss! But you were rapidly getting the sense you’d have to redefine your expectations here in Hawkins. And with the swirls of rust-colored dust almost constantly permeating the air, you could already tell white was a particularly bad choice.

Oh well, you’d just have to make the best of it. And get the dress in the wash sooner rather than later. 

“It’s alright, Robin,” you reassured your cousin, who’d been worrying at her lip while you thought. “It’s just a dress. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be in any of the cars,” you joked.

“Steve’ll probably have a blanket or something you can use anyways,” she said. “He’s a dad like that. Oh look, there he is. Steve! Steeeeve! Ugh, he isn’t listening. OI, DINGUS!”

Robin waved frantically at a boy a bit ahead of you, who’d staked out a pretty prime spot on the hillside around the middle of the straightaway, complete with camping chairs, picnic blanket and cooler of what you desperately hoped was something cold. Now this is what you’d imagined when Robin said “races.” And it was comfortingly far away from the hay barrier.

The boy – Steve – raked his hands through his already artfully disheveled mop of hair and rolled his eyes at Robin. 

“Could you shout any louder?” he grumbled. “Jesus, I think the whole crowd heard you.”

“Oh don’t be such a wuss. Hey, this is my cousin. She’s cool. Cousin, meet Steve. He’s a dweeb.”

“A dweeb with charm, also known as the best kind,” Steve said with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand. “I heard you’re in town for the summer. Welcome to Hawkins – guessing it’s a pretty big change from where you’re from.”

“Um, yeah, wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s better than I thought. Lots of nice people,” you offered him a small smile in return, a bit taken aback by the easy way he folded you into the dynamic. 

“I’ll bet,” he agreed. “First time at a speedway?”

“First time at any kind of races,” you admitted. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Not much too it really,” Robin said around a mouthful of beer. Clearly, she’d helped herself to Steve’s stash, but by the way he just shook his head, you got the sense this was basically normal. He silently offered you a bottle, but you shook your head – maybe in a bit. Steve did seem nice, but you weren’t quite ready to be under the influence under someone new just yet. Robin kept talking: “Cars go zoom zoom, and the one that goes zoom zoom the fastest wins. We mostly just come here to support Eddie.”

You cocked your head. “Who’s Eddie?”

“Friend from school. He’s been working extra shifts all summer, which is why you haven’t met him yet. He works down at the local body shop, races on the side. We’ll point his car out when he’s up.”

You nodded, sure he’d be nice too, if Robin’s taste in friends so far was anything to go by. 

The three of you sat, chatting amiably for a few minutes, and you felt yourself relaxing into Robin and Steve’s easy, familiar banter. They traded well-worn jabs back and forth, but there’s no heat behind them. You settled yourself on the blanket between them, tucking your skirt beneath your legs and mostly enjoying the vibe, only chiming in when you had something to say, like when Steve started to say “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was supposedly underrated (he was wrong, and both you and Robin soundly told him so). 

As the sun finally started to go down – days were still long and hot, and all three of you were peevishly slapping at overly familiar mosquitos – the track lights finally flickered into life and it seemed like things were about to start. Robin let out a squeal, wiggling her knees in excitement. 

You were all ready for – you didn’t know, monster trucks or something? – when, to your surprise, the first line of cars that raced onto the track looked more like glorified go karts than anything else. Seeing your confusion, Steve leaned over and murmured, “They do the kiddie stuff first,” and you then saw that the drivers did seem awfully young. Fortunately they were wearing helmets.

The announcer counted down the start, and at the waving of the first green flag they tore around the track, kicking up immense clouds of gasoline-scented dust that settled over everything – your hair, your clothes, you could even see it coating the fine hairs on your arm. Gross. 

And these little kids were vicious. Not crashing directly into each other, but drifting aggressively around the turns and cutting each other off within what looked like inches to spare between bumpers. Everyone was cheering on individual numbers, and you, Steve and Robin got into it by picking your favorite car and rooting for them at the top of your lungs. After a few heats you felt your throat dry up, and gratefully accepted one of the cooling bottles of beer Steve offered. 

Beer with friends on a Friday night. Weirdly, this felt more like how you thought summer was supposed to go than you figured you’d get in Hawkins. Or anywhere. 

As the night wore on, the races of the small and mid-sized cars started to blur into each other, and you started idly wondering when you’d be able to go home. Well. To Robin’s home. 

“And nowwwww, the event you’ve all been waiting forrrrr!” shrilled the announcer.

From the back paddock where all the cars were parked, there came a grunty rumble. A vibration that made its way into your bones, your veins, the thump-thump of your heart. This was the rhythm you’d been missing, filling you up from the inside out. 

And then, the first line of proper-sized cars ripped their way onto the track, to a massive cheer from the crowd. But you weren’t even sure you could call them “cars.” Dinged, dented, and beaten back into shape, these were machines reduced to the essence of speed. Any extra baggage had clearly been ripped out – seats, radio, even the entire bottom half of the trunk was gone. What was left was the engines, the driver’s seat, and anything essential to make them go. 

They ran a few menacing laps around the track, jostling for position on the grid. 

“Look, there’s Eddie!” Robin pointed.

“Which one is he?” you asked.

“The black one, with the red bat on the hood.”

“Eddie’s always had a flair for the dramatic,” Steve clarified. 

Your eyes traced the black car as Eddie maneuvered it into the inside of the track, on the front row – “That’s a good position,” Steve clarified again. Unlike most of the other cars, which had paint jobs in varying states of peeling off, Eddie clearly kept his car freshly painted despite the risk of damage – it gleamed, pitch blank, with just the blood red of the bat leaping out of the design. From what you could see of Eddie, as he was mostly shielded by a helmet, he was also in all black. 

“I’m sensing a theme,” you muttered dryly. 

Like horses jostling for position, the cars – there must have been a dozen or so – revved their engines just behind the starting line. There was an agonizing moment of tension, where everyone stared at the red stoplight holding them in place. 

Then it winked green, the flag was waved, and the race began. 

You watched as Eddie’s car and the one on his right, painted a chipped red-white-and-blue roared to the front like bats of out hell. They gunned it down the straightaway before whipping into a drift around the curve that was so aggressive, their cars yawing onto two wheels so hard, your hands flew to your mouth to swallow a gasp despite yourself, sure they’d tip over or spin out. Magically Eddie’s car righted itself as he came out of the turn and he gunned it down the next straight, neck and neck with the other vehicle. 

The laps went by in what felt to you like seconds, a frenetic dance conducted at speed. With the razor-thin margins the two cars took the turns, you knew that if Eddie lost concentration for a nanosecond, he’d be out of the race. You blinked dust out of your eyes furiously, loath to miss a single second. Next to you, Robin and Steve were yelling – you were pretty sure Robin was just repeating profanities at this point – but you could hardly make yourself breathe normally, let alone cheer. 

There were only a few laps to go and the other car had stolen the lead from Eddie. Though Eddie was keeping the black monstrosity right on his tail, pushing himself right into the rear bumper to try and throw the other driver off. 

They made another sharp drift around a corner and, as they came off the curve, Eddie made his move, pushing the throttle to take his car around the outside of the red-and-white leader. He took the turn, hard, trying to get his nose in front of the other car’s, and this time you did let out a whimper of concern. Your heart thumped in time with the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie made it, slipping in front of his rival to cross the finish line first, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. 

Steve and Robin were now jumping up and down and hugging each other, and you smiled at their infectious joy. 

The other cars coasted to a stop in the middle of the track while Eddie took his victory lap, waving the checkered flag from out the driver’s window. He must have spotted the two maniacs next to you, because the car rolled to a stop on the track in front of you, and Eddie stepped out from the car. 

You knew he drove like a devil, but you weren’t expecting him to look like a fallen angel. 

A strange shiver ran through you as you watched him pull off his black helmet. Long, dark curls spilled out, framing his sharp, sculpted face. Even with his bangs sweat-soaked and disheveled, he was capital H-O-T. Dark hair, dark eyes, with a plush mouth you knew was made for sin. He was everything your parents would have warned you away from, and everything you – or your body, at least – immediately wanted. 

“Be normal,” you thought to yourself. “This is Robin’s friend .”

Robin and Steve trotted down to the side of the track, and you trailed behind them, a little unsure. It was the last race of the evening, and with the entertainment over, the crowds were starting to melt away. It didn’t escape your notice that while all the other drivers were getting handshakes and back-slaps galore from their fellow racers and even some officials, no one had come over to congratulate the actual winner, Eddie, except for the three of you.

“Edieeeeee, you won!” Robin shrieked at her usual top-volume. “But also, ugh, you smell like fumes, ew no, don’t hug me.” She wiggled away from his playful attempt at a hug, wrinkling your nose. 

“Comes with the territory, Robin, you’re just gonna have to get used to it. You certainly don’t mind when I’m fixing your car for free, again . Hey, Steve, nice of the King to make an appearance.” The two boys traded fist bumps, Steve rolling his eyes at his high school nickname. You broke into a wide smile at their antics. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours, where you lingered behind, and he arched one eyebrow, his previously warm and open expression becoming more guarded, scanning you from the top of your windswept hair to the bottom of your now quite dusty flats. Your smile faded, and you resisted the urge to brush yourself off in the face of his gaze.

“Who’s this?” he asked. “Wasn’t aware we had a third cheerleader on the squad. Does little miss Dots like what she has to see so far?”

You find yourself bristling at his presumptuous tone. “I don’t quite take your meaning,” you respond stiffly. 

Eddie laughed, an open, easy sound you could have loved – except for the sharp edge to his voice. He straddled the hay bale, spreading his hands open. You tried not to look at how his black racing uniform stretched tight over his thighs. Really, you tried. 

“Come on, guys, this is a joke, right? Ha, ha, Eddie’s first race of the season, let’s get a cute little cupcake of a girl to come along, flirt a little, string lil ’ol Eddie along? Give the girl a ride to remember?”

He fixed his molten brown eyes on you. “Did someone put you up to it, Dots? Patrick? Jason? It’s the sort of shit thing Jason would do.”

By this point, both Steve and Robin were exchanging a confused glance that clearly conveyed their shared sense of, “uh, what?” But you knew exactly what. 

Eddie had taken one look at you – at your too-much dress, too-much smile, maybe something else you didn’t even know in your demeanor – and concluded that the only possible explanation for your presence was that you were a…paid escort? Hooker? Someone bribed to come watch his race and flutter your eyelashes at him, spread her legs?

You felt the usual protection of your ice queen reputation from back home freezing off any earlier warmth from your expression. 

“Someone clearly has a high opinion of himself. I’m not going to cream just because you’ve got half skills with half a car. Get over yourself. Robin,” you turn to your cousin, “I’m going back to the house.”

“It’s miles to the house,” Robin protested, nervous gaze flicking between you – fuming – and Eddie – nonchalantly picking at his cuticles, not sparing you another glance. 

“I’ll walk.” It was only a mile or so to Robin’s, and you didn’t want to spend a single second more in his company, friends with your cousin or not. Eddie’d done a spectacular job of reminding you why you usually didn’t do things that were “fun” or “social” or that “lots of people” went to. You didn’t need another asshole man in your life, your father was doing a bang-up job of that by himself. 

“I’d give you a ride, Dots, but as you can see,” Eddie gestured to the literally empty passenger seat in the stock car next to him, “I can’t.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, whirling around and stomping off before reaching a hand up to swipe angrily at the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. 

You heard Robin run after you. “She’s my cousin you MORON,” she called back to Eddie. When she caught up to you, you gave her a watery smile in thanks, and she reached over to squeeze your shoulders. 

New item for your summer bucket list: Never, ever see Eddie again.

-- -- --

NEXT TIME: You and Robin go to a party.

[beesmygod]

do the forbidden woods have any connection to the beasts or great ones, aside from being geographically adjacent to byrgenwerth? Are the snake infested fellows just "normal" as far as yharnam is concerned? Like before yharnam got all bloodborney, was the Yharnam Cartographer's Guild map of the woods still just a big circle with SNAKES written?

this is a really good question because, as a lore psycho, i think the understated lore implications of the woods are genuinely fascinating. i think there's a lot to unpeel, even if we take into account that it was one of the places in the game that was chopped up at the 11th hour and scrambled before release.

as always for these lore posts, important nouns are bolded and speculation is in italics. we are going to discuss the woods in three parts: from the gatekeeper to the windmill is "the village". from the windmill to byrgenwerth is "the woods". the subterranean cave shortcut back to yharnam will just be called "shortcut." i'll expand on this shit GREATLY when we reach this part in "you hunted" (I HAVENT STOPPED WORKING ON IT I PROMISE IM JUST SWAMPED) so considered this a light overview. feel free to ask for more details on things and ill do my best to fill in the blanks.

THE VILLAGE:

-from the jump, the village gatekeeper is a fucking weird little blip in bloodborne's narrative. i haven't thought about him enough to figure out if he's more than just a spooky, unexplained element but he has some cut dialog that sheds some mindboggling information about yharnam: he seems very confused about WHEN it is and will cite the last time he had a visitor as anything from a year to a century.

-the lamps in this area lighting the way to the village are little burning fetal beasts of some sort.

i'm starting to understand more and more about how fire operates in the world of bloodborne, since most of the time it appears in the game, it's seemingly impossible. the thing that confused me the most was how old yharnam was still burning if it happened a long time ago. i think it's time to start thinking of the old blood as impossibly combustible and a great source of light/fire. this isn't the first in-universe example of creatures being used as fuel: the lamps in the fishing village are slugs (also infants? they strongly resemble the hunter's appearance as a baby great one in the "childhood's beginning" ending). this is a whole fucking like, thing. it's its own post.

next, the huntsmen enemies here are dressed funny. you probably noticed it but couldn't pin down how. they're dressed in white church clothes! the first model here is used only in the forbidden woods. the two on the left are from central yharnam. note the gloves on the first two; these are church doctors!

(this post goes on like this for some time)

the white church doctors are the ones that were doing "experimentally backed blood ministration". the butcher's garb further defines it as "forbidden research". these white church doctors are the citizens of this "village". in the clustered buildings where the majority of the huntsmen are, you can find blue elixir and beast blood pellets in abundance. both of these items can only be purchased from the store after obtaining the choir's badge, drawing a firm connection between the white church doctor's research and the goals of the choir.

although, this probably isn't too much of a surprise; it's almost certain that this is where fauxsekfa came from. she took the same shortcut we did, right? i'm not really sure i understand the shortcut too much. but let's talk about it.

THE SHORTCUT:

although not explicitly stated, i am strongly convinced that this cave is the entrance to the hintertomb. at the very least, it is absolutely an entrance to the labyrinth. the presence of tomb mold, blood gems, parasite larva, and pthumerian giants/corpses makes this very clear. the root chalice for the hintertomb describes it as "a cesspool of noxious snakes and insects"; i think it's likely that the snakes came from the hintertomb given they can be found in the swamps there.

the giant graves here and further into the woods are referred to as "tombstone[s] of a great one".

the hunter's mark i think would suggest these are pthumerian made. its possible that the hintertomb is spilling out into the world above but frankly all of the graves here are baffling. grave placement and appearance needs more research. the graves in the woods only are developing a strange sort of honeycomb rot pattern not unlike the head of an amygdala. this pattern shows up enough that it warrants more investigation.

the slow poison-inducing "water" here has similar properties to the slow poison pool in the research hall. they are different colors, but have similar origins: the poison pool in the research hall is from the decomposing bodies of the patients, who were exposed to bizarre blood ministration and parasitism. the pool here is likely from decomposing great ones. with this in mind, perhaps the silvery liquid is mercury.

the ladder leading out of this area is fucking insane and i have a hard time understanding what occurred there. like what in the hell is up with that grave you exit into in yharnam. who popped it open. why is it so cavernous. what happened to the contents.

anyway, let's just go back to the woods.

THE VILLAGE (again)

there's really only two more things to mention here before we move on: first, beast roar can be picked up here. it's the undead, still twitching hand of a darkbeast. nothing touched by the old blood can truly die, and these severed limbs are no exception.

second are the butchers. these are the people who collect specimens, hack them apart, and present them to the church doctors for research. they show up in three different ways: the surviving madaras twin wears the butcher's set (the hunter picks up the set from the other twin's corpse), the "executioner" enemies (REMINDER: a better translation would have been "butchers" [or, literally, "dismantling men"], i have no idea why they went with "executioner" outside of their superficial appearance) wear the cape with the popped collar, and there are huntmen enemies skulking the streets below the grand cathedral hunting for victims dressed in the garb. they literally only appear there.

ah, one more thing. this is the place where you can find the suspicious beggar and interrupt him while he's in the middle of chowing down on one of the biggest families i've ever seen in my life. at first i thought the devs hysterically fucked up the sizes of the corpses, but they're dressed like the citizens of yahar'gul. while not outright stated, evidence strongly suggests that the beggar is irreverent izzy or one of his followers such as the close proximity of one of izzy's inventions and the beggar's clothing reflecting his past as both a veteran tomb prospector gone mad and former church agent. there's a lot of meat on that bone, but for another time.

OKAY. LAST PART NOW.

THE WOODS:

this is the part you probably remember the most bc it's snake hell. the first thing we absolutely need to keep in mind is that the snake-infested guys you meet are a reference to doobie from jojo. the snakes are parasites to people, but the snakes themselves are also being parasitized? they are covered in ticks, those are the huge bloated blobs all over them. given that the augurs of the great ones are invertebrates...what does that imply about the inclusion of the ticks narratively?

there's something absolutely fascinating happening to the flora and fauna in this section of the woods but it's hard to know what it all means. some notes:

-when enemies in bloodborne die, the game handles their corpse in different ways. some of this is lore related, some of it is to reduce hardware strain. some corpses turn into ragdolls, some explode into blood, some explode into white particles (sometimes with blood but not always). snakes explode into white particles. i got way too into the fucking weeds with this, but (outside of the slime scholars....kind of) all of these enemies either appear or were intended to appear in the chalice dungeons, the nightmare frontier, or the nightmare of mensis (the lecture hall containing the scholars connects the waking world to the nightmare). all of these locations are, arguably, the nightmare.

-there are statues of amygdala and a presumed evolution of the celestial child sprouting out of the ground. i am almost certain these are original versions of the statues in the grand cathedral and yahar'gul, respectively.

-remember that strange pond with the fireflies? the only place in the game where there's fireflies? what the hell is up with that lol. i kind of have an answer:

most concrete is this: back when the original boss of the woods was snakeball, you would have faced a rematch in this pond.

insane theory crafting moment: look, this is stupid complicated and a reach so if i have to get into really defending it it, ill do it in another post. but in bloodborne people can be teleported around via "communion". communion is the means of entering the chalice dungeons and requires three things: ritual blood (or perhaps just liquid, if rom's arena is anything to go by), something to hold the blood (typically a chalice, but sometimes the "chalice" is a skull), and light (this is almost always achieved with candles). this pond is probably full of blood, if the rotten bodies nearby are any indication, and the fireflies offer light. but, look, this shit was cut so don't think too hard about it.

-its in the art book but also in the game (but hard to see): the wall separating byrgenwerth from the rest of the world is melted.

wait wtf there's dudes in it. lol. what da hell!

oh my. the name for this asset is "wall of divine tomb". cool. every day i lean some new insane shit about this game, for real.

anyway the only other point of interest is whatever the fuck valtr and the league are doing. too deep of a topic for now. anyway, those were the points of interest in the forbidden woods. i hope this was....whatever counts for informative when it comes to video game trivia

[hippiegoth97]

Be Kind, Rewind: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

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A/N: Hey, everybody! I've decided to start posting my Eddie Munson one-shots on here. This one is the first ever story I wrote, both for Eddie and fanfiction in general. It's been edited a couple of times, and may still be a bit rough compared to my current work. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Description: You work with Steve and Eddie in the video store while Robin is off at summer camp. You like Eddie a lot, but you've never pursued him out of fear. Lucky for you, he has other plans...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, swearing, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, praise/degradation

Word Count: 4k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Be Kind, Rewind

"Alright, for 3 rentals your total is $8.50." You say to the mother struggling to keep her child at bay at the register. He's squirming from her grasp, with a mysterious, sticky substance around his mouth. The woman lets him go in order to reach into her purse. He immediately runs around the corner, headed straight for the candy display. He almost rams directly into it before he's scooped up by your supervisor, Steve Harrington.

"Whoa there, little guy! Looks like you've had enough sugar today. Let's get you back to your mother." Steve walks over and plops the child down. He almost makes yet another run for it, but the transaction is through and the woman wraps her arm around her son to keep him close.

"Thank you, young man! He has just been a terror today. His father dropped him off this morning after letting him go ballistic on a Hershey bar."

"No problem at all, ma'am, have a good day!" Steve replies. And with that, the mother and son walk out the door.

"I see why you get labeled by your friends as 'the babysitter'. You're really good with kids. You'll be a great dad someday, I'm sure." You say with a semi-sarcastic tone. He fixes you with a glare.

"Yeah, whatever. Stop slacking and take these returns in the back to rewind. Eddie is no help, he's probably lighting up in there right now."

"Yes sir!" You salute, which earns you a middle finger from Steve. "I'll whip that freak into shape for you too. Fuck knows I hate pulling more than my fair share of the weight." But that isn't exactly true. You’ve always had a thing for Eddie, ever since you were in school with him. You had talked a few times over the years, but soon enough you were swept up in your own interests. He was running the Hellfire Club, and you were too focused on your studies to have any free time for fun. You found yourself staring at him at lunch though, and he'd always looked right back with a smirk on his handsome face. But you never did anything more. It seemed like you both were worlds apart, even though it was just the opposite end of the cafeteria. But in this job you were lucky enough to get, you are in close proximity to Eddie almost every day.

You still stare sometimes, and you are far from subtle. Neither of you go any further than looks or the occasional teasing remark or small conversation. You wish you had the courage to make a move, but despite his perceived interest in you, you’re afraid he’ll reject you if he knows your true feelings. Sure, he plays around and makes somewhat off-color remarks. But those don’t mean anything, right? Eddie does that with everybody. You're not special to him, right? You spend far too much time trying to convince yourself he doesn't mean anything by what he says around you, thinking it would be crazy for him to like you that way, or at all. It's just a game for him, you always tell yourself. It has to be. You sigh, trying to shake these thoughts away and focus on your task.

You grab the stack of returns, and walk from behind the counter to the back room. Before you open the door marked 'Employees Only', you notice the smell of weed and even see smoke peeking out the bottom of the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes at Eddie's usual antics and pushing the door open, struggling to keep hold on the videotapes. As you walk inside, you ram right into Eddie's chest, causing the tapes to crash onto the floor. "Shit." You mutter, and scramble to pick them back up.

"Oh, shit. Sorry Y/N. Lemme help." Eddie kneels down to gather some tapes. He also picks up the blunt he dropped in your collision, quickly putting it out and into his pocket.

"It's the least you can do, Munson. You know, it wouldn't kill you to do some actual work for once. But I see you have more important things to do." You're not really angry, you're more embarrassed for looking clumsy in front of him. You stand, putting yourself above him.

"Yeah, yeah, save it. I hear enough of that from Harrington already. I know you're not that much of a stickler for rules anyways. You sure do like to pretend though." He looks at you from the floor, reaching up to give you the last tape. A devilish smirk plays on his lips. He really enjoys teasing you, pushing your buttons. It's like he gets off on seeing your face scrunch in quick protest.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Once again, your face goes into that grumpy scrunch he finds so adorable. You cross your arms, acting annoyed.

"It means, Y/N, that you act like the perfect citizen. Good grades, never late, hardworking, blah blah blah." He stands now. Putting that final tape on the table next to the rewinding machine. "But we both know about the looks you liked to steal in the cafeteria at lunch. Those same looks you still like to take now. You are no innocent girl, Y/N."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You lie, cheeks turning bright red. He takes note of your reaction, and presses further. He steps closer to you slowly with each word, eyes staring into yours, until his mouth is just centimeters away.

"Oh, come on, princess." You shiver at the nickname, which he also takes note of. "It's not polite to lie. I get it, you've lived a sheltered life. You feel like you can't waste any time on an asshole like me. Too many reasons not to. You have a bright future waiting for you, right?" He moves his head past yours to speak right into your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek. You freeze, how close he is to you sets your skin aflame. He then speaks quietly, "You wanna know what I think, darling? I think you don't like being a goody-goody at all. I think you're just waiting. Waiting for the right reason to come along for you to break all the rules." He pulls back to look in your eyes, still smirking.

You just stare back in shock, but you're also extremely turned on. You've always wanted to pursue something with Eddie. But he’s right. You don't have time. At least, you think you don't. After the summer, you’re off to college, the first in your family to make it out of this town. But what about before that? The summer has just begun, surely you've earned some fun after years of pounding knowledge into your brain. You’ve earned this, deserve it, even. And Eddie seems more than willing to give it to you.

"You're right." You say simply. His grin somehow gets even wider. You contemplate what to say next, not wanting to give in to him so easily. You're smarter than that. You keep your expression stern, playing a game."You are an asshole." His face falls, and it hurts to see him look like that. You immediately regret that decision.

"Sorry." He turns away from you, grabbing a tape to rewind in the machine. "I guess I read you all wrong. I won't do that again." His tone is soft, sad. He's disappointed, and it's now that you realize he truly likes you. You never really thought about it that way, he always comes off so smug. You just wanted to toy with him the way he seems to do so with you. You have to fix this and fast, otherwise you've blown your chance.

"Oh jesus fucking christ, Eddie! If I would've known you liked me back like that, I wouldn't have said that. I was just messing around, teasing you back. You just act so damn smug all the time, I didn't want to give you the satisfaction so easily." You walk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and then relaxes, sighing. He turns to you again, a smaller smile this time.

"You sneaky little shit. I ought to punish you for that." His hand comes up to hold yours. His ringed fingers rub gently over yours, the cool metal making you shiver again. He chuckles at your reaction.

"So do it then." You look into his eyes, you're the one smirking now. He just stares at you a moment, seemingly genuinely shocked to hear you say something like that. Then he once again starts grinning like an idiot.

"As you wish, princess." He says as he pulls you into him, smashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, biting his lip after a moment. He grunts slightly, letting you slip your tongue in his mouth. He guides you backwards until you're against the wall. His lips move to your neck. He licks a long stripe from your collar bone to below your jaw, making you moan. In response, he starts sucking and biting your neck, being spurred on further by any whimpers or whines you let out.

"Oh, Eddie." You moan out, causing him to stop a moment to look at you.

"I like when you say my name, darling." He resumes his work on your neck, on the other side this time. He also brings his hands up to grab your breasts. You are loving this, but you want more.

You push him away for a moment, and he looks at you, confused. "I just want to take this off." You say as you start to lift your top over your head. Eddie assists you, and strips himself of his own. You take a moment to look at his toned chest, his tattoos, and it makes you melt.

"Like what you see, princess?" You blush as he's caught you staring again. You snap out of your trance and pull him back to you, lips colliding again. You run your hands along his arms, up and down his chest. In turn he grabs your breasts again, massaging them gently. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He breaks away to lean down to your breasts. He kisses them sloppily and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

"Eddie!" You gasp, your hands going into his hair. He nips on your sensitive bud, making you whine, and then he moves onto the other one. Your hands travel down to his jeans, you can feel how hard he is for you. You palm him through the material, and his breath hitches slightly.

"Eager, are we?" He asks, slightly muffled against your chest. He lifts his head up, eyes meeting yours again. He takes a moment to look deep into them. He brings his right hand gently to your face, the thumb brushing across your cheek. His gaze makes you feel so exposed, nevermind the fact that you’re completely topless. This moment seems to last hours, but you could also stay like this forever. "I've always liked you, you know." He says finally.

"I can see that." You say jokingly, Eddie rolls his eyes. "I've always liked you, too. I wish we would've done this so much sooner." You look down, feeling even more exposed somehow. He lifts your chin to regain eye contact.

"Hey now, darling. Don't hide that pretty face from me. And technically speaking, we haven't started much of anything yet." His smile is light and kind this time. "And we don't have to rush into anything if you don't want to." He tries to search your face for an answer, as your mouth is stuck in place. "I'm gonna need you to use your words, Y/N. What do you want?"

You can't help but struggle to get the words out. "I want you, Eddie. All of you. Please?" You don't mean for that last part to sound so desperate, you know it just feeds his ego. But you can't help it. You've tasted Eddie and you want more.

"Then all of me you will get, dollface." He kisses you again, softer this time, slower. He moves you again, to the counter next to the rewinding machine, lifting you onto it. His tongue roams down your jaw, neck, chest, his body lowering with it. He's on his knees now,  his hands making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You lift yourself slightly so he can pull them down, along with your panties. "Well damn, princess. So wet for me already?" He gazes with wonder at your glistening pussy. You blush a bit at his words, almost reaching your hands up to hide your face. Eddie stops you, holding your wrists. "Don't try to hide from me, darling. Be a good girl for me." You felt yourself become wetter from his words, good girl. "You like when I call you that?" He looks up at you for confirmation.

"Yes, Eddie." You say, your voice is a little shaky.

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie!" You cry out. Your hips buck slightly, but Eddie holds them down.

"I love hearing those beautiful noises from you, baby. But I don't think either of us want to get caught fucking on the job by Harrington, do we? Just try to stay quiet for me, okay?" You nod in agreement, biting your index finger to suppress your moans as Eddie resumes his work on your dripping cunt. He licks your entrance, occasionally inserting his tongue, moaning at how sweet you taste. You've had this done to you before, but that’s nothing compared to Eddie. He starts sucking on your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His middle finger going inside you, pumping in and out at an agonizing pace. You moan and whine for him, and he's eating up every moment of it. He moans against your clit, the vibrations pushing you closer and closer. You're seeing stars when he puts in a second finger, curving and pumping them in and out expertly.

"Oh fuck, oh, Eddie!" You feel the knot inside you snap, and you release onto his face and fingers. You do your best to hold the scream back, your hand clasped tightly over your mouth. Your hips buck violently and your legs shake as you ride out your high. Eddie slides his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips as he stands up. You watch as he shoves them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean. He keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, and you can't help but feel soaking wet for him again.

"Mmm, you taste delicious, Y/N. And you were such a good girl for me." He says as his fingers leave his mouth with a pop. He kisses you once again, and you taste yourself on his bruised lips. You take this as your signal to stroke Eddie's cock through his pants to give him a turn. He groans slightly, moving to your neck to suck harshly on your flesh. You’re sure to have marks before he’s done with you. You start fiddling with his belt, and he stops. He moves your hands and helps you out, undoing the belt and zipper clumsily. He pulls his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free, hitting his stomach. Out of instinct, you slide off the counter and onto your knees. You grab the base of him, and take his head into your mouth. He groans again, and it’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.

"Mmm." You moan as you swirl your tongue around the head, your hand stroking the rest of him. You take him as deep as you can, surprising yourself when you fit him all the way in. He mutters curses under his breath as you bob your head on him, licking swirls around his length the whole time.

"Fuck, Y/N" He rasps. "Such a good girl for me." His praises make you more and more wet every time he utters them. You could hear them a million times, and be left wanting to hear them a million more. You can feel his balls tightening, he's so close to cumming. "Y/N, sweetheart. Stop or I'll cum." He says quietly. You remove yourself from him, standing up again. "You are a goddess at that, baby. But I have a feeling we'll both enjoy something else even more." He lifts you back onto the counter, slowly rubbing his cock against your clit and folds. You both moan quietly at this action, and he lays you down while kissing you. He pulls away, preparing to position himself. "Are you ready, darling?" He asks, seeming genuinely nervous about your answer. He truly wants to please you, but only if you let him.

"Yes, Eddie. Please, just fuck me already." Again, you sound so desperate, which you are. But you can't help but love the smirk he gives you in response.

"Anything for you, princess." And with that, he pushes into you, causing you both to groan at the sensation. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, trying to keep himself together, despite how perfect you feel around his dick. You kiss him passionately to signal him to start moving. And when he does, he starts real slow. Carefully pumping in and out of you, teasing almost. He's in no rush, he just wants you to feel comfortable.

"As amazing as you feel right now, Eddie, I need you to go faster." You look in his eyes, practically begging him to make you unable to walk for a week.

"Your wish is my command, Y/N." He begins to snap his hips, plunging into you at a punishing pace. He hits your g-spot easily and expertly. You moan his name over and over, feeling the knot rapidly forming again. He moans too, your name and the phrase 'good girl' falling from his lips. "Is it okay if I try something?" He asks while thrusting at almost inhuman speed.

"Yes, Eddie. Do whatever you want to me. I want it all." You beg, and he brings his ringed hand to your throat. He wraps around it gently, squeezing ever so slightly, gauging your reaction. You moan loudly in response, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes. He smiles at you, loving how willingly you submit to him. He loosens his grip on you, moving to stroke your breasts instead. You stop him, bringing his hand back up to your throat. "More, please. It's so fucking hot." You say to him, almost whining for him to continue choking you.

"I knew you were a kinky little freak, princess. I fuckin’ love it." He puts pressure on your throat again, making you feel lightheaded. The knot is threatening to snap any second now. You can tell he’s close, too.

"I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck me harder." You can't believe the things coming out of your mouth, begging him to have any way with you he desired.

"I’m right there with you, sweetheart. I'll give you anything you want. You're such a good girl. Cum for me." He says with a groan, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Despite this, he tries to keep up the pace to bring you down with him. 

“Oh, fuck! Eddie!” You scream as your orgasm rips through you, the world around you exploding. Your walls clamp down onto him, and your thighs tremble outside of your control. 

“Shit.” Eddie grunts when his own high overtakes him. His load spills into you, his hips bucking wildly against you in his final thrusts. He collapses onto you a moment later, panting heavily. You both lie here for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Eddie plants some grateful kisses on your throat as you come down from your highs. When he finally pulls out of you, he looks down to see your mixed release oozing from your cunt. “Jesus christ.” He mutters, his softened cock twitching at the sight. He’s unable to resist the temptation, and kneels down to clean you up with his tongue.

"Fuck!" You're still sparking from your last orgasm, and his cleanup efforts swiftly cause you to cum yet again, screaming his name and tangling your hands in his hair. The stars subside and Eddie stands upright to kiss your lips.

"You're such a good girl for me, darling. Let's get you dressed before Harrington busts us in here." He helps you to your feet, but you stumble as your legs feel like jelly. "Take it easy. I'll help you." He gathers your clothing and gently helps you put everything back on. Only then does he start dressing himself again. You almost whine at the loss of looking at his naked body, but you keep the lust at bay for now.

"So, what does this mean, Eddie?" You feel stupid for asking, this could just be a one-time thing for him. Another notch in the bedpost for the famous Eddie Munson. You pick at your fingers, looking down at the floor.

"What do you want it to mean?" He lifts your chin with his finger, wanting you to meet his eyes.

"Well, I'd like to do this more often with you. And maybe more...if you want." You feel so naked and vulnerable again, even though you're now fully clothed.

"What? Like a date? You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asks, his hand moving to your cheek again. You can't help but feel like he thinks it's a joke. He's hard to read when he smirks like that all the time.

"Yes. If you want to." You reply, trembling slightly. You can’t help being so nervous. Maybe this was all a mistake. He just said things you wanted to hear to get in your pants, and now he's toying with you again. He uses his hands to try to calm you down, rubbing your shoulders gently. He looks into your eyes with sincere care and affection, making your heart melt.

"You need to stop overthinking in there." He taps on your temple with his finger. He smiles calmly. "Of course we can do that. I'd love that more than anything." You smile at his words, throwing your arms around him. Your lips meet again, soft and tender. You can't believe it, you just fucked the baddest guy in town and you get to be his girlfriend. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and Eddie feels like he won the lottery. You keep kissing for a while, not wanting to stop living in this moment.

"Alright, guys. I don't know how much pot you've smoked, but if all those tapes aren't rewound by now I'm gonna-" Steve barges in the door, and his jaw drops at the sight of you kissing and groping each other. "Oh, for fuck's sake, you guys! I mean, I saw you two hooking up coming from a mile away. Shit, a blind man could do that. But why must it be here? Where I have to see you?” Steve scolds, continuing on his rant. “And goddammit, it reeks of sex in here! I'll need to get more air freshener. Not like I don't use enough covering Eddie's weed smell. Congrats on being cute and disgusting at the same time. Dammit! Do I need to babysit you, too? Just get yourselves together and get those tapes rewound!" He storms out, but you can still hear him muttering things to himself on the other side of the door.

You and Eddie look at each other, mouths open in shock. And then you burst out laughing, Eddie falling to the floor in a fit of cackling. And all you can think is that this is going to be the best summer of your life.

The end.

[hoodie-buck]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thanks for the tags beloveds @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @bi-buckrights @hippolotamus 🩵

How many works do you have on ao3?

—246

What's your total ao3 word count?

—1,469,436

What fandoms do you write for?

— 911, teen wolf, animal kingdom (not actively but still counting it)

Top five fics by kudos:

if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world)

nobody can do everything

i want to love you (but i don't know how)

five + 1 (idk who allowed me to name a fic this 💀)

someone to stay

Do you respond to comments?

—always! even if it takes me a few weeks, i always respond to them. i'm so so appreciative of anyone who takes the time to leave them 🥹

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

—come back home (version 2) i just had to get it out of my system, sorry 🥲

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mmm, idk besides the one listed above and one other, they're all really sappy and fluffy endings 😅 it'll probably end up being whatever sappy ass ending i write for the chris doesn't come back au after everything i've put them through 😂

Do you get hate on fics?

—not really, more like just annoying people nitpicking stupid things

Do you write smut?

—i do indeed 😏 can't say if it's good, but i've got lots of it posted 😂

Craziest crossover:

—umm i write tons of au's but idk if this refers to that or doing an actual crossover with another fandom?? i wish not to talk about the one that still haunts me, but i did use characters from the step up movie for my au: let me lose myself

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

—not that i know of...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

—somebody asked once but idk what ever happened with that

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

i have! 3 different times with my wife @loserdiaz 🫶🏻

—no body, no crime

—this is my idea of fun (playing video games)

—i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

All time favourite ship?

—buddie! the brainrot for them has been unmatched jsiodj

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

—uhhh probably my divergent au...i've had the placeholder for insurgent with like 3 sentences sitting in my wip folder for forever 😬

What are your writing strengths?

—i'll just list the things people have told me because i have no idea sjwioe. i always get compliments on my characterization, descriptions, and metaphors <3

What are your writing weaknesses?

—shutting the fuck up and writing anything short 🫠

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

—i've done it in the past but not really anymore

First fandom you wrote in?

—teen wolf

Favorite fic you've written?

—that's like asking me to pick between my nonexistent children 😭

i'm picking 3 idc

coastlines

if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world)

the ducking of evan buckley

tagging: @redlightsandicedtea @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @onward--upward @daffi-990 @wildlife4life @underwaterninja13 @bigfootsmom @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @zainclaw @watchyourbuck @ronordmann @queerbuckleys @spaceprincessem @jacksadventuresinwriting

[triple-starsss]

wait wait wait if they're normal hogs in this AU (not an issue) is Shadow... a naturally born hog? 👀

THIS ACTUALLY CROSSED MY MIND A FEW TIMES WHEN I WAS WRITING NOTES ON HIS CHILDHOOD.

I guess it would make sense for that to be it but the idea of him just phasing into existence in some random ass orphanage works great too ABSDJFH don't think i've mentioned it before but he was adopted by Gerald when he was young!! Gerald essentially wanted a successor to continue his research after he retires/dies (whichever comes first) and since Maria is ill, he decided to adopt (plus Maria would constantly complain about being bored n having nobody to play with absjdf).

I haven't really thought too hard about any of their actual parents because it's something i'm not really too bothered about focusing on and either way their current (sort of) caretakers are all characters included in canon >:)) (minus Uncle Chuck!!!)

[neverevan]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday ☔️

Tagged and tagging @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @pirrusstuff @exhuastedpigeon @thewolvesof1998 @wikiangela and my lovelies @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns mwauh mwauh 💛💛

I'm happy to report that the main draft of the mudslide fic had passed 57k and I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!! I have 2-3 onshots I wanna drop in the meantime, but I think I'll be able to start editing & posting this one soon. Until then, here's yet another small snippet from near the beginning:

So when they finished their fourth beer for the night and Eddie got up from the table with a stretch big enough to expose his belly button as his Henley rode up, Buck knew what was coming.

The only thing he didn’t account for was the idling.

Because the thing was… well, the thing was that normally Eddie would say goodnight and go about his business to get ready for bed, while Buck would change into his joggers and settle on the couch.

Not this time though. For whatever reason, Eddie lingered.

By the time Buck was pulling a clean tee over his head, Eddie was still just standing in the mouth of the hallway, with an expression that Buck couldn’t quite equate to anything other than the times he watched Eddie try and mostly fail to help Christopher with his math homework; the same focus with a slim edge of despair.

But this time, instead of a complicated row of numbers and letters, his gaze was glued to Buck’s chest and it stayed there, even after he pulled his shirt down.

He shifted his balance from one foot to the other with a sudden sense of insecurity.

“Eddie is- uh is everything okay?”

“I…” Eddie started, but even after a handful of seconds that was still all he had managed to get out.

[oneiricazalea]

Happy 5th birthday to my dear OC, Sei ♥

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

good sir I diagnose you with found family syndrome, you are these kids' dad now

[arsonist-chicken]

What if I just developed social skills to be able to actually make new friends in person and then used those skills to get a new phone number and pack my bags and run away to a place where no one knows me and all my past mistakes and fuckups and started over there without going into social isolation

[blubble-lake]

wanted to compile some more finale/other F&C grievances I'd been writing over the past few months before going into next year, some rant-like and some more coherent (under the read more)

[front-facing-pokemon]

[jovialturtleface]

The first attack of Art Fight 2023 and it's for a cool person, @mundycorps!