#Ceiling Fans Chicago

[captainhongjoong]

icb i have to go back to work tomorrow like. i’ve had such a good time not doing that

[megalony]

Vital Signs

Here is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon, I hope you will all like it I had a lot of fun with this one. Please let me know your thoughts.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie asks Maddie to check in on (Y/n) when she isn't feeling well while he's at work. But when Maddie has to call an ambulance, Eddie races to the hospital to find out what's wrong with his wife.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dad,"

Eddie rolled his lips together and spun on his heels, shaking the scrambled eggs from the pan onto the plates he laid out earlier. One of the few things he could manage to cook without burning.

He dropped the pan into the sink and spun on his heels, hands faffing around with a tea towel while his eyes landed on his son. The ten year old was leaning against the kitchen counter, nose scrunched up and lips pressed into a thin line rather than his usual cheesy grin or tired smile.

"What's up bud? Why aren't you dressed yet?" His voice was soft and his head tilted to the side as he looked down at his boy but he could feel his smile slipping away.

Chris was still in his pyjamas even though Eddie had woken him up for school over ten minutes ago and told him to get ready. It was his routine to get dressed before breakfast and then Eddie would take him to school on his way to work. They would be running behind schedule at this rate if Chris wasn't even ready yet.

"Mum won't come out the bathroom," Chris tilted his head to the left, looking up at the ceiling for a moment while he pointed behind him towards the hallway.

It was his routine to brush his teeth and wash his face and he always got dressed in the bathroom, but he couldn't get in there. (Y/n) had beaten him to it and now she wasn't coming out the room. The shower wasn't on, he hadn't heard her run the bath or the taps in the sink, she didn't even have music playing like she normally did.

He watched his dad's upper lip curl and his brows furrowed into a confused frown.

"Okay uh, eat breakfast while I go see if she's okay."

When he reached Chris, he patted his shoulder and turned him in the direction of the table and placed a plate down in front of him. He kissed Chris's head to shush his distaste at changing his routine before he headed out into the hall to go to the bathroom.

"Baby, you okay in there?" Eddie rapped his knuckles against the door before gingerly opening it and peeking his head around.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. Maybe (Y/n) in the bath- because he couldn't hear the shower running- losing track of time, or find her getting changed or in the middle of getting ready.

Eddie wasn't prepared to find (Y/n) on the floor. Her legs were curled awkwardly beneath her on the bath mat, her arms loosely draped over the toilet and her head practically hanging inside the toilet. Her upper body was slumped over like she had fainted but when Eddie heard her groan, he knew she was conscious.

"Oh Christ, mi amor, talk to me." He crouched down beside her, arching his knees out so he was curved around her with her between his thighs.

He was careful when he pulled (Y/n) up so he could look at her but their eyes barely met before (Y/n) turned back down and hurled into the toilet. All she could throw up was the water she had tried to sip this morning, anything she ate last night had come back up with vengeance already.

(Y/n) felt pitiful when she cried and gasped for breath, wiping her eyes on her arm but it didn't make her feel any better and she could feel more tears replacing them anyway.

(Y/n) didn't like Eddie seeing her like this, especially not when she was now going to make him late for work. This wasn't the state she wanted to be in when Eddie walked in on her in the bathroom, she didn't want to be hunched over the toilet, throwing up and looking as weak as a leaf.

Her arms could barely be lifted up in front of her, every part of her body felt sluggish and her stomach was churning but it was her chest that was the worst. It felt like nails were being hammered into her lungs that were popping and tightening and deflating in her chest.

Each breath she took was croaky and gasping and rough as if she smoked fifty a day for the last twenty years.

"Sick," She croaked with a grimace and stayed crouching over the toilet just in case she had any more bile to throw up.

She could feel Eddie's lips pressing against her bare shoulder and his hands slowly rubbed up and down her arms. His hums and shushes vibrated against her skin and made her shiver and when Eddie pulled her back and let her flop against his chest, she tried to smile and look up at him. They both knew her smile did nothing to calm him down.

"I gathered that, baby. I thought you said you felt better yesterday."

(Y/n) let out a little grumble and swayed her hand from side to side. She didn't want to worry Eddie yesterday when he was at work by saying she felt crappy and lethargic. And she had felt a bit better last night and she slept all night through, but now as the sun rose it seemed to drain (Y/n) of all her energy and wellness.

Eddie sighed before he leaned his arm over to flush the toilet. He wasn't impressed to find (Y/n) had thrown everything up and he could feel her skin burning up against his touch and layered in cold sweat. Eddie could see she was going to be dehydrated and if food wasn't staying down she wouldn't have any nutrients or energy left.

When he pressed the back of his hand against her temple, he clicked his tongue. She was getting a temperature and she looked like she was on the verge of passing out.

"Okay, I think we should get you back to bed."

(Y/n) tilted her head back on Eddie's shoulder and reached a heavy hand up to cup his cheek. When he stared down at her with that dark, infectious, possessive look, (Y/n) could have melted on the spot if she didn't feel so icky and uneasy.

She found the strength to loop her arms around Eddie's neck and he took the hint, grabbing her hips to pull her up to unsteady feet.

"Come on," He murmured against the top of her head when a whine burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she dropped her head into the crook of his neck. She brought her hand up to brush his jaw while he kissed the top of her head and slowly guided her out of the bathroom.

They walked in awkward tandem together, Eddie's arms bound tight around her waist and his lips attached to the side of her neck as they headed into their room.

When (Y/n) flopped to sit down on the bed, Eddie stood between her legs and cupped her face, tilting her head up so she could look up at him. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks and his wet lips smoothed against her burning temple. He didn't like how unwell she looked or the dazed look in her eyes, and Eddie didn't like the thought of leaving her home alone in this state.

His hands were soft as they moved down to her arms and gently nudged her back until she was laid down on the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing one hand up and down over her hip and her waist while his other hand fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey Maddie," His lips quirked into a lopsided smile when (Y/n) tried to lift her head from the pillow but she felt like she was made of stone.

Her body was sinking into the bed that felt softer than ever and her eyes were almost closing already.

She flopped her hand around until she latched her trembling fingers around Eddie's wrist and gave a small tug. She wanted some sort of comfort and touch. And the confusion written across her face told Eddie she had no idea why he was ringing her big sister.

"You're not at work right now, are you?"

"No… why, what's wrong?" The concern was evident in his sister in law's voice. It wasn't often that Eddie rang Maddie for anything other than to ask if she was coming to a party or coming round for lunch or when something had happened.

They conversed a lot in group circles and joked around when they met up at parties or for family meals, but they didn't call or text. Whereas Eddie and Buck were messaging almost every day. They had been close before Eddie fell for (Y/n)- something Buck had been against at first, having his little sister and his best friend falling for each other.

"I know you and (Y/n) were gonna meet up this afternoon, but she's not feeling well. Any chance you could come by later, make sure she's okay for me?"

Eddie knew what (Y/n) was like. He knew if he left for work and with Chris being at school, she wouldn't look after herself properly. She didn't look well enough to get up, let alone try and get to the kitchen to make something to eat or get a drink. And Eddie didn't like the thought of leaving in case (Y/n) fainted or tripped or collapsed and no one was here to help her.

"Sure. I'll come over after I drop Jee at school and I'll stay with her for a while." Maddie's tone softened and Eddie could almost see her smiling.

She would gladly spend the day with her sister and look after her. After all, (Y/n) had been round almost every day to help Maddie with Jee when she was first born, and again when Maddie came back. She helped her sister get back on track, Maddie would do anything to repay that love and kindness.

And looking after her younger siblings when they were ill was something Maddie had done since Buck and (Y/n) were tiny. She had always given them medicine and watched movies with them, snuggled up on the sofa. They were her first patients before she became a nurse all those years ago.

And if that meant spending the day watching movies with her and trying to get her to eat and drink, then that's what Maddie would do. How could she refuse?

"Alright baby," Eddie leaned over (Y/n) and pressed a few fluttering kisses against her temple. "Maddie's gonna come over and look after you for me, but if you need me just give me a ring, okay?"

When (Y/n) nodded, Eddie pressed his finger beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him and he captured her lips in a kiss. Knowing Maddie was coming over made Eddie feel better because if (Y/n) needed anything or she felt worse, she would have her big sister right here to look after her.

But Eddie hated leaving her or Chris when either of them weren't well. He wanted to be here with her. Hopefully his shift would fly by and when he came home, (Y/n) might feel a bit better.

***

Every part of (Y/n)'s body felt sluggish like she was a model made of clay, slowly setting in the afternoon sun. The more she tried to move about, the less willing her legs were to keep going to the point where she was dragging her legs behind her and finding it hard to keep her eyes open.

She had dragged herself out of bed an hour after Eddie took Chris to school and forced herself to try and move about the house. She didn't want to be in bed all day and she wasn't sure when Maddie was coming round to check on her.

Maddie had been true to her word and turned up after she dropped Jee off with the promise that she was staying with her sister all day until it was time to pick Chris up from school. She had graciously offered to pick Chris up when she went to get Jee and bring him back home because she could see her sister was in no fit state to leave the house.

(Y/n) ran her hand across her face, trying to rub away the droplets of sweat gathering on her skin. She held herself up, making sure she didn't lean on the walls as she walked in case she lost the little effort she had and slid down to the floor.

She took it slow, walking down the hall back towards the living room where Maddie was just taking the empty cups towards the kitchen.

Something soft and loving crossed Maddie's face when she looked over at her sister. A lopsided smile graced her lips and she paused in front of (Y/n), reaching out to rub her shoulder.

"Fancy another drink?"

"Anything with ice… I'm melting."

Maddie nodded and walked ahead into the kitchen and after a second thought, (Y/n) moved to follow after her. Maybe being in the kitchen where the window was open might make her feel better. She was likely due to take some more painkillers too. If she sank down on the sofa she feared she would never get back up again.

She dragged her feet behind her as she headed into the kitchen, but she wrapped her right arm around her waist when her stomach gave an awful twang. It felt like a coil inside her stomach had snapped.

She wasn't sure whether she needed to rush to the toilet or hunch over and be sick. Her stomach had been twisting in agony all day and she'd suffered cramps yesterday which put her off her food.

Once she shuffled to the kitchen island, (Y/n) slumped down on one of the kitchen stools and leaned forward. She folded her arms on the counter and leaned her chin on her arm, trying to find something to focus on and look at.

She tried to watch Maddie who was flowing about the kitchen with ease, grabbing glasses and making two glasses of juice with lots of ice. And then she moved around to try and find something that (Y/n) could try to peck at, little bits of fruit might be worth trying.

"Here you go- are you okay?" Maddie set a glass down in front of (Y/n) and moved her hand to rest on her sister's shoulder.

A concerned frown pulled at Maddie's lips as she glided her hand up and down (Y/n)'s back. She didn't like the way her sister was hunched over the counter and for a moment she panicked that (Y/n) might have passed out, but she could feel her twitching and writhing. She couldn't sit still but she didn't have the energy to get up and move about either.

"Hm, just- just my stomach. Thanks," It took a lot of effort for (Y/n) to sit up straight and she felt the room spin around her before she managed to get her eyes back into focus.

A forced smile that looked more like a grimace appeared on her lips as she picked up the glass of juice and relished in the condensation clinging to her palm and coating her fingers. Ice. Just what she needed to cool her system down and try to perk herself back up again.

(Y/n) took a sip of her drink, listening to the way the ice clinked together, but she quickly set the glass down when she felt her hands beginning to shake.

She moved one arm back to her stomach and wrapped her arm around her abdomen, trying to take deep, calming breaths to make the sudden horrid feeling go away. Whatever Maddie started to say went in one ear and out the other. (Y/n) couldn't hear her anymore. She couldn't hear anything.

The tv from the living room playing an old comedy film in the background, the radio in the kitchen Maddie had turned on a while ago and forgot to turn off, Maddie's voice. All of it became silence to (Y/n). None of it got through over the static building up in her ears.

When her eyes started to blur and she couldn't see her sister properly anymore, (Y/n) tried to say her name. She tried to call out and override the panic building up in her system but all that came out was a quiet, mumbling groan.

"Oh, oh you don't look well. Let's go lay you down on the sofa, hm?" Maddie tried to reach out and curled her arm around (Y/n)'s waist to help her off the stool.

Her eyes had gone out of focus, her skin was sheened with sweat and she looked like she had suddenly seen a ghost. Sitting here might not do her much good, laying down might make her feel better and let her gather some strength and energy back.

But the moment (Y/n) got to her feet, the crippling pain in her abdomen amplified and both arms bound around her waist. She felt her weight shifting from one side to the next and she couldn't manage to move one foot in front of the other. She couldn't stop herself from falling to the floor. She didn't feel anything when her body collided with the tiled floor and her legs curled awkwardly beneath her. The way her head bashed into the floor seemed to flick a switch in (Y/n)'s brain and it kickstarted her hearing and shocked her body back into action.

Her arms tightened around her waist, pressing deeply into her abdomen to try and ward off the pain that was sending her shaking in spasms on the floor.

She couldn't stop the whimper from leaving her lips as she rubbed her burning temple against the cold floor.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n), oh God. Are you with me?" Maddie crashed down to her knees and reached her hands out to carefully hold (Y/n)'s neck and tilt her head back so she could see her.

Her little sister didn't look good.

Her eyes couldn't open properly and Maddie could see her pupils rolling towards the back of her head. Sweat flushed her exposed skin and the heat was coming off of her in waves. A light tremble had set across her system, shaking her arms against her stomach and causing her legs to jitter against the floor as she writhed and tried to move.

"Shh, stay still, let me look at you." She pressed the back of her hand against (Y/n)'s temple. She had a fever. When her fingertips pushed down over (Y/n)'s pulse, she could feel each thundering beat of her heart that was going way too fast to be considered normal range. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

She brushed her thumb across (Y/n)'s cheek and tried to smile at her while her other hand fumbled in her back pocket for her phone.

(Y/n) uncurled a trembling arm from her waist and flapped her hand out until she managed to grab Maddie's wrist. She coiled her arm close to her chest and tried to move their hands towards her stomach to show her sister where the pain was coming from.

"Okay, let's get you some help."

"911, what's your emergency?"

"This is dispatcher Maddie Buckley, my sister's collapsed. She has a fever and severe stomach pains and her pulse is very fast." Maddie tried to be gentle as she brushed (Y/n)'s hair away from her face and glided her hand up and down her arm to keep her calm and soothe her. She could feel the distress radiating off of her sister and the state she was in told Maddie that something was severely wrong.

"Paramedics are five minutes away and being redirected to you. What's her name?"

"(Y/n) Diaz." She did her best to smile to try and keep (Y/n) as calm as possible while she writhed and whimpered, clearly in mass agony. But when she tilted her head down, her lips pressed together tightly and her breath got caught in her lungs. "She's starting to bleed."

She could see a patch of blood smeared into the back of (Y/n)'s leggings and around her inner thighs. It wasn't much or drastic, but even a small drop of blood was a bad indicator and signified that this was more than some sort of stomach bug or a sickness fever. And Maddie wasn't stupid, this wasn't her sister having a bad period, this was a bad sign.

"E-Eddie… I w-want Eddie," (Y/n) kept her left arm bolted tight around her lower abdomen that felt like it was on fire. But her right hand clutched onto Maddie's wrist and held so tightly her sister had no choice but to lean down to be closer.

Maddie could feel tears welling up in her eyes when she looked at the panic written across her sister's face. She bit down on her lip and nodded.

"When we get you to hospital, I'll call him and Buck to let them know to be at the hospital. I promise, it's all gonna be okay." There was no way she could call Eddie yet, not until she knew what was wrong with (Y/n) and what was causing the pain. She had to get (Y/n) to a doctor first because then she could tell Eddie what was going on rather than getting him to the hospital in a state of blind panic. She had to have some answers first.

"Hurts."

"I know, I know honey but not for long, you'll be at the hospital soon. It'll be okay."

(Y/n) felt like nodding, but she couldn't. She couldn't move her arms, thrash her legs, push up from where she was laid on the floor. She couldn't do anything. All (Y/n) could do was let tears flush her face and allow the horrid pains in her abdomen to override her senses.

What was wrong with her?

She wanted Eddie.

***

Eddie raked his fingers through his hair for what must have been the twentieth time in the last hour. He could feel loose strands scraping beneath his nails and the painful, bolting sensation in his scalp from pulling out a few hairs by mistake.

He bolted down the corridor, eyes looking every which way but ahead in the unusually empty corridor. The receptionist had sent him straight from the emergency room down here and told him to follow the signs for the X-ray department and he would find the family member that brought his wife in.

Why he was going towards X-ray he couldn't fathom. (Y/n) had been sick and burning up, she hadn't had any symptoms indicating a broken bone. Unless she had had some kind of accident or slipped and fell. Eddie hoped not. He wasn't sure what he was hoping or praying for anymore.

He twisted around the corner, skidded along the recently mopped floor and stuttered through each breath when his sister in law finally came into his sights in an empty waiting room.

"Maddie w-what happened, where is she?"

Eddie had been on a three hour call that drained him of his energy and left him without lunch. And he just climbed out the shower to have Buck practically in tears, thrusting his phone at Eddie and telling him something had happened to (Y/n).

He couldn't make much sense other than (Y/n) had collapsed and was in the emergency room awaiting test results. But by the time Eddie got down here- after finding numerous missed calls on his phone and ringing his Abuela to see if she could pick Chris up for him- (Y/n) wasn't in the emergency room anymore.

Eddie's eyes did another sweep of the waiting room and his heart jumped into his throat when he realised that yes, he had been following the signs for the X-ray department, but he had also been wrong. This wasn't the X-ray waiting room. This was the waiting area for ultrasounds.

Where was (Y/n)?

He could see Maddie looked close to crying. She had been swirling her ring around her finger which was a worry sign for her and the way she bit her lip and looked up at Eddie was another bad sign.

"She's gone for an ultrasound, I- I said I'd wait for you." Maddie got up from her seat and reached her hand out to rub Eddie's arm although she wasn't all that comforting when he realised she was trembling.

"What for? What the Hell happened?"

She hadn't known what was wrong when she called him and Buck at the station. All Eddie gathered was that (Y/n) had had her bloods taken in the emergency room for standard screenings, she had been put on a drip and she was getting assessed. What had happened, what had they found out to send her here? Was it her liver, her stomach- God forbid it be something wrong with her heart.

"Sit down."

Those words had Eddie shuddering and he violently shook his head as cold dread slithered up his throat. This couldn't be anything good.

"They ran her bloods in the ER… she's pregnant, but- but she was losing blood. They're doing an ultrasound to find out why she was in pain. Eddie," Maddie's hand moved to cover her mouth when Eddie's face fell completely.

She didn't have to say anymore for Eddie to get the silent message she was trying to convey. If (Y/n) was in pain, had been having stomach cramps and now she was bleeding, there wasn't much hope for the baby. She had to be having a miscarriage or a very bad complication.

This wasn't fair.

(Y/n) would have told him if she was pregnant or if she suspected she was. She wouldn't leave him in the dark and not tell him. He should have stayed home this morning. He should have stayed with her and looked after her and checked if she was okay. He should have examined her better and made her see a doctor this morning when she was sick.

"Where is she?"

As soon as Maddie pointed to the room, Eddie was vanishing from her sights and rushing towards the door. He made very little effort to tap his knuckles against the door before he headed inside. He didn't care if they tried to push him out and tell him this was confidential. Maddie told them she would send Eddie in when he arrived.

(Y/n) had been asking for him since they got in the ambulance. She wouldn't object if he went into the room, she would probably calm down and let them assess her properly if Eddie was finally within her sights.

"Sir, you can't-"

"No- please I'm her husband, Mr Diaz. Please tell me what's going on."

Eddie hurried past the doctor and the nurse to stand on (Y/n)'s other side when her hand feebly reached out for him and she whined his name.

As soon as he was beside her, he enveloped her hand in his and brought her knuckles to his lips. He gently carded his left hand through her hair and leaned down to kiss her temple that was flushed and felt like he was kissing a burning flame. He didn't like the way (Y/n) was writhing and trying to push up from the bed she was laid on.

Every time the doctor pressed the sonogram down on her abdomen, (Y/n) yelped or groaned and tried to shy away, but she couldn't move very far or do very much in her state.

She managed to twist her head to the right and nudge her burning temple against Eddie's arm. She wanted to edge closer to him and get him to wrap himself around her to make her feel better, but she couldn't move far and she could barely control her voice.

"Your wife started losing blood, we're trying to see where it came from and if there's a fetal heartbeat."

Hearing those words only crushed Eddie's heart even more and he hated the way (Y/n) squirmed when the sonogram moved again. Presumably so the doctor could see where the bleed was and if it was still happening or not.

It took all of Eddie's nerves to compose himself and he had to turn away from the ultrasound to look down at (Y/n) when he watched the doctor shake his head and mutter 'no vital signs.' There was no heartbeat. It felt bittersweet. They had been trying for a baby and the first time they get a positive result is the same time they find out they've lost the baby too.

But just as the doctor clicked on the screen to zoom in, a quiet, almost silent groan left (Y/n)'s lips.

Eddie looked down at her but his stomach pulled in and his heart started beating ten times faster when (Y/n)'s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her forehead lolled against his arm. He slid his hand from carding through her hair to cup the side of her neck to feel her pulse as the nurse hurried forward to do the same.

Her pulse was dropping.

When Eddie looked to the right towards the doctor, he saw the elder man pale significantly and both their eyes landed on the puddle of blood forming between (Y/n)'s legs. She was having another haemorrhage.

"Page for an OR. Left fallopian tube ruptured, we need this bleeding under control now."

Maddie bolted up from her seat at the sight of two nurses rushing into the room (Y/n) was in, both scurrying in with a gurney between them. But it was the sight of her sister, limp and unconscious being wheeled out of the room that sent Maddie's heart lurching down to her stomach and had her wondering if she was going to throw up.

Her eyes couldn't focus on her sister and she couldn't try and follow after her when she watched Eddie storm out of the room and smash his fist into the wall on his right. The force he used was enough to break through the plaster and leave a broken indent spotted with flecks of blood from his split knuckles.

When he did it again, hard enough to send his arm spasming and shaking, Maddie tried to hold onto his elbows and reel him away from the wall and towards her instead.

"What happened?"

