#i was looking at the doc all weekend and god there’s SO much

[nicolesainz]

Darling (JB 22)

Jenson Button x f!reader (Mark Webbers Daughter)

A/N: Ya’ll can blame the Brawn Doc (which btw was great, go check it out)

Summary: A little visit to your dad’s old friend after the Goodwill festival wouldn’t hurt,right?

Warnings: minors dni, +18, suggestive smut, edging, fingering, p! in v!, age gap (reader is 22)

“Hey Jense, would you mind keeping an eye on her? Missus and I will fly back to Australia but she’s staying here for a friend’s party”

My father would’ve never let me stay in a hotel. It had to be Jenson. Out of all his friends, all the people in the fucking UK, it had to be him.

And reminded that I’m 22. Not underage. And I can legally drink, thank you very much.

“Of course mate. I have a spare room she can use. I’ll barely be home this weekend.” It was the British Grand Prix and he is a presenter for Sky Sports, hence why he won’t be around.

To be fair, I only watch the post race show just to admire him. But my dad doesn’t need to know that, or Jenson himself. He doesn’t have to know how handsome he is or how smart he sounds given his knowledge in Formula One.

What’s more attractive than that?

And the fact that I have secret screenshots of his shots in my phone, but again, no one needs to know.

“Let me get her luggage full of god knows what type of dresses. I don’t even know when she bought them!”

"I hope you know how old I am, dad" I roll my eyes at his comment as Jenson lets out a small giggle, earning a death glare from my dad.

"Before she leaves the house, please make sure to see what she's wearing. And if there are any boys in sight." my dad warns him, as if I am going to enroll myself in the army and fight the enemy, which to him, would've been more preferable compared to a party.

"Got it. We definitely know that you think she's 17" Jenson replies and my mother laughs along, as I try not to burst out.

"If you side with Y/N, I will break your Porche." My dad's voice raise and I glance at Jenson who has a look plastered on his face as if he was offended and scared by the threat.

"I have kids myself, I think she's going to be safe with me. Come on Mark! I was the only driver you never crashed with, kinda." He takes the luggage away from my mother's hands and waves them goodbye as I go and hug them.

"Take care kiddo and if you need anything, im a call away. Also if you want to go to the paddock, the passes are under my name" he kisses my head after having me squeezed in a tight hug.

"Y-yes dad, I know. Now please let me go because I cant breathe."

"Sorry" he sets me free and I join Jenson's side. God he's tall and broad.

"Alright now, shall we?" he looks down at me and I nod, unable to utter a single word, even though I've know him my whole life.

The boys in my university were dying to hear stories with the senior formula one drivers, coming from a daughter of one. It's a nice feeling to narrate all the success and glory of this sport.

"Seriously though, your bag is very light. Are you even carrying anything in here?" Jenson asks, weighing up and down my luggage, flexing his muscles as I try not to drool all over the place.

"Only necessities. Dresses, shoes, makeup, few outfits for the race and condoms." the last one quite shocked him but also was a way of teasing him, given my major crush.

"You have condoms, yet I didn't hear you say panties"

"Won't be needing any"

"And why is that, may I ask?"

"Cause I like to be free. More access and more fun" I wink at him and I stare at his lips, a smirk is growing as each word is leaving mine.

"So you are telling me, that right now, underneath this short but nonetheless breathtaking dress, no panties are worn?"

I get closer to him and whisper softly in his ear:

"Wanna see for yourself?"

Honestly, don't ask me where I found this much confidence and especially with someone twice my age. And a friend of my dad's.

"Behave yourself darling" he coughs lightly to clear his throat and grabs me by the waist, so my dress doesn't float from the summer breeze.

"And what if I don't want you, Mr. Button?"

"Then you'll wish you had never said that" he growls and immediately opens me the door to his McLaren.

When he gets in the drivers seat, he wastes no time and gets on the road instantly. During the ride, there's a comfortable silence filling the atmosphere, until the air coming out of Jenson's window pulls up my dress and his hand quickly falls on my thigh, holding it down once more.

Jenson decides to roll up his window but his hand remains on my thigh and this time, is holding it firmly and starts caressing it from the inside.

Soft sighs leave my mouth, but controlling them is inevitable when his touch was all I have been craving since I turned 18. His foot hits the gas harder, speeding and driving in between the other slower cars. He reminds me of the Jenson back in his Brawn days and I can feel myself pooling just at the thought.

It was the very right time when his hand cupped my bare pussy, feeling the wetness caused by barely a thought of him. The slight touch of his fingers on my trembling self has my knees going paralyzed. I feel like crying from pleasure and yet I don't even know if he's doing that on purpose to embarrass me or if he's actually enjoying it too.

"Oh baby, you're definitely not behaving yourself" he says as his index finger draws circles around my clit. My legs are clenching his hand inside me as the other one holds the steering wheel, looking at his knuckles that have turned white.

"Jenson" I breathe out and moan simultaneously as he starts pumping two fingers inside me fiercely, letting myself to his mercy and unable to react.

"This behavior will have consequences young lady. I warned you" he lets a soft kiss on the crock of my neck and feeling his beard scratching it, I go absolutely insane.

"Then punish me sir" I blurt out without thinking and Jenson drives in seconds at the spot in front of his house, stops the car and places me on top of his lap with just one hand.

Jenson's lips crash into mine without wasting a second as his fingers play with my uncontrollably wet pussy. The feeling of moaning is surely necessary and I don't hold back. My tongue dances with his and the kiss gets deeper like his fingers, hitting perfectly my soft spot.

"You are going to be the death of me" Jenson says as his mouth falls on my neck, sucking it off like there's no tomorrow. My hands try to unbuckle his belt and eventually make it to the part where I can feel his erection growing. It's true what they say, older men do it better.

In other instances I would have been furious, but Jenson ripping my dress, just so he can have better access at my breasts is incredibly hot. I don't care that I am left vulnerable at his sight. At this I was pleading it.

My breast hurt from his kisses and I know in a few hours small red dickies will be covering the surface. My fingers decide to trace the shape of his thick cock but I can tell he wants to feel me. I have teased him and he me, for way too long.

"If you keep being naughty I won't let you cum, dear" a groan escapes his body as I take his length in my hands and caress the veins that have popped out.

"Then I want you to fill me up with your cum" I take him by surprise and I can sense his heartbeat raising from worry. He regards me as something innocent, precious and fragile. Which I am. But I feel ready and I am.

"Are you sure? I mean, have you? Uh? Had sex before?"

"I-uh-well, no. But-"

"Baby we can't do it here. You don't deserve to have your first time on a car. You deserve to be worshipped."

Jenson's words make me blush and my heart was flattering as if I was a fifteen years old again, simply watching him race and get multiple podiums.

He looks around and opens the door of his house and then quickly rushes with me inside and shuts it with such force, my legs started trembling.

Suddenly, he picks me up and carries me all the way to his bedroom. A dark room filled with some of his most iconic trophies and with his smell that has been covering my entire body since the moment I entered his car.

He turns on the soft baby lights on the bedrest and takes a look at my flushed self, covered with hickies he's gifted me. His eyes scan me from head to toe as if he's about to feast.

"I want you to tell me to stop whenever you feel uncomfortable in any way." He kisses me softly and I nod my head, knowing that he would never hurt anyone.

Jenson stands up and with his strong arms parts my legs so he can have a clear vision of my already swollen womanhood. My breast are half showing from inside my bra and my lips are bitten to the core. I am a mess but he seems to like it.

He removes his shirt in quick motions revealing his god like crafted body with the hints of dark ink covering his lower v and shoulder. I had never seen them before and I am was very pleased with what was in front of my eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to strip off his trousers and be left with simply his boxers that were trying to hold in his hardened cock and my patience as well. They were giving me a preview of what was about to happen.

As Jenson lowered his body his hands were hoisting down his boxers, revealing himself and it wasn't just my mouth that was drooling but also my pussy.

His hands now were on the insides of my thighs, holding them fiercely, whilst mine were hanging around his neck. I felt like my heart was about t burst out of my chest.

"Are you ready baby?"

I was at loss for words so I gave him a final kiss for reassurance that he could continue.

In slow motions, he lowered even more and started inserting himself inside me, pumping slowly as I was trying to get used to his size. My cries were out of control as Jenson was deepening himself and my pussy was stretched to its limits.

"Jesus, you're clenching me so well darling" he breathed out and I tried to open my legs wider for his pleasure. Jenson was panting on the hem of my neck and upping the pace of his thrusts.

"Dear lord this feels so good" It feels better than good. As if I am in the seventh heaven. I don't think any man will ever make me experience this. And I don't think I want to either.

"Say that again" he demands with a harder thrust, hitting my G-spot, earning the biggest moan of the night, echoing at the entire house.

"You make me feel so damn good Jenson" I gulp hard as I try to catch my breath and scratch his back from the pain that this gives me.

"And I shall be the only one darling" he hoists me up and removes my bra with a single movement, freeing my breasts and enjoying the sight, as they are bouncing up and down along with the trusts.

"Only you Jenson" I scream his name as loud as I can and his chest fills with pride as I am reaching my height.

"Cum sweetheart. Let go" I can't hold it in much longer and I cum all over his cock. He doesn't remove himself from inside me and I don't want to. This felt so right even though for some it's very wrong.

"That was, perfect" I say in a whispering manner as I am unable to speak louder. I am so wasted but full of thrill.

"You deserve it. You deserve to be treated like that dear"

#jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #fanfic writing #f1 drivers

[alastrrz]

qksnksdjjsks your yumi and tanner meeting the reader was so cute i eated it up !!! (specifically yumi bc i am a yumi girl in a isaac/nick world)

can you do an imagine where the reader is invited to stay at the house with them and the boy makes a move? perhaps SLOWBURN??? they both want each other but are really nervous? perhaps… a pinky hold? cliche yawn and arm around the shoulder? perhaps…. A CONFESSION?!?!

it can be with yumi or tanner… or both!!! OR THE WHOLE TGC!!! but that’s a lot of work. you can do whatever you want!

p.s., ur holding up the tgc x reader tag SINGLEHANDEDLY!!! you make amazing work!!! <3

- ur #1 fan

i actually wrote something like this a while back based around yumi!! i pulled it up from google docs :))

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 just kiss already ; blake

　 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; tooth rotting fluff

type; imagine

read below!

You'd been friends with The Group Chat boys for a while, so they'd decided to invite you over to their place. Nick had a few ideas for some new vlogs, while the rest of them just finally wanted to meet you in person!

After a good few hours that seemed like forever, your flight finally landed in Austin. Larry and Yumi were there to pick you up! Larry got out the car, waving you down like a NPC. "Y/n! Over here!" You sighed, laughing a bit as you sighed. This would be an interesting weekend. "I'm coming!" You yelled over, dragging your luggage behind you. Larry picked up your luggage and shoved it in the trunk of Yumi's car. "Let's go! Let's go, let's go!" Larry spoke loudly as you got in the backseat.

Yumi shook his head, looking aggravated as usual. "God, could you not, I have a headache. Also, hi, Y/n." Yumi spoke a bit quieter than Larry. "Hi, Blake." You smiled politely, pulling out your phone to distract yourself on the way to their place.

The car ride was relatively quiet, not an awkward quiet, more like a comforting one. Larry surprisingly didn't say much, you assumed it'd get more chaotic once you got to the house. After about twenty minutes, you pulled up to the official group chat house. "We're here! Y/n, get your shit and lets go!" Larry rapidly opened the car door and ran inside.

Yumi groaned, "... What a little shit." He got out the car after he turned it off, opening the trunk and grabbing your suitcase. "I got it, don't worry." He gave you a soft smile, which you honestly.. didn't expect from Yumi. You nodded, "Thank you!" ... Was his face red? No, there's no way. You're going crazy.

You walked into their house, and it was actually relatively clean. That's new, considering the pictures and videos you've seen. "Wow, for a guy house, it's pretty clean." You hadn't seen Isaac standing in the hallway, "Well, hello to you too!" You jumped, "Jesus Christ! Hi Isaac!" He smiled, coming towards you, then embracing you in a hug. "It's so good to finally meet you! Like, in person." You nodded, "Yeah! It's super good to be here!" He patted your head, "Flight wasn't too bad, was it?" You shook your head, "Not at all! Just felt like forever." Yumi put your bag down by his room's door, which.. was a bit weird. You just brushed it off as a nice gesture, maybe they didn't have a guest room.

Yumi looked a bit peeved for some reason, so you'd just decided to leave him alone for now. "So, where's Nick?" Isaac nodded, "Oh, he's out at the store grabbing some things, I'm supposed to go meet him.. uhh.. Now, actually. So I do have to go! Obviously we have all weekend to hang out, so.. Larry! You're coming with!" He groaned, "WHAT?! Make Blake go! I don't wanna!" Isaac looked over at Yumi, who still looked a bit annoyed. "... Nah, you're coming with me. Go get in the car." Larry groaned, "Fiiiiine."

Soon enough, Isaac and Larry were out the door and gone. Yumi sat on the couch with a bag of chips, "So, you and Isaac got a bit close, huh?" You turned to him, deciding to sit by him. Not too close, but.. closer than you probably should've. "What, the hug? I mean, I didn't make anything more out of it than just a friendly hug." Yumi nodded, "Mm. Any shows you like? We can watch something while they fuck around at the store." You shrugged, "Dunno. I don't really watch TV anymore. I'm too busy." He nodded, understanding the struggle, since he was busy working on his new album as of recently. "Uhh.. We can just put on Stranger Things or something. I don't know shit about TV anymore either." You gave a soft chuckle at that, and you could've sworn you saw his face go red again.

You nodded, "Sure! I've heard good things about it," You paused, stretching out your legs a bit, "How's your new album coming? I know you're supposed to release it soon." You could've sworn you saw his eyes light up, "Oh! Uh, yeah. It's supposed to release tomorrow, actually." You nodded, "Oh! Sick, I didn't know it was so soon." He laughed a little, "Well, if you'd look at my Twitter, you would know." He teased. "Oh, whatever! How many songs are on it? Can I get some special Yumi insight?" He shrugged, "Huh.. I mean, why not? There's 8 songs on it." You leaned back, putting your hand on the side of you. "Ooh, okay. I can't wait."

Yumi looked towards you as Isaac and Nick walked through the door. "Oh! I thought you guys would take longer! Also, hi Nick!" Nick smiled, but squinted at Yumi. "... Hey, Y/n! Blake hasn't been too much of a," He coughed, "Flirt, has he?" The word 'flirt' was barely intelligible. "Sorry?" Yumi turned a bright red, causing him to whip his head away from you so you didn't see. Nick waved his hand at you, "Sorry, allergies. He hasn't been too much of an asshole, has he?" You shook your head, "Not at all! He's been pretty nice, actually!" Nick smirked, "I wonder why."

After the other boys had retreated to their rooms, Yumi scooted closer to you. You'd thought nothing of it, you didn't want to make it weird. "So, where am I sleeping? I'm fine with sleeping on the couch if there's no guest room." Yumi shrugged, "Uhm.. Hm. I mean, I have an air mattress in my bedroom you could bring out here and use." He suggested, looking towards you as he rested his arm on the back of the couch. His arm was almost wrapped around you; you couldn't help but feel like a lovesick teenager. "Y— Uh, Yeah! I'm fine with that." You wished you could just stay in his room with the air mattress. No, there's no way. You don't like Yumi. Yumi, the lovable asshole who yells, the silly guy who lets his friends give him botched haircuts, the really, really attractive guy that— oh no.

Yumi noticed your face go red, "Are you hot or something? I can turn down the AC—" Isaac popped out of his bedroom, sneaking up behind the couch. "Oh my God, KISS ALREADY!" You both whipped your heads around to see Isaac's tall frame looming over both of you. "OH MY GOD ISAAC!" Yumi yelled, swatting him away from the couch, which made him retreat back to his room with his hands up in defense.

"... What's up with him?" You looked Yumi in the eyes. His face was as red as a cherry. Did he like you as well? Are you actually not crazy? Oh my God. Yumi sighed, "Look, he's teasing because he knows something, uh," He paused, taking a deep breath. "I do like you, Y/n. Like, a stupid amount. I feel like a stupid teenager with a high school crush, but it's so much more than that," You paused him by putting your hand on his shoulder.

"Blake. I like you too."

#alex's writing #anon.txt #tgc x reader #tgc #tgc x you #tgc x y/n #the group chat x y/n #the group chat #the group chat x you #the group chat x reader #yumi #yumi x you #yumi x y/n #yumi x reader #yumimain x you #yumimain #yumimain x y/n #yumimain x reader

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 02/11/2024

Nerdie! It's the middle of the month, how are you?

Good. Nothing to complain about. Mainly relaxed and then worked Thursday and Friday. My orientee made me laugh.

Oh? How so?

She said that now that she's had some different preceptors she enjoys my balances of being a bit hands off since I know she's experienced, but still checking in during the shift to see how things are going. (Puffs out chest and also wonders if that's a good or bad thing.)

I mean, if she said it's fine, it should be fine right? Now did you do anything writing this week?

I did a bit. Not as much as I normally do. I'm gearing up for projects I have either agreed to or planned for myself.

My two fics are quite different. One was silly and sweet and the other was filth. Nerdie in a nutshell really:

Is it for the wallet of the shoebox? (Tim Rockford x plus size female reader) Tim being silly in a bookstore leads to a serious conversation and a partial photoshoot at home. Comedy and domestic fluff with slight spice.

One Pass for the both of Us (Lucian Flores x female reader x Benny Miller) You and your boyfriend Lucian have the same hall pass. All smut with sweatpants and gold chains.

Working on two things I promised people. One requested fluff and the other action and smut.

I decided to start a new series (because clearly I don't have enough - Dieter, Frankie and Tim give Nerdie a death glare) 👀 because this Pedro character was in my WIPs way before the three of you! Might even help me brainstorm…

Two Hearts by the Ocean will feature Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC). The vibe is sweet summer romance. Mainly fluff every Wednesday, not sure how many parts, at least five. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for it. I have a few people in mind but if you'd like to be added, let me know. 😆

Roc & Doc and Weddings 101 with Dieter are still ongoing, no worries. Tim and Dieter have calmed. Frankie is a bit pissed still but you have the longest masterlist Fish! You don’t care…well. Okay. 🫡

I might be trying to figure out how to write Ezra. I love reading fics with the man, but his speech patterns have so many nuances to it. I've been studying @morallyinept aka Jett's Pedro Pascal Character Database that she's been compiling and her entry on Ezra from Prospect has been invaluable. It's an excellent reference for Pedro character fic writers or if you just wanna know more. She also has one specifically on Ezra’s speech patterns that I swear I’ve read at least four times.

It's me, I'm the problem. 😭 I’m either overthinking or not focusing on the right parts. Ugh…

Fics I read this week: ( I took time off work and had plenty of time to read - still didn't get to everything. 🥸)

Movie Night by @munsonownsmyass (Zach Ellison x reader)

No game at all (but I can do this) by @for-a-longlongtime (Marcus Pike x Tim Rockford - Frankie Morales floating in thots)

Wouldn't It Be Nice - Chapter one by @lady-pug (Agent Whiskey x female reader)

02 x birds - Frankie Morales x reader by @trulybetty

Mon Amour by @saturn-rings-writes (Jake Lockley x black female reader)

The Stars by @youvebeenlivingfictional (Poe Dameron x reader)

Mutual by @morallyinept (Ezra x female reader)

Dinner Party by @lavendertales (Steven Grant x fem reader)

The Mercenary and the Whore by @absurdthirst and @storiesofthefandomlovers

Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3) by @soft-girl-musings (Steven Grant x GN reader)

03 x snowfall - Marcus Pike x reader by @trulybetty

Ambrosial by @spacecowboyhotch (Din Djarin x fem. black reader)

Half of you - part 1 and part 2 by @foxilayde (Santiago Garcia x female reader)

God Speed by @magpiepills (Tim Rockford x female reader)

Not for nothing @magpiepills (Ezra x female reader)

Perfect Fit by @lowlights (Frankie Morales x plus size reader)

To the Flame - chapter 5 by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x female reader)

Come back to me by @reallyrallyauthor (Poe Dameron x female reader)

If you’re not looking at @immarocketman ‘s art, then I feel sad for you. It’s beautiful 🤗 They put out a sketch of Din/Cobb this week that’s apparently going to have a fanfic written about it by @theywhowriteandknowthings

There was also an excellent head cannon about Sarah’s younger years by @clickergossip that resonated with me on Black girlhood. ☺️

That's about it until next week! 🥰

Stay hydrated and safe!

Love Nerdie 💜

#weekend update #Nerdie update #Nerdie's fic recs #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #frankie morales #ezra prospect #Tim Rockford #Marcus Pike #Santiago garcia #Steven Grant #jake lockley #javier peña #javier gutierrez #poe dameron #zach wellison #Agent Whiskey

[myheartalivewrites]

Weekend WIP Game

Thanks for tagging my @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius and @daisymae-12!

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

1. WIP List: I'm definitely a one-at-a-time sort of person. I hate having unfinished WIPs hanging about, it stresses me out. That said, I've got three docs with a substantial number of words in them:

[Dark and Stormy]

[Provence] (more here)

Oxford Nights

AND there's one more WIP I've finished working on and am hoping to start posting tomorrow (ahem ahem ahem) which is not on that list but I’m counting anyway

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

[Provence] at nearly 14k

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Probs that one, I don’t think I’m even halfway through with it! It’s not going to be long-long though

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Oh God, I don't know. I've not worked on [Dark and Stormy] for a while, that's the one I'm most looking forward to getting back to

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

Lol, right now [Dark and Stormy] is intimidating bc I want to change the whole beginning of it. That's why I've been putting it off for oh... nine months 😬

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

The one that's gonna start posting tomorrow? Mainly bc I'm worried it's too much like a devil's threesome, even though no women are involved lol

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

Again, tomorrow's one, which is called Twice the speed (of you and me) by the way! I've asked a couple of people to read it through for me.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Sometimes, yeah. Mainly when I try and work stuff into the plot that I'm not that interested in or that requires a lot of world building. I've started following the Matthew Lopez philosophy about it: if it's not about Alex and Henry, it has to go. It's certainly what happened with Deep Blue, and that's how I got myself out of being blocked, by limiting anything that wasn't specifically about them.

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Oh, [Provence] has a character in it who I really love, she's an old friend of Arthur's, an actress in her sixties all glamour and graceful ageing, who loves Henry like a parent. Though, weirdly, she's what's got me a bit stuck on it, because I have all these ideas for what I want from her but can't quite bring myself to do the world building that comes along with that 😂

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Hah, lol. The threesome. Is the fandom ready for it? We'll see.

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Dunno, actually. Maybe [Provence], just because Alex is having his bisexual awakening and feeling all jealous at Henry's sluttiness. It's not ACTUALLY angsty though.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Yikes, what a question! All of them, my characterisation is perfect, no notes etc.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Oooh I love the [Provence] one. It's all lush, some super rich people's home, but with a touch of south of France rustic to it.

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

🤷‍♀️ don't think I have an answer for this one

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Again, just... 🤷‍♀️ I always wonder about the really smutty ones, I fret over them the most and then they turn out to be really popular so...

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Not really, though they do keep me awake at night. I woke up this morning at like five and just HAD to check on the beta feedback.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

Nah, not really. I mean, threesome mechanics? That's new, I suppose

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

God, no, not this question. I have zero confidence on my ability to make things funny. Like, I know there are funny bits in there, but... Oxford Nights has funny bits with Alex and Henry trying shit out I guess.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Nah

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

Okay, so: in one of them Henry owns a cow named MARY 😁

Tagging a meagre 4 peeps for my 4 WIPs ✌️ : @14carrotghoul @suseagull04 @happiness-of-the-pursuit and @whimsymanaged to overshare on the dash, thanks!

#wips #tag games #my writing #about me #wip #wip weekend

[shares-a-vest]

I feel an obligation to say steddie bb but I read steddie + sportsball and I’m weak SO, April Writing for WIP weekend? 🥰

Thank you for the ask 💖

Also not me completely forgetting you are one of the BB mods 🤦‍♂️ *side eyes my BB doc as I continue to ping-pong between a bunch of random wips tonight!

Some more Steddie Sportsball coming up! Here's the first snippet.

Also also: my deepest apologies to you Lex, Patron Saint of Steddie Sportsball Fics as I bumble my way through not writing specifics about Amercian Sports. But hey, at least I can make that Eddie's thing™ right???

Eddie sighs and looks at his watch. This game is only in its… Something innings and the Blue Team aka, Steve’s Team are gonna lose. Sitting here for god knows how much longer feels pointless. Especially considering there is fuck-all else to do in this big dumb house of his boyfriends. And the limited interest Eddie did have in this game is all gone now that the one hot guy on this team aka, Moustache Man, a very tall brown-haired guy with a thick moustache and arms to die for, got run out mere seconds ago… Or something. Whatever it was, he sculked off the diamond pitch, handsome face hung in shame, not be be seen again for the rest of the afternoon.

Help me work on my mountain of wips

#lily answers #writing wip #thefreakandthehair

[according2thelore]

and ES!Dean's says, "who's this asshole? oh shit. is he blind? my bad." <- MADE ME CACKLE. I love those introductions SO MUCH oh my god!!! you are so smart. your brain must weigh you down so much, how you walk anywhere is a mystery to meee

I love this AU so much. I love it! LS!Sam very rarely getting upset with ES!Dean and it turning him on is craazy i love it. ES!Sam and LS!Dean are such brooders together too, god. i like to imagine that the LS brothers immediately forgot that anyone else exists when the younger ones appear, which leads to cas popping in. and es!sam absolutely ADORING cas after he's hated so much of their lives is definitely what leads to ls!dean banning all their friends from the bunker til this is over, lol

omg thank you, anon! <3

my brain does in fact weigh me down. it's a curse. (and by weigh me down, i mean i'm always writing lines of dialogue on post-its and in my notes app and in random docs never to be seen again). charlotte and i were sitting together on our couch once and she looked over at my scribbling frantically on my ipad and said, "tell me you are not hand-writing fic rn." dear reader, you'll never guess what i was fucking doing.

all jokes aside! THANK YOU?? omg?? that's so incredibly kind! my brain is regular-sized, i promise you!

lol i think ES!Dean would of course be very pissy over sam having a new friend, but a lot of his anger and fury in the first few seasons is very internalized. you can smell the self-loathing and terror rolling off dean in the pilot because he's wriggling in excitement that sam is back and trying not to ruin it.

but "so-there-was-a-girl" and "you-weren't-there-when-i-went-to-bed-last-night" LS!Dean? uh-uh. that's his little GUY! his little SAMMY!

and mr.-prays-every-night ES!Sam is too thrilled to meet a live and in person angel that he cannot let it go. especially a castiel that knows sam is good and is kind to him (as opposed to early seasons castiel).

LS!Dean for sure declares a blockade of people coming in.

hunters need help? that's too damn bad, here's garth's phone number. castiel needs sam to look something up? call him. friend needs somewhere to sleep for a weekend? here's $500, get yourself a hotel room.

thank you for this ask anon! mwah! <3

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #anon <3

[merionettes]

rubicon ask!!

first off I'm so so delighted that I picked up FE3H last summer and that it led me to finding your writing & especially this fic. what an amazing experience, what a treat with every update, I have all these fun memories now of places I was when I got the update email (and screamed internally every time). a little collection of sense memories colored in.

as for the actual question: very curious about your process. did you have an outline going in? I have to imagine yes (or else you're braver than black friday shoppers). how did you go about structuring this, ie did you have a series of Moments in your head that you wrote around and connected, or did you try to build scenes to fit the arcs you had in mind, or a mix of the two? anything and everything you want to share, I'm 🤲

you're killing me!!! man, thanks so much, seriously. 

as for the actual question, indeed. hahaha. ha. i delayed answering this for so long because it kept devolving into an essay about the emotional experience of writing a novel for the first time. well i give up. this is now two posts. one is the actual answer to your question, only ten times longer than it needs to be. the other is an essay about the emotional experience of writing a novel for the first time. so… caveat lector. 

first part under the cut. ← not kidding about the caveat!!!!!!

i've talked a little about the process before, so i'll piggyback on that post and dig a little more into the differences between the original idea and the finished product, including spoilers i couldn't get into when i'd only posted 55k. ("only." god.)

technically this did start with an outline. technically because at the time i was brand-new to fe3h and hadn't written anything but a few friend-ficlets in about 8 years. thought "skating au!!", spent a fevered weekend outlining all the major scenes, started in on the writing, and…. very quickly realized that i was nowhere near competent enough to actually. write it. "intensely frustrating" does not even scratch the surface, lmao, of what it felt like to have this thing in my head and only be able to produce what felt like the worst clumsiest tritest version of it. very apropos for skating, actually. 

looking back on that outline, it had almost nothing to do with the finished product, especially on felix's side. it didn't have the nationals flounce, the timeskip, training in vancouver, the lake, the nhk trophy sports anime climax, the backstory reveal meltdown. (it did have the redemptive healing free skate.) what, critically, it did have was sylvain's personal arc—burned out, desperate to quit, wants to go to college. it ended at exactly the same place as the actual story, with sylvain and dorothea's final skate together. the last line was one of the earliest things i wrote. 

in other words, even though almost everything between the first and last scene changed WILDLY in the process of writing, i always knew exactly what i was working towards and that was invaluable. 

insert two year timeskip here! during which i would occasionally reopen the skating doc, take a stab at another scene, feel this ominous sense of foreboding, and give up lol. you can thank the 2022 winter olympics for making me get serious, specifically 1) yuzuru hanyu going out in a blaze of bittersweet doomed quad axel glory 2) shoma uno losing to some eighteen year old. i believe my exact words were (consults notes) "anyway time to go back to my fic where i control the narrative and i decide who wins." idk what made this attempt different than any of the others—right time, right inspiration, right circumstances—but this time it caught fire. in uh. in a big way. 

so that's when i wrote what i refer to in that post as a skeleton draft and what i've since come to think of as a storyboard on steroids. this is when felix's arc really took shape, beyond "he is sad… he is mad… he is perfectly positioned to see right through sylvain." the fallout from nationals crystallizing, in particular, was one of the things that snapped felix into place and helped determine the tone and focus of the story overall. (that initial outline had much more of a romcom/classic fwb-to-lovers feel.)

the other thing that did this, of course, was sylvain's narrative voice. when i committed to "burnout who is controlling every single word of every thought to avoid admitting that he is burned out" was when this story became what it is. the voice dictated every single scene, the tone, the shape, what was revealed, what was implied, what was never making it on the page. it led me places i didn't anticipate. it made the cuts for me! cute scene you've got in that outline lol sylvain would never. 

i see past me in that post dancing around the length, lmao. well the ""storyboard"", the skeleton, whatever you want to call it, was over 100k. and yet even then, EVEN WITH 100K ON PAPER, there was still so much i had no fucking clue was coming! felix pushing sylvain on what he wants was there, but sylvain never explained what happened. my oc jm gautier (thanks for nothing, three hopes!!!) was an ominous presence, but he wasn't the final boss. there was no memory of the first time sylvain and dorothea met. (<- insane.) there was no glenn skate. i had to write to discover all of that.

so like—i cannot emphasize how much i grew as a writer through the experience of writing this story. prose, structure, character arcs, thematic arcs. i was harder on myself than i've ever been. and if i hadn't had that end goal in sight i don't know if i would have made it through all those iterations—storyboarding, drafting, rewriting, editing. wanting to deliver that moment powered me through any amount of frustration/exhaustion/bewilderment.

wow this post sounds almost normal. nothing about this experience was normal. which is why you're getting a part 2.

#sorry op for hijacking your ask for my own personal catharsis #extremely long post #rubicon #writing #ask

[indestructibleheart]

PEZ AS THE DOCTOR?! Oh my god. Tell me more.

YES! I don't know if you've watched the most recent DW specials with Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor, but... [River Song voice] Spoilers! He's Pez. I mean, he's not, but the Pez energy is off the goddamn charts.

I was sitting there watching the Christmas special and thinking, "Fuck, Pez would make an awesome Doctor." Then, "Fuck, Thirteen did a NYE thing instead of a Christmas special. I could do a NYE special." Next thing you know, I have a Google Doc and words.

It was supposed to be a short little oneshot. Yet, it's already 5.8k and we've barely met Pez. 🤦‍♀️ The story is based around a time loop that Alex, Henry, June, Nora, and Bea don't even know that they're in... until Alex and Henry deviate from their typical pattern, meet Pez, and they'll discover the cause of the time loop together. I don't wanna give too much away there, but it'll also set up for additional adventures with Pez in the future—as DW Festive Specials do.

This is my favorite snippet thus far:

While Alex's brain buffers, Henry ignores the question. "What the bloody hell was that?"  Alex's hand, still on the small of his back, moves in a small circle, and Henry's shoulders loosen marginally.  "Sonic Screwdriver," Fashionable Mystery Man replies, tucking the wand into his inside coat pocket. Alex blinks. "Angry tamale." He sees Henry turn his head, baffled, out of the corner of his eye. The other guy looks confused, too, but he still flashes Alex a white-toothed smile. "What?"  "What?" Alex folds his arms over his chest and injects as much sarcasm as he can muster into his voice. "I'm saying random fucking words like they make sense together. Is that… not what we're doing?"

I first talked about it here, and shared more of it this past Sunday.

I'm hoping to finish it this weekend, but I also said that last weekend and ended up writing almost 4k without getting even halfway done lmfao. So, we'll see. I will absolutely post it this month, though.

The fic also features the 'Get Low' moment from the book, in a way, and I have a playlist for the songs played by the D.J. in all the loops (even though you don't see most of them lol).

#ask:meme #m:wip

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 20 / 31 * REAR-VIEW MIRROR 」

June 12, 2025

23:11

❝Are you sure you can't spend the night, kids?❞ Marty asks as Ellie breaks the long hug with her father. ❝We've got the spare rooms and it'd mean a lot to your mother and I.❞

❝I'm sorry, Dad,❞ Ellie starts, and to her credit, she does look genuinely upset. ❝But Dan and I are travelling in the morning since this is my last open vacation for a while and—❞

❝And I've got to be in by five,❞ Emmett says, ❝to make sure these bojos don't screw something up. We open Saturday.❞

Marty sighs and moves to give his son a hug, patting him twice on the back. ❝I know, I know. You're adults now with your own lives. I just miss you.❞

Ellie pouts. ❝It's not like you never see us, Dad. You can call on the vidphone anytime you want.❞

❝No, no, I get it,❞ Marty says, a hint of a smirk ticking up the corner of his lips, ❝it's not cool to be hanging out with your parents anymore.❞ Before either of the kids can protest, Marty laughs. ❝Have a safe trip, Ellie.❞

❝El, Dad, El. Ellie's such a kid name.❞

❝And you're still my kid.❞ She groans dramatically and drops the point there, knowing there's no arguing with her father on this.

❝Break a leg this weekend, Emmett.❞ Marty nods at his son who smiles.

Both kids shuffle towards the door in an awkward line, reaching over each other to grab bags and sweaters. ❝And would you actually use the gift we got you?❞

Marty glances over his shoulder to the small box and envelope on the living room table and puts a hand on his hip.

❝Hey, I'm only fifty-seven! And I still look good for my age.❞ Apart from the soft age lines typical of a man in his late fifties and his greying hair, Marty still manages to carry a youthful energy tempered some by wisdom and experience. ❝I don't need to start thinking about that yet. Ask me again when I'm sixty-five.❞

Ellie makes a disapproving sound as her brother shoves her out the door and as the door slams shut behind them, leaving behind a deafening silence, Marty lets out a breath and shakes his head. He makes his way over to the couch and plops down, reaching for the piece of paper on top of the old-school birthday card.

A voucher for your first rejuvenation.

❝Really, those kids. What, do they think I'm gonna die tomorrow or something?❞

Before he can finish his thought, there's an urgent knock on the door in a sharp staccato rhythm that causes him to purse his lips. That sounds familiar, Marty thinks, but neither of the kids knock like that when they come over.

❝I'm coming!❞ he shouts, dropping the voucher back on the table without a care as to where it lands. He makes it halfway toward the door when the person on the other end knocks again in the same precise rhythm, causing Marty to grumble under his breath.

Whatever he had prepared to say when the door swung open immediately dies in his throat when the perpetrator's identity is revealed. Marty's eyes are blown wide, so much so they're in danger of falling out of his head. His breath catches in his throat and he would swear that, in that moment, he looks more like a fish gasping for air than a person.

❝Doc,❞ he breathes out when he finally remembers how to, and when the rest of his senses return, Marty barrels into his friend, capturing him in a tight hug which, after a second, he returns with the same warm affection Marty has always associated with him.

❝Doc, it's been—❞

Emmett immediately shakes his head, removing a hand from around Marty to hold it up, palm out. Stop. ❝Don't tell me, Marty. I don't know yet and I don't want to know.❞

Marty nods. ❝Right, yeah, future knowledge. But God, Doc, I missed you so much. What are you doing here? Why now? What's going on?❞ Before an endless stream of questions can spill from Marty's mouth, Emmett silences him again.

❝I have the answer to all your questions right here.❞ Emmett lets go to dig through the inner pocket of his overcoat. He produces a small rectangular gift bound in silver paper and hands it over to a very confused looking Marty.

❝Happy birthday, Marty,❞ he says, pushing the gift into his hands. ❝I've kept this secret from you for almost...forty years and now that it's completed, I figured this was as good a time as any to give it to you.❞

❝You came f—all these years into the future just to give me this? What is it?❞

❝I suppose the act of giving wrapped gifts must be obsolete by now if you're asking me what to do with a gift,❞ Emmett says, smirking. Marty gives him a look that very clearly says, you know that's not what I meant, Doc, but flips the gift over in his hands anyway.

Printed in what is unmistakably Emmett's handwriting is 'Do not open until June 12, 2025,' and Marty snorts at the familiar irony of it all.

Questions are clearly written in the lines of Marty's face and before he can even ask them, Emmett says, ❝Forty years is a long time for you to have seen results on this; you may not even remember insisting I do it, but I took your request to heart.❞

Marty's fingers curl around the edges of the gift. ❝Tell me you're at least going to stay for a little while, Doc. Come in, I'll grab Jen a-and—❞

To Marty's dismay, Emmett shakes his head. ❝I'm afraid I can't stay much longer; this was only intended to be a short stop, but I'm so glad to see you, Marty. You look well and I always knew that your future was going to be bright.❞

❝But Doc, there's so much I want to tell you. Jen and I, the kids—❞

❝Yes, I saw young—well, I suppose they're not young anymore; they've grown into fine adults.❞

❝What about Jules and Verne? And Clara? Are you going to see them while you're here?❞

Again, Emmett shakes his head. ❝No, that wouldn't be wise. Besides, I—❞ A high-pitched alarm screeches from Emmett's watch and he jumps, abandoning his train of thought as his eyes widen. ❝Damn! I'm late!❞

Marty blinks. ❝I'm sorry, Marty, I have to get going.❞ Emmett quickly pulls him into a crushing hug and Marty takes a moment to bury his face in his old friend's shoulder while he still can. ❝I think you'll find you have your hands full for a while with your gift. At the risk of repeating my past self, I'll leave you with these parting words: I'm proud of you.❞

Emmett pats his arms once before hurrying off. Marty stands there, dumbstruck, watching as his old friend climbs into a '76 Chevy Aerovette that he knows is the DeLorean in perfect disguise.

He stands there for some time even after the car and Emmett are well out of sight, gone back to whatever point in time he departed from to get here. Marty hugs the gift to his chest and quietly shuts the door, walking in a half-daze to the couch.

The clock reads 00:09 and Marty tears the paper off his gift.

It looks like a journal, but as Marty inspects it closer, he notices that the edges are worn from years of touch, there's a faint coffee stain on one of the corners, and the journal is at least double the size it started, torn apart and re-bound in a way that looks like it's ready to fall apart at any moment.

A piece of paper falls out from behind the cover, landing on Marty's lap.

First, let me tell you in writing, Happy Birthday, Marty. I expect I will have told you in-person as I delivered your gift, but one can never be wished well enough on their birthday.

By the time this gift finds you, I will have passed. If you ask why I chose to wait until this particular date of June 12, 2025 to present it to you, I'm afraid all I can say is that it felt right. As I do not know the precise date of my passing and have no intention of learning this information prematurely, I can only hope that enough time has elapsed where my delivering this to you will not open too fresh a wound.

But that is not the focus of this letter, nor do I intend to make it such.

You have always believed in me, Marty, even when nobody else has, and the enthusiasm with which you begged me to write this could not go ignored. So this is what I have been working on for the last several years with the knowledge that it would one day find its way to you.

You have been the greatest friend I could have asked for, and I hope that you will remember me fondly, even after some of the things you read here. This first-hand account of my life is yours to do with as you please, and I have been as detailed as circumstances will allow me to be. You will find no instructions for how to re-create the time machines within, though I do mention their existence in order to accurately recount our travels together.

I am proud to have called you my friend and just know I have treasured all of our years together.

'Doc' Emmett L. Brown

Marty blinks furiously against the tears welling up in his eyes. ❝God, Doc, you never change... I didn't think you'd actually do it.❞ The book weighs a ton in his hand and makes his chest weigh just as much.

The weight of his best friend's life story...

The journal's spine cracks as he opens it and there, in black ink, is something that threatens more tears.

For Marty, My partner across space-time. For Clara, Jules, and Verne, Who have made me the luckiest man to have ever lived.

He flips to the first page.

Every story follows a pattern. You start at the beginning, proceed through the middle, and then eventually reach the finale, in which everything wraps up, for better or for worse. A life story is no different, though the steps taken to reach said finale vary wildly between each individual.

So, as stories go, it is only fitting this one starts at the beginning.

❝Jen! Jen, you've gotta come down here! I just got a birthday present from the Doc!❞

#doctober 2023 #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」 #so if you've read my carrd you'll know that i've presented doc's backstory in the form of an autobiography #which marty has insisted he write and more so after the temporal experiment's resounding success because #as he put it - every great scientist has an autobiography and marty is determined that #doc get the respect and recognition that he deserved #so doc agreed with the caveat that he would deliver it to marty on a future birthday likely after he'd already passed #doc is going to live to 100 years old easy with the rejuvenation and such but #he won't live forever. remember that he's technically *seventy-five* (four? eh depends on timeframe) when he returns from being in the past #since 9-10 years have passed for him despite no time passing for marty. he also doesn't want to live forever #and i've chosen to interpret rear-view mirror in the sense of looking back on the past #now through the book doc has gifted to him

[heylabodega]

a week

I wanted to write this sequel (lolol) last weekend, but so busy was it, and so busy this next week that here we are. I've been working, working so much, working on this project that has had me in tears. Twice from being overwhelmed with the project and at least three times from the other people in my firm being so supportive about it -- in combination with my tiredness from having been working on it and thinking about it for weeks.

I've been miserable but GOD I've been happy. GOD to jog to coaching, to lead the coaching session because the lead is out and someone has to do it, to run with my runners, to run home with my fast songs in my ears thinking, 'I am so strong and smart and bright and busy.' To go to trivia with two unsentimental friends, but to really and truly feel that we are all SO happy to be there, all understand the strange inextricable *ping* in the brain that comes from surfacing a fact that we forgot was there. To explain to a friend that I'm having an existential crisis and have him fully engage with that in its most fundamental meaning.

To RUN to move to go to the gym and lift weights, press weights, pull weights. To text my sister who is getting her personal training certification and tell my progress, to send her videos of my lunges for form critique. To feel my body strong and supportive around me.

To go DANCING, to spend days and nights with a group of friends wandering the streets of Brooklyn, to book vacations and trips and cabins.

To WORK and work and WORK to type and type to try to pull thoughts out of thin air into solid things on a google doc like MAGIC to have other people you respect and like read them and say, "this is excellent," to recognize the magic trick, to not know an answer and know people smart enough that you want to hear their answer.

The thing is, the thing you have to understand is, I've had bad jobs, I have had BAD jobs. Both in the service industry, in the poor people genre, jobs no one else I know would ever take and they would be right not to, and in the "knowledge industry" email click click jobs that made me want to die or paid me $50k to spend 25 hours a week thinking I was about to be fired. I won't elaborate but I'm comfortable with my bad-job-having credibility, and more importantly with my i-think-i-might-have-bad-jobs-forever credibility. All of which to say: this is a good job. For all I complain, for all this week genuinely drained me, if me this week talked to me in February 2021, me in February 2021 would be like you joked with your coworkers and bosses about things both trivial and deep? You and your coworkers went out for drinks and they made you cry laughing? You look forward to logging on? You feel smart and valuable in Zooms? When you express complicated thoughts about the structural nature of these problems your coworkers understand and appreciate them? IT'S PART OF YOUR JOB TO HAVE COMPLICATED THOUGHTS ABOUT THE STRUCTURAL NATURE OF THESE PROBLEMS?

Anyways I feel so smart and strong and funny and lucky and as a bonus I've been so pretty the past couple of weeks, which has to be from happiness because the only other alternative is that the $3 undereye masks I bought made a material difference in my beauty and charisma, and that seems impossible

[waywardrose-archive]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 13

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: More music description in this chapter (with some 🍆 thrown in at the end)! Whee! 😜

They paused their conversation as Gareth hurtled down the stairs to Jeff’s basement. At the top, Jeff’s mother closed the door after him. He whipped a folded sheet of copy paper from his back pocket and popped it open.

“Guys, check out this shit,” he said, and slapped the paper on the coffee table next to the open bag of potato chips.

Eddie leaned in from his gargoyled position in the corner armchair while Jeff and Dougie bent to read the paper from the couch.

BATTLE OF THE BANDS headed the flyer. An angled Flying V guitar silhouette underlined it.

Dougie said, “We’ve done that before.”

“Before I joined,” said Gareth.

“In Gary,” Jeff said as he reclined. “That was an expensive weekend, and—” He threw a hand up. “We lost.”

Eddie continued reading. The competition was set for mid-April in Indianapolis. Rock and metal bands preferred. At least two band members had to be eighteen or older. That was no issue, since he was nineteen and Jeff turned eighteen next month. Grand prize was $3000 cash and professional studio time to record a demo.

Just reading about the grand prize made him want to leap out of the armchair and do laps around the basement. They could give the judges horror, blood, obsession, and sex. God, so much sex now. The original songs he was writing were full of that dark, heady cadence.

He tuned into the conversation to hear Gareth proclaim his drum prowess. He was good, that was true. He was better than their previous drummer, Rich, who’d ditched them for Purdue. Rich had kept a steady beat, but had no pizzazz.

Despite wanting to, he couldn’t blame everything on Rich.

They’d had no stage presence in Gary, nothing to call their own. They’d worn other bands’ t-shirts and dirty sneakers. The only original song they’d had was a complete ripoff of Dio’s “Evil Eyes.”

Looking back, it was no surprise they’d lost.

“Dude,” Jeff said. “We need to practice more if we’re doing this.”

Eddie said, “And I need to finish some songs.”

Dougie groaned around a potato chip. “Those songs about your girlfriend?”

Jeff rummaged in the potato-chip bag as Eddie asked:

“What’s wrong with that?”

“We all agree your girl is hot,” said Gareth. “But come on, your new stuff sounds nothing like us.”

“And what, pray tell, do we sound like?” he asked.

“Like...” Gareth waved his arms around. “Like metal, man!”

He squinted at Gareth.

“That’s what I’m writing.”

“No, you’re writing something else. It’s all... moody.”

“It’s still dark,” Jeff said.

Dougie added, “But it’s not thrashing.”

Eddie sighed and said, “Not every song we put out should go like a bat out of hell.”

“But they shouldn’t all be about witches in the night,” Gareth said.

“Fine, but ‘Ride the Night’ can’t change.”

“I like that one,” said Jeff.

Gareth said, “‘Sabbath Smoke’ needs major rewrites.”

Eddie glowered around the room. He liked where that one was going. It was dark in a different way than “Ride the Night.” It was still about you, but not so overtly sexual. He hadn’t thought the rest of the band noticed his latest attempts centered around you.

“Alright, fine, ‘Sabbath Smoke’ can be about...” He shook his head as he thought. “A sacrifice to the devil, instead, with, like, all the hot blood and ropes of guts you want.”

“What about ‘Black Market, Midnight Track’?” Dougie asked.

Eddie stood and shoved his fingers into his hair.

“Jesus fuck—” His rings caught in his hair. Of course. “I don’t know. It’s a story.” He snarled as he freed them one by one. “I can get rid of the magic part, okay?”

He knew better than to comb through his hair while wearing his rings. Just like he should’ve known the band wouldn’t like the spooky — okay, maybe goth-inspired — turn he’d taken. Corroded Coffin had always been on the thrash side of heavy metal. Their original stuff had to stay in that vein if he wanted to keep the band together.

In that case, he should take the mixtape you’d made him out of rotation. There were songs about dark stuff on it, of course. The riffs were heavy and deep. Sure, most of it wasn’t “heavy metal,” but it was good shit. However, it was too much of an influence.

Maybe you were too much of an influence.

He’d been neglecting band practice since before Halloween. The four of them had only been meeting twice a month to play, excluding gigs at The Hideout, and once a month to write. He knew the guys practiced on their own. They talked on the phone about ideas, but that wasn’t the same as a jam session.

“Hey, dude,” Gareth said to him. “It’s not like we hate what you’ve written.”

“Something is better than nothing,” said Jeff, inadvertently reminding Eddie of the summer.

Summer had been a dry spell. Shit, it had been a fucking desert. The Sahara.

They’d played cover after cover during gigs. Eddie had burned through his stash, hoping to flow enough that original melodies and lyrics would come, but no dice. It felt like a dead end, like maybe covers were all he was good at. When school started in August, he stared at his future with this leaden feeling in his chest.

“No, it’s cool,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re right. Let’s do some reworking.”

“I like that devil’s sacrifice idea for ‘Sabbath Smoke,’” Dougie said, since he did enjoy horror.

Jeff nodded and said, “Let’s work on that one now.”

“Sure, absolutely,” Eddie said as he popped open the guitar case for his acoustic.

He didn’t want to follow his father’s footsteps by knocking up his first serious girlfriend right out of the service and scrambling to find decent work. Only to settle as a mechanic in, what Eddie realized way later, was a chop shop. As the years went on, he understood his mother. Ditching everything and everyone had its appeal.

That would make him just as bad as them, though. He wouldn’t respect himself if he did that kind of thing to Wayne, you, the band, or even Hellfire. He wanted to do right by his family and friends — and, most importantly, you.

Eddie brought out the composition book they worked in, flicked to the “Sabbath Smoke” page, and set it on the coffee table. Dougie rubbed his greasy fingertips on his jeans while scooting to the edge of the couch. Jeff found a pen on the side-table as Gareth sat on the floor opposite him.

Maybe the guys were right about you transforming his composing. Maybe he was thinking too much with his dick. He didn’t think love would stifle creativity. Wasn’t love supposed to inspire the artist?

With a mental snort, he thought of course he’d be the exception. That would be his luck, wouldn’t it?

Shit, he really did love you, didn’t he?

The new lyrics and melodies and chords and all the effort was for you.

He laid his guitar next to Jeff on the couch, saying he had to take a leak. Once in the upstairs bathroom, he leaned his rear on the vanity and stared at the ceiling. He needed the guys at his side. He wanted to lead Corroded Coffin out of Hawkins, confident they would triumph. It didn’t matter if they started small in Indianapolis or Chicago. They could build a following, open for a bigger band, find a manager, work the local concert circuit, get a contract with a record label, and move to Los Angeles or New York.

He could do it. They could do it, but only if they could write an album worth of songs.

This battle of the bands in April would throw them right into the fray. He smirked at the unintended pun. Still, the timing was perfect. He would prove himself to you, and to himself, and to Wayne, that every sacrifice had been worth it.

He couldn’t do any of that if he was distracted. He wouldn’t be good enough. He’d be like his old man. Without that small win, he wouldn’t be able to provide for you. Or keep up with you. He’d lose you.

He didn’t want to lose you.

The lower half of his vision went watery with a deluge of tears. He blinked the tears away and wiped at his lower lashes. Allowing himself to be shaken by that idea would help no one. There was a solution. He cracked his neck and took a deep breath. He had to keep his eye on the prize: $3000 and free studio time.

You’d understand when he explained it.

He used the facilities and rinsed his hands before heading downstairs. Jeff’s mother stopped him in the kitchen to insist he take cans of pop to the guys. With a wink, he thanked her for the fuel. She shooed him away, looking pleasantly exasperated.

As he descended the basement stairs, he said, “Gentlemen, I have procured refreshments!”

-

Your breath fogged in the chilly night air. Your thighs were nearly numb. Ignoring the weather, you’d chosen to wear a short skirt and fishnets. You’d heard the saying ‘a hoe never gets cold,’ but that also applied to goths. And you had every intention of being eye-candy tonight.

You dodged mounds of half-frozen slush in The Hideout’s parking lot. It had snowed earlier in the week. Not enough to close school, but enough to make the drive a hair-raising event. Eddie said he’d almost plowed into a few mailboxes, which meant he’d knocked over a couple of trashcans instead.

The Hideout was warm and dingy. Behind the sticky bar, the muted TV played a basketball game. Its light flickered through neglected liquor bottles. A few patrons entertained themselves at the billiard table. The jukebox played some country song.

Just like your previous visit, the bartender didn’t ask for ID when you ordered a vodka tonic. You tipped him well before claiming a barstool that faced the stage. You crossed your legs, letting the skirt ride up the outside of your top thigh.

Five minutes before showtime, Eddie parted the split in the stage curtain, guitar slung around his torso. His gaze found yours as he stepped onto the stage. Then he noticed what you wore — and stopped midway around the drum-set. He looked like he’d been slapped in the face. Jeff almost ran into him. Complaints came from behind the curtain. Jeff followed Eddie’s attention and gave you an appreciative once-over.

You smirked, taking a sip of your drink via the mini straw.

Eddie’s face flushed as he put a hand on his chest. You winked just as he was prodded into moving. He stumbled around a cymbal’s tripod legs. You noticed then he wore boots instead of his usual Reeboks. His jeans hugged his thighs and hips. He’d rolled the sleeves of his black t-shirt to show off his tattoos.

The other band members had dressed similarly: Jeff wore a simple Fender t-shirt, Dougie had a navy button-up tucked into black jeans, and Gareth wore a tight undershirt under a sleeveless plaid shirt. They looked good, like a professional band instead of a barrel of fanboys.

They joked with each other as they went through a quick sound-check.

With Eddie turned away from the bar, you could admire the lean lines of him and his round ass. In the morning after you’d gotten some magic back, you’d grabbed that ass as he’d pounded you into the mattress. He’d growled profanities and oaths into your neck with his hands hooked under your shoulders. You’d moved with him, grinding your pelvis against his.

You’d bitten his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud when you came. He’d only encouraged you by pushing into the pain and gasping, “That’s it, baby, that’s it, oh fuck.”

Your cheeks and neck grew hot. The bar was suddenly stuffy. You wiggled out of your leather jacket and pressed cool fingers against your neck. Maybe a quick jaunt around the parking lot would help. Or maybe Eddie not wearing such goddamn tight clothes.

You took another sip of your drink, then popped a thin ice cube in your mouth to take the edge off the heat.

Leaning around Eddie’s side, Gareth gave you a roguish smile. You grinned back. When Eddie glanced over his shoulder, you showed him the ice cube on your tongue. He faced you and waggled his eyebrows, making you snicker.

The jukebox music cut off before the stage lights brightened. Eddie greeted the meager crowd and introduced his bandmates. You set down your drink to clap. A few people slapped the bar in lieu of applause.

The band started their set with Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Gareth used cymbals and the bass drum’s reverb to mimic the bell that starts the song. It was a cool technique and a difficult transition when the other three began the driving beat. Eddie and Jeff stuck their tongues out to each other before head-banging. Dougie added a few flourishes as Eddie approached the mic. You rocked with the rhythm and mouthed the lyrics.

When the song came to a thunderous end, you hooted and clapped. Eddie smiled at you, face already glowing with sweat. He looked so carefree, like nothing could bring him down.

The band played a few more covers until Eddie introduced an original song, “Sabbath Smoke.” You couldn’t believe what you heard. He hadn’t spoken about an original song in weeks. Naturally, you hadn’t wanted to pester him. It wasn’t your place to say what he wrote or what Corroded Coffin played.

The song had a dangerous edge to it. The lyrics Eddie purred were from a demon’s point of view. Jeff and Dougie howled after the chorus, piercing and ravenous. Goosebumps shivered down your arms, yet you couldn’t look away. The center of the song — the heartbeat of the sacrifice — sped with each repeat of the chorus. The song lashed on until the heartbeat abruptly stopped; the sacrifice slaughtered.

The bar was quiet for a moment.

You erupted from your barstool with a cheer. The rest of the patrons applauded or whooped. Eddie thanked everyone before announcing they’d continue in a minute. You rushed to the stage. He stepped around the mic stand and bent. You caught his dewy face and kissed him, unconcerned about smudging your makeup. His eyes went wide, then closed.

After breaking the kiss, you thumbed the lipstick off his lips. They were still stained and puffy. You pushed away the damp curtain of his bangs and smiled.

“Holy shit.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.”

He grinned, catching his lower lip between his teeth and averting his gaze.

“We got one more tonight,” he said and met your eyes.

“Another original?”

He nodded.

You kissed him again. Your lipstick fainter this time, but you still wiped it off for him.

“I can’t wait,” you said as you moved back.

He straightened, appearing on the smug side of pleased. The rest of the band murmured amongst themselves while hydrating. Eddie drank from the lone beer left on the stool behind Gareth.

You perched on your barstool, sipped at your drink, and then discretely neatened your lipstick. It wasn’t as polished as when you first stepped inside, but it didn’t matter. None of the other patrons noticed you.

Especially not when Corroded Coffin returned to their places on stage.

Eddie asked if everyone was ready for more and received a few ‘woo’s and applause in reply.

The band played some covers; one or two you’d heard previously. They were still good, but you awaited the second original song. Your stomach fluttered and your grip trembled, like you were the one who had to play.

You were debating on ordering another drink when the current song ended.

Eddie looked at you as he said, “Last one of the night, folks. We hope you like it.”

You smiled and gripped the sides of the barstool.

Gareth counted down and began playing a deep, primal rhythm you recognized. After a few bars, Eddie added a sultry metallic shred. Dougie added to the rhythm, making it a dark thrum. Jeff complemented Gareth’s rhythm while Eddie built to a grinding reverb. They went through a cycle of that until Eddie put his mouth to the mic to sing about drowning in magic, about fire licking down your spine, about riding the night.

His voice oscillated between crooning and growling, just like you imagined. He used his breath in the chorus, just like he’d panted into your ear. Your stomach swooped and cunt clenched. You wanted to run your hands all over him, cup his erection, and stare into his eyes as they went hazy. You wanted to lick the sweat off his neck and drag your teeth over his jaw and kiss his full lips.

The bar patrons disappeared. The clack of billiard balls and murmuring voices muted. It was you and him; a private pleasure turned public. There was something thrilling and honest about that. Anyone who heard the song would know you and him.

When the song ended, you inhaled a lungful of smoky air. Eddie stared at you — and you at him — as the other patrons applauded. Jeff signed off when Eddie said nothing. The stage lights dimmed. The jukebox kicked on. Someone behind you laughed, hacked, and resumed laughing.

Dougie and Jeff unplugged their guitars while Gareth stood to fold his low stool. Jeff bopped Eddie on the elbow to knock him from his daze and mumbled something close to his ear. Eddie nodded and unplugged his guitar.

With eye-contact broken, you slipped into your jacket and stood. You approached the stage, hands in your jacket pockets. Eddie wound the audio cable around his palm.

“What was the title of that one?”

“‘Ride the Night,’” said Eddie with hardly an upward glance.

“Makes sense.”

Dougie wound his own cable and said, “He wouldn’t compromise on that one at all.”

“Well, it’s his song from start to finish,” Jeff said, shrugging.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened when you focused on him.

“It’s my favorite,” you said.

“Mine too,” Gareth interjected.

Dougie snorted with a roll of his eyes. “No shock there.”

Jeff leveled them a look before turning to you.

“Thanks for coming out.”

“We missed you the last time,” Eddie said.

You smiled as something in your chest fluttered.

“I’m sure there’ll come a time when you won’t be able to pick me out in the crowd.”

Eddie ceased neatening his cable and looked at you.

“Never.”

Warmth creeped up your chest to your face.

Eddie passed his loop of cable to Dougie, who sputtered.

“C’mon,” Eddie said to you, wiped his hand on his jeans, and held it out. “I want to show you something.”

“Um, okay?”

You took his hand and put a foot on the stage, keeping one hand on the hem of your skirt. He pulled you up the short distance to lead you behind the curtain. Backstage was red-lit and littered with open guitar cases and containers for Gareth’s drum-set. Eddie switched off the audio mixer, secured his guitar in its case, and took your hand again.

From the slit in the curtain, Gareth asked, “Is it safe to come back here?”

He held a snare drum, his eyes shut.

Eddie snorted and threw you a grin. “No, Gare-bear, it’s a bit dangerous in here.”

You said, “Especially with your eyes closed.”

Gareth opened one eye to glare.

“Oh, screw you both.”

Eddie sing-songed, “You wi-ish,” though he stepped closer to you.

Gareth grumbled to himself as he unlatched the drum from its tripod stand. Eddie directed you to the coat-pegs by the backdoor and put on his jacket with vest. In the meantime, Jeff and Dougie entered with coils of cable and their guitars. Eddie told them he’d be back soon and tugged you through the backdoor before they could protest.

The chilly air hit your exposed skin and slithered up your skirt to ice your rear. You folded your jacket around your middle, holding it closed with your free arm.

“Jesus, it’s cold,” he said and shook the sweat-soaked hair away from his face.

The door clunked shut.

Only the green-tinted light above the backdoor lit the gravel service road beside the bar.

“Your hair’s going to freeze.”

“Nah, too salty.”

He dug around in his inner-jacket pocket one-handed.

“What did you want to show me?”

He huffed, released your hand, and patted his jacket down. You crossed your arms as you stepped around to watch.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Cigs are gone.” He glanced at his van parked a few yards away. “They’re probably in the van.” He patted his jacket along with his jeans pockets — though, how anything could hide in them you’d never know — and breathed a curse. “Keys are inside.”

“Is that what you wanted to show me? Cigarettes?” you asked with a laugh.

He met your gaze, eyes dark and full lips parted.

Your smile faded as you examined his beautiful, flushed face. Forget whatever he wanted to show you and hanging with the rest of the band and getting home before curfew. Eddie Munson had written you a song. All you wanted to do was kiss him.

“Fuck it,” he said before taking your hand again.

He walked you away from The Hideout’s backdoor and his van. The toe of your boot knocked some rocks loose from the compacted snow as you jogged to catch up. He remained quiet and marched around the corner. You had no choice but to follow him behind the building, your eyes adjusting to the unlit space.

You clutched his hand in both of yours.

“Eddie?”

He swung you around and stalked you against the cold concrete wall. You fisted the lapel of his vest to pull him close. He pressed his front to yours, hands on your hips.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” you asked, holding his warm cheek.

“Not exactly.”

He swooped in to kiss you, devouring and needy. Your waxy lipstick smeared between you. His hands trailed down to grip your ass. You pushed your fingers into his thick hair and slanted his head to kiss him harder.

He pulled away far enough to say, “Do you know how good you look tonight?”

You wiped your lipstick off with the sleeve of your jacket. He mirrored you.

“Why don’t you show me.”

You yanked him forward to kiss once more. He groaned and ground his hips against yours. Taking the opportunity, you licked into his mouth to tease his tongue. He tasted like beer, but you didn’t mind.

In reply, he pulled at your ass and sucked on your bottom lip. You mewled, feeling the ridge of his erection. You reached between your bodies to cup his fever-hot groin. His balls were high and tight in your palm, and you gently massaged them.

Eddie tilted his head up with a soft sound as he rocked into your touch. You kissed his jaw, tasted the salt on his neck, and stroked him through the denim. His erection pulsed in your hand. You bet his boxers were wet with precome—

And you wanted to see that.

You dragged his t-shirt from his waistband to snaked your hands over his firm sides. His warm skin was flawless. You had to stop yourself from stooping to worship him all the way down.

Instead, you said, “You’re gorgeous.”

“Look who's talking.”

You hummed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans.

“Oh shit,” he said.

“Can I?”

“Baby, whatever you want.”

You unzipped his jeans and spread the fly. He shuffled the fabric down his hips enough to expose the thin thatch of his pubic hair.

Softly, you said, “Show me.”

He bit his bottom lip as he dragged his flushed cock from his boxers. It filled out further and bobbed in the air. Your mouth watered at the sight. He really was gorgeous like this.

A thick bead of precome rolled down his frenulum. You caught it with your thumb before wrapping a hand around the heft of his cock and spreading the slick precome over the tip.

Eddie cursed again, watching your hand. “I...” He swallowed and braced his hands on either side of you. “I need you.”

“What do you need?”

His hips jutted forward.

You met his eyes.

“God, I need to be inside you.”

“Yeah? Wanna come in me?”

With a groan, his head flopped forward and cock jerked.

You continued, “Haven’t felt that in so long.”

He kissed you hard. You felt his desperation, his longing. It reflected your own. He wasn’t in your bed enough. You wanted him there every day, every night.

You swept your hands around his waist. He pinned you to the wall with his body. His cock dug into your belly. The contrast of cold wall at your back and hot body at your front had you writhing. You grabbed his round ass as one of your thighs reflexively hitched onto his hip.

His palm followed your raised leg under your skirt. His lips slackened before he broke the kiss.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

“Nope.”

He plunged his other hand between your legs, making you gasp. His chilled, callused fingers rasped over the fishnet covering your pussy and pushed against it. The texture and tease set your nerves alight. You rolled your hips into his warming touch and leaned your head on the wall.

He trailed kisses over your neck, using his teeth, and nosed under your jacket collar.

“So wet, baby,” he said against your skin. “But I can’t get to you.”

He hooked fingers into the fishnet and gave it a forceful tug. Your hips were jerked forward as the fabric tore with a sharp crackle. You gasped louder this time and slapped a hand over your mouth.

The thought of anyone seeing you both like this — your skirt rucked up and his dick out — thrilled yet unnerved you. You had to keep quiet, lest a bar patron or the other members of Corroded Coffin find you.

However, it felt like a monumental task when he circled your clit just right. You hauled him up by the hair for a kiss. He groaned and tilted his head. His puffy lips slid along yours until it was all madness and heat.

You raised yourself on tip-toe to cant your hips. Knuckles brushed your slit. Then the sleek tip of his cock slid between your folds. The heat and silky skin of his cock had your cunt pulsing in a prelude to orgasm. You rocked with him, breathed with him. It made you weak, made you want everything you couldn’t have just yet.

His tip glanced off your hole. You stiffened. He paused to look deep into your eyes.

“I’ll pull out before.”

“No, I—” You shook your head. You didn’t trust yourself to let him. “Condom.”

“I don’t...”

You’d slipped a condom packet into a jacket pocket before leaving the house. Just in case. It was your last one. You searched the pocket now, praying the condom hadn’t fallen out earlier. Your fingers brushed its plastic packet.

You grinned, held it up between two fingers, and said, “I do.”

“Thank Christ.”

He kissed you hard — once, twice. You held onto his vest and groaned. You were so close to getting him deep inside you. You needed it now, needed him, needed that fullness.

You clutched at his nape and said, “Fuck me.”

His expression went tight as he grit his teeth. He took the condom packet, made space between your bodies, and fumbled the condom on. You nodded and adjusted your leg on his hip. His cock slipped into your wet folds again, brushing your clit.

You tilted your pelvis while balancing with a hand on the wall. Together, you found the perfect angle and his cock pushed right inside. His knuckles bumped your mound as you panted. The stretch of him was nearly too much. The flared crown of his cock ground against nerves you could never reach.

“So fuckin’ tight.”

It was him, you wanted to argue, all him, but you couldn’t form a sentence. You could only hang on and take it. His cock pushed the air from your lungs as he slid to the hilt.

You swallowed a moan at the intensity.

He shushed you and kissed your cheek.

“Feel so good,” you whispered.

Eddie held you still with one hand cradling your ass with the other holding the underside of your hooked leg. You rested your forehead on his shoulder and tried to catch your breath. Your dripping cunt fluttered. He shivered and gulped in air and kissed the rim of your ear.

His voice was strained as he said, “Can’t wait.”

“Then don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

His grip tightened as he started with small lurches of his hips. His cock rocked deep inside. You rubbed your lips on his neck, tasted the new sweat on his skin. Then he began to move faster, deeper, plunging hard with every thrust.

You clung to him with shaking limbs as his cock hit you just right. His chest was tight to yours. You threw yourself into it and moved counter to him. He groaned a broken encouragement. You made each of his thrusts bigger, ratcheting you closer and closer to climax.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” He stilled and crushed you to the wall. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You clawed at his shoulders as your cunt clenched. His cock throbbed, but not enough. You covered your mouth to stifle a groan, because you were already on the edge of orgasm.

“Eddie...”

You stretched to catch his kiss-swollen lips. He met you halfway to give biting kisses and push his tongue against yours. His shoulders tensed as both hands held your ass. With no warning, he hoisted you off the ground. You squeaked, hung on, and wrapped your other leg around his waist.

“Jesus fuck...”

“Yeah, c’mon, fuck me.”

He dug his boots into the hard-packed gravel and slammed up into you. That was what you needed from him. You bit the meat at the base of your thumb, muffling your cries that punctuated every thrust of his strong hips.

He took you mercilessly, completely focused on getting as deep as he could. His breath stuttered in your ear. He forced you to the wall and controlled your body. He hammered his cock inside you until you couldn’t take it anymore. You twisted in his bruising hold a second before your body locked. Then everything came crashing through you — enough that you couldn’t see or hear.

You could only feel.

Each fierce surge of orgasm washed away your strength. You stared into the dark, trying to breathe. But you couldn’t. The pleasure kept going as Eddie fucked you through it.

He gasped the beginning of your name, suddenly, his cock throbbing and filling the condom. You wished you could feel him flooding you with each pump of his hips instead. He’d make a mess of you both.

You hugged him with arms and legs as he stilled. He panted and mouthed at the hinge of your jaw.

After a moment, he lowered one of your legs and eased you down to stand. It was enough movement to displace his softening cock. You whined at losing the feel of him inside you.

“I know, sweetheart. Me too.”

He kissed over your jaw to your lips. He brushed his lips against yours, easy and wanton. You let him support your weight as you lowered your other leg. He swept his hands around your waist until he wrapped you in his arms.

You hummed against his lips and grinned, breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours. You hadn’t expected any of that — the songs, the heated looks, the sex — when you’d arrived tonight.

“Wow,” you said.

“Yeah.”

As you were starting to learn, surprises with Eddie could be really, really fun.

He straightened your skirt, then patted your ass.

“I forgot what I was going to show you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

Ramblin' cuz I be in my "missing being Rendog" hours.

I wanna bake my Nana's pie again. I've forgotten the taste and I don't trust that the bit of recipe I remember is enough to make one. But it was sweeter than all the pumpkin pie I've eaten in the last year.

I miss Doc. He was my best friend and cuddle buddy. We would talk for hours about redstone, take each other on little friendship dates every few months, and we would hangout with a bottle of sake and a pie every weekend we could.

I lived with my Nan for most of my childhood. I don't remember much of my childhood tho. She wasn't a wolf hybrid but she treated me like any normal person. Gods, I miss her and braiding her hair...

Anyways!! I loved the Crastle. It was so pretty! It had stained glass panels everywhere. I loved the one in the throne room the least. It felt like I didn't deserve the god-like status that Bdubs was trying to give me, and I was a prominent feature of that panel. I think there was an archway that had a simple design with yellow, white, and red glass that I passed by often. I like that one the best. The dark oak was so nice to look at. I don't miss being king. It was driving me mad the longer I stayed. I'm glad the hermits dethroned me in the source. I don't remember what happened to me in my cannon cuz my memories fade out around the time the vault was built. (I wish I could remember. I wanna know what happened to me sooo bad. I don't care if it makes me sad, I wanna knowww.)

- A silly, goofy s9!Rendog kinnie (#🗡️🐾👑)

fair enough man, i dunno what more to say i'm sorry

-Mod hels

#kinfession #mcyt kin #mcytkin #hermitcraft kin #hermitcraftkin #ren kin #rendog kin #🗡️🐾👑 anon #mod hels

[aprillikesthings]

I lead part of EfM thing today (see earlier posts) and it went well ahhhhh thank God

and I've made my lunches for the next week!

and I'm munching on a salad

and all day I was looking forward to this, the moment I can (re)watch MORE SHE-RA

I've barely worked on my longer fic this weekend (other than copy/pasting a bunch of things Nate said after the show ended into the notes section of the doc) and tbh rewatching the ACTUAL SHOW is hella distracting bc with twenty eps left we're going to start getting into more of the really high-stakes stuff

Also, true story: I originally watched, like, the second half of season 4 and all of season 5 in two days of marathoning with Daci. So quite frankly? The last, like, third of the show is just kind of a blur to me now.

SO LET'S GO

s4 ep7 Mer-Mysteries

A mission in Dryl went badly, they've figured out someone's telling the Horde what they're doing, they're not tracking Adora because she wasn't even there--

YES

plz enjoy Sea Hawk's faces

Bow's sudden nervousness reminds me of when I was in line at the TSA in Dulles airport and was weirdly nervous. I had no reason to be nervous. AND YET. I'm usually totally fine at TSA? But the people at Dulles were scary!!!

(I was way less nervous coming back from Iceland, despite knowing I had Kinder Surprise Eggs in my suitcase. Which are actually illegal to bring into the USA. You can buy "Kinder Joy Eggs" in the USA, which do not have the toy, but the ones with the toys are against the law! Anyway I bought them for Daci. I was only nervous for a split second at customs in the USA bc they asked me what I'd brought home from Iceland and I was like...wool yarn. books. sweets (I'd also bought licorice and chocolate). But he just waved me through. WHEW.)

she's still big mad about this lolol

BUT she's right a spy IS the only thing that makes sense (but also the audience knows shit they don't)

Pearl?? A Pearl who knows too much?????

c'mon I had to

lolol they lampshaded the way lightning keeps striking when Mermista says something

to be fair she IS the most recent addition and the one they know the least

oh hey I also write everything in purple (or lavender) ink

lol

oh, shut up

well not this episode, specifically

LOLLLLL

honestly this is a lot like the DnD episode

so on the one hand, I know Flutterina is doing this to make them fight, but on the other hand Glimmer is right; on the other OTHER hand, I also would prefer a warning before being forced to see my abusive parent having free range of the castle I live in

BAHAHAHA I read Nate saying these two were interrupted on a date night, but also plz notice the colors of the flowers, it's literally most of the lesbian pride flag, they were SO unsubtle

The Ken from Plumeria is talking to the pastry chef from Dryl with the super cute outfit, and she looks bashful for a second after this screenshot; I am now shipping this and no one can stop me

speaking of ships (yes I know this isn't meant to be shippy lol)

a youtube video titled "it's raining on your window and you live in Bright Moon Castle ASMR for sleep 4 hours"

(....I'd listen to that)

(On a related note, mynoise dot net has a bunch of rain sounds on the website, and it also has an app--it's seriously the BEST website/app for ambient sounds because they're so adjustable and never repeat, and I just want everyone to know about them. The rain and ocean sounds are great on earbuds to cover up snoring so you can sleep!!! Worked better than my fancy earplugs while I was on the Camino and sleeping in all those hostels)

And back to the cartoon, where there's obviously suspicious shit happening because people seem to be in two places at once and their communications thing got shattered

oh so her name IS just The General

Flutterina (aka Double Trouble) has got to be like "oh my god wtf is up with this dude I cannot handle this bullshit"

Once again Glimmer proves that her and Catra are actually very, very alike

BUSTED

OOHHHHH they set up a trap I forgot, this is amazing

Adora: "we created a diversion :)" Glimmer: "You were a really good actress. For once."

pfft

Anyway Double Trouble is confessing the whole plan

:(

poor Mermista :(

there's a creepy-ass moment of seeing part of Horde Prime's face as he smiles, roll credits

#april rewatches spop #mer-mysteries

[inklessletter]

It's a love story (baby just say yes) Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

“How’s university treating you, Buckley?” Eddie asked a little louder than usual, to get himself be heard over the pop music blasting in that freshmen party. Eddie offered her a very much illegal beer, and she accepted it with a cheeky grin.

It was the last weekend before Christmas break, where almost everyone came back home for the festivities. Of course, the break only lasted two weeks, and it was way less than an appropriate amount of time to actually throw a rager, but, hey, most people there were eighteen or nineteen. It’s not like they actually needed a reason to bring booze, and weed, and obnoxious music. 

Robin gave Steve the call a couple weeks before, and it only took Steve to mention it to Eddie for him to be on board. A weekend trip to Chicago to see Buckley and party surrounded by faceless people who actually were not worried about Munson being a mass murderer and also see again his favorite lesbian after months? Abso-fucking-lutely yes.

Well, truth be told, it’s not like he wasn’t going to see Robin just a week after that, she was going to be in Hawkins for Christmas and New Year’s Eve, but, come on, he wanted to visit. Plus, that would mean a four hour car ride with Steve, and there was no way he was going to refuse.

So everything in this plan was calling Eddie in, and after all the shit he’d been through, a selfish part of him actually thought that he deserved to have a little fun.

Sue him.

“Actually pretty good,” Robin said. She took a sip of beer, making an unfortunate grimace at the taste. “Classes are interesting, but some professors are shit , and I’ve met some people that are, um, how do I put this? More open minded, generally speaking, than in Hawkins, so. Yeah, I’m having a blast here.”

Robin granted him with a coy smile. Eddie took a second to appreciate her, she was stunning that night. She was wearing a lot of silvery jewelry, and a smudge and sparkly eyeliner made her eyes look impossibly large. She had a pink lock of hair now. Big worn out Doc Martens and purple plaid flannel over a cut off gray shirt tucked in belted and high-waist ripped jeans.

God, she looked beautiful (and not because of her very much flattering outfit, because she was wearing an attitude where she actually didn’t feel awkward in her own skin anymore), but he still couldn’t understand how it took him more than three months to realize that she was friends with Dorothy too.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

Eddie bit his cheek and smiled, dimples showing. She was busy looking at her red solo cup. Too busy.

“Okay, Birdie, spill the tea.”

Robin looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m not—” Robin started, exasperated. “It’s not like—” 

Oh, wow. So, there was really something bothering her. She took a deep breath and then looked back at Eddie, soft expression.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Eddie thought for a second what he was going to say next.

“Look, I know I’m not your platonic soulmate, but if you want to talk about anything, you know I’m your humble servant, Ladybird,” Eddie said, with a compliant smile, hand in over his heart. “If you want your other half over here to spill your guts, I can go after him and drag his squeezy ass back here.”

Robin cackled at that.

“And if you don’t want to talk at all tonight, we can focus on how that hot punk girl over there has been checking you out for ever, now.”

Robin turned around and interchanged glances with her, who gave her a brief, suggestive smile. Robin bit her lip and looked at Eddie, hiding a smile.

“That’s Gwen, she’s in my philosophy class. She’s smoking hot , indeed,” Robin said.

Eddie looked at her with a wry face. He made a wordless gesture to go for it with her.

“We’ve already actually, um—”

Robin took a little bit too long sip of her nasty beer. Eddie smiled widely, and laughed.

“Oh, Buckley, look at you, you are such a menace now,” Eddie teased.

“Shut up, Munson. It was just one time.”

“So, you actually got to learn a thing or two from Steve, huh?” 

She slapped his arm, muting him to shut up again, but Eddie only laughed harder. She was going full red now.

“Oh, come on. It’s a good thing! Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did. It was fun, but, can we just not—?”

“Okay, fine.”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. 

Robin looked around, and then Eddie realized.

“You’re waiting for someone, aren’t you?”

Robin sighed and looked at him. 

“And here I thought that you were expecting to spend the night with us, your friends,” Eddie said, in a dramatic tone.

“I am. It’s just— Do you wanna dance?” she blurted out, fast. Robin was acting weirder than usual tonight, Eddie could tell.

“To Madonna ?” Then Eddie realized that Gwen was approaching. The clawing hand on his forearm and the panicked look on Robin’s eyes was enough for him to accept. 

He took her by the hand and guided her to the mass of sweating, smelling bodies, and not a word was said, when he spun her around and they started dancing.

Okay, there were some blank spaces in this narrative that Eddie didn’t have. Robin looked so confident just a minute ago, and then this Gwen punk appeared and she seemed to want to crawl out of her own skin again.

“Birdie, I don’t mean to pry but you’re fucking weird tonight. Do you need help or something?”

“Can’t we just dance?”

“Babe, the weird thing about you wanting to dance is that you can’t bet to not trip over your own feet while just standing . What’s wrong? Is this girl, is she bothering you or something?”

“No!”

Eddie cursed Steve in his mind. Where was he? He was supposed to go down to grab some drinks but that was forever ago. Whatever that was upsetting Robin, this was Steve’s field. Not that Eddie didn’t know how to comfort her, or that he wasn’t to be trusted, but it was clearly that she would feel more comfortable with him around.

Eddie grabbed Robin’s hand.

“I’m going to get Steve.”

“No, no, no!” She looked really panicked. Robin pursed her lips, stopped dancing and cursed under her breath. “Fuck, okay, come with me.”

Eddie followed her lead. She took him out of the dorm, and crossed the crowded hall to the stairs that went to the roof. The building roof was empty, except for some smokers. 

It was a quiet place.

Eddie observed Robin. He let her find the words and the strength to actually tell him whatever she needed to share. 

He didn’t pressure her.

Eventually, she turned to him, and took a deep breath.

“There’s something I need to tell Steve, but I’m not sure if our friendship will survive this bomb.”

Eddie was perplexed.

“What? Robin, what are you talking about? Steve will never break your friendship, he loves you.”

“He won’t once he finds out.”

Eddie frowned his eyebrows. He saw her sitting on the floor, and he sat in front of her without saying anything.

“You were right before, I am expecting someone to show up. I’m—shit, I’m kind of seeing someone. Well, not kind of. I’m seeing someone.”

“But Birdie, that’s great. Wait, is it that Gwen? That’s why you didn’t want to be seen with her before? Didn’t want Steve to find out before you could tell him?”

“What? No. This kind of has to do a lot with her but, no, Gwen and I—It was at the beginning of the semester, we started talking and she was nice. It kind of reminded me a little bit of you—”

“Gross.”

“—and it had been like three weeks, and I was missing you guys a lot, and I wasn’t making any friends, and she was just like me , and she’s so hot, god damn, and I didn’t know how it happened but we had sex—” Robin stopped to take a shaky breath in and calm herself. “And don’t get me wrong, it was so hot. I wanted it, okay? And—And she was so nice after. But then I felt like shit, like the day after, and I didn’t know why because I wanted it so bad . But maybe I made a mistake because I wasn’t ready. I—” Robin gulped and looked away. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before her. I didn’t even tell Vickie I had a crush on her. I had my first kiss and my first time in the same night, and I was so confused the day after. So confused, Eddie. I wanted it. I really, really did, but I felt like shit. Like I was the worst.”

Eddie listened carefully, trying not to interrupt her, but he got himself drowned by the sinking feeling of the understanding.

“I believe that I was going through a lot. Everything was new, I didn’t feel like I had to really hide myself that much, because my family wasn’t around, so. I don’t know, it took me a while to understand that maybe I got overwhelmed, and I felt lonely and maybe I went all the way with Gwen because I just didn’t know what to do with this—this ball of feelings. I felt like shit because—because I know I had my first time for the wrong reasons, and that’s nothing to do with Gwen, because she was splendid before, during and after, believe me, but—” Robin gulped around a lump that was forming on her throat, so Eddie finished the sentence for her.

“You didn’t have feelings for her.”

Robin looked at her hands, slightly nodding. She was playing with a piece of paper that was lying around, destroying it mindlessly.

Eddie felt terrible after hearing that. He felt even worse because he had teased her a little bit about Gwen before. Well, his goddamn mouth.

When Robin didn’t speak for the following minute, Eddie intervened.

“Birdie, I’m so, so sorry that you went through that. You must have felt so lonely and confused. Are you okay now?”

Robin looked at him, and sighed.

“Yeah, I mean. I’d been feeling like shit for weeks until I figured it out, but. Yeah, I don’t know, Eddie,” she flexed her knees, bracing her own legs. “I just don’t think I was ready for it, that’s all.”

Eddie waited a little bit for her to continue, but when he understood she wasn’t going to, he asked:

“Why didn’t you call? You know, we miss you too, a lot . Steve mentions you at least once a day.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“Why? Robin, we wouldn’t have judged you at all! We support you no matter what, I think we could’ve even taken a trip earlier to see you if we knew you were going through this!”

“I know! I know. I shouldn’t have felt that way.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“No, I am. But I felt that way, and I really didn’t want anyone to tell me that, because I already knew. Besides, Steve and I have been talking about my doomed love life for like, ages, and—I just, I don’t know. I got some action and it got me spiraling and I didn’t want to face this conversation with Steve.”

Eddie was going to refute that rambling, but Robin continued.

“ I know ! What you’re going to say, believe me, I know. I should have been able to talk about this with him, and I feel bad that I didn’t, that I—that I called Nancy instead.”

Eddie felt where that was going before she kept speaking. He raised a hand, covering his mouth. His eyebrows frowned, and his eyes were fixed on a very uneasy Robin in front of him.

“I didn’t know Nancy knew about you.”

“That’s because she didn’t. I didn’t tell her before, but—but I called her, and she wasn’t far, and she came by. And we—I don’t know, she’s so sweet and so fearless,” she laughed a bit, her cheeks stained in red. “How is that possible, huh? She can be so frightening, point a gun to your head, but then she’ll do whatever in her hand to make you laugh? To make you feel… less lonely. Not a—not a big error .”

Robin then, after what it felt ages, gazed directly at Eddie, and god, whoever said the eyes were the windows to the soul was so damn right.

“Shit, Robin—”

“She was going to come tonight, too. We were going to tell Steve together.”

Eddie covered his face with his hands.

This was bad.

This was real bad.

Eddie knew for sure that Steve would be happy for them if they were happy together, but he knew Steve. He would be hurt, too, for more than one reason.

Not that long ago, Steve still had inconclusive feelings towards Nancy. They had history together. 

Robin, his soulmate, had kept a secret from him, and they shared everything. God, if Eddie knew something about these two is that their friendship hadn’t met any boundaries yet. And this time, Robin didn’t want to talk explicitly to him.

Also, Robin had decided to trust Eddie before Steve, too.

And, well, she apparently had feelings for his first love, so. There was that.

“I’m assuming correctly that what you and Nancy were going to tell Steve tonight is not that you had your first time with Gwen, right?”

Robin nodded, shortly.

“We’ve been—uh, we’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”

“I see,” Eddie said under his breath. But then he frowned and looked at her, “I’m sorry, this is not any of my business, but isn’t it too fast? I mean, the whole Gwen thing, and then you regretted it because you didn’t know what you were feeling, and all that jazz. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I mean, you two guys are friends, and I know that you know it’s overwhelming this first semester. Robs, are you sure about this? I really, really don’t want you to get hurt. Any of you.”

That included Steve, too.

“Eddie—I had feelings for her before. It’s not—it’s not a rushed thing. I think I’ve been feeling for her this way since—you know.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, I know.”

Eddie was happy for her. For them both. He really was, truly. But a part of his heart was with Steve, anticipating what was going to be a sad journey for him. He won’t hint how he was truly feeling to Robin or Nancy, but he knew that he would speak his soul to Eddie. And Robin knew Steve as well as Eddie did, now. 

And she knew that, too.

“Please, don’t tell any of this to Steve. Not before I do.”

Eddie closed his eyes. 

Fuck, he’s shit keeping secrets. 

“It’s not my place to say anything,” Eddie said, pained for having to keep yet another secret to Steve. 

Robin sighed, relieved.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“But please, if you plan to do it, do it soon. We all know that he deserves to know.”

Robin nodded. Then he offered her the hand, and she took it. He pulled her in for a hug, and whispered to her ear that he was thankful she trusted him, and that he was glad if she was happy now. 

Robin hugged him tighter.

“What about if we go back and look for Harrington? He’s either lost or looking for us.”

Robin nodded, and smiled.

“Yeah. I don’t know where he went.”

Robin and Eddie entered the stairs, passing by a few couples making out in the dark, when they both froze with the sight in front of them.

There, in the privacy of the indoor stairs there was another couple loudly kissing. Hard.

And one of them was Steve, trapped between the wall and the mouth of a six foot two tall, jacked, blond guy.

Two things happened at once.

1. Robin grabbed his arm and pulled Eddie back to the roof, shutting the door, making the sight of Steve devouring another man disappear behind it.

2. Eddie’s heart broke in a million pieces.

Robin dragged him fast to a quiet area, and put both hands on Eddie’s face, forcing him to look at her.

“Eddie, okay, shit. Okay. Eh—”

Robin was about to have a nervous breakdown.

“Listen, Eddie. I know that you’re a friend and to be trusted, but, what we just saw, it never happened, okay?”

“Robin—”

“No, no, I need you to listen. This? This is a dream,” Robin started waving her hands, looking at him straight in the eye. “This is a dream, whatever is happening in those stairs you just dreamed it , capisce ?”

“Jesus, Rob—”

“I’m fucking serious, Eddie,” she said, high pitched, making a few people to look in her direction. Her hands were trembling. She held Eddie’s face in place again. “Holy fucking shit—” she said under her breath, “holy fucking shit!”

Eddie felt like he was on autopilot. He held her arms, keeping her in place.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said, almost without a voice.

“Why are you not freaking out?”

“Because he told me, Robin. That he’s bi. I know he told you, too.”

Robin looked at him and her expression changed.

“I won’t rat him out, okay? It’s fine. It is fine.”

“Eddie—”

“We can stay here to give him—uhm—privacy, yeah? I bet he can’t do this in Haw—Hawkins. He’s entitled to have fun. It’s fine .”

He didn’t remember Robin’s hand were in his face until she started wiping his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Eddie, babe. You’re crying—”

“It’s fine.”

Now he could feel his heart clenching, and all the air being sucked out of the world. He could feel his face growing hotter, and wetter, and his own shoulders shaking almost violently.

Robin lifted her arms and hugged him close. It took him a second or two, but he hugged her back.

“He can’t know. Please, don’t tell him. Please .”

“Okay. Okay.”

She entangled her hands in his hair, and he hugged her tighter. He was shaking.

“ Please ,” Eddie said again.

He blinked a few times, trying to control his own breathing, his shaking, his body. 

Eddie let out a sigh and loosened the embrace, until they were not touching anymore. He was under Robin’s gaze, and it took him a bit to calm himself.

When he had enough self control, he spoke again.

“Do you recall the whole capisce speech you gave me? Same here. You never saw any of this. If you think you did, you dreamed it. None of this ever happened, okay?” Eddie said as calmly as he could, but his voice was in a strange forced pitch, and still a little bit shaky.

Robin nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

With a deep breath, Eddie leaned in the wall, facing the skyline of Chicago in the middle of the night. After a few minutes, Robin asked her since when he was feeling that way for Steve, and Eddie shrugged. He couldn’t pinpoint it, really. She joked about now understanding about his squeezy ass. 

He laughed a bit, but then he spoke, after a silence and a deep breath, because he was shit keeping his own secrets.

Eddie told her that he’d been feeling like this for Steve for quite a while now. That he didn’t expect them to become friends, that he thought Steve would stop spending time without him after the apocalypse. And then after he recovered. And then, after she and Nancy left for college and school started again.

That everytime he expected Steve to leave, he was surprised because he didn’t. That he noticed every little bit of Steve and he loved every quirk of him, that they became closer, and they trusted each other with their own deep secrets and family history.

That he made him laugh until he couldn’t breathe.

That Steve had become the best part of his day.

That he knew that Steve was still struggling with his own internalized homophobia since he sort of hinted that he felt that he had to fight against it.

That Eddie wanted to come clean, pour his heart into his, give him his everything, and that it would be a problem.

That Eddie knew that he had no future in Hawkins, that he had to leave sooner or later, and he wasn’t sure Steve would do such a thing.

Eddie didn’t want to risk what he had with Steve, even if at the end of the day was not enough . 

Eddie kept talking about how much in love he was, how heartbroken, until his voice even out, and two figures came into sight.

“Holy shit, where the hell were you? I’ve been looking for you for ages !” Steve said.

Eddie and Robin turned their heads to him. Then they shared a brief look. 

“Look who I found at the party!”

Nancy smiled at them and waved. She had a red cup in her hand, and, if Eddie didn’t know what he did know, he wouldn’t have noticed the look in Nancy’s eyes when she looked at Robin.

“Hi Nance! I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Well, my car broke down, and I tried to call, but no one would pick up.”

Robin and Eddie nodded. 

Nancy went next to Robin, and they both looked at the skyline, having a quiet conversation. Steve walked and leaned next to Eddie, also looking at the horizon. 

It was obvious that both Nancy and Steve had been drinking.

“I went for drinks and when I came back you and Robin were nowhere to be found. You were here all the time?”

Eddie looked at him. Steve was shamelessly looking back, dead in the eye.

“Yeah, we were here. Sorry we bailed, we didn’t know where you went, either.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice out here.”

Steve offered him his own drink, and Eddie took it with a smile. He took a sip.

The sight of Steve’s lips, pink and kiss swollen didn’t definitely feel like a dagger to his heart.

The soft sigh leaving Steve’s body, while he rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at the infinity, didn’t definitely feel like dying .

“Did you have fun tonight?”

No.

“Yeah. Did you?”

Please, say no. Lie to me.

“It was meh. I missed you.”

“You did?”

Eddie’s voice was small and fragile, but Steve was drunk enough not to notice. He shouldn’t be looking for reassurance, but some needy part inside of him, needed to hear it, even if it was while he was under the influence of alcohol, and not everything that came out of his mouth was reliable.

“Yeah. You know I do. You make everything better.”

Eddie closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“And what did you do up here?”

We shared some secrets that we’re keeping from you .

“Nothing, just—Nothing.”

“Hm,” Steve hummed. 

Eddie knew the signs. First, the leaning, then, the humming. He didn’t have to look to know that Steve’s eyes were closed.

Eddie lifted a hand to Steve’s hair, lacing his fingers in it. Steve let out a happy breath.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s perfect.”

The four of them eventually sat against the wall, and it took no more than ten minutes until Steve’s breathing even out, and he was fast asleep. How he could sleep anywhere was something that none of them fully understood.

Robin was looking at Eddie, he knew. But Eddie didn’t have it in his heart to look back at her.

He just kept stroking Steve’s hair for a while longer.

For as long as Steve let him do that.

For as long as the secrets don’t destroy him.

#stranger things fic #fanfic #st fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #ronance

[eureka-its-zico]

Hiiiiiii, it's me, Gouda 🧀 anon, but I am not on anon! lol I sorted out my Trumblr from all the cringy shit from years ago finally so I don't have to be embarrassed what I have on here haha (I saw you said you've been on Tumblr since 2015, well I've been on here since probably 2009 and yeah... Had to go down the memory lane and it was a bit cringe 😂)

I saw your message that Chapter 4 will be posted tonight and the giddy feelings that I felt, boy oh boy... Could barely contain myself in my chair!

This has been such a lovely update! It was amazing to see more interactions between Doc and Zoro. And his POV is just *chef's kiss*. It really helps to see that there's more to each of them than the other sees. And honestly, Zoro is being stupid because he can fulfil his promise and still get Doc so... *side eye* lol

I am honestly so curious to see what you have planned going forward: with Doc and Straw Hats AND Doc and Zoro. And if you grace us with even more Zoro POV to see his inner battle - I will devour it 😂

Also, I have to say - him bringing the beer and him bringing back the flower as an apology were one of my favourite parts in this chapter. Especially this one:

What he wouldn’t tell you, is because they only grew at certain times and usually in the snow, it made them one of the most resilient flowers because they could grow under any conditions. 

ALSO, oh my God, this interaction in particular too:

“What do I gotta do to hear one of these world-famous Doc jokes?” He waited until his face was neutral to look back at you. Both hands rested on his swords as he watched you fill the bottle to the brim and place it securely inside your satchel.  “For that kind of service? You have to be dying.”

We know what happens later and now I will wait with baited breath for doesn't matter how many chapters to see whether Doc actually says that joke 😂

I also love the ending, the fact that Nami is considerate enough to offer for Doc something to wear. It's a small interaction though I would think that it gives them a small part to bond to some extent ❤

As always, an amazing update and I am so happy to see these two continue to bond, even if they are both acting silly now. Really curious and excited for the next part to see how Doc reacts to Sanji and maybe even how Zoro reacts if Sanji flirts with Doc?! 😂

I have so many feelings to this story, I have to admit, I read Chapter 3 five times. Then I went to read Chapter 2. And then I read all chapters from the first one before this update because I have an insane amount of brain rot for OPLA Zoro and it's been consuming me this week 😂🙃 Also, because it's been bringing me joy and making me smile at a time in my life where I'm feeling a bit lost.

Sending you so much love and thank you for the update. I had a shit week so this has been such a mood booster that it is hard to put it into words how much I appreciate you and how happy I am that I discovered you and Chaos in Their Bones.

Hope you're having a lovely weekend, Jenn ❤

Osiyo my Gouda 🧀 Nonnie turned to my cheesy!! I am so happy to hear from you! The fact you did an intense cleansing of your tumblr makes me feel like I should probably do the same BUT 2009, you say?!? My bestie started a tumblr around that time too, I believe. What was it like? Was it wild? Lol

It makes me so happy to know you enjoyed the updated chapter! I was honestly very nervous about it cause I wrote it starting yesterday around 5 pm and finished by roughly 9:30 am. I just knew that once Sanji was introduced the story was going to be a bit more hefty, per say. There is the drinking scene, and I wanted Doc and Nami to have some time together, because she deserves a good wholesome friendship, okay?!

I’m so glad you love Zoro’s POV! It always makes me nervous because he is such a moody baby, but also extremely devoted to keeping his word/promises. I thought it was important to show his side and struggle, because he is so devoted to fulfilling his promise that I can envision him being completely blinded by that determination. I mean, look how he responds to poor Nami 😩😩

Oh man, we know Sanji flirts with EVERY woman lol so flirting is definitely implied and I may or may not have already pre-written the dialogue for most of that scene 🤣

I cannot believe you’ve reread Chaos in Their Bones so many times! But also, I completely understand why you would after reading the rest of your message. It is an absolute honor and a privilege to be a part of something that is bringing you joy in a time when you feel like it is most needed. I always look forward to your reviews and to see how you liked chapters. It means a lot to me to see your 🧀 in my ask box. I am incredibly sorry this week wasn’t any good, but just know I am sending you lots of love and good vibes that hopefully next week is better than this one. Sending you virtual hugs and Much Love 🖤

#thecheesyreader #answered #Chaos in Their Bones review #I hope all is well hun #and thank you for letting my little story be a place of comfort for you #you humble my story more than it deserves #but I am so truly honored to be there for you when you need it #wishing you so much joy #now I’m gonna go be emotional now ok? #opla zoro