Eddie could feel his chest rising and falling like someone was sitting on his diaphragm, squeezing all the air out of his body. But he couldn't feel the split knuckles on his right hand or the adrenaline that was causing him to shake like a drunkard.

"She's going for surgery. Tube ruptured."

Maddie was a nurse, she didn't need any extra information to know what Eddie was talking about, and they were both on the same page. They both understood what that meant and what kind of pregnancy (Y/n) must have had for her fallopian tube to have split and caused such a bad bleed like this.

Her hands began to shake as she tightened her hold on Eddie's elbow and reeled him closer to her so he would turn and face her.

"Both of them?" She almost dreaded to ask, and the way Eddie's upper lip curled made her stomach sink. If both tubes were removed, (Y/n) would have a hysterectomy. She wouldn't be able to have kids if they did that.

"I don't know."

***

Eddie lifted his head from his hands that had been smothering his face for the last ten minutes or so. He stopped scratching his nails into his scalp and looked over at the bed when a small sound caught his attention.

Relief and hope sparked in his eyes and he shot up from the chair, chiding himself when his legs felt numb as if he was walking on hot coals sending pins and needles up to his thighs. He got out of the chair he had been crammed in for almost an hour and switched to sit on the side of the bed instead.

Both hands reached out for (Y/n)'s hand, being careful not to dislodge the cannula in the back of her hand giving her the IV fluids and no doubt a heavy amount of morphine.

His feet began to tap and jitter up and down against the floor out of anxious habit and he rolled his lips together as he leaned forward.

Eddie had been overly anxious this last hour, waiting for (Y/n) to wake up. He didn't know what he was going to say, how he was going to explain, and he had no idea how (Y/n) was going to feel or react once she came round from the anaesthetic.

As bad as it was, Eddie had been relieved when Maddie left. It allowed him to sit and stew on his emotions by himself. He could try and gather his thoughts and control every raging storm happening inside of him and if he wanted to lash out, no one was going to see or stop him. Maddie had gone to get Jee and she practically told Eddie rather than asked, that she would pick Chris up from his Abuela and her and Chimney would have him stay with them for the night.

He was beyond grateful and he had a feeling Buck would be round there too because Eddie had dodged every one of Buck's calls. And Bobby's. And his parents. He had let slip to his Abuela that (Y/n) wasn't well and was rushed to hospital, therefore his mum hadn't stopped calling, but he didn't want to speak to anyone just yet.

He didn't know how he would explain any of it.

His lips rolled together into a thin line and he did his best to smile when (Y/n)'s hand twitched in his hold and she groaned.

Her head lolled from left to right and when her eyes finally started to blinker open, Eddie's smile widened and relaxed. He tilted forward, reaching his right hand out to cup her cheek so he could press a soft kiss to her temple.

"E- Eddie?"

"It's me, amor. How do you feel?" He pressed another soft kiss to her temple, then lathered a few to her cheek before he pulled back to hover over her.

Tears welled in (Y/n)'s eyes that were trying hard to focus and she tried to gather her senses, but everything was foggy. She remembered being in an ambulance with Maddie. She remembered being in mass agony, and the last thing she recalled was Eddie whispering her name and squeezing her hand, just like he was now.

But she had no idea what had happened, why she was here or why she had been asleep. Did she pass out? Had they knocked her out for a procedure or a scan? How long had she been asleep?

She tried to sit forward but she took a sharp breath and sank back against the bed when a tightening sensation twinged in her stomach. Maybe lying down for now would be her best option.

Her free hand moved up and her shaking fingers dragged along her face until she could scrunch her fingers beneath the oxygen tube tucked into her nostrils. With one swift yank, she removed it from her nose and let the clear plastic tube hang loose around her neck. She didn't want that, she could breathe perfectly fine on her own.

"Do you feel sick?"

When (Y/n) shook her head, Eddie managed to smile and she could see the relief in his eyes. She watched his eyes glance across to the monitor and she knew he was watching her heartbeat. Her lips curved up into a soft smile when he pressed the back of his hand against her temple, just to make sure her fever had truly gone.

"Good, you should start to feel better now, baby." His hand moved back to cup her cheek and his thumb softly glided across her skin causing shivers and blossoming nerves in his wake.

"What happened?" (Y/n) felt groggy, but her mind felt like a TV that was rebooting itself. She was slowly coming back into focus, things were slotting into place in her mind like pieces of a puzzle, but there was still a fog clouding in over her mind.

But her tepid smile started to fade when she watched Eddie's lips drop so fast she wondered if he had suffered a stroke. Something broken and frightening crossed over his eyes that darkened like the moon had replaced the sun and she felt him shudder against her.

"Baby, w-what is it?" She squeezed his hand which she pulled closer to her chest while she watched him sit up a sit straighter against her. His right hand stayed enclosed in hers but he moved his left hand to hold her hip with his fingers tapping and squeezing into her flesh every now and then.

"Amor, they, they did bloods in the ER, and then an ultrasound, you were pregnant."

"Were?" It was more of a statement than a question, and the grim nod of Eddie's head caused (Y/n) to roll her lips together. She couldn't keep her eyes on him. The implication was clear. She might have been pregnant when she was brought in, but she wasn't anymore.

(Y/n)'s free hand moved in a small, jerking motion but she fought off the urge to press her hand to her stomach. Instead, she latched her fingers around Eddie's wrist that was against her hip.

"Mi amor, you had an ectopic pregnancy." The way she furrowed her brows indicated she didn't know what that meant. "It- fuck… it's when the baby usually grows outside the womb, but you- it grew in your fallopian tube, and then it ruptured."

Fright and agony was the only thing Eddie could see swirling around in her eyes and it broke his heart. He wished this could have happened in a different way. If they had a 'typical' ectopic pregnancy, it wouldn't have caused such damage. (Y/n) might have miscarried or they would of found out at a doctor's appointment and a few medications and check ups would be all she needed to remove the pregnancy.

Fear grappled at (Y/n)'s heart when it seemed to sink in. All that pain, the fever, the bleeding, it was because her tube had split. The baby had continued to form in some way, despite no nutrients or hormones where it was and it split her tube.

"You went for surgery, but they had to remove the tube, and you lost a lot of blood."

Eddie hated the horror that overtook (Y/n)'s face and he tried not to wince when her nails punctured into his wrist and pulled him closer. She shook her head and her nose crinkled as she tried to find the words that were spinning around in her head at one hundred miles an hour.

"But I- can I still get pregnant?" She surprised herself that she managed to get the words out in one piece.

They had been wanting a family together since they got married a few months ago. This was the first time (Y/n) got pregnant and she had gone and had such an awful, unknown experience that they had to take her to surgery. She and Eddie had been waiting for the news that (Y/n) would get pregnant, but not like this. Never like this.

"They only removed one tube. As long as you recover okay and don't get any infection, you should be fine. You can still get pregnant."

Eddie had shed a few tears when the doctor told him the surgery went well. They removed the infected tube and had been lucky that the other one was still perfectly fine, the bleeding hadn't caused any problems with her tube or her womb in general. As long as (Y/n) didn't get any infection or sepsis from surgery and she healed fine, she had every chance of getting pregnant. One less tube didn't lower their chances or make it harder.

Tears coursed down (Y/n)'s face and when she moved her hand to cup the back of Eddie's neck, he got the silent message. He leaned down into her embrace and smothered his lips against hers.

She was okay, she was going to be fine. Eddie hadn't lost her, but he couldn't go through that kind of panic again. He couldn't bear the thought of something happening to (Y/n), especially if he wasn't there to help her.

He didn't dare think what would of happened if Maddie hadn't been home with (Y/n) when she collapsed.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

JEY RIZZO - JEY USO X Kabana Love (OC)

Request: Okay so yk how the raw before war games when they were mentioning how they needed a 5th member? Well, this universe, it’s a mixed war games so Rhea is in. Cody makes his “call” Randy and a former NXT, newly signed Keiarie or Kabana Love for her ring debut with them. Mr. Main Event takes a notice to her and tries to yk, get his game on the whole night with her.

Thank you for the request @shantinextdoor. I hope you like it 🫶🏽.

taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @purplehairgawdess @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna @arination99 @empressdede @harmshake @m3llowww @theninthwonder @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @badbitchcentralinc @bebesobrielo @vensusworld

“Well if it isn’t Miss Kabana Love..” Kabana smirked and excused herself from her conversation with Kelani Jordan and turned around to face The American Nightmare himself. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr former executive vice president.” She shot back, laughing when he rolled his eyes. “You not down here tryna become NXT champion are you?” She asked teasingly as she pulled him into a hug. 

Cody laughed. “Nope” he said, popping the ‘p’ “got a special invitation to come down here to watch the show from Shawn”. Kaiarie nodded

“Okay well, unlike you some of us have to work. ” She smirked, patting her NXT Women’s Championship that was wrapped around her waist. “But we should get dinner after.” 

“Oh totally.” Cody said, nodding his head. “I missed you busting my balls every chance you get.” Kabana and Cody  glared at each other before breaking out into smiles. “Come find me after your match”. She gave him a thumbs up before waving as he walked away, both of them oblivious to the two sets of eyes watching them.

“The following match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the NXT women’s championship!” Kabana took a deep breath and shook out her stage fright jitters and her theme song started to blare through the performance center. 

She smiled as she appeared at the top of the stage listening to the fans chant her name as she held up her championship, her opponent in the ring already glaring daggers at her. “Making her way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois Kabana Love!”  She entered the ring walking up to Tiffany Stratton and started talking her shit, title raised high in the air. 

Kabana smirked as the referee stepped in between them, separating them and pushing them to their respective corners. 

As soon as the bell rang the smirk was off of Kabana’s face, it was game time. It was honestly one of her better matches with her and Tiffany trading move after move, near fall after near fall and the crowd was louder than ever. 

It was now nearing the end of the match and Kabana had just got her knees up to block Tiffany’s Prettiest Moonsault Ever and was about to set her up for the Love Tap when someone jumping on the ring apron distracted her. Both Kabana and the referee looked at Dominik Mysterio in confusion. 

“Are you fucking lost?” Kabana spat at him, rolling her eyes at the dumb little smirk on his face.

“What the hell?” She heard Vic Joseph say as she was grabbed from behind. “That’s Rhea Ripley Book, what the hell is she doing here.” Before Kabana could react she was set up for the Riptide and planted firmly on the mat. Rhea rolled out of the ring and wrapped her arm around Dom’s waist as the both made their way back up the ramp, smirking at all the boos they were receiving.

Tiffany took advantage of the situation and set Kabana up for another Prettiest Moosault Ever. 

1-2-3 ding ding ding

“Here’s your winner and the NEW NXT women’s champion. Tiffany Stratton.”  Kabana laid in the ring, glaring up at the ceiling as Tiffany celebrated with her championship. 

“Bull-shit! Bull-shit!” she heard the crowd chant and she couldn’t agree more. What just happened was complete bullshit. She had never had a run in with Rhea or any of the other judgment day members, so why in the fuck did Rhea just come out here and cost her the title? 

Kabana was livid as she made her way backstage, trying to find Rhea before being told that she and Dominik were already gone from the building. “You alright?” Kabana sighed and turned to face Cody. “That was bullshit and 100 percent my fault.” Kabana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “They approached me after they saw us talking earlier, thought I was trying to recruit you for our War Games match.”

Kabana scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “Isn’t that fucking great. On everything I love Rhea better watch out cause she gon get hers.” She said placing a hand on her lower back as it began to ache again. “You still need a member?” Cody nodded with a hopeful look in his eyes and Kabana smirked. “Count me in then Rhodes, bitch got something coming to her.” Cody smirked and placed his hands in his suit pants pocket. Rhea had no idea of the beast she had just awoken inside of Kabana.

Monday Night Raw

Kabana smirked as she made her way through the crowd dressed in all black. It was time for Rhea to reap what she sowed. 

Rhea was leaning against the ring post laughing as Jey was getting his ass kicked by Judgement Day and Drew Mcintyre. The smirk was wiped off her face as a figure in black jumped the barricade. She looked around for security before she was knocked onto her ass by a mean right hook. 

Kabana took off her hood and glared down at Rhea. She heard the crowd roar as they recognized  her but she kept her eyes on Rhea who was backing away slowly. “Oh you done fucked up now.” Kabana snarled and as soon as Rhea tried to get up Kabana pounced, tackling her back down to the floor, throwing blow after blow. Rhea pushed Kabana off her and got to her feet only to be knocked back down by a superkick from Kabana.

“You thought you could cost me my title and there be no repercussions?” Kabana asked a knocked out Rhea. “Bitch are you dumb?” She rolled her eyes as Dom came over and helped Rhea to her feet, helping her walk over to where the rest of the team were standing. 

“I’m so happy you guys won the advantage.” She heard Cody yell into the mic as she rolled into the ring to join her team. She paced behind the men, eyes still glaring at Rhea.. “I’m so glad you have a star like Drew McIntyre with you.. Because we’re not alone.” Cody trailed off and Kabana cut her eyes over at him then at Jey who was already looking at Cody. She had heard him talking about Randy joining them but she wasn’t sure he accepted. 

“We found a sixth member. Somebody that I.. have a legacy with.” Kabana started to smirk. This War Games team was stacked and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Rhea inside of the cage.

Survivor Series: WarGames

Kabana smiled at Adam Pierce as she handed him back his pen. She was officially a member of the Raw roster and after War Games her first order of business was taking that title away from Rhea. 

“Aww shit.” She heard somebody say from behind her. “Was that a contract I just saw you sign?” Jey Uso asked as he walked closer to her. Kabana nodded her head with a smile on her face. “Good, so that means I get to see more of you.” Kabana furrowed her eyebrows. Was he flirting with her?  “Happy you on our team tonight too. We definitely winning.” He said rubbing his hands together. 

“Are we gonna be graced with another wonderful press conference?” She asked, smirking at the way his cheeks turned a shade of pink. 

“Hell no!” He exclaimed as they started walking towards the dressing rooms. “And I put the blame all on ya boy Cody. Uce was giving me shot after shot.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It was embarrassing as hell too. I was stumbling all over my words and shit..” He trailed off with a shake of his head. 

“I thought it was kinda cute..” She said, eyeing him up and down. He looked extremely good in his War Games ring gear. The blue and camo mix looked good on him. 

“Stop flirting with my protégé Uce.” Cody came up to the two of them, wrapping his arm around Kabana’s shoulder. “You ready for tonight?” 

“Hell yeah, I’m ready to get my hands on Rhea. Stupid bitch been subbin’ me on twitter all damn week.” Kabana said, rolling her eyes and unzipping her hoodie, showing off her new ring attire. 

“Damn K.” Jey said, choking on his words as she did a slow 360 for him. 

“It’s cute right? I figured I needed something new.” Cody watched as Jey hungrily looked Kabana up and down, a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll catch up with y’all in a bit though.” she ran off an extra pep in her step feeling Jey's eyes on her. 

“Have you no shame?” Cody asked, laughing when Jey shook his head ‘no’ 

“Nah, so uh- what’s the deal with you two?” Jey asked, eyes never leaving Kabana’s frame until she rounded the corner out of his line of vision.  “You and her.. You know?” 

“Hell no!” The American Nightmare exclaimed. “Brandi would kill me.” 

“So I can..” Jey said pointing in the direction Kabana went and Cody nodded, laughing. 

“So whatchu doin after this?” Josh asked Kabana, ignoring the looks from the rest of their teammates who were locked in the cage at the top of the ramp with them. Kabana stopped her staring contest with Rhea to cut her eyes over at Jey. 

“Huh?”  

“Like after the show, you wanna go get dinner or something..” Sami and Cody startled to chuckle at the look of bewilderment on her face.” 

“Wait, you’re asking me out.. In the middle of our match.” 

“You know what they say, Carpe Diem or something like that.” He smiled, his grillz gleaming in the bright lights. 

“Jey, i’m pretty sure, it’s gonna be like 2 am once we actually get out of here.” Jey nodding then stepped out of the cage as the referee opened it. 

“Okay, then my hotel room.” He winked, “Think about it.” he pointed at her and smiled before running down to the ring to help out Seth Rollins. 

“I can’t believe i’m actually doing this.” Kabana muttered to herself as she stepped off the elevator onto the 3rd floor. She exhaled a shaky, nervous breath before knocking on the door that matched the number Jey had told her earlier before leaving the arena. 

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle as he opened the door with a wide smile. “Finally, the food was starting to get cold..” 

🫣 i hope you don't hate it. Thank you for trusting me with your request @shantinextdoor 🫶🏽`

[oh-stars]

Doodles

Hurt

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 539 words | CW: off-screen injury | Rating: G

--

“Does this make me old now?”

Robin rolls her eyes as she sits down beside Steve. She sets her markers down in the crease of her thigh as she twists to face him on the couch. “You’re not old.” 

“Me five years ago would never fumble this hard,” Steve huffs. He goes to cross his arms, but the big, bulky cast on his left hand stops him. He glares hard at it before offering it back to Robin. 

She hums a thankful noise and uncaps the first marker. 

“Just no dicks, please,” Steve sighs, leaning his head back. “I cannot go to work with dicks on my arm.” 

“Who do you think I am? Eddie?” Robin rolls her eyes again . “I would never draw a dick on your arm.” Boobies, however, are a different story. She makes them small and at the top part of his cast where it’s most likely going to be obscured by his shirts and jackets. 

Steve pouts. “I just cannot believe I fell so hard I broke my arm during a game with a bunch of old men.” 

“Aren’t they all under forty?” 

“Yeah, but this,” he gestures to the cast, “proves that I, the youngest of the group, is old and therefore, so are they.” 

“Come back to me when you get your first gray hair, then we can talk.”

“Why would you put that on me? Do you want me to die young? Jesus Christ, Robs,” Steve practically screeches, running his free hand through his hair. 

She just smiles and starts drawing little flowers randomly on the plaster, trading out colors every now and then. He got a bright neon green, so the darker colors are really popping against the plaster. 

For about thirty minutes, Steve just watches the ceiling fan as she doodles on his arm. She’s not leaving room for anyone else to sign, and maybe that’s selfish but Steve’s hers so she’ll do as she pleases, thank you.

Robin looks down at the mostly covered work and sighs. She decides to leave two openings for Dustin and Eddie to sign – the only two of the party who live in Chicago with them right now – but covers the rest. If she left any more openings, Eddie would doodle dicks and nerd shit while Dustin would use Steve’s arm to write equations or something. At least she’s drawing stuff he actually likes. 

There’s baseballs and basketballs (which she realizes may be a sore subject right now, so she put those where they were least visible) among the flowers and little music notes sprinkled in. She even drew a bottle of hairspray in the crease of his elbow. There’s a symbol for every job they’ve worked together: an icecream cone for Scoops Ahoy, a VHS tape for Family Video, a book for that bookstore they love, coffee mug from the brief time they tried to be baristas, a donut from the bakery that Steve still works at full-time and Robin helps out on the weekends, a pawprint for the pet store Robin convinced him to try, and a bone for the museum where Robin was a tour guide (and now does research at full-time) and Steve worked in the gift shop. 

And in big letters, going down his arm, she’s signed, “I love you dingus ❤ Robin.” 

“How’s that look?” 

Steve looks over it with a fond smile, the first since he reluctantly called her from the gym this morning. “It’s perfect.” 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[janicekao]

No, Fuck You!

Pairing: Richie Jerimovich x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Based off of season one of the series "The Bear." Carmen Berzatto, a culinary expert has to put his career on hold after his brother Michael's su1c1de being that Michael left the family's restaurant in Carmy's name. The restaurant is busted, in debt, and the staff is hardheaded. Carmy's "cousin" Richie is especially hardheaded. He's 45, doesn't like change in the restaurant, dabbles in illegal side hustles, thinks he's Italian, acts ghetto af, his attitude sucks, he's always cussing, and he is just a lot to deal with it. My addition to the story is an OC young lady who is hired at the restaurant to help with the finances and how badly her And Richie bump heads... until of course, they don't! Warnings: age gap, profanity, vi0lence, smut, fan fiction, public s3x,cr3am pi3, office siren aesthetic, submissive male, toxic, bwwm, fanfic, the bear, quickie, etc. 4038 words I also recommend viewing the story in Wattpad where I was able to use 20 photos in the story instead of tumblr's 10. Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 ------------------------------

It's a chilly winter morning in Chicago, and instead of sleeping in snuggly in his warm bed, Richie Jerimovich pulls into his job smoking an early morning ciggie with his suspended license in the pocket of his jeans.

Having trouble sleeping at night pure usual, Richie decides to pop into his job at a restaurant called The Beef two hours early before opening... Before there is even daylight. Although he yawns, he'd rather work instead of staring up at his bedroom ceiling thinking about how his wife is divorcing him, his daughter is growing up without her dad, and how he hardly has enough money to make his own rent next week... Richie enters through the back door of the restaurant and takes off his favorite leather jacket as he places it in his locker.

He grabs his uniform, a white apron and his favorite Tshirt with "The Beef" plastered across the right corner of the fabric.

Staring into the tiny and incredibly dirty locker sized mirror, he takes his gold chain from the inside of his shirt and dangles it on the outside of it. He smooths down his uncombed hair and prickly beard as he begins to chuckle cockily at his reflection. "You suave motherfucker you."

As Richie closes the door of his locker, he nearly jumps out of his skin... Spooked suddenly by the new girl who quietly stands behind his locker.

"Fucking hell!" He complains. "Lexie? Do I need to put a fucking bell on you or something? Don't ever sneak up on me! Make yourself known when you walk into a building!"

"Or what?" She instigates. "You'll pop me with that stupid fucking gun you lug around the restaurant with?"

"Yeah, maybe!" He scoffs. "Maybe I fucking will! And before you start, don't give me shit about the fact that I carry heat on me! If you were smart, you'd care a little pussy-pink magnum in your purse... walking around Chicago like you're untouchable, are you fucking insane?"

Lexie rolls her eyes.

"All I'm saying is make yourself known when you walk in here." He continues. "You got me?"

Lexie widens her stance as if Richie who is nearly a foot taller than her couldn't bench press her weight if he felt like it. "No, fuck you! You are the one who should make yourself known... I've been here long before you have."

He becomes even more short-tempered... "Sweetie, I've been here before you were even born!"

"I am speaking of this morning!" Lexie continues. "I thought you were some hobo breaking in through the back... But, it seems that I wasn't too far off."

"Fuck you. Why are you even here?" Richie wouldn't be Richie without furthering an argument. "You can't count the receipts up during your shift?! O-Or complete the payroll from your own fucking house!?"

Lexie's fists tighten. "If it were up to me, your greasy ass wouldn't even be on the payroll."

Richie chuckles... a laugh that fills Lexie with rage. "Well good thing it isn't up to you!"

"Now sign my check and hand it here." He grabs at her arm full of paperwork.

"Not until Friday!" Gritting her teeth, Lexie snatches away with all of her might. "If you're so broke, try being more charming to the customers and maybe you could take home some nice tips at night!"

She continues. "—BUT! Welcoming a customer inside by calling him 'the man with the golden dick' will get you nothing! I mean, seriously Richie?!

Richie had no idea Lexie pays so much attention to how he speaks to his regulars everyday... He feels that the people of Chicago love his charm and personality... Hell!— Arrogantly, he even believes that they come to The Beef just to see him!

Richie becomes offended. "Okay, first off— fuck you, and secondly— that's the best compliment a man could ever get!"

Lexie rolls her eyes once more before she turns to leave him.

—But, Richie just doesn't know how to quit. "Listen princess you're not here to teach us etiquette okay!? I seriously don't get why they hired you, Carmy's sister Sugar does all the paperwork here anyways!"

Lexie turns around, coming back to the argument as she reddens and continues to shout. "Because Sugar has a full time job and a husband, Richie! She can't spend all her time in this dump going through paperwork full of dust mites!"

"Fine, then why are you here at 4am?" Richie folds his arms, leaning against the lockers to stop Lexie from walking away. "I can't believe they gave you a fucking key."

"The feeling's mutual." Lexie nudges his forehead with her fingertips. "Giving you a key is as responsible as handing it to a bum on the metro. Now get out of my way!"

"You don't need to get nasty young lady." Richie's jaw clenches. He becomes terribly annoyed that the new girl can actually keep up with his banter— and the fact that she might just be better at it. "Take it back."

Lexie grins sarcastically. "Fuck you."

He flips her off. Using his fingertips under his chin, his favorite gesture when he's already said 'fuck you' enough.

She rolls her eyes. "As if I don't see you do that a thousand times a day. Grow up Richie! You're such a fucking child."

Wanting to leave the locker room, Lexie can't help but become curious as well.

"My turn." She insists, placing her items in an opened locker. "Now, why are you here?"

...

Richie gulps... He rather not talk about the stress of his life with a girl he swears is the worst investment the restaurant has ever made...

He came to work to clear his head, not to express to some chick that he feels like a forty-five year old deadbeat with no purpose in life.

"I dunno— checking... supplies and shit." He lies.

"No..." Lexie doesn't buy it. "I am here checking supplies for a list of our expenses and doing some budgeting—"

"BUDGETING!?" Richie explodes on his last straw. "Okay fuck this, you twenty-something-year olds have already changed the budget ten times!!! How much more money do we need to save!? The restaurant has already cut out so many classic dishes from the menu and now you're gonna cut back more!?"

"Yes! And if you're so concerned about how much money we bring in, try selling more sandwiches instead of eating them all fucking day!" Lexie blinks her long lashes sarcastically, making Richie fume even more and lose all of his patience.

"Damn it! I've had it with you!" Standing over Lexie, Richie begins to threaten her with a strong finger point into her face. "I have tried to be a gentleman, but you've taken me up to here!" He hovers his hand high above his head, expressing that her attitude has got him through the fucking roof.

"First of all..." Richie continues as he immaturely picks at her looks. "—You look fucking ridiculous! Coming into The Beef looking like a fucking principal in a tight fucking pencil skirt! Put on a Tshirt, and get elbow deep in some fucking grease! That's what we need! Not some Mary Poppins-fucking-secretary!"

"It's called business casual." She chuckles. "And as if we need some forty-five year old washup who leaves cigarettes everywhere, and smokes a pack a day!"

"You can't cook, you can't clean, and money comes up short every time you work the registers!"

"Fuck you, liar!" Becoming so unbelievably heated, strained veins of tension stands out of his neck each time he shouts. "I'd never mooch from this place! This place is my home, my family!"

"No?" She tilts her head in curiosity. "Well, what about you selling coke out of the back alley too! What would you call that!?"

"LABOR AND INVESTMENT." He shouts. "I'm making ends meet for this shit-hole because someone has to do it when the money gets fucking low! Tell me sweetheart, how the fuck do you think this place survived during Covid??? ME!"

...

Richie begins to insult her under his breath. "Maybe if your brains were half as big as your fat ass you'd understand better."

"EXCUSE ME!?" Lexie loses her calm.

For a moment there, she was able to keep up with Richie's attitude in a professional manner... However now, her fist down his throat would look pretty good to her.

Richie doesn't repeat himself...

"No! Fucking go ahead!" Lexie argues and begins to push against him, antagonizing a coming fight and nudging him for more. "You want to talk shit, then let's talk shit!"

"What are you doing? Now you wanna fucking fight me tough guy?" Richie rolls his eyes. "Listen, you're pressing your tits on me, you need to back off before we have a problem"

"YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!" Lexie lets out her true feelings of hatred towards him. "Do you know how smoothly this restaurant could run without you constantly aggravating someone!? You stress Carmy out every fucking day! I don't understand why he doesn't just fucking fire you already!"

She continues. "Name one day Richie, ONE DAY that you haven't aggravated someone over their limits with your constant bullshit?"

He scoffs. "It's because you fucking Chicago-gentrifying-fucking-millennials are pussies!!! No backbone!! Upset over everything. You, Carmy, and Sydney!"

"For someone who isn't good at shit, you sure are good at pissing people off!" Lexie continues to bark. "For Christ sake! Sydney stabbed you the other day in your ass for being such a prick!"

Embarrassed with his known behavior, Richie refuses to meet Lexie in her dagger like dark brown eyes.

"Syd said it was an accident..."His voice becomes meek like a baby.

"I wouldn't blame her if it wasn't!" Lexie shouts.

So used to being the one who annoys everyone else, Richie gets a taste of his own medicine as he continues to be annoyed by Lexie's presence. "Why the fuck were you even hired Lexie!? To keep up with the books and money because you're in Chicago's fucking community college taking up a finance class?"

He laughs. "We don't need you here! You're probably just fucking Carmy, aren't you!?"

...

The insult goes too far... Lexie winds her hand back and slaps Richie clean across the face.

His cheek heats red, yet he was raised to never lay a finger back on a woman. "Fine." He gulps. "I probably deserved that."

Her large brown eyes eat away at his heart as Richie notices the comment humiliated her into making tears form and glass over at the surface of her eyes.

"God damn right you deserved it." Lexie holds back her tears and ill intentions to cause Richie serious bodily harm.

Little does she know, in Richie's own sick and twisted way, he only brought it up because he's curious if she's already been snatched up by some other guy on the staff. Because if he had the chance, maybe he'd even be interested in her himself...

But he's sure no uppity bitch like Lexie would even look in his direction.

"This is what I mean." She scoffs. "You're disrespectful, and you're a piece of shit who just causes arguments."

Richie rolls his eyes. "And I always finish them too! So what the fuck do you want to do about it?"

...

The wrong thing to say to a woman who is suddenly about to lose herself. Lexie instantly shoves him against the locker... causing the metal material to ring and bang out loudly.

He gulps, fearing that the young cutie has been pushed far past her limits and that he's about to get his ass kicked.

"Okay, that was all you that time. I didn't say shit to you to deserve that!" Richie argues, attempting to strike fear in her heart. "But you listen... If you put your fucking hands on me again, I swear to god—"

"That you'll do what?!" Lexie entices.

Although comically smaller than the large man, she yanks him down to the wooden locker bench before them. "Sit down!"

He surrenders with his hands held high. "Okay baby chill, you're losing your shit right now, you need to take a chill—"

She grips his face as she stands over him. "DO YOU EVER JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!?"

A question that Richie knows not to answer...

Lexie finds herself staring at the pink puckered lips within her grasp and her thoughts become insane.

A glimmer in both of their eyes immediately changes the tension in the room into something far more worth the adrenaline.

Lexie slips out of the panties beneath her short pencil skirt...

"What— what are you doing?" Richie mumbles as his middle-aged heart beats harder than it ever has.

"Occupying your mouth to keep it from running so fucking much." Her panties slip down off of her heels and into Richie's lap as she tugs a brutal grip onto his short strands of hair... With her grip, Lexie forces Richie's head back and his mouth open as she places her cunt across his tongue.

Shocked and confused, Richie puts in work anyway. His tongue glides through her folds that surprisingly have slicked during their entire morning spent arguing and he begins to devour her pussy... A cunt so fresh, fat, warm, and half of his age.

The baritoned groans of his voice heat her core like nothing she has ever felt before. Lexie instantly grabs hold onto Richie's shoulders before her weakening knees begin to fail her.

Her eyebrows furrow as she begins to sweetly complain. "Oh fuck Richie..."

Glad to see that Richie's mouth has a better use than just arguing, Lexies squeals lightly as her eyes roll backwards in pleasure. She continues to fuck his face and be teased sweetly by his prominent nose, prickly unshaven face, and wildly fat tongue.

Richie becomes painfully aroused within his jeans. He moans into her cunt as his strong fingers grip at her waist tightly, bringing her closer across his face so his tongue can explore the depths of her flesh even further.

Blessed, yet confused, he begins to pause during his every word from suckling and gently kissing on her tasty mound. "What—the fuck—" He continues. "Are we—doing?"

Lexie squeezes her eyes tightly shut, almost orgasming each time she notices his sky-blue eyes staring up at her.

She bites her lip. "Just don't stop."

Richie hums through her pussy. "Mmm, Okay baby, I won't not til you tell me too."

Hands beginning to reach up her hips to cup at her waist, Lexie's mouth hangs open ajar... infatuated with how his strong fingers nearly double over the tiny measurements of her waist. Richie's grip on her is so powerful, forcing her not to run from his probing tongue and the lewd suckling and squelching that sound sloppily between her thighs.

Her legs begin to shake... Richie feasts on her as if his job depends on it.

She drags her full bottom lip between her teeth, begging for mercy as her core tightens with butterflies. "Mmmm'oh my god!" She whines.

Looking towards the dusty clock in the kitchen that hasn't been cleaned in years, Lexie realizes how close it is to the beginning of everyone's shift... morning prep.

Although time is almost out, she refuses to finish without having Richie put in more work and hammer her with cock.

"Get up. She demands. "Fuck me."

Lexie watches as Richie stands and tears off his apron to get to his pants.

Inside his trousers, Richie reveals a handsome ten inch cock. Veins protruding and swollen hard as it stands erect towards his belly button, Lexie can't wait to have the peach toned dagger deep into her guts. She begins to grin, glad to have trusted her instincts about skinny, tall men, who aren't worth shit. Although maybe not material for a husband, always trust that they'll have a cock big and gorgeous enough that it makes it worth the price of dealing with the constant bullshit that comes along with it.

Lexie wraps her legs around Richie's waist as he unbuttons her top and kisses at her neck and the fullness of her breasts that bulge from out of the top of her bra.

He lifts her against the lockers with clear impatience as he reaches beneath her to direct his cockhead into her flesh.

She coos sweetly. The tip of his erection, bulbous and hot as it lubes itself through the lips of her cunt, sliding backwards until it meets her tight, however inviting opening. She hisses as Richie slowly bucks forward, sheathing himself into her body.

"Jesus, Lexie."He groans out. His member being choked perfectly by her tight pussy.

Richie's many inches continue to dig forward until his hips are flushed against hers. She winces in pain as she tucks her forehead into the crook of his neck.

Richie softly hushes her stress, kissing sweetly at the parts available on her pretty little face. "Just hold onto my neck, okay?"

Lexie agrees through a quickened nod. She wraps her arms around his neck, wincing as the strokes begin.

Richie pulls out half way and slowly returns back fully into her core for his first impale. The two synchronize in a lewd and guilty first moan.

Richie picks up his speed, hips beginning to snap against her spread opened thighs as her pussy sops sticky and wet for him.

Lexie weeps soft tears as she gets railed by someone that she loathes with her entire being.

As her breasts bounce and spill from out of her dress shirt, hair tangling from what was a perfect blowout this morning, she soon realizes that nothing could be more delicious than early morning hate sex.

Richie watches beneath them at how well the little minx can take his cock, her sweet begging and the banging of the old lockers up against them encouraging him to go stronger and make her take his cream.

He stares at her lips, trying his best not to kiss them being that he still is so confused on where they stand... not even fifteen minutes ago, he was a second away from getting his ass kicked by her, and now suddenly... he finds himself balls deep between her legs.

He gulps. "Tell me what you want."

"For you to shut the fuck up." Panting for air, Lexie's brain becomes mush and only wanting to think about their sex.

He chuckles softly, complimenting her under his breath. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Yes mama, I'll shut the fuck up." He obeys. "Now what else do you want?"

"Drill me." Her eyes become low and sinister like a siren, full of sinful desire and without any shame. "Fuck me harder."

He nods. "Whatever you want."

Lexie clenches tightly around his shaft as Richie suddenly picks up a dangerous speed, spasming and slapping into her cunt as if she needed to be disciplined.

Now fucked out of her heels, her toes curl within her stockings. She begins to push on his slim and toned stomach for space between them.

—but Richie won't allow it. "Move your fucking hands." He shoves them away.

Her cunt pulses around him. Brain circuit-shorting as she gets embarrassingly used like a cock sleeve by one of the most unrespectable men of this job.

Yet, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her whimpers become strangled, lips wet with drool.

"Look at you." Richie teases as the corners of his mouth begin to quirk. "Talk so much shit all morning long, but get real quiet with a cock in you."

"Mmm." He continues, skin hot and flushed as he tries to talk himself away from cumming. "You like this shit baby?"

A sudden slow pace blows Lexie's mind as Richie's lower abdomen knocks into her sensitive pearl. The feeling sends her to the moon.

Her nails dig into Richie's forearms as her walls contract around him, pulling his cock deeper inside awaiting to drain him of all his cum.

Richie's jaw goes slack, hips locking in place as he lunges further into Lexie's pussy until their bodies are flushed together.

A choked groan exits the depths of his throat. "Oh my fucking—"

Lexie covers Richie'a mouth as she hears keys and morning conversation outside of the restaurant near the front entrance.

Richie's cock twitches as it sputters out with hot cum. Filling Lexie's cunt with his spend until it begins to web around him.

His pleads and moans are terribly loud as she uses a second hand over the first to silence him.

Lexie's eyes roll backwards as she bites her lip, enjoying the thrill of being stuffed with cum as he throbs and becomes limp inside of her.

"Richie..." she gulps, whispering tiredly. "You'll have to keep quiet."

...

Eyebrows furrowed as he becomes hooked on the sound of her soft and tired after-sex voice, he'll do whatever she asks him to.

He nods, obeying as a good boy does however nearly biting his tongue off to silence himself as she takes her hands away. "Fucking hell Lexie... Goddamn baby."

He finally calms from his explosive climax, helping Lexie to her feet as they quickly begin to redress.

Stunned, Richie can't help but to watch her (mostly in love) as she places the heels back onto her feet to continue about her day.

Still alone near the lockers, they hurry to prep themselves before the crew comes inside in a few seconds.

"Jesus!" Richie laughs in excitement. "That was the best fuck I've had in—in, well fuck! In my whole fucking life."

Lexie rolls her eyes as he becomes giddy like a schoolboy.

With romance on his mind, Richie nearly begins to plan a day for her to meet his mother, hell— a day for them to marry! "Listen, babygirl, there's this incredible Italian spot on West Avenue, let me take you out—"

"Richie, please. Just shut up." Lexie ignores him as she quickly rebuttons her top and grabs her belongings from the locker.

...

He frowns, suddenly becoming furious.

"Alright wait a minute!" Richie refuses. "I just gave you a raw fuck in the back of the locker room and now I'm getting the cold shoulder? Are you my girl or what?"

Lexie scoffs.

"Fucking old guys..."She sighs in a quiet whisper, speaking mostly to herself. "Give em pussy once and they get all clingy."

Their arguing comes back at full speed. "It's not old guys you little fucking slut! It's called class, and respect! I wanted to take you out. Lexie, what the fuck do you even want with me?"

"Exactly what we had." She shrugs.

"What?" He lashes back. "I piss you off and then you go all horny she-devil on me and fuck my brains out?"

Lexie freezes in thought. "...yes"

Richie can't believe what he's hearing.

He scoffs, beginning to laugh in disbelief. "You're bugging. You're fucking insane, you know that?"

Lexie sighs as she continues to hurry from what they just committed. "I like things to be simple, okay? Did you enjoy it or not?"

Richie rolls his eyes. Pissed as if he's been used like a two cent whore. "Of course I did, fuck you Lexie.Don't ask me no stupid shit like that, you know I did."

Out of breath as the door chimes begin to ring up front, Lexie smiles softly. "Good! So you just be Richie, I'll be Lexie, and maybe we'll do it again sometime."

"Understand?" She questions, setting boundaries with Richie who is clearly a romantic.

...

He pauses.

Lexie sighs. "Do I need to ask again?"

"No." He pouts, spoiled from a taste of good pussy.

"Good." Lexie nods and grins tightly as if they just shook hands over a business deal before she begins to walk away.

"Hey." Richie grabs her. "Wait. —Kiss me."

"I'm not going to kiss you." Lexie tugs at his grasp, yet she isn't able to get out of it.

He bears over her... forcing her eyes upon him as he demands for what he wants. "Damn it Lexie, I'm not asking. Kiss me before I start making a fucking scene in here."

...

Lexie rolls her eyes, knowing that denying him of this isn't worth outing what they've done together.

"Fine." She gives in.

Placing his hands at her waist, Richie pulls her against him. His right hand reaches towards her face where he watches her closely... sweetly brushing her baby hairs out of his view. The hand softly cups the side of her face... wide enough to caress her jaw and neck as he forces her unto her toes to meet his lips.

Their lips finally meet... And the kiss is unbelievably tender... Quickly expanding into something more as their mouths open and tongues tangle.

Richie presses her tighter towards him, hand now trailing from her waist to a smack and grip onto her ass. The other hand leaves her cheek to his digits pulling tightly at her long black tresses.

Their eyes continue to stay closed as their moans heat each other's mouths. Tongue fucking each other with more heat than their actual sex...

Lexie finds herself breath taken and begging for more as Richie pulls away with an intoxicating sexy bite and pull to her bottom lip.

Her eyes soon flutter open.. She gulps, unsure to why it was the most romantic kiss that she has ever had.

Richie grins as he notices the stunning blush that begins to heat her face.

"Now..." Richie bites his lip as he continues to stare at her beauty, smoothing her hair and tucking it behind her ears. "Now you can go."

Unsure of the butterflies in her stomach, she stares into Richie's eyes and slowly nods.

Slightly mad at herself for feeling a growing crush, she can't believe that it is what she's thinking it is... Hell!— She'd even have to beat her own ass if she were to begin falling for Richie Jerimovich...

"I-I have to go now." Lexie gulps.

"Mhm." He nods. "Have an excellent day, sweetie."

She stumbles lightly over her feet, still high off of Richie's kiss and he quietly begins to chuckle.

He's got her right where he wants her. Although Lexie claims to not want anything serious, he's determined to convince her otherwise.

The crew finally begins to pour inside and Richie wishes everyone a good morning.

He loves his job... He loves his family here.

A team of hard working Chicago locals, just trying to make it through day by day. Real people working real jobs.

The Beef is Richie's home. And if things go right... One day, Lexie could be that too.

As Carmy readies himself for the day and prepares himself to run a business he never expected to own... He shouts, wanting a minute alone with his cousin Richie as they dap each other up while they greet.

"Aye good morning, talk to me for a sec Cousin..." Carmy begins. "Listen Richie, when you and Michael began hiring for the restaurant, you hired people who quickly became like family. You have a knack for this Richie, and I trust your judgement."

Carmy continues. "I wanted to ask you, what do you think about this new girl on the books? Yeah, she's saved us a lot of money and things are running smooth as shit... but is she one of us? Can she keep up with the crew?"

Richie shrugs.

Reaching into the pockets of his jeans, his fingers rustle the lace fabric of Lexie's thong that he kept as a souvenir from their early morning quickie before the break of dawn.

The thought of their morning together alone suddenly makes Richie's heart flutter and eats wildly at his soul...

"Yeah." He gulps. "She's a fucking bitch... but yeah, she's one of us. She's part of the family."

"So fuck it... she stays?" Carmy asks.

Richie chuckles. "Yeah.. if we're lucky."

A delivery man pops inside the restaurant as they continue to chat and Carmy signs a form on the man's clipboard before the man leaves again.

"What was that for?" Richie yawns. "Ordered more napkin supply or some shit."

"Nope! All good on supplies." Carmy pats Richie on the back. "Just signing the invoice on the security cameras we had installed last week."

...

A chill suddenly falls down Richie's spine.

He looks up at the ceiling, noticing the new cameras installed in every corner of the restaurant. The entrance, the counter, the kitchen, and the fucking locker room.

Richie freezes in absolute horror. "Oh fuck."

[miley1442111]

hii love ur content!!! single-handedly carrying sydney adamu x reader fans rn LOL. was wondering if u could write something w femreader x syd where reader is filling in for marcus as he takes personal leave for his mom? like something with buildup and clear romantic tension in the kitchen btwn them and possible hesitation to act on it from syd’s end when they work together but immediately get tg afterwards ?? if you get the vision!! thank uuu <3333

thank you for requesting this, i love this idea so i'm going to give it two parts if that's ok!

i will always push the sydney adamu x reader agenda

in a minute- s.adamu

a/n: this is PART 1 of most likely two but i'm not sure yet. this is intended for a femreader but you can ignore that and imagine what you want :)

summary: you get a call from carmen berzatto to fill in as a pastry chef, you have nothing better to do, right?

pairing: sydney adamu x reader

warnings: mentions of a difficult workplace environment, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of not communicating, cursing

Getting the call from Carmen Berzatto made you sick. He was your replacement in New York, he hated you, at least you thought he did. You were leaving New York for Paris, becoming a pastry chef after being sick of the stupid pressure and disgusting abuse you had gotten from restaurants over the years. Don’t get me wrong, being a pastry chef was difficult too, the insufferable people and bosses made you want to rip your hair out, but anything was better than New York. You had trained Carmen for a week, giving him your number in case he needed to ask any other questions. You assumed he’d deleted it. But no, four months into living in Chicago, teaching masterclasses and subbing in for people in various Michelin-star restaurants and bakeries, Carmen Berzatto called and asked if you could cover his pastry chef for a few weeks. You agreed and showed up the next day to see a restaurant that was not yet finished. Residue from walls lay on the floor, mould on the ceilings and an empty kitchen, bare of appliances met your eyes as you walked in. A pretty girl with headphones in stood in the locker room as you turned the corner and she startled when she noticed you. 

“Jesus! Y-you scared me,” she smiled, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you smiled, stretching out your hand for a hand shake. “I’m y/n y/l/n, is Carmen Berzatto here? Or his partner, Sydney Adamu?”

“Oh my god, you’re Y/n y/ln. Like the only woman ever the International Union of Bakers and Pastry Chefs named ‘best pastry chef’,” she said, shocked that you were standing in front of her. 

You felt heat crawl up your back. You still couldn’t get used to people knowing who you were, it was strange. “The very same,” you practically grimaced. “So, are chefs Carmen or Sydney around?”

“I-I’m Sydney,” she smiled, shaking your hand. “Sorry if that was weird, I just… yeah.”

“It’s fine, I’m just awkward about it, don’t worry.”

“Ok,” she smiled, then snapped out of it. “What are you- I don’t know how to say this politely-”

“What am I doing here?” you finished for her and she nodded. “Carmen called me a few days ago, I trained him in New York and he apparently still has my number. He asked me to fill in for Marcus?” 

“Yeah, ok. So… umm, yeah ok. That’s cool,” She said, still coming to grips with it. 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

“No,” she admitted, sighing. 

“He always was kind of a dick. Don’t worry, I bet he’s just cooling-off or something, he used to get so angry we’d shove him in the freezer for a few minutes to let him calm down.”

Sydney looked at you in bewilderment. 

“I take it that he’s still like that?” you chuckled. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Only sometimes though.”

“‘Sometimes’ is too much for me, if he starts pulling that shit I’ll send him out. He’s such a baby sometimes,” you reminisced. “Sorry, if that’s rude since he’s your partner.”

“Well, he doesn’t really feel like a partner,” she sighed, leading you to the office. 

“Not communicating?”

“Never. I didn’t even know we were pulling down walls until they were down.”

“Shit, that’s awful,” you sighed. 

“I’ll call him and see where he is, just wait in here,” she smiled and opened the door for you, then left you alone. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 1

Working at the Bear was different to anywhere else you’d worked. The people there were interesting in a way that only people outside of the Michelin-restaurant world could be. None of the bullshit you’d dealt with in New York, none of the crap you had to put up with in Paris. They were professional, but they cared about each other. Tina had become a good friend in only the one week you’d been there. Richie was pissing you off enough to warrant stabbing- something that had apparently happened before, and Carmen was either there all the time, or nowhere to be seen. 

And then, there was Sydney. Sydney had essentially fucked you up. From the moment you’d met her, you knew you were fucked. Her soft smile and endearing awkwardness made her basically irresistible. It was embarrassing how in just one week, you felt like you couldn’t be in the same room as her, yet you craved to be near her all the time. 

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

“Yo, you good?’ Sydney asked as you mapped out dessert ideas Marcus had sent you.

“Huh? Oh-yeah, all good,” you smiled.

“How do you like it?” she asked, cleaning the new silverware. 

“Like what?”

“The Bear?”

“It’s nice. Calmer than the restaurants I’ve worked in,” you answered and she laughed.

“This is calm for you?” 

“You should’ve seen Carmen and I’s boss in New York. Every night he’d make me stay until after closing, fixing any mistakes I’d made if I’d made any. After a while, it was just verbal abuse,” you chuckled and she smiled half-heartedly at you, her eyes missing the certain glow she usually had. 

“Sounds fun,” she joked, but it fell flat on both ends, then she walked away. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d made a fool of yourself, or made her uncomfortable. 

You internally kicked yourself. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 2

You liked to pride yourself on two things, your standards in the kitchen, and your ability to stay calm under any circumstance. One of those didn’t apply to the current situation, and the other had been thrown out the window 3 minutes ago when this conversation started, more specifically, when Sydney started touching your arm. 

Carmen had finally come in and you’d gotten in a fight over the menu. You wanted something Marcus had suggested and Carmen wanted fucking fig rolls or something, you didn’t exactly know but you do know that it ended in you storming off to the back of the Bear and Carmen storming off to his office. You felt a swell in your heart when Sydney had come to you first, before she went to talk to Carmen. 

“You good?” she asked, accompanying you in the freezing air. You didn’t respond, still annoyed from the conversation. “Earth to Y/n?” Sydney had grabbed your arm and your eyes trained themselves on hers. 

“Yeah, just pissed,” you sighed, answering her first question. “He really doesn’t listen, does he?” You yawned. Sydney’s hand felt like it was burning itself into your skin. 

“No, he kind of refuses to,” she joked. “But if it makes you feel any better, I like your ideas more.”

“They’re Marcus’s ideas, just my drawings,” you were quick to deflect the compliment.

“Well they're beautiful,” she declared, with some uncertain meaning behind her words. ‘Well, you’re beautiful’ is what you picked up from her insinuation and your heart beat much faster than before. “Coming back in?” She dropped her hand and you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“In a minute.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 3 

Ok, so maybe you could pride yourself on just one more thing, the effect you had on Sydney. 

For the past two weeks, it’d been fleeting glances, the creating and taking of opportunities to touch each other, and small flirty conversation. Sydney had asked you to taste test some restaurants with her, and you had a great time. Conversation flowed, you felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like years, and you were spending time with the girl you liked. 

“Y/N?” You heard Sydney’s voice from behind you. “Behind!” she said. 

You had asked an old friend if you could borrow his restaurant's kitchen and he obliged, knowing he owed you a favour from when you saved him from being fired 7 years ago. 

“Yeah?” You called back, focused on your plating. 

“You almost done?”

“Almost,” you added the finishing touches to the plate and stepped back, a silent victory. It looked delicious. “Done!”

She handed you a fork and you took a bite at the same time. It tasted… terrible. You both spit it out into the sink behind you, then looked at each other and laughed. 

“That is god-awful,” you coughed, a laugh making its way out of your mouth.  

“Oh fuck that’s bad,” she laughed with you, a hand on your shoulder to brace herself. 

Both your laughters died down and her hand remained. She looked so beautiful, her hair pulled back in a blue bandana, her regular chef-white swapped for a green t-shirt and white overalls, and a smile on her face. You seized the moment and kissed her, it started out soft, cautious. Though it quickly divulged into something less sweet. Her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were roaming her waist. She gasped when you bit her lip and you smirked into the kiss. A buzzing noise pulled you two apart, heavy breathing and an uncomfortable stare of ‘what did we just do?’. You grabbed your buzzing phone, bag, and jacket, and left her in the restaurant. 

Was it the coward’s way out? Yes. Did that matter much to you? No. 

Not one bit.

[steve-hen-grant]

Pas de deux (Jake Lockley x reader ) 🌙🩰

A/N: So! Kinda my first fic? Trying to exercise my writing skills. (You won’t believe how many times I had to just write “excersize” for autocorrect to save me.) So I hope y’all can enjoy the product of my practice!

In a previous post, I mentioned Jake crying while watching ballet. But what I meant to say was I had already developed a fic to this very concept. Needed the confidence to post it- which the reception to the first post got! It said Swan Lake, but for the plot’s conflict it’s Nutcracker.

Warnings: Fluff, mild comfort, reference to MK lore but you can pretend it isn’t, reference to Tchaikovsky mourning his sister, No use of Y/N, may be read as the POV of Layla, or yourself, mentions of Marc and Steven, no direct use of Spanish but reference to Jake speaking it, Reader may or may not know Spanish, it’s ambiguous this way for a self insert!, and again, my first full fan fiction. That is a warning. Surprisingly unserious. implied that narrator and the moon guys are visiting the US for this show.

Gender Neutral reader, but with uncomfortable formal shoes because they plague us all no matter

Word count: the word counter website broke so let me know when you get down there kk

You and Jake go to the Opera house in downtown Chicago. However, the loyal servant of the Moon God reacts unexpectedly…

Hours earlier, Jake struggled with his tie while I mulled over walking into the opera house together. His dark mustache furled as I helped arrange the black fabric and romanticized the pair of us strolling down the Chicago street: dressed to the nines, my arm in his, with the Christmas lights illuminating our path to the theater. Jake refused, mumbling something about how he didn’t want to make me walk longer in formal shoes than I had to. Knowing how I wouldn’t say anything, refusing to complain or burden the evening, until my Achilles tendons were shot by the time we got back to the hotel.

Among the three of them, Jake’s love language was having foresight to make life as accommodated and comfortable. But he forgets that he has a place in it.

Right now, in the brisk December evening, I trotted towards the warmly lit-refuge of the Civic Opera House. Jake dropped me off directly in front, rolling away to park his sleek Rolls Royce Phantom somewhere secure.

The exterior was like that of most concrete high-riser buildings. Though at ground level, in stark contrast, a sculpted arc entrance stood on the corner of the street. A light snow casted over the figures shaped into the stone. Tall preview posters displayed the principal dancer for the evening: the sugar plum fairy.

My pace towards the ticket booth was quick in the biting cold. The Opera house clerk smiled.

“Reservations under… Spector?”

“No- wait, yes. Yes.”

At my hesitation, I was rightfully earned a disconcerted expression. Marc must have booked the tickets. Before the words left her mouth, Jake appeared to save the day. Showing his- or Marc’s- ID. The clerk was satisfied and gave us two red tickets for entree. Jake took my arm in his, like a Highschool couple in a 50s movie. Between the regal opera house, the way he supports my arm, and opens the car door- truly old fashioned.

“Thanks, Marc,” I teased. He nudged me with his arm.

“Oh please, he made Steven book them,” Jake took off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. We handed our tickets off, and at last, we were on our way through marble floors and high ceilings to find seating.

Maybe that’s why we both enjoyed viewings in this specific opera house. It was completed in 1929, yet shined as brightly as ever. Velvet red fabrics and amber blown lights. If you weren’t careful, you could become easily motivated to write a romanticized novel.

In a world of my own, I don’t notice Jake looking over my face. But he wasn’t appreciating the interior of the architecture. Maybe the exterior of me.

Some hors d’oeuvres later, we situated in a balcony, closest to the stage. Jake insisted this would be ‘the best spot in the house’. From the balcony overview, patterns in the snow droplet’s sequence could be figured into the shape of snowflakes. Once again, Jake’s love language would make the evening special, by meticulous design. Jake’s prior knowledge of ballet was limited, yet his relationship to the music goes back.

No one would assume that, from what meets the eye. Even if you knew of his nightly servitude to Khonshu- there was less reason to believe he keeps a special mix of Tchaikovsky’s Greatest in his car’s dash. His work isn’t easy, and who doesn’t wind down to music? An avatar to the god of the moon is no exception.

Live orchestra has become a small thing for us. One that Marc chuffs at and Steven… would probably like to be apart of.

The elevated booth was tailored to the best view possible of the tilted stage. Below, forms of people moved to their seats, shed overcoats, and checked the time. Soon, the red curtains would pull apart to reveal the iconic home of the Stahlbaum’s, and delicate Clara center stage. It was a matter of time, and based on Jake’s mild leg bounce, not soon enough. I place a hand over his palm, steadying his nervous habit to a somber sway.

INTERMISSION

We returned to our secluded seats from the main area. Maybe or maybe not, pocketing some cheese squares and fancy crackers in napkins. Jake put his arm over the back of my seat and smirked, “You think I could do that?”

“Do what?”

“The dancing,” He grinned like a ferret. I pause for a moment to process the idea literally. You know what? Maybe. I’ve stayed in the car while Marc or Steven took care of their missions. From what I’ve seen, Moonknight is pretty agile. Mr. Knight is comparably a Gymnast. Making- often unnecessary- flips and turns over bullets and blades.

“Try asking Khonshu when you can take classes- conveniently between delivering justice.”

To which, Jake snickers. He takes his contraband-horderve from the lobby and speaks, “Oh yeah, it will happen. I’ll just borrow Steven’s tutu.” Jake looks aloft and grins, for a moment, it’s like I can hear his alter too.

“THOSE CLASSES WERE A ONE-OFF TIME!”

The second act. Clara and the Nutcracker prince have crossed the forest into a world of her childlike creation. Her and the prince are welcomed by flowers, candy, and snow. It seems like the defeat of the rat king would be the last of the room’s worries. Except for me.

Nearing a majestic finale, the nutcracker prince shares a dance with her majesty, the sugar plum fairy. He takes her hand and holds it, as her powder pink leg ascends. But this isn’t what Jake is thinking about. His eyes are hardly on the scene below, but he is paying attention to the music. The Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act II: No. 14a, Pas de deux. He holds his breath for a moment. A small gesture I might have missed if he didn’t drop my hand when he does so. I glanced at him, not wanting to disturb his fixation to the show.

And maybe I didn’t want to disturb the way his locks messily fell on his forehead and ears. He’s a gentleman, so he wouldn’t wear his hat into the event. But by removing it, the bunched hair underneath fell loosely. Marc and Steven were supposedly relentless about on the way downtown, if his passive looks to the rear view mirror meant anything.

Does a family of birds live in your hat, mate?

Cmon, Jake, everytime I get the body I have to run a comb through it.

After Jake lowered his hands from applause, he took mine in his again. As if he six whole minutes without it was too much. I press my thumb into his knuckles. He pulls my hand closer to him, holding it totally casually to his heart.

The Finale had wrapped up in a roar of an audience. The evening’s dancers made their bows and the orchestra had begun to pack up their bows and sheet music. Neither me nor Jake were one for crowds, but fortunately, the box seats were close enough to a flight of stairs that crew members likely took. We stood and peeked down the flight that turned around the ivory painted walls.

Jake held my arm and smirked, “Do you want to take a shortcut?”

I gave him a puzzled look. “That way? Are you sure there is an exit? We might get a meet and greet with the rat king,” I half-joke. Jake grins and his eyes light up at that risk.

My eyes narrow,

“You want to meet the rat king don’t y-“

“Yes.”

It’s Christmas. Might as well give Jake the gift of following through one of his mischievous schemes- together. Jake is laughing and throughly unserious as we move closer to the landing of the stairwell. I slide my hand down the glossy railing, “If we find this rat thing-“

“When. When we find the rat thing,” Jake interrupts.

I pause and continue, “Yes, my apologies. When we find the rat, are you going to valiantly slay it, and save me?”

Jake thinks for a moment, stopping on the stairs. He responds, “I’ve fought weirder.” I nod agreeably as we continue hand in hand. But he mumbled something I couldn’t hear, perhaps some Spanish intonations, but too low to react to.

But I had a pretty good idea what he meant to say out loud. Jake will show his affection in careful planning, a car ride anywhere, but not typically his words. In those tender instances where he has to resort to sweet nothings, he expresses it in Spanish. The words flow so naturally that they aren’t being filtered by a process of translation. Just his feelings, as they are.

I smile, and pull him into my arm tighter. It was more than likely he was protectively, lovingly ranting about how well he would protect me. How he would welcome the chance to prove it. In the dimly lit corridor we found ourselves in, we located an exit door and push it. I recall the December air and hold his arm closer.

Jake holds up his keys and presses down on his buttons. Immediately after leaving the back door, we are greeted by the flashing headlights of his car in a neighboring lot. Jake looks at my face of surprise and laughs, “You thought I was going to let you walk so far in those shoes?”

While in the car, on the way back to the flat, Swan Lake plays over the radio. I clutch my coat in the warm embrace of the car’s heating system. Jake is tapping his finger along while letting cars through, but he stops as the piece ends and the next begins. The Pas de deux. This time, I don’t miss my chance to ask. My hand grazes his leather coated arm, “You alright?” Jake keeps a deadpan look through the droplets on the windshield, blinking several times. I lean in a touch closer, “Jake?”

“Uhm, I just read where, you know, what’s-his-face, wrote this piece for his sister who passed. It uhm…” Jake, agitated by the way his mouth wants to curl into a grimace in front of me, lays his arm down in a finalizing gesture. He was done talking about it, not without losing clear vision while driving. I hold his gloved hand, and without thinking, hold it to his chest. His shoulders finally lowered. The light turned green. The music filling the gentle silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌙~~~~~~~~~~~~

[lomllover]

snow on the beach.

summary: y/n is on tour and harry joins her for one of her songs pairings: singer!yn x boyfriend!harry warnings: so so much fluff - You had been on tour for a total of five months and this was your final show for a little bit.

"Alright, Chicago are we re-" You began to say and saw a sign that made you laugh. "Wait hold on.. can I read your sign?" You asked the fan in the crowd and waited for their answer.

"Yes!!!" The girl shouted back at you and held her phone up higher to get a better angle of your guys' conversation.

"Her sign says, 'Y/N please reject me so I can move on'.. What's your name?"

"Charlotte!" She responded.

"Well Charlotte, you'll be very upset to hear that I have a boyfriend," You smiled as the crowd got louder at the mention of Harry. "And I think he would also be upset and a little jealous if he read your sign. What if we brought him out to confirm that?" You said with a smirk and watched as Harry walked onto the stage.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and gave it a light squeeze. "Now what's this I hear about you trying to get with my girlfriend?" He asked once everyone settled down.

Charlotte laughed and shrugged. "Have you seen her?"

"Have I seen her?! Of course I have! She's smokin' hot."

You buried your face into Harry's side as your cheeks turned red and shook your head. "Shhh.. okay.. We have one more song for you and I was going to bring H out to sing it with me so your sign was amazingly timed, Charlotte." You turned to Harry and gave him a small nod. "Ready baby?"

He nodded and you both put your mics on their stands as the band started playing.

"One night, a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could've been light. But it might just have been you passing by unbeknownst to me." You started singing and smiled at Harry. "Life is emotional abusive and time can't stop me quite like you did and my flight was awful, thanks for asking. I'm unglued, thanks to you." You shifted your weight from one side of your body to the other to start singing the chorus. "And it's like snow at the beach weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream stars by the pocketful you wanting me tonight feels impossible but it's comin' down no sound, it's all around."

Harry couldn't help but smile big at you singing that he almost forgot to start singing his part. "This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen. I searched "aurora borealis green" I've never seen someone lit from within blurring out my periphery," He watched as a couple in the pit started dancing with each other so he couldn't help taking his microphone off his stand and moving closer to you. "My smile is like I won a contest and to hide that would be so dishonest and it's fine to fake it 'til you make it 'til you do, 'til it's true." He sang as you turned to face him.

"Now it's like snow at the beach, weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful. You wanting me tonight feels impossible. But it's comin' down no sound, it's all around." You both sang together. "I can't I speak, afraid to jinx it. I don't even dare to wish it."

You both moved down a couple of stairs to the cat-walk part of the stage and sat down on them then Harry started singing again, "But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet. Now I'm all for you like Janet. Can this be a real thing?"

"Can it?" You finished the lyric and held his free hand. "Are we falling like," You started this lyric for him to finish as small pieces of white confetti started falling down from the ceiling to act as snow.

"Snow snow at the beach? (Snow at the beach) Weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream (Flying in a dream), Stars by the pocketful. You wanting me (You wanting me). Tonight feels impossible, but it's comin' down. No sound, it's all around." He finished the song and you both stood up to bow to the crowd and blow them kisses.

"Thank you everyone so much please get home safe tonight, I love you all so much. Thank you for the best 5 months of tour I could ever ask for." You looked down at Charlotte and blew her a kiss. "Thank you." You mouthed to her and she smiled big.

You and Harry left the stage and went back stage to your dressing room. "That was so much fun, H. Thank you for coming and singing with me." You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

"Anything for you, honey." He nuzzled his face into your neck. "I love you."

-

sooo what'd you guys think?? pls make sure to lmk and reblog this story if you did like it to help my account grow! i love you all so much and thank you for taking time to read my stories. <3

[97keanu]

"ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃⁿʸᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵉˡˢᵉ

ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ

ⁱ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ"

**read the revised edition here!

Neo x Goth!Reader (prematrix AU)

Premise: In chapter three, you are dealing with Neo's inability to admit his feelings toward you, and how he's resorted to cyber stalking you by hacking your webcam. Neo realizes he cannot escape your allure, and the heatwave of '99 comes to a breaking point in Chicago.

Tags/CW: slow burn, smut, p in v referenced, longing, themes of loneliness, themes of depression, themes of anxiety, angst, drama, neo ghosts you, neo tries to keep things professional, loser!neo, pathetic!neo, hacker boyfriend!neo, takes place before the events of the matrix, stalking, watching through webcam, age difference, panty thief strikes again, mutual self pleasure, whiny neo, more slightly subby neo, angel/siren coded reader, neo cannot resist you.

Authors Note: a shorter chapter, mainly smutty fun with a dash of both characters inner feelings. I'm glad to feel inspired to write these two again. Read the first chapter here.

Words: 2.4k

A hot breeze flows in through your apartment window, and for a moment you wonder if this heatwave will ever break. August is droning on, not ready just yet to give out a final death rattle. Instead, it grips Chicago tightly in a humid warmth that has been suffocating, clouds threatening to rain but never delivering. You lie almost naked amongst your black bedding, a plushie here and there, staring up at the ceiling fan and wishing it brought you any salvation in your time of need. 

It doesn't help that you are also thinking about Neo. More specifically, the last time you really saw each other. You thought maybe something more than an alliance between two hackers could have been budding when he fell asleep on your couch, but in the morning you awoke to only the scattered couch pillows. 

He didn't even contact you for a week. Eventually, you heard that awaited notification noise, but it was disappointing to say the least. Neo had messaged you, but it was simply to ask if you could help with making sure he was good to hack into this or that, you really hardly cared for what the details were. The anger and hurt inside of you from being asked to be his digital guardian angel after how he treated you could rival the August heat outside. 

Still, you complied. You had thought about telling him to go fuck himself, that you no longer wished to interact ever again, but what good would that do? It's not like either of you ever agreed to something more than a work based relationship. And what makes it worse is that deep down, you know how lonely the world has begun to feel. Even now, as you roll over in sweat drenched sheets, looking out to the skyline that stretches ever farther and farther, you know that despite all the inhabitants of this city, you have never felt more alone. 

That fact alone was enough for you to do what Neo had asked, wanting to still be in contact with someone who may understand. Although he had ran from you, hidden away and obviously too frightened to ask to meet up again, you think the reason for all of that may be that Neo is lonely too. You have no evidence for this of course, but you could almost sense it from him. That something that burns low, almost burning out, inside both of you, seemed to speak without words when you met. And now all you can do is try to get your mind off it. 

Tired of the thoughts running through your head, you huff, sitting up quickly and disgruntled with how much you've been laying about lately. You make the great task of getting out of bed and find yourself before your floor length mirror in your bedroom. What you see makes you frown. 

Your hair is a mess, after having not showered, your makeup is still on from last night. The black eye shadow and mascara have moved, now cascading down your cheeks in smudges. You look at your usually well kept nails, now riddled with chipped black nail polish from you don't remember when. You can't let it get to you like this any longer. You head for the shower, hoping to both cool off the summer heat, and the heat that this Neo situation has gotten you into. 

✧

The small fan at Neo's desk moves side to shuttering side, attempting in vain to keep the small room and its only occupant cooled. Neo sits at his desk, head in one hand, eyes fatigued and tired, trying to fix the script for one of his latest codes. 

He's been throwing himself into his work to forget about you. He hates that he got so worked up over you, that he was such a loser to even steal a pair of your panties upon his first time at your apartment. There was no way you deserved someone like him. Not to mention, that you should probably find someone around your own age, not someone like Neo, who at best is a shut-in who can't socialize, and at worst, well, to keep the depression at bay he might as well not say. 

To keep this relationship between the two of you professional, he has spent the last two weeks since you two met attempting only to contact you for jobs. It was what was right, the older, more adult thing to do, instead of pursuing a young 20-something goth girl like you because he has a kink for black lipstick. 

Still, he had a hard time keeping himself from you. He can hardly even admit it to himself, but he's been hacking your webcam. He starts by telling himself that he just needs to check up on you, especially when you leave his messages on read for hours, although he knows he deserves that after how he disappeared. It's innocent really, he will tell himself, that you need to be checked up on, that it's  only to turn on the camera for a second to make sure nothing happened. It is, after all, dangerous work you two do. 

Then, it somehow turns to leaving the camera on, letting your image sit beside him on one of the many computers at his desk. It's nice, having you there, so close to your computer. You're probably working on the codes he sends you, or perhaps messaging friends, he hears a voice somewhere deep inside tell him to check out those messages as well, but he hasn't brought himself to that quite yet. No, you're simply a video on his screen, almost like watching a movie, or having someone in a cafe sitting next to him, quietly working on their own thing. 

He even finds that he likes the music you play, he can't help but be interested to find out more about you in this way. He wishes he could ask you which Siouxie and The Banshee's songs are your favorite off the album, or if you had to choose, would you pick The Smiths or The Cure. It's these little questions about you that plague his mind all day when he watches you. Sure, he could simply ask you these things, but that would be both suspicious as well as violating the self appointed rule of making this a work only relationship. 

Neo sighs out, the heat and these thoughts getting to his head. His fist curls in his short black hair for a moment before he stands from his desk and stalks away quickly. He told himself he wouldn't watch you today, he would lay off that sort of thing, but the need to know is eating at him, and you make it so easy for him, having nothing to block his attempts to hack your webcam. If he were the adult he seems to think himself into being, then he would simply stop, or better yet tell you to up your cyber security. 

But no, deep down, Neo knows. He knows he's weak for you. He knows he's looked through all the photos you've taken of yourself on your computer to post to this or that goth forum. He's looked at them, entranced by how bold you are, wearing only a black lacy bra in some photos, a Vivienne Westwood orb hanging between your breasts. In other's you show off your big platform Demonia's, and Neo wishes he could have you here, stepping on him with those chunky boots and telling him how pathetic he is that he has stooped so low as to cyber stalk you. 

As his mind continues down it's own rabbit hole with you in tow, he finds himself sitting back down at his desk. He's been a good boy today, not watching you at all yet, and it's late. So he deserves a little taste, right? Just a peek to make sure you're okay, to see what you're up to. 

Before any sort of morality can plague him, his long, thin fingers are typing away, pausing only briefly to take a sip of black coffee. He keeps the drink on hand always, his desk littered with a few spare mugs, the insides of which are dry and have brown stains from where coffee used to inhabit. He continues to work around your security, until finally the screen blazes to life, showing the image of your room. 

He doesn't see you in there, and for a moment a twinge of panic sets in. Are you out somewhere? You hardly left the house. Where would you even be? Probably somewhere old losers like him don't frequent. His mind burned at the idea that you could, very possibly, be out with someone else. There was no real reason for Neo assuming this, no. But the worry filled his gut right next to the luke warm coffee, and he felt his hand tighten around the mouse. 

His eyes scanned the screen for what felt  like ages, before finally, your bathroom door opens, and he sees you step out in a  black towel. Your long black hair is wet, leaving droplets on your shoulders. Your face is bare of your usual make up, and that, for some reason, feels more invasive for a moment to Neo than even the possibility of seeing you naked soon. In fact, his face heats up as the thought finally crosses his mind that there is no scenario in which to continue watching right now would be good, or morally right, in any such way. 

There is also no world in which Neo does take his eyes away. He is glued to your pixels on the screen, and he even leans in to see better as you drop your towel on to your bedroom floor. He can see every inch of your body, so much more than what he saw in your private pictures or when he caught a glance of you through the bathroom door. No, this was enough that his cock was now struggling against his pants, which feel much too tight right now. 

He is so immersed in watching your after shower routine that his hand moves on its own, opening his desk drawer and finding his current most prized possession. He finds the panties he had stolen from you when last you met, and can't help but press them against his clean shaven face, inhaling your scent while he watches you. 

Soon enough, you're laying on your bed, air drying from the heat, your naked form exciting Neo through the screen. What he doesn't expect is that your own hand would snake up to your breast, your other beginning to play between your legs. Good God…Neo had never caught you playing with yourself in such a way since he started watching you. If he thought he was addicted before, it has nothing on what this does for him. 

As if feeling commanded by your own touching, Neo quickly undoes his belt with a frantic and needy hand, stumbling as he does from how filled with want he is. He keeps your panties pressed firmly against his face, taking that sweet scent in while he watches you open your legs wider. He lets out a whiny breath as he finally releases his cock, his hand giving no foreplay to what he wants. He hates how much power you have over him, even if it's through a screen and that vast distance of ever flowing information. Somehow, Neo has managed to find himself entranced by your, as if you were some digital siren, beckoning him to keep watching as you dip your fingers into your cunt. 

Neo's breath hitches as he continues to watch you feel yourself, and he can only imagine what it would be like to actually fill you up with his cock. If he was there, would your mouth part, opening to moan out his name? He wonders how warm you would feel around his cock, and the thought of being able to actually fuck you sends him closer to the edge. 

Neo watches as you continue, your moans now loud enough that your computer microphone catches it. Neo can hear your soft, whiny moans in his headphones as you get closer, not knowing at all that he's watching you through your webcam. He has no idea that you're thinking of him as much as he is you. Not yet at least. 

As you get closer, Neo's name falls from your lips in a soft whimper. Neo can hardly believe his ears, did you really just moan out his name? 

It's confirmed once more as your pleading gets more frantic, as if moaning his name in such a way could will him through the computer screen and there to fuck you into your bed. You have no idea that that's what Neo wants more than anything. He stuffs his face with your stolen panties and continues to imagine parting your legs even further, his cock thrusting in and out of you instead of his own hand. 

It's not until your legs shake, moving and tightening together as his name shudders from your desperate voice that Neo let's himself cum. No, he had to see that you in that moment, that ecstasy. That's what he wanted to give to you, what he imagined he had done, to make you such a mess on your own bedsheets. That's what was driving him wild right now as he finally finds his peak of pleasure. 

As Neo finishes, he leans back in his chair, the little fan on his desk not doing much to cool the sweat on his skin. Neo has to find a way to catch his breath, his eyes droopy and unable to focus on much. He can still see your shape, vaguely, as you also seem exhausted in your bed so far away. 

Fuck. He really was fucked, huh? There was no way he was going to be able to keep this relationship professional. Not with him stalking you, and how badly he wants you. 

He can't even think of the implications right now, instead he crawls into bed, shutting off almost all of his computer screens. He leaves yours own, the green light cascading on his face. He watches you curl up on your dark bed sheets, naked and too hot for covers. 

Neo falls asleep tonight to you and the sound of rain beginning to tap against his window. 

[megalony]

Baby-Trapped - Part 2

This is the second part of my Evan Buckley imagine, thank you all for the amazing feedback on the first part. I hope you will like this next one, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) distances herself from Evan when the people at her college believe he shouldn't be with someone younger and inexperienced like her. But things change when she falls pregnant.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A smile worked its way onto Evan's lips and he paused, looking down at the pair of arms that wound their way around his waist. He felt (Y/n)'s face press into his back between his shoulder blades and her palms spread out over his chest, gluing herself to him.

He could feel each shallow breath she took which fanned through his shirt and heated up his back.

"Have you had a drink yet?" He pushed away the bowl of salad so it was further back on the counter before he reached his hands down. Both hands moved to cup (Y/n)'s wrists and he tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling as he wanted for an answer.

When he didn't get a response, he knew the answer was no. He gave her wrists a squeeze and slowly turned round in her arms so he could tangle his arms around her and keep her pinned up against him.

"You'll make yourself ill," Evan scolded with a stern expression that started to fade the moment (Y/n) smiled sheepishly up at him.

"I'm nervous." It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was the truth.

(Y/n) was too nervous to sit down, too nervous to stop and take a full breath and too panicked to think about trying to get a drink and keep her fluids up.

Evan's team were coming round for tea.

This was going to be the first time (Y/n) would meet the people he worked with, the people he classed as his family. (Y/n) knew what they meant to him. She knew his Captain had practically become his surrogate father and his colleagues were like his siblings that kept him grounded and got him through each shift at work.

And his big sister was coming over too. Maddie was the one who raised Evan since he was a child, she was the one he looked up to and seeked her approval of almost every aspect of his life. He strived to make her proud.

This was a big family unit and it wasn't something that (Y/n) was used to. She wasn't close to her parents and she didn't have any siblings. If this dinner tonight didn't go well, (Y/n) would ruin everything. She would make things awkward for Evan when all she wanted to do was make him proud and get along with his friends. She needed to gel with them and slowly intergrate herself with them so they could all get along.

There was nothing worse than feeling like the odd one out and feeling like nobody liked her or thought of her as one of their own. (Y/n) didn't want to be on the outside looking in.

"Baby…" Evan moved his hands up until he could cup (Y/n)'s face and brush his thumbs beneath her eyes. She was drifting. Panicking. Overthinking. "If I love you, then everyone else will too. Stop panicking and go get something to drink, I've barely seen you drink all day."

Leaning down, Evan captured her with a kiss before he walked her backwards and nudged her towards the fridge. Passing out the first night she met the team wouldn't be the best way to start things.

(Y/n) found a can of pop from the fridge and got Evan another beer which she barely managed to put on the counter without dropping when there was a knock at the front door.

She wasn't ready.

Maybe it would have been a better idea to try and meet everyone slowly, individually. Start out with Maddie and see how they got along, and then move on to meet Eddie, then Bobby and so on.

But it just so happened that everyone had today off shift, and that wasn't something that happened often. And (Y/n) couldn't help but agree when Evan asked if she wanted to take this chance and meet the team. Diving right in would get rid of her anxiety because she would meet everyone in one fell swoop. Rather than dividing everyone up and doing it in stages. This would be quicker.

And (Y/n) knew Evan wanted to introduce (Y/n) now because they were going for their twelve-week scan next week. That was when he wanted to tell everyone that he was going to be a dad.

He wanted to invite Maddie out somewhere, just the three of them, and tell her that she was going to be an auntie. That he was going to have his first child and see his sister smile and be proud of him. And then tell the team. And Evan couldn't tell any of them without them meeting (Y/n) first. Introductions first, big news later. Evan wasn't great at hiding secrets.

"Here we go," Evan murmured softly, moving his hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders so he could kiss the back of her head to keep her calm. He weaved around behind her and moved towards the front door with anticipation, wondering who was first to arrive.

(Y/n) took a quick gulp of her drink and wrung her hands out in front of her to try and rid some of the nervous tension she felt.

Her stomach was knotting itself up and she felt like she was going to be sick. She'd already thrown up everything she had for breakfast and lunch which had put Evan on edge all afternoon. Especially since he knew she had barely had two drinks all day because of a mixture of nerves and morning sickness.

She moved round towards the kitchen island and leaned on the edge, pressing her hands into the sharp counter that also jabbed into her hips as she pushed up on her toes. Her lips rolled together nervously and she felt her chest tightening up, unable to let her catch a proper breath.

"Okay, guys, this is (Y/n)." Evan couldn't quite hide the smile on his lips and it made (Y/n)'s stomach skip a beat.

Her eyes followed Evan was he walked back into the apartment, his hands on a woman's shoulders who was a good few inches shorter than him. He gave her shoulders a squeeze and leaned his chin on top of her head before he glanced to his right.

"This is Chimney, and this is my big sister Maddie."

It was clear by the way Evan clung to her that she was his sister (Y/n) had heard so much about. She had a bright, inviting smile and her eyes creased when she smiled. Her neck was lathered in three different necklaces and she had a few rings on both hands. With her hair pinned up on one side and her nails painted dark blue to match the blazer and trousers she was wearing, she looked lovely. Fashionable, even.

(Y/n) was taken a little by surprise when Maddie reached out to hug her. She wasn't used to making a lot of friends or meeting the family of friends. And Evan was someone special. (Y/n) wanted to get along with anyone who was important to him.

Being hugged straight away by Maddie felt like she was being intergrated and welcomed with open arms from the off-set.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, Buck talks about you, a lot."

She could feel the blood rushing to her head making her sway on her feet as she clung to Maddie and squeezed her in return.

"All good I hope?" When they parted, (Y/n) moved towards the kitchen as Evan went back to the door at the sound of another knock. "Do you want something to drink?"

She found a bottle of wine and a beer from the fridge, holding them out so they could choose. Making herself useful stopped (Y/n) from panicking so much and gave her something to focus on. She could hear Evan laughing at something, or someone, as the sound of footsteps thundered through the apartment.

Evan could feel his own nerves dwindling down when he showed the rest of the team through into the kitchen. Where Bobby and Hen immediately sat down at the bar stools next to Chimney who was leaning casually on the counter.

But when Evan looked over at (Y/n) and Maddie, he could feel his heart hammering out in his chest. They were laughing. Their heads were leaned close together, their laughs were mixing together and they were fumbling to try and open the bottle of wine while Maddie steadied two wine glasses in her hands.

That was what he had been hoping for. Seeing the two most important people in his life getting along like a house on fire.

"You must be (Y/n)." Bobby grinned and leaned his elbows on the counter when the younger girl placed two different cans of pop in front of him so he could choose. She could tell from the way he held himself and the description she got from Evan that this had to be Bobby. And she knew he didn't drink, much like her for the next few months.

She nodded with a tender smile and passed a glass over to Eddie and one to Hen while Maddie took over pouring the drinks.

"This is our Captain Bobby. That's Hen, and that's Eddie. This is my girl, (Y/n)."

A smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when Evan walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Reeling her into his chest so he could merge his lips against the top of her head. He swayed them from side to side with a bright smile when (Y/n) gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"It's great to meet you, Evan's told me a few stories from your station."

"God, what has he told you?" Eddie threw his head back with a grin and took a large gulp of wine as he slumped forward on the counter. But his intrigue only sparked when (Y/n) smirked around her drink and held his gaze.

Oh, she was going to play that game. Evan had told her a few stories then, as ammunition for a good night.

"You call him Evan?" Hen held her glass to her lips and leaned her shoulders back against the fridge with one arm wrapped around her chest. It had been so long since any of them had heard or called Evan by his name that she almost forgot what it was. There were still a few people who referred to Chimney as Howie, but Hen didn't know anyone who called Evan by his first name. Not even Maddie anymore.

(Y/n) nodded, moving her free hand to play with the chain of her necklace. It was how Evan introduced himself to her. He didn't say his name was Buck, because that was his nickname and on a first introduction he could hardly say his name was Buck Buckley.

But she kept using his name because she knew Evan loved it. She was the only person who called him by his first name and it did something to him. It excited him and grounded him and made him feel at home.

"Why?"

"Because he likes it." Her response made them all grin, and when she turned to the right where Evan was taking the lasagna out the oven, she could see him smile. His cheeks flushed from both adrenaline and the heat of the oven he was leaning into. "He only got the nickname for work," She added quietly, although no one was complaining and there was no need to explain further.

"Did you?" Chimney looked over at Evan with raised brows. "I thought it was just your nickname, from college or whatever."

"There were three Evans in his class at the fire academy, they had to differentiate."

Evan paused, halfway between the oven and the table with his eyes following after his girl.

She remembered. She remembered that story which he had told her on their second date when he mentioned most people would call him Buck, not Evan. He didn't think it would stick or that it was something that important, but (Y/n) remembered. She wanted to know why he had a nickname and why he seemed to love her using his proper name.

His eyes followed (Y/n) as she took the salad bowl over to the table along with the bottle of wine.

A few looks passed around the kitchen as everyone grabbed their glasses and followed to sit down since it was clearly time to eat. They were all thinking the same thing, as clear as day.

She was a keeper.

(Y/n) felt quite at ease when she had Evan sat on her left with his hand resting on her thigh. She had Eddie on her right, Bobby at the right end of the table, Hen at the other end and then Maddie and Chimney sat opposite them. It didn't feel as cramped as (Y/n) panicked it would and she could tell she was already fitting in with them and it felt like they were all glueing together.

"So, Buck said you're in college, what are you studying?" Hen leaned over to add some salad to her plate and looked over at (Y/n).

The conversation was flowing rather easily between them all. It was something (Y/n) was worried would be stiffled and broken, but she had been panicking for nothing.

Although just the thought of college made her stomach give an awful twist and sent her knee jittering against Evan's.

"I'm doing a degree in nursing." She tried to smile and tilted her head down towards her plate, but she didn't feel so hungry. Not after throwing everything up throughout the day and now feeling like her stomach was doing summersaults.

"Oh wow, so when we get busted up on shift, we can just get (Y/n) to patch us up."

"We're both medics Chim, so is Eddie." Hen waved her hand across at him as if he had forgotten what they all did for a living. Especially when Maddie mumbled a quiet "And I'm a qualified nurse too." in his ear.

Not that none of them wouldn't go to (Y/n), but they all pitched in to look after each other. And no one suspected Evan would be willing to share his girl, she was going to be his personal nurse and his only. He wasn't the sharing type, he was the jealous type.

"Well it's good news for me," Evan murmured and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head.

"Yeah, danger-prone Daphne can have his own nurse so we don't have to patch him up." Bobby grinned and dodged quickly when Evan flicked his fork across the table at him, splattering red sauce on the collar of his shirt.

He wasn't as bad as he used to be when he was a teenager. Evan wasn't vying for anyone's attention anymore. He knew the people around him could see him for who he truly was. He didn't have to get hurt or break a bone for someone- his parents- to take notice of him and give him some love and attention. He had all the attention he wanted.

Evan kept his right arm looped over the back of (Y/n)'s chair and curled his hand around her shoulder. He leaned back in his seat and parted his knees to the side while his left elbow propped up on the table. It felt good to have (Y/n)'s head on his shoulder and her fingers trailing up and down his thigh to give her something to focus on.

"Don't you like Buck's cooking? He's taking lessons from Cap."

(Y/n) looked to the right when Eddie noticed she had barely touched her plate whereas the rest of them were almost finished. They were used to eating quick, everyone at the station had developed a high metabolism because of how little time they had to eat meals.

"I- I'm still a little nervous I guess." She was hungry, but she didn't feel like she could eat much. She still had a full can of pop left which she had barely touched and she knew if Evan noticed he would be watching her closer like a hawk.

She tilted her head to the left and pressed her forehead into Evan's neck, breathing in his scent and feeling the way his throat moved when he laughed at one of Chimney's jokes. The atmosphere was good; there was no need for (Y/n) to be nervous. They were all getting on like a house on fire.

But (Y/n) closed her eyes and moved her free hand to wrap around her waist when her stomach twisted.

She wasn't sure if she was starting to feel sick or if her nerves were getting the better of her. With her temple pressed into Evan's neck, (Y/n) couldn't tell for a moment if it was him or her who was beginning to sweat. The trickle of water that slithered down her neck told (Y/n) she was the one starting to get flushed.

She could feel her ears tuning out of the conversation around the table, she could barely hear what Evan was saying or work out what he was laughing at.

When her stomach gave an awful, twisted cramp, (Y/n) jolted into Evan and inbedded her arm into her waist. She felt Evan's arm loop tighter around her shoulders and his head tilted down to look at her.

"Okay?"

(Y/n) wanted to smile, she wanted to nod and say she was fine, but she couldn't find her voice or the will to lie. She wasn't so sure she did feel okay after all as another cramp burned in her abdomen.

Her chin pressed down into her chest and she pushed her palm down onto Evan's thigh to use him as leverage to stand up. She could feel their eyes fall on her as the conversation tapered off and quietened down when she turned away and headed into the kitchen. Her hands started to shake, one arm still around her waist with her other hand trembling against the counter that she used to stop herself from falling down.

As soon as the bin was within reach, (Y/n) doubled over just in time to throw up. Her hands gripped the bin and her stomach clenched as she doubled over and bent her knees, pressing her kneecaps into the bin to stay upright.

"Oh no." Evan dropped his fork on his plate and got up, jogging from the table into the kitchen.

He smoothed his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back and gently moved her hair behind her ear before she threw up in it. His lips merged with the back of her head as he moved both hands to her hips and held her up when she looked like she was going to fall into the bin and take it down to the floor.

He couldn't tell whether this was morning sickness acting up or if (Y/n)'s nerves were getting the better of her. Or maybe it was a mixture of both.

"I'm s-sorry-"

"Don't apologise, you're okay." Evan curled his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist and gently reeled her up into his chest while he grabbed a glass with his right hand and filled it with water. He handed the glass over but his lips curled into a grimace when (Y/n) tried to take a mouthful but ended up coughing it back into the bin.

(Y/n) let Evan take her weight and leaned back into him, gripping his wrist when his arm secured back around her middle like an iron bar preventing her from flopping down to the floor.

His lips meshed against the back of her head while his other hand gave her hip a reassuring squeeze. When she nodded, he turned them around and gently walked them back towards the table where all eyes were watching them with worry and apprehension.

"Was that the nerves, or the cooking? Should we be worried?" Maddie tried to break the tension and looked down at her plate that was just about cleared. Did they need to worry about food poisoning or any of the ingredients being off, or was this just (Y/n)'s nerves playing her up?

(Y/n) tried to smile but she couldn't find it in herself when another throbbing cramp burned in her abdomen and had her arms binding around her waist. She let Evan slump her down in her chair and suddenly she didn't care about everyone watching them. She let herself fold over and pressed her forehead down against the edge of the table with her hands meshed into her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Eddie clamped his hand down on the back of (Y/n)'s chair and turned to face her and Evan. He wasn't so sure this was nerves when she looked like she was in pain.

His eyes flickered over to Evan who sat back down in his seat, one hand moving up and down (Y/n)'s back while his other hand was pressed tightly against his mouth to hide his worried expression.

"I… um," (Y/n) tried to lift herself up and look at Evan.

She didn't know if she was alright or not, this didn't feel normal, but then again, she wasn't sure what was supposed to be normal anymore. Was this normal because she hadn't been eating and drinking properly? Or was this something they should be worrying about?

She couldn't tell them she was pregnant. Evan wanted to wait. He wanted to sit Maddie down and tell her first and give her the scan picture they were going to get next week. Then he wanted to tell the team separately. She didn't want to ruin things and tell them this way or panic any of them. This was the first time they were all meeting, (Y/n) wanted to get along with them not worry them for no reason.

"(Y/n)'s pregnant… we're having a baby."

Evan had to tell them. He didn't like the pain (Y/n) seemed to be feeling or the fact that she hadn't kept anything down today or much of yesterday either. If she was in pain he might have to take her to the emergency room. And he had his team here, at least one of them could assess her and see whether this was an emergency or not.

He watched the round of surprised faces stare back at him like he'd grown a second head in front of them all.

But it was Maddie who his eyes focused more intently on and the way her hands started flapping at her sides like she was a bird growing wings. Her lips parted into a smile and she tapped her hand against the table before something seemed to dawn on her.

"Oh, maybe we should take you to a doctor sweetie, just to be safe."

"No, it's j-just cramps-"

"Baby you shouldn't be getting those at all. You're probably dehydrated, you need to see a doctor." Evan slid his arm around her waist and reeled her back into his chest so she couldn't fold over again.

He watched carefully as Eddie gently took her wrist to feel her pulse before he pressed his hand against her temple and then lifted her eyelid to check her pupils. "If you are dehydrated, that could cause the cramps, you should get checked, maybe get an IV and fluids back in your system."

"Alright, let's go." Evan kept his arms looped around (Y/n)'s waist while Eddie stood in front of her for precaution as Evan eased her up. "I've had a drink-"

"I've only had one, I'll drive you." Eddie patted Evan's shoulder and checked his pocket for his phone and his keys while everyone round the table got up.

"I'll go with you." Maddie rubbed her hand up and down Evan's arm and reached over to take (Y/n)'s hand.

***

"How we doin'?"

(Y/n) tightened her hand around Evan's and moved her free hand to curl around his bicep. She pulled his arm so it was pinned into her chest while she pressed her nose and mouth against his exposed arm. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest and adrenaline pooling in her stomach when she looked around the waiting room.

The team were all here.

She knew Eddie and Maddie had offered to stay since Eddie drove them down and Maddie travelled down with them just to make sure they were all okay, but (Y/n) didn't expect them to stay. And she thought Bobby would have taken Chimney and Hen home.

All five of them were sat in the waiting room, looking very relaxed and not a bit put out or annoyed.

(Y/n) had dampened the mood of the night by needing a trip to the emergency room. She thought they would have gone home or gone back to one of their homes and finished the night off together. (Y/n) was expecting them to call Evan and ask if she was okay and say how she had ruined their first night meeting her.

She was expecting him to get a phone call from one of them to ask how old she was and if he was serious about having a baby with her. She didn't see their faces round the table when Evan told them; (Y/n) didn't know if they were going to be happy or concerned.

"You… you all stayed?" She looked around the waiting room before her eyes looked up at Evan who smiled softly down at her. He leaned to peck her temple while his other hand cupped the back of her neck to keep her close.

"Of course we stayed, we wanted to make sure you're both okay… you are okay, right?" Bobby planted his hands down on his hips as he stood up, looking between them with a cautious smile. Since he couldn't see tears or panicked looks and since (Y/n) seemed to be discharged, he guessed things were okay.

"Someone's dehydrated, but an hour on an IV's done the trick."

(Y/n) kept her face smothered in Evan's arm and clung to him tighter. Perhaps she should have listened to him earlier when he told her to have a few more drinks and try to drink some water. The cramps were because she wasn't eating or drinking properly but since they had disappeared and her blood pressure was fine, she was being discharged.

And their scan for next week had been moved up to tomorrow, just as a precaution so they could make sure the baby was okay and had no further issues.

"You didn't have to wait," (Y/n) murmured softly as they all made a beeline down the corridor, walking slowly towards the exit.

"Oh please, you're one of us now. We look after each other, we weren't going anywhere without you."

She could feel tears burning in her eyes at Hen's words and she smiled against Evan's arm as he gave her hand a tight squeeze. She was one of them. The team loved her. They didn't think badly of her or think of her as some little kid trying to use and abuse Evan. They knew she loved him and they knew she was going to fit in and be one of them.

They looked after their own, if one of them was in the hospital then they would all be there to make sure they were okay.

Her head turned to the right when she felt Maddie walking at her side and the older girl suddenly looped their arms together and leaned close to her. Maddie pressed her chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder, grinning madly between her and Evan like there was some big secret hanging in the air.

"So… I'm gonna be an aunt, finally?"

"You're happy?" (Y/n) felt Evan scoff beside her and he leaned down to press his lips against her hairline.

"I told you she'd be happy, stop worrying." He almost found it funny that (Y/n) asked Maddie the same thing she'd asked him. He wondered if she would ask everyone special in their lives if they were happy about the news. And he had a strange feeling that if she asked his parents, they would somehow be happy. They may not get along well with Evan, but they would be pleased he was at this stage in his life where he had found someone brilliant to settle down with.

"I'm thrilled, my little brother's having a baby. He's gonna be a big papa bear." Maddie squeezed (Y/n)'s arm and grinned as if she was the one who was having a baby. Her expression was so giddy that it made (Y/n)'s blood spark with adrenaline.

She agreed with that. Evan was going to be a great, cuddly, soft papa bear when they had this baby.

***

When Evan walked through the door, he fought to kick off his boots and let his shoulders drop down now that he was inside. It was as if the bed was crying out his name, telling him it had been over twenty four hours since he'd last got some sleep. He needed to go to bed.

He slung his work bag down by his boots, he would sort it out and tidy up in the morning; it was too late and he was too tired to bother now.

He dragged his feet behind him and shuffled across into the kitchen, rooting through the fridge for a drink. But when he turned around, his brows narrowed and he leaned his head to the side.

Why was the lamp on in the living room?

Downing the whole bottle of water in one swoop, Evan left it on the counter and walked out the kitchen. He passed the dining table, his head still tilted to one side as he tried to see if (Y/n) was still down here or if she had just left the light on for him.

His lips rolled into a thin line and his hands found his hips and he looked around the living room.

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, and here she was. Sat cross-legged on the rug in nothing but one of Evan's lounge shirts. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, she had a pen clenched between her lips, a red marker pen tucked behind her ear. Two textbooks were laid out on the coffee table and revision cards littered the floor like she was performing some kind of omen or seance.

After dragging his eyes up and down her body a few times, Evan realised she had her headphones in. She hadn't heard him come in.

He made sure he wasn't about to stand on any of her revision cards and slowly went down on his knees behind her. He watched to make sure she wasn't writing any notes down; Evan knew how precise and neat (Y/n) made her notes and he didn't want to scare her and make her ruin them.

Satisfied she wasn't writing, he leaned forward and clamped his hands down on her hips. His chest pressed into her back and his face tucked into her neck, shivering as she screamed, spitting out the pen she had between her lips. A jolt ran through her body that jerked forward near the coffee table and ragged, panting breaths left her lips as she whipped her head to the right to look over at him.

"Evan!"

(Y/n) slapped his wrist and fumbled to move her legs and bring her knees up to her stomach. She let herself slouch back into his chest with her head on his shoulder. Her eyes closed tight and she took out her earphones, tossing them on the table now that her heart was pounding in her ears instead.

She hadn't realised it was so late. Once she'd gotten into the swing of revising, she lost herself and track of time. It was something to pass the time while waiting for Evan to come home. She didn't like being on her own during the night if he wasn't here. It didn't feel right without him.

"Sorry," She could tell by his tone that he wasn't really apologetic, and the feeling of his lips smiling against her neck also told her otherwise. "Do you know what time it is, baby?"

His words feathered over her skin while he started to press open-mouthed kisses along her neck and up towards her jaw. He was distracting. (Y/n) found herself melting into his touch and focusing on his actions rather than responding to his words.

She felt his left arm loop around her waist, pinning her into his chest while his right hand trailed up and down her inner thigh. With her knees pulled up like this, the shirt she was wearing had ridden up to her hips, giving him a perfect view of her bare legs and the top of her underwear.

"I got carried away," She whispered softly, turning her head so she could capture him in a kiss.

She had to keep herself busy somehow with Evan being out at work all day and into the evening.

"I think you've studied enough for one night, baby."

His hand left her thigh, but only so he could take the marker from behind her ear and toss it onto the table where he flipped both textbooks closed. He gave the notebooks a gentle push out of his way before his fingers latched back around her thigh and started to squeeze.

He inched backwards, pulling (Y/n) with him and turning her around so he could loop her thighs around his hips. He didn't exactly give her a choice and his baiting grin told her this was non-negotiable.

"I have a test tomorrow," (Y/n) leaned forward and smothered her face against his shoulder while her arms curved around the back of his neck. "I need to pass."

(Y/n) knew this test only counted for twenty-five percent of the final grade, but she still had to pass. She needed to pass so she didn't have to re-take the test or God forbid, redo some of this year again. Her grades were good, but her panic levels were even worse and (Y/n) was feeling the pressure. Everything had timed out perfectly thus far.

Meeting and falling for Evan, passing every class and each yearly test so she didn't have to retake anything. And now she was pregnant, her due date lined up with her graduation date. She could graduate before she had the baby. Get all her classes and tests out the way now while she was pregnant, graduate, and then college would be finished.

(Y/n) could have their baby, take some time and then find a job and start a new job alongside her new little family.

So that meant she had to graduate this year. She had to pass this test. She had to study.

"And you will, but you need to rest and go in with a clear head. Come on, we're off to bed." Both his hands slid beneath her scrunched up shirt so he could grip her bum as he pushed up to his feet and lifted her up with him.

He knew this was important, but he also knew that (Y/n) had been studying for long enough and she knew all the subsections she was going to be quizzed on tomorrow. She was prepared for this, but Evan needed her to come to bed and get some sleep so she was fully prepared and not going in feeling sick.

"I know, but-"

"No buts. You'll do great because you're my smart-ass girl. I'm off tomorrow so I'll drop you off and I'll pick you up. Eddie and Chris have invited us round for tea tomorrow, if you're up for it too."

He could feel (Y/n) grinning into his shoulder as he began walking them both up the stairs.

Since most of the class- and a few others on campus- had found out she was pregnant, curtesy of Sandra, (Y/n) had been anxious about going in. No one said anything, barely anyone glared or even looked at her like she thought they would. It wasn't like high school, there was no stigma attached to having a baby in college.

It was only the small cliché of girls in (Y/n)'s class that still thought she was doing this for a game.

But seeing how thrilled Evan was about having their baby dampened down (Y/n)'s nerves, and she felt better when he could drop her off. Especially if he could pick her up from class too. (Y/n) practically ran to the jeep to get away. It was like Evan had become her suit of armour.

As much as the girls wanted and loved to gossip, none of them said anything when they saw Evan waiting outside. (Y/n) felt brave enough to go to class and get through each lesson, knowing that when she left, most of the time, Evan was right there to pick her up.

"Sounds perfect."

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Haidresser!Reader

Tricks and Treats and Everything In-between (Part 7)

Summary:You and Robin make your way to Steve's Halloween party where you make some new friends, and are joined by an unexpexted guest.

Word Count:2, 515 (a little longer than usual, but trust me it's worth it)

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Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Stop fussing with it, you look hot, trust me.” Robin chastised as you began pulling at the fabric of your black velvet dress.  You had chosen to dress up as Morticia for Steve’s Halloween party, and whilst you had felt good in the dress at first, the body-hugging material suddenly felt all-too constricting against your skin as you made your way to Steve's place.

"That's easy for you to say, you're not wearing a skin-tight velvet prison." You whined, pulling at your dress once more. 

Robin’s costume was quite the stark contrast to yours. She was wearing an oversized orange turtleneck sweater and a pleated red skirt that fanned out just above her knees, a pair of black rimmed glasses sat perched on her nose.

"I felt like it just made sense, y'know? I mean, there's no way that Velma wasn't a lesbian, right?" She laughs as she links her arm in yours, both of you making your way up to the grand steps of Steve’s house.

You knock your knuckles against the door, only for it to fling open with Steve standing there, smiling broadly. He’s wearing a dark brown bomber jacket that’s decorated with various patches thrown over a white t-shirt. A silver chain of dog-tags around his neck and a pair of black aviator sunglasses hang from the shirt’s collar. There’s a faint sound of some music and muffled laughter and chatter coming from behind him, the party already getting under-way. 

“Good evening ladies! Welcome to my humble abode.” he says grandly with a smirk. “Come on in!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Maverick. Where’s the drinks?” Robin teases as she gently pushes Steve aside in search of alcohol.

You step your way through the hallway and take a second to marvel at the enormity of the house, with high ceilings, and ornately patterned wallpaper. 

You turn your eyes to Steve, your eyebrows knitted together.

“I don’t mean to be rude when I say this, but I thought you lived in a small apartment downtown? How come you’ve got this whole house to yourself?” you ask, gesturing openly to the sprawling nature of the house you find yourself in.

“Parent’s house. Dad’s away on one of his usual business trips, mom doesn’t trust him not to let his hands wander, so I get this whole house to myself for a few days.” 

“..and what better way to enjoy all this than with a massive party, right?” you lead.

“You got that right” he chuckles, nudging his elbow into your arm with a smirk. “Come on in.”

You follow Steve into the spacious living area where sure enough there are already a whole bunch of people mixing and mingling. You scan your eyes over to see where Robin is, shaking your head with a smile when you see that she’s already made her way over to Vickie, the red-head from the bar, who's coincidently dressed up as Daphne, in a purple mini-dress and pink tights. 

You feel a bit out of place for a moment, until a girl with bouncy brown curls dressed up in a Wonder-Woman costume comes up to you to hand you a plastic red cup with some kind of drink in it. It’s Nancy Wheeler, you recognise her from your school years, you never really talked to her much, your circle of friends never seeming to intersect.

“It’s from the punch bowl, it’s just cranberry juice, lemonade and just a splash of vodka” she says listing off the ingredients. 

You smile politely, thanking her as you take the cup from her hands and take a sip. The sweet, fruity concoction is just the thing you need to settle your nerves.

“I haven’t seen you since high-school” she smiles warmly. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Oh I moved away after high school, went to college in Chicago and lived there for about 10 years.” You omit the fact that your lying, cheating ex-boyfriend was the reason for your return to your hometown.

Nancy nods, with a smile, quickly moving on. “How about I introduce you to some people?”

You walk with her over to a group of younger looking kids, they couldn’t be much older than sixteen. All of them dressed in their own unique costumes. The group are standing around talking to two older boys, one with shaggy sandy-blonde hair, the other with very long dark hair, falling down around by his waist.

“..And that, my little spooky friends, is why pineapple is the best pizza topping” says the boy with the long hair. He’s dressed in casual clothing, the only effort he’d seemed to have made towards any kind of halloween costume was a fake knife on a headband and a few streaks of red paint drawn on his forehead. 

A sea of groans and fake gags sound out from the rest of the group.

“Hey I’m just saying, don’t knock it, till you’ve tried it.” he says defensively holding his hands up.

"Everyone, this Y/N," You wave awkwardly, before Nancy continues to introduce the rest of the group. "That's my younger brother, Mike," She says pointing to a young boy who also seems to be unenthusiastic about dressing up for Halloween, with a vague attempt being made by a Batman t-shirt.

"This is my boyfriend, Jonathan," he offers his hand to you, and you accept it, with a shake.

"..And that's his friend, Argyle." Nancy continues. 

"And then these are all Mike's friends from school." Nancy explains, gesturing to the remaining kids in the group, each one introducing themselves in turn.

"So, Steve told me you were out on a date with Eddie last week?" Nancy pipes up with a smile playing at her lips.

"News travels fast around here, huh?" You huff.

"Oh so you're the pretty girl that Eddie was so excited to go on a date with!" Dustin butts in.

"Dude!" Lucas gently elbows him in the ribs, narrowing his eyes at his friend's choice of words.

"What? He was! I've never seen him so goo-goo over anybody before!" Dustin defends.

"..And how do you know Eddie?" You ask the curly-haired boy.

"He's our DM." Jonathan's brother, Will speaks up.

"He’s the best DM there is out there!" Dustin cheers, speaking very highly of Eddie’s dungeon master skills.

Just as you begin to slip into easy and comfortable conversation with your new found group of friends your attention is diverted by a loud voice shouting over the noise of the other party-goers.

In strolls Eddie, a case of beer tucked under his arm and a certain level of swagger to his gait.

He's gone all out for his Halloween costume. His long dark curls flowing from underneath a skull and crossbones bandana tied around his head, and a dark leather waistcoat layered over a loose-fitting white shirt, the deep neckline of the shirt peeking open enough to reveal a slight glimpse of the demon tattoo on his chest. A dark smudge of black eyeliner runs across his lower lashline, making his already dark brown eyes look even more intense. The rogue pirate really was a good look on him.

“Here you go, Harrington, these are for you” he nods, dropping the case of beer in Steve’s arms, before making a beeline for you. 

“Cara Mia, Mon Cher” Eddie says seductively, giving his best Gomez Addams impression, as he takes your hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “You look beautiful.”

You preen under his affections before coughing slightly, alerting him to the presence of the rest of the group.  Eddie smiles before coming to stand next to you, wasting no time in slinging his arm around your shoulder to bring you close to him.

“So, Dustin was just telling me how you’re the best dungeon master that they’ve ever had.” You say to Eddie.

“Yeah, well, when I saw this bunch of lost and lonely little sheepies, who looked like they needed a helping hand, so that’s where I stepped up.”  he answers proudly. “These kids are gonna be the future of Hellfire.” he smiles, playfully ruffling his hand through Dustin’s hair.

You talk with everyone for a little while longer, learning how Steve was throwing this party as a last hurrah before some of the teenagers went off to college, and how Nancy was going off to California to live closer to Jonathan after getting a journalism internship at The San Francisco Chronicle.

Just as you’re talking, your attention is diverted by a change in the music. The sounds of The Cranberries’ ‘Dreams’ filtering through the stereo’s speakers.

“Eddie!!” you jump up excitedly, tugging on his shirt’s sleeve. “They’re playing my favourite song! Come dance with me! Please!” you plead, batting your eyelashes and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, alright” he smiles as he rolls his eyes, allowing you to pull him towards the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the grand living room where there are already a few people dancing.    

"That is a man in love if ever I saw it, my dudes" Argyle said to the group as you whisked Eddie off, the both of you smiling brightly at each other.

You waste no time in dancing to the song, letting your hips sway and shoulders rock to the music. Eddie stands close to you, unsure of himself, his dancing skills were certainly not something that he was known for.

You notice his hesitancy, and are quick to take both his hands in yours and place them on the curve of your hips, 

 ..I know I’ve felt like this before, but now I’m feeling it even more..

You let him take his time, stepping in time with him to the beat of the music. Your eyes look into his, admiring the way they sparkle in the glow of the colourful, decorative Halloween lights.

..And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don’t hurt me..

This quiet moment between you just felt all so natural, like you were the only two people in the room, the only thing grounding you to reality is the touch of his hands on your hips. Holding you so gently as though he was frightened you were going to break.

..A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind. You’re everything to me..

Eddie’s confidence grows as you dance together. Everyone else fades into the background. It’s just you, him and the music.

..And oh, my dreams. It’s never quite as it seems, ‘cause you’re a dream to me..

The song finishes and you’re both standing so close, with his hands holding their place on your hips. There’s a beat of silence between you both as Eddie’s eyes quickly flick down to your lips. He leans down to you, almost as if he’s going to kiss you, before he pulls away shyly as if he wasn’t sure that you wanted him as much as he did you.

There’s a slight awkward tension in the air for a brief moment before you break the silence.

“Thanks for the dance, Eddie. I’m going to get a drink”

Eddie nods, giving you an affectionate hug, watching you make your way into the kitchen, desperately hoping that he hadn’t just ruined his chances with you.

You grab yourself a cup from the table and begin ladling a few scoops from the punch bowl into your cup. 

The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feels eerily quiet. A chill rattles through as you feel a presence caging you against the granite worktops of kitchen island.

“Y’know, you are not an easy girl to track down, Y/n” A voice rasps out with a sinister chuckle.  A man in a dark t-shirt, jeans and a Friday The 13th hockey mask towers over you.

You watch as the man reveals his face to you. It’s Jacob. You’d left him, broken up with him, fleeing your apartment with tears in your eyes and it wasn’t enough for him.

“How did you find me?” you stutter out.

“There aren’t many places you can hide, Princess.” the pet-name sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine. “Hawkins is only a small town, you know that.” he taunts. “Started asking around. Tommy Hagan said he saw you in The Hideout a few days ago, gave him a few dollars and he gave you up right away. Said I could find you here, and look at that, he was right.” he says smugly, flashing you a smirking grin. “All it took was some dumb dollar-store Halloween costume and I slipped right in without anybody noticing.” 

“What do you want from me, huh?” you fight. You were not about to let him intimidate you, not after how he treated you.

“Want from you? I don’t want anything from you, but you are coming back to Chicago with me. You’ve had your fun, hiding away from me with your little friends, but where are they now, huh?” he continues to taunt you, pressing you further into the kitchen’s granite worktops, his hand wrapping around your arm in a bruising grip.

“Hey, dickhead!” You hear a voice shout from behind Jacob. “What d’ya think you’re doing huh?” It’s Eddie. He lays his hand harshly on Jacob’s shoulder, putting himself between you and your ex-boyfriend.

“You get a kick out of making girls feel small and vulnerable, huh?” Eddie says, glaring at Jacob with an intense stare.

“Oh I see how it is, you like her, don’t you pal.” Jacob retorts, poking his finger into Eddie’s chest.

Eddie flicks Jacob’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me. And I ain’t your pal, dickhead.” Eddie gravels out, the tension between the two men rising.

“You know what, freak?” Jacob flashes his Cheshire cat-like grin once more. “You can keep her. She was a lousy lay anyway.” he sniggers.

That was it. Eddie had had enough. The tension between the two men had reached a boiling point. Eddie pulls his fist back before launching it forward straight into Jacob’s nose with a crack.

Jacob stumbles back with the force of the collision, clutching his hands to his bloody nose.

“If anyone’s the freak it’s you, asshole.” Eddie spits down at Jacob, shaking his fist loose after hitting him so hard.

With all the commotion going on Steve rushes into the kitchen in a panic.

“Steve, this unwanted guest needs throwing out if you ask me.” Eddie says, nodding his head down to where Jacob sat still clutching at his nose.

Steve flicks his eyes over to you, when you give him a reassuring nod of your head, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Steve grabs Jacob by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him up to his feet, before dragging him out of his house.

Eddie turns to you immediately, checking you over to see if you’re alright.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?” Eddie worries.

“Eddie I’m okay, I just want to go, if that’s alright?” you say shakily.

“Come here, my van’s out there, we can leave right now, don’t you worry.” Eddie reassures you.

@penguinsandpotterheads @slutty-thevampireslayer @xxhellfiregirlxx @mmunson86 @avalon-wolf @ali-r3n @jesssssmaybankk

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 4 - Push and Pull

Summary: Valerie starts to question her place in Elvis' life after hearing some sage - if not utterly depressing - advice from a Las Vegas veteran. Later, Elvis shows his jealous side and they come to an understanding.

The phone never rang.

In Vegas, silence feels different than anywhere else. Maybe it's because the city itself never truly quiets – there's always the distant chime of slot machines, the hum of air conditioning pushing back against the desert heat, the muffled thunder of jets bringing another load of dreamers to the Strip. Or maybe it's because Vegas operates on its own clock, where three AM is peak hours and noon might as well be midnight.

I spent that morning staring at the phone like a jilted teenager, willing it to spring to life with Elvis's voice on the other end. Every time someone walked past my door, my heart did a little jump-skip-hop routine that would've put his famous moves to shame. But the hours crawled by with nothing but silence and the distant ding of elevator doors.

The International hadn't started feeling like home yet, even after nearly a week. My suite was bigger than my entire Chicago apartment, all cream and gold with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The view was pure Vegas – neon signs fighting with the sun, palm trees that looked like they'd been shipped in from a movie set, and everywhere that particular sparkle that made you forget the desert was waiting just beyond the city limits, patient as death.

By noon, I'd worn a path in the thick carpet between the bed and window. My reflection caught my eye – hair wild from running my fingers through it, lipstick slightly smeared from nervous lip-biting. I looked like what I was: a fool waiting for a married man to call.

The suite's mirror was unforgiving in the harsh desert sunlight. Three weeks in Vegas had already changed me – my clothes were more expensive, my makeup more carefully applied, my whole being somehow more polished. But underneath it all, I was still that girl from Chicago, still dreaming of something bigger. The irony wasn't lost on me: I'd found something bigger, all right, but at what cost? 

The thing about being involved with Elvis Presley that nobody tells you is how much time you spend waiting. Waiting for phone calls, waiting for shows to end, waiting to see which version of him you'll get today – the superstar, the philosopher, the boy from Tupelo, or someone else entirely. The tabloids never mentioned that part.

The International had its own rhythm, I'd learned. Mornings belonged to the cleaning staff and tired gamblers. Afternoons were for rehearsals and sound checks, the distant thrum of music floating through the hallways like a ghost. But evenings – evenings belonged to Elvis. His energy seemed to electrify the whole building, from the lobby where fans lingered hoping for a glimpse, to the top floor where his suite sprawled like a kingdom in the sky. 

The phone finally rang at six sharp. I nearly broke my neck getting to it.

"Hello?" I tried to sound easy. Like I had not spent the day measuring time between rings that never came.

"Val? It's Joe." Elvis's right-hand man sounded like a dentist with bad news. Behind him there was noise - voices, music, the chaos that followed Elvis everywhere. "Listen, about dinner tonight..."

My stomach dropped faster than a wooden rollercoaster. "Yes?"

"The boss says he has to cancel. Unexpected guests." Joe cleared his throat. "He'll call when he can."

The line went dead before I could respond. I sat there holding the receiver, listening to the dial tone like it might suddenly change its mind and give me better news.

Unexpected guests. The words echoed in my head like a bad jukebox record stuck on repeat. Who were these mysterious guests that had Elvis canceling our plans? Was Priscilla in town? The Colonel? Someone else entirely? In the week I'd been here, I'd learned that "unexpected guests" could mean anything from record executives to karate instructors to spiritual advisors claiming they could teach Elvis to levitate.

I changed into my swimsuit – the new one Elvis had sent up yesterday, a white number that probably cost more than my old car. The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, wearing his gifts while he was entertaining "unexpected guests." The price tag was still attached, the numbers making me dizzy. Back home, I'd worked a whole month to afford my last swimsuit.

The International's pool was a miracle of modern engineering, a kidney-shaped oasis surrounded by palm trees that had no business surviving in the desert. The water was always the perfect temperature, the towels always pristinely white, the service always impeccable. Like everything else in Vegas, it was an illusion maintained through sheer force of will and unlimited resources.

I found a lounger partially hidden behind a concrete planter and settled in to perfect the art of not looking like I was looking at his suite windows. The afternoon sun beat down like a hammer, but I barely felt it. My eyes kept drifting upwards, where I knew his rooms sprawled across the corner of the building. Was he up there right now? Was she?

From this angle, I could see the subtle changes in the curtains that meant someone was moving around up there. Every flutter made my heart jump. Earlier in the week, I'd learned that Elvis's suite had its own pool – a private oasis where he could swim without the public's eyes on him. He'd invited me up there twice, both times after his late show when the desert night had cooled enough to make the water inviting. But today, that little private pool might as well have been on the moon.

"Sugar, you keep craning your neck like that, you're gonna need a chiropractor."

I startled so hard I nearly fell off my lounger. A woman who had to be pushing fifty stood there, though she wore her age like a well-tailored dress. Her red hair was styled in a perfect bouffant, and her black swimsuit looked painted on. Everything about her screamed old Vegas – the kind of woman who'd seen it all and lived to tell about it. Diamond rings glittered on her fingers, catching the sun like miniature stars.

"I wasn't..." I started, then stopped. Who was I kidding? "That obvious, huh?"

"Only to someone who's been watching girls watch those windows for longer than you've been alive." She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Ruby."

I shook it, noting the size of the rock on her ring finger. The diamond was the size of a small planet, the kind of stone that had its own gravitational pull. "Valerie."

"I know." Her smile was knowing but not unkind. "Word gets around. You're Elvis's girl."

The label stung like chlorine in an open cut. "I wouldn't say that."

"Honey, in this town, you're either somebody's girl or you're nobody at all." Ruby settled onto the lounger next to mine like we were old friends, her movements graceful despite the skintight swimsuit. A heavy gold anklet caught the light as she crossed her legs. "And trust me – being Elvis's girl is about as somebody as it gets."

I wanted to protest, to say I wasn't "Elvis's girl" or anybody's girl but my own. That I was a singer in my own right, that I'd come to Vegas to audition for Sinatra, that I hadn't planned any of this. Instead, I found myself asking, "So whose girl are you?"

"Carl's." She held up her left hand, letting that massive diamond catch the sun. The stone threw rainbow prisms across the concrete. "He owns three casinos and a piece of the Strip. But between you and me?" She leaned closer, voice dropping to a stage whisper. Her perfume was exquisite, something French that probably cost a pretty penny. "The ring's just for show. His wife's got the real claim."

My cheeks burned. "Oh."

"Don't look so scandalized, hon. That's just how it goes in Vegas." Ruby lit a cigarette with practiced elegance, the gold lighter making a satisfying snap. "The wives stay home with their dignity and their diamonds, and we get the fun parts." She studied my face with eyes that had seen too much. The mascara around them was perfect, not a smudge despite the heat. "But you're new to this, aren't you? Still got that fresh-off-the-bus shine."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's been around the block a few hundred times." She blew a perfect smoke ring. The gesture was pure Hollywood, like something Lauren Bacall would do. "Let me guess – he's different with you? Shows you his sensitive side? Makes you feel like you're the only girl who really understands him?"

Each word felt like a papercut. "You don't know him."

"Honey, I was playing this game when you were still in pigtails. Men like him? They're all the same when you strip away the shine." She patted my hand with motherly concern. Her nails were the exact shade of red as her hair. "The only difference is, yours happens to be famous."

Ruby took another long drag of her cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the desert air. A plane passed overhead, so low I could make out the airline logo. Another load of dreamers coming to try their luck. "You know what the funny thing is? I used to be you. Years ago, I was just like you. Sitting in some out-of-the-way restaurant and waiting."

That got my attention. "You and Elvis...?"

She laughed, rich and deep. "Oh God, no. I'm talking about Johnny Roselli. Big shot with the mob back then." Her eyes went distant, seeing something beyond the pool, beyond the present. "He used to give me all the lines. Used to tell me I was different from all the other girls. Special. Used to read me poetry, if you can believe it. Ha! Johnny Roselli, who'd ordered more hits than I've had hot dinners, reading me Keats by candlelight."

"What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens, sweetheart. The wife showed up." Ruby's lips curved in a bitter smile. The lipstick was perfect, not a smear despite the cigarette. "Caught us in bed together. Instead of raising hell like I expected, she just looked at me with these tired eyes and said, 'Honey, you can keep him. I've got the house, the cars, and the bank accounts.'"

I swallowed hard. "And did you? Keep him?"

"For a while." She shrugged, elegant even in defeat. "Then one day I realized I was just keeping his bed warm until the next young thing came along. That's how it goes with men like that – they burn through women like cigarettes, always chasing that first sweet drag."

My throat felt tight. "Elvis isn't like that."

"No?" Ruby's eyebrow arched. "Then why are you down here by the pool instead of up in that suite?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

"Look." Ruby crushed out her cigarette with precise movements. "I'm not trying to rain on your parade. Maybe Elvis is different. Maybe you're the one who's gonna tame him, make him leave his wife, ride off into the sunset." Her eyes softened. "But baby girl, I've been watching this show longer than you've been alive, and it always ends the same way."

"How's that?"

"With some pretty young thing sitting by this pool, watching those windows, wondering why he doesn't call anymore." She stood, adjusting her swimsuit with practiced grace. "Just remember something – in this town, there's wives and there's girls. The wives get the houses and the bank accounts. The girls?" She gestured at herself, at the pool, at the whole glittering facade of Vegas. "We get the stories."

I watched her walk away, her heels clicking against the concrete, her movements still showgirl-perfect despite the years. Her words settled in my stomach like lead weights. Part of me wanted to run after her, to demand more details, more warnings, more of whatever bitter wisdom she'd gleaned from her years in this neon paradise. But a bigger part of me wanted to pretend I'd never heard any of it.

That night, sleep wouldn't come. I lay in my too-big bed, watching the Strip's lights paint patterns on my ceiling, thinking about Ruby's words. About wives and girls, about stories and bank accounts, about men who burn through women like cigarettes.

But the next day, something changed.

Elvis called early, his voice rough with sleep or maybe pills. "Come up," he said. "Want to show you something."

I found him in his suite, surrounded by books. They were everywhere – spread across the coffee table, stacked on the floor, balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. He sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, still in his robe, hair curling naturally at his temples.

"Look at this," he said without preamble, holding up a book about ancient Egyptian medicine. "They had brain surgery techniques we're just now figuring out. Three thousand years ago, Val. Can you believe that?"

And just like that, I started seeing a different side of him. Over the next few days, then weeks, a pattern emerged. After his shows, when the adrenaline was still coursing through him, he'd read to me from whatever had captured his interest – quantum physics, philosophy, religion. His mind was hungry for everything, consuming knowledge like others might take pills.

Speaking of pills... I noticed them more now, but differently. Not just as something he took, but as part of the machinery that kept Elvis Presley running. Uppers for the shows, downers for sleep, something in between for the rest. Dr. Nick came like a pharmaceutical Santa Claus. His black bag held rainbow promises.

"Just to keep the edge off," Elvis would say. But his hands shook until he took them.

The good days were like something out of a dream. One afternoon, he taught me to float in his private pool, his hands steady under my back as I learned to trust the water. Another night, he spent hours showing me some new chord progressions on his guitar, patient as a schoolteacher even when my fingers fumbled.

"That's it, baby," he'd say, his voice warm with encouragement. "You're getting it."

But there were darker moments too. I watched him snap at Red over some minor security issue, his voice going sharp as a razor. "Goddamn it, don't you know how to do your job?" The pills swung his moods like a pendulum. Brilliant then distant. Warm then cold.

The conversation that shattered my carefully constructed understanding of Elvis happened at the International's service bar – the one where staff gathered after their shifts. I'd gone looking for Joe to discuss dinner plans, but instead found myself frozen behind a pillar, listening to two cocktail waitresses who'd clearly just finished their shifts.

“I still can't believe it happened," the blonde one was saying, stirring her drink. Her name tag read 'Mandy.' "I mean, it's ELVIS."

"When?" Her friend – Kelly, according to her name tag – was practically vibrating with excitement "I need every detail. And don't leave anything out."

"Two nights ago. After the late show." Mandy's voice went low but not low enough. "You know how he sends that guy Red down sometimes? For girls?"

My stomach lurched. Two nights ago. When he'd canceled our plans because of "exhaustion."

"Jenny got the same invitation last week," Kelly said. "Said he was weird."

"Weird how?"

"Well," Kelly glanced around conspiratorially, "she said he was kind of rough. Distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else entirely. Kept asking her to..." She whispered something I couldn't hear, but Mandy's eyes went wide.

"No way! With me, he was so sweet. Like, not at all what you'd expect from someone famous." Mandy took a long sip of her drink. She liked having an audience. "He asked if I wanted to see his book collection, if you can believe it. Has all these books about spirituality and UFOs..." She snickered, rolling her eyes. "I mean, who knew Elvis was such a nerd?"

My chest tightened painfully. Those books weren't just possessions – they were his sanctuary. I'd spent hours with him, curled up on his suite's sofa, listening to him talk about all sorts of things with such genuine wonder in his voice. The way these women were laughing about it, treating his deepest interests like some quirky punchline... it made me sick.

"Eugh, forget the books," Kelly feigned dry heaving. "What was it like?"

"Gentle. Really gentle. He kept asking if I was okay. Called me 'baby' in that voice."

“The stage voice?”

"Exactly. And his hands..." Mandy fanned herself. "God, those hands."

"And?" Kelly moved her eyebrows. "You know. Is he...?"

"The jumpsuit doesn't lie." Mandy giggled. "But it wasn't just that. He was there. Really there. Like I was the only girl in the world."

Each word cut deeper. I had seen that focus. Had felt special because of it. Now I knew how many others had felt the same.

"Did he finish?" Kelly whispered.

"Kelly!"

"Everyone wants to know if Elvis Presley can perform."

"Trust me." Mandy smiled big. "Everything works fine. Multiple times fine."

"Will you see him again?"

"Probably not. I'm no dummy. I know there are others." Mandy shrugged. "But for that one night..."

"Did he give you anything?"

"No. But who cares? The story alone is worth it."

They dissolved into giggles, and something in me shattered. It wasn't just jealousy – though God knows that burned through me like acid. It was deeper than that. They were taking his most private moments, his vulnerabilities, his secrets, and turning them into cheap entertainment. The way they spoke about him, like he was some carnival attraction instead of a human being... my heart broke for him. My stomach roiled, and I felt a deep swell of protectiveness rising in my chest. It took everything I had not to tell them off.

I couldn't take another second. 

Joe would have to wait. I ran to the elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly as tears began to blur my vision. Tears came. In the mirrored walls I saw myself: mascara ran black. Lipstick smeared where I had pressed my hand against my mouth. I looked like all the other girls who had cried over Elvis Presley. But they did not understand. They could not understand.

In my room, I ran a bath so hot it turned my skin angry pink, as if I could somehow scald away what I'd heard. The steam rose around me as I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to make sense of it all. Ruby's words echoed in my head: "The wives get the houses and bank accounts. The girls get the stories."

As I sat there, watching the water ripple with my shuddering breaths, something shifted inside me. The raw hurt began to crystallize into something else – understanding, maybe. Or resignation. This was who he was. Who he had to be. Elvis Presley was not just a man. He was something else. He was a need that lived in thousands of women's hearts.

Later, I sat by the window watching the Strip come alive with neon. Maybe loving Elvis meant accepting all of it – the public and private, the saint and sinner, the man and the myth. Maybe it meant understanding that his body belonged to the world in some way, just like his voice did.

But his heart... that was a different matter entirely. And the real question wasn't whether he slept with other women. The real question was why he hadn't slept with me.

*

The answer came three nights later, at one of Elvis's infamous suite parties. The night was winding down, most of the guests gone, leaving just the inner circle sprawled across various pieces of furniture. Elvis had disappeared into his bedroom with a headache – or more likely, to take whatever pills Dr. Nick had prescribed for headaches.

I was out on the balcony, watching the Strip's neon battle the stars, when Jerry stumbled out for some air. He was one of the youngest of the Memphis Mafia, closer to my age, and the champagne had clearly hit him hard.

"You're different, you know that?" he said, slumping against the railing.

"Different how?"

"From the other girls. The ones he..." Jerry hiccupped, waving his hand vaguely. "You know."

"The ones he sleeps with?" The words came out sharper than I intended, the conversation from the bar still raw in my mind.

"See, that's just it." Jerry turned to face me, swaying slightly. "He doesn't. Not with you."

"What?"

"Boss has rules. Things he won't do." The words slurred together. "Joe says - shit, I'm not supposed to tell you this - Joe says when boss really likes a girl, when he really cares? He waits. Says it has to be..." He squinted, trying to remember. "Special. Real. Not just a Vegas thing."

My heart moved strange. "Jer-"

"Makes sense, right?" He nodded and almost fell. "Can't make love to someone you might actually love. Too scary. Might make it real."

"Who might make what real?" Joe's voice came from the doorway, sharp with warning.

Jerry went white. "I was just-"

"Getting water and going to bed." Joe took Jerry's arm. He moved him inside. But he looked at me first. The look said sorry. It said something else too. Maybe understanding.

I stayed on the balcony, letting the warm night air wash over me as I processed this new information. Below, a group of women were entering the hotel, probably hoping to catch one of Elvis’ shows.I thought about Mandy. About Ruby by the pool. About all the women who had shared Elvis's bed but maybe never had his heart.

The door opened behind me. Joe had returned, carrying a bottle of something amber.

"Jerry talks too much when he drinks," Joe said. He handed me a glass. "But he isn't wrong."

"About?"

"The boss." Joe leaned on the rail. He looked at the city. "He's built walls. The girls, the shows, the whole Elvis Presley thing - it's armor. Keeps people back."

I took a sip of what turned out to be very good bourbon. "And the ones he lets get close?"

"Those scare him most." Joe looked at me sideways. "Never seen him like this. The way he talks about you. The way he lights up. The way he holds back."

"Because he wants it special?" The skepticism came through.

"Because he wants it true." Joe finished his drink. "Truth isn't something Elvis Presley gets much of."

We stood in silence for a moment, letting the distant sound of slot machines and traffic wash over us. Finally, Joe spoke again.

"Look, what Jer said... the boss wouldn't want—"

"I know." I managed a smile. "Don't worry. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Yeah," Joe said softly. "I bet you are."

When I finally went back to my room that night, I found myself looking at my reflection differently. Not as one of Elvis' girls, not as a conquest or a groupie or whatever Mandy and her friend were. But maybe as something scarier – someone who might actually matter.

*

The next morning, Elvis called early. His voice had a hint of mischief..

"Come up," he said. "Want to show you something."

I found him in his suite's sitting room, surrounded by books as usual. He was still in his robe, hair curling naturally at his temples, reading glasses perched on his nose – a detail his public never saw. The morning sun caught the gold JB monogram on his pocket, a reminder of how even his aliases got the royal treatment.

"Look at this," he said without preamble, holding up a book. "Did you know the ancient Egyptians had a whole ceremony just for feeding the soul? Not the body – the soul."

But something had shifted in how I saw him. Knowing what I knew now – about Mandy, about his rules, about what it meant when he didn't take a woman to bed – I noticed things differently. The way he kept a careful distance between us on the sofa. How his hand would find mine, then retreat. The constant dance of advance and withdrawal, like he was fighting himself.

"You're thinking real loud over there," he said. He did not look up.

"Just wondering something."

"Mm?"

"Why me?"

That made him look up. Those impossibly blue eyes hit mine. "What do you mean?"

"Why am I different?" I tried to keep my voice casual. "From the other girls who come up here."

His face went still. For a moment I thought he would hide behind the Elvis smile. Instead he took off his glasses.

"Because you see me," he said finally. 

"You mean the guy who reads about Egyptian souls at eleven in the morning?"

"I mean the one who's scared to death of how much he wants you."

The words hung there. My heart did that familiar jump-skip-hop.

"Elvis—"

"Don't." He stood abruptly, started pacing. "Don't make me talk about it. Please."

I watched him move, all that nervous energy seeking escape. The sunlight caught the tremor in his hands – time for his morning pills soon. But he was fighting it, I realized. Trying to stay clear, at least for this moment.

"You know about the others," he said suddenly. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

"And you're still here."

"Yes."

He stopped pacing, looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "Why?"

I thought about Mandy's giggles, about Ruby's warnings, about Jerry’s drunken revelations. About all the pieces of Elvis Presley that different people got to see.

"Because I want all of you," I said, cursing myself internally. "The good and the bad. The public and private. The pills and the prayers. The other women and the lonely nights. All of it."

He moved then, crossed the room in three long strides, and pulled me up into a kiss that felt like drowning. His hands framed my face like I was something precious, something that might break. Or maybe something that might break him.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged. "Val—"

"I know," I whispered. "Not yet."

The relief in his eyes made my chest ache. He pressed his forehead to mine, just breathing.

"Stay," he murmured. "Just... stay here with me. We can read about Egyptian souls."

So I did. We spent the morning on his sofa, my head in his lap while he read aloud, his free hand playing with my hair. Every now and then he'd stop to share a thought, to make connections between ancient wisdom and modern life. His mind worked like that – always linking things, seeing patterns.

Dr. Nick came by around one with his little black bag of rainbow solutions. I pretended not to notice how Elvis' hands steadied after whatever he took. Just like I pretended not to notice the women who came up to his shows at night, the ones who looked at him like he was salvation in a jumpsuit.

Because now I understood – those women got Elvis Presley, the fantasy, the one-night story they'd tell forever. But I got this: quiet mornings with books, philosophical discussions at 3 AM, the man behind the myth who was terrified of being truly seen. The man with the full bellied laugh and the heart of gold. And yes, the man with his occasional demons. 

*

The Tom Jones situation started innocently enough, though in Vegas, nothing stays innocent for long. He was performing at the Landmark's Crown Room, just down the Strip from the International. The Landmark itself was newer than our hotel, its tower shaped like a space needle. Vegas trying again to stab the sky.

I'd mentioned casually to Joe that I'd never seen Tom perform. After three weeks of watching Elvis's world from the inside, I was curious about how other stars navigated the Vegas circus. It seemed safe enough – just another night of research for my ongoing study of entertainment anthropology, as I'd started thinking of it.

"You should go," Joe said. He checked Elvis's schedule. "Boss has dinner with hotel executives tonight. Paradise Properties people." He looked up. "Tom's good people. I'll call over. Get you a table up front."

I shouldn't have gone. Should have remembered that in Vegas, gossip travels faster than light, bouncing from casino to casino like a pinball made of whispers. But after weeks of watching Elvis perform, of seeing how he handled his public persona, I was curious about how another star managed the same dance.

The Crown Room was smaller than the International's showroom, more intimate. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow patterns across white tablecloths, and the stage was close enough to see the performers' expressions without the need for binoculars. The maitre d' led me to a prime table. Joe’s doing. A waiter appeared immediately with champagne "courtesy of Mr. Jones."

I studied the room with my newly developed eye for Vegas dynamics. The wealthy couples in their jewels and dinner jackets, the casino regulars with their sharp eyes and sharper suits, the inevitable scattering of beautiful women dining alone – all of them arranging themselves in the complex hierarchy of a Vegas showroom.

Tom's voice filled the space like warm brandy when he started singing. He worked the room differently than Elvis did. Where Elvis was all controlled sexuality and dangerous charm, Tom was pure joy – a man who genuinely seemed to love what he was doing. During "It's Not Unusual," he caught my eye and winked. 

The anthropologist in me noted how similar yet different it was from Elvis's stage moves, filed it away for later analysis.

Near the end of his set, he told a story about first meeting Elvis in '65 at Paramount Studios in Los Angeles. "There I was, this boy from Wales, and in walks Elvis Presley himself," Tom said, his voice rich with remembered awe. "And you know what the first thing he said to me was? He started singing 'With These Hands' – one of my songs! Knew all the words, he did."

The audience ate it up – everyone loves a story about the King – but I was struck by how the anecdote showed a different Elvis than the one the public usually saw. My Elvis, the one who remembered details. Who paid attention. Who loved what he loved without shame.

When the show ended, one of Tom's people appeared at my table. A sleek man in a sharp suit who introduced himself as Mark.

"Mr. Jones would love it if you'd join him for a drink," he said. "He's friends with Elvis, and we've heard so much about you."

That should have been my first warning. We've heard so much about you. In Vegas, being noticed means being talked about, and being talked about means trouble.

But three weeks of watching Elvis's world, of understanding the complex dance of power and celebrity in this town, had made me bolder. More secure, maybe. After all, I was the one who knew Elvis's real laugh, who'd seen him without his armor of rings and necklaces, who knew how he liked his bacon cooked (extremely crispy, thank you very much).

The private lounge was dark wood and leather. London club, not Vegas flash. Tom Jones in person was different than his stage persona. Smaller somehow, but with an energy that made the room feel electric. He greeted me in that rich Welsh accent, ordering whiskey for himself and asking what I'd like.

"Just a tonic water with lemon, thanks."

"Elvis tells me you're a singer," he said, settling into a leather armchair. Up close, his chest hair seemed to have its own zip code. "He mentioned you're from Chicago," Tom continued, studying me with genuine interest. "Said you've got quite a voice."

That surprised me – the idea of Elvis talking about me to other performers. "Nothing as glamorous as all this," I said. "Just playing dive bars, really."

"Ah, but that's where the real music happens, isn't it?" Tom leaned forward. "You know, first time I met Elvis, I was nervous as hell. This was '65, at Paramount. I'd just done a screen test, was sitting in the commissary feeling sorry for myself because it hadn't gone well. In walks Elvis Presley himself."

"You mentioned that story on stage," I said.

"That was the public version." He smiled. "The real version... well, I was so starstruck I nearly choked on my coffee. But Elvis, he just sat down like we were old mates. Started talking about music, about growing up poor, about how strange Hollywood felt sometimes. Real normal things, you know? Not the usual showbiz chat."

I did know.

As Tom shared stories about Elvis, I found myself relaxing. He had a way of making you feel like an old friend, and his genuine affection for Elvis was obvious in every anecdote.

"He's different than people expect," I said carefully, after Tom finished a story about Elvis sending him birthday gifts three years running.

"That he is. Bright as hell, for one thing. Most people don't know that about him." Tom studied me over his whiskey. "But you do, don't you?"

Before I could answer, one of the waitresses appeared. She was young, blonde, exactly the type both men on stage would flirt with. But her eyes were all business. "Mr. Jones? Elvis Presley is here."

The air in the room shifted subtly. Tom set down his whiskey. "Well, send him in! Haven't seen him properly in ages."

The door opened, and my heart stuttered in my chest. Elvis stood in the threshold, a vision in an oxblood dinner suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, the fabric catching the low light like liquid garnets. His hair was still perfectly coiffed despite the late hour, black as midnight and gleaming, though a single rebellious strand had broken free to curl against his forehead. The crisp white shirt beneath the suit practically glowed against his tanned skin, and his gold TCB necklace caught the light as he breathed.

Red and Sonny flanked him like sentries in their matching black suits, their faces carefully blank, but I barely registered them. All I could see was Elvis – the controlled set of his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his signet rings caught the light as his fingers flexed almost imperceptibly at his sides. His expression was a masterpiece of restraint, but I'd learned to read the tiny tells that betrayed his real emotions: the slight tightening around his eyes, the almost invisible tension in his upper lip, the way his chest rose and fell just a fraction too quickly.

My body reacted to his presence before my mind could catch up. My mouth went dry, and I felt heat bloom across my chest and up my neck. I shifted in my seat, hyper-aware of how close I was sitting to Tom, of the half-empty drinks on the table between us, of how this must look. The tonic water I'd drunk earlier turned sour in my stomach.

"Well, what do we have here?" His voice was warm honey, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes as he took in the scene – me sitting close to Tom, the intimate lighting, the half-empty drinks between us.

"Elvis!" Tom stood, extending his hand with genuine pleasure. "Brother, we were just talking about you!"

"That so?" Elvis's smile was perfectly crafted as he crossed the room, taking Tom's hand in a friendly grip. "All good things, I hope?" The question had steel under silk.

"The best," Tom assured him. "Was just telling Valerie about Paramount in '65."

"Ah, the commissary story." Elvis settled into the chair between us with fluid grace, accepting a Gatorade from the waitress. His eyes found mine, holding them a beat too long. "You seem to be making quite the evening of it, baby. First the show, now a private audience?"

There was nothing accusatory in his tone – he was too skilled at this game for that – but I felt the weight of the question. My cheeks warmed. "Joe mentioned Tom was performing..."

"Did he now?" Elvis's laugh was genuine enough that only someone who knew him well would catch the slight strain. "Seems like Joe's been mighty helpful tonight. Makes me wonder if I should give him a raise." He turned to Tom, all easy charm. "She's something else, isn't she? Sharp as a tack. Always watching, always learning."

Tom nodded enthusiastically. "We were just discussing music, actually. Valerie was telling me about Chicago—"

"The dive bars," Elvis interrupted smoothly, his eyes never leaving my face. "Quite a jump, isn't it, baby? From those little clubs to private meetings with stars?" The question hung in the air.

"Elvis," I started, but he waved it away with a casual gesture.

He waved it away. "Just curious, darlin'. About what brings a girl like you here." His smile stayed gentle. His eyes stayed hard. "When she knows I'm having dinner with executives. When she knows how people talk in this town."

Tom shifted uncomfortably, picking up on the undercurrents. "Elvis, mate, this was all very innocent—"

"Oh, I'm sure it was," Elvis agreed readily, but his fingers tapped a restless rhythm on his armrest. "Tom's always been a gentleman. Haven't you, Tom?" He turned those blue eyes on his friend. "Always so careful with other people's... interests."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Tom cleared his throat. "Maybe I should—"

"No, no," Elvis said, still maintaining that perfect social smile. "Stay. Tell me more about what you and my girl have been discussing. I'm fascinated to hear what insights she's been sharing about me."

I felt heat creep up my neck. "Elvis, we were just—"

"Talking?" His voice was soft. "Everyone's always just talking in Vegas, baby. That's what makes it so interesting, don't you think? All these conversations happening behind closed doors..."

The fear finally showed itself then – not in anger, but in the way his hand trembled slightly as he lifted his drink, in the tightness around his mouth. I saw it clearly: his terror of losing something real, something that belonged just to him.

"I should go," Tom said quietly, reading the room. "Early show tomorrow."

Elvis stood with him, all Southern courtesy now. "Always good to see you, Tom. Give my best to Linda."

After Tom left, Elvis turned to me, and for the first time, I saw the hurt beneath his perfect control. "You want to tell me what you're really doing here?"

The drive back to the International was torture. Elvis stared straight ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel of his latest Cadillac. I could feel the anger radiating off him in waves. Red and Sonny followed in another car, their headlights steady in the rearview mirror.

"You know," he finally said, his voice soft, "there are easier ways to hurt me than this."

"You didn't have to do that," I finally said. "Tom was being nice."

"Tom's always nice," Elvis said flatly. "Everybody in this town is nice. Right up until they take what they want."

"Is that what you think happened? That he was trying to take something from you?"

His jaw worked. "I think everybody wants something from me. Thought you were different."

The words hit like a slap. "I am different."

"Are you?" He finally looked at me, and the pain in his eyes made my chest ache. "Then why'd you need a private show from him?"

I didn't have an answer. Not one he'd believe, anyway. 

The Strip stretched out before us like a river of neon, but neither of us was seeing it. The silence in the car was thick enough to choke on.

"Elvis—"

"Don't." His voice was tight. "Just... give me a minute."

But I was done giving him minutes. Done being understanding. The anger that had been building since hearing Mandy's story, compressed under layers of anthropological observation, suddenly burst free.

"No," I said. "No more minutes. No more silence. You want to tell me what that caveman display was really about?"

His head snapped toward me. "Caveman display?"

"You practically dragged me out of there by my hair! In front of everyone—"

"Everyone?" He barked out a laugh. "You mean in front of Tom Jones? In front of the man you were getting so cozy with—"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." I was almost shouting now. "How many women have you gotten 'cozy' with this month? Should we ask Mandy from cocktails? Or maybe Jenny?"

Elvis went still. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. Mandy. Pretty blonde. Loves to talk about her night with Elvis Presley. About how sweet you were. How gentle. How everything works juuuust fiiiine." My voice got high and hard. "Multiple times fine, she said."

"Val—"

"Let me finish. Here's what I can't figure out. You'll fuck some random waitress but won't touch me. You'll give half of Vegas a piece of you, but treat me like glass. You'll throw a fit if I drink with a man I don't want, but you push me away when I want to make love. So what is it? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you!" Now he was shouting too. "That's the whole damn problem!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means those other women don't matter!" His fist slammed against the steering wheel. "It means they're not real! They get what they want – a night with Elvis Presley, a story to tell their friends. And I get..." He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "I get to feel something. Anything. For just a little while."

"And what do I get?" My voice cracked. "To sit in my room knowing you're with them? To listen to them brag about it in bars?"

"You get the real me!" He turned to face me fully, eyes wild. "The mess, the pills, the insomnia, the fear – you get all of it. And I get to wonder every damn day when you're going to realize it's not enough. When you're going to want the ELVISthey all come for."

"I don't want that guy!" The words echoed in the garage. "I want you. The man who reads numerology books and eats hamburgers at 2 am. Who knows more about ancient Egypt than my college professors. Who's so fucking scared of being open and honest with someone that he hides behind pills and women and that goddamn Elvis Presley smile!"

"You think I'm hiding?" His laugh was ugly. "You want real? Fine. I'm terrified of you. Terrified of how much I want you. Terrified that if I let myself have you – really have you – I won't be able to do this anymore. To be what everyone needs me to be."

"So instead you fuck cocktail waitresses?"

"Yes!" He slammed his hands against the wheel. "Once in a while I just need a little different stimulation! Different company . . . that’s all! That doesn’t mean I’m falling in love with anybody else! That doesn’t mean jack shit! I start feeling stifled when I can’t have a little interaction in the outside world! Because with them it's just sex, but with you..." He broke off, breathing hard. 

"With me what?" I asked quietly.

"With you, it would mean something. Everything." His hands were shaking badly now. I watched him reach into his pocket, probably for pills, then stop himself. "You think it's easy? You think I know how to turn it off? Everyone wants a piece of Elvis. The Colonel, the fans, the girls – they all want something."

"I want you, you idiot!" The words hung in the air between us. "Not the jumpsuit or the voice or the legend. You. The man who reads about parallel universes because this one feels too heavy sometimes. The man who's sitting in this car right now, shaking because he needs his pills but is trying not to take them in front of me."

Elvis made a sound like I'd punched him. "Val—"

"Back in Chicago," I said softly, "I teach music at this little community center in Rogers Park. Three nights a week. Kids who couldn't afford regular lessons. There's this one girl, Maria... couldn't carry a tune when she started. Now she's getting ready for her first recital."

"You never told me that."

"You never asked." I met his eyes. "Maybe someday I'll have to give it up because of... all this. But for now, I need to keep that part of myself. Need to be more than just your girl."

"And Priscilla?" I asked after a moment. "Where does she fit in all this?"

Elvis leaned back in his seat, suddenly looking exhausted. "We were so young when we met. She was just a kid, really. And I... I thought I knew what love was supposed to look like."

"Do you still love her?"

"I'll always love her." His honesty surprised me. "But we don't... we're not in love anymore. Haven't been for a while. She's dating someone in California. Makes her happy, I think. Real happy, not the kind we've been pretending at."

"And that doesn't make you angry?"

"Should it? We've both been pretending so long, maybe it's a relief to finally be honest." He turned back to me. "That's what scares me about you, Val. You make me want to be honest. Really honest. Not just about Cilla, but about everything."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"It is when you've built your whole life on being what other people need you to be."

We sat in silence for a moment, the garage's fluorescent lights humming overhead.

"My residency's almost up," he said finally. "Five more shows. Come back to Memphis with me."

I looked at him closely. Past the dinner jacket and carefully styled hair, past both the star and the scared boy, to the lonely man underneath it all.

"If I do," I said carefully, "things have to be different. I wear what I buy with my own money. I live where I choose to live. I keep teaching. I'm not trying to change you, Elvis. The pills, the women – that's part of who you are right now. Part of what you need to be Elvis Presley. But I need you not to try to change me either."

"You'd really be okay with... with all of it?" His voice cracked slightly.

"I'd rather have you honest than perfect. The question is, can you handle me being honest with you?"

His thumb traced circles on my wrist. "Everyone's always trying to control a piece of me. And here you are, saying the only way to keep me is to not try to keep me at all."

"Because the moment you try to someone in a cage – even a gold one – is the moment you lose them."

Something shifted in his eyes then, but I caught the flicker of his need to possess, to control, quickly hidden but unmistakable. Like he was already thinking about how to keep me while pretending not to try.

He pulled me to him suddenly, kissed me with a desperate tenderness that made my chest ache. When he pulled back, his eyes were darker but clearer than I'd seen them in a while.

"Five more shows," he said. "Then Memphis."

"Then Memphis," I agreed. "On my terms."

"On your terms," he echoed, and I could hear in his voice both the sincere desire to mean it and the subtle undertone that suggested he was already thinking of ways around it.

The spell broke when his tremors got worse. I watched him reach for the pill bottle in his pocket, no longer trying to hide it. That was new, at least – this small honesty between us.

"You should get some rest," I said, watching him dry-swallow two tablets. "Early show tomorrow."

"Come up?" When he saw my expression, he added quickly, "Just to sleep."

"Not tonight," I said gently. "I think we both need to sit with everything we just said."

As I walked to the elevator, I could feel him watching me. Could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out how to give me freedom while keeping me safe. How to let me be myself while still being Elvis Presley, who needed to control his world to survive in it.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. Just before they closed, I caught one last glimpse of him in the Cadillac – his head bowed, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, looking both more real and more lonely than any man surrounded by admirers had a right to.

Five more shows.

Then Memphis.

Then reality.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Brooklyn 2

This year marked my first time attending a kaiju convention that wasn't G-Fest. In my defense, there were no real options besides G-Fest until very recently, and those options kept getting scheduled during my semester (All Monsters Attack) or had hefty travel costs attached (the cons in Texas, Arizona, and California). But Kaiju Brooklyn's sophomore outing caught my eye, not the least because it was being held in my home state.

Kaiju Brooklyn's existence is fairly serendipitous. Artist and set painter John Belotti Jr. scored the t-shirt rights to the Ultra Series in 2022, but Tsuburaya didn't approve his designs in time for him to sell them at any of the major New York City conventions. After learning that an event space had opened up in Brooklyn's Industry City, he hit upon the idea of a kaiju convention—and thanks to the twin WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, he had ample time to plan one.

Kaiju Brooklyn 2 expanded significantly on its predecessor, adding a full lineup of panels, a second film screening, a Friday night VIP party, and an Ultraman screening room. I sprung for the VIP package because I thought it would better justify the trip and I was originally supposed to go with my vastly more outgoing QPP. I ended up skittering around the outskirts of the party like the wallflower I am until some of the volunteers noticed my Wikizilla shirt and started gushing about the site/channel. (Keeping the site up to date has been seriously draining as of late, so that really meant a lot.) The swag bag consisted of a Kaiju Brooklyn-branded string backpack and lanyard, a sticker for the night's movie, and a Blu-ray of Superior 8 Ultra Brothers. At first I thought the Blu was the big prize, but the backpack ended up making my life a lot easier the next day. @mainblag (April) showed up for the outdoor Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy Legends the Movie screening. The crowd was enthusiastic and the venue terrific; unfortunately, the overhead lighting never dimmed, making the picture hard to see. I had seen the film enough times to be able to follow it regardless, but it was April's first viewing. Mill Creek Blu-ray, Japanese with English subtitles. (I hoped in vain for the dub.)

I arrived at the con early the next day to see how far I could stretch my limited funds in the dealers' room. There was a TV at the entrance to the hall playing Godzilla Minus One, serendipitously added to Netflix mid-con. (Enough of us stopped to watch the atomic breath scene in Ginza that we briefly blocked said entrance.) The dealers were splendid. I recognized a few from G-Fest; speaking of the Chicago con, it was refreshing to see so many kaiju artists in one room again. Amazingly, no Toho lawyers descended from the ceiling. My haul is here. Took me long enough to pick up a MinusGoji. Also, props to Tsuburaya for having a booth; the free Ultraman: Rising cards went quickly.

I went to three panels: Ultraman Goes West with Belotti Jr. and Ultraman Connection's EJ Couloucoundis; A Tale of 2 Godzillas with Shin Godzilla PA Yoko Higuchi, and Kevin Derendorf's incredible one-hour encapsulation of the Godzilla franchise right before the night's movie screening. The Ultraman panel was a real how-far-we've-come moment. Tsuburaya is doing far more to make their back catalogue and their ears available to U.S. fans than Toho at this point, and I was really impressed with how eloquently Couloucoundis spoke about the Ultra Series. The 2 Godzillas panel was hamstrung by the absence of Will Caban, who worked on TriStar's Godzilla, but Higuchi had more than enough stories about Shin and thoughts about kaiju to fill the hour. Great moderator too. There was also supposed to be a meet-and-greet with Monster Island Buddies; unfortunately, he had the flu.

The Cosplay Contest, held on the same rectangular turf lawn as the screenings, was great fun. Creative costumes; great performances for the crowd; a minimum of photographers lunging in front of everyone else for the perfect shot.

The outdoor showing of The Return of Godzilla was my first time seeing the film with a crowd, and I believe my first time revisiting it since my big Godzilla series rewatch in 2019. I took it in with the lovely group I had sort of glommed onto later in the day, along with April and the college friend who I was staying with. I much prefer the Kazuki Omori films that followed—the pacing here tends towards the sluggish—but it takes some big swings with the Cold War angle and, as one of only two Godzilla films made in the 80s, has a unique look. The crowd enthusiastically booed the American flag on the ambassador's car. The source was the Kraken Releasing Blu-ray, Japanese with English subtitles.

I want to end by talking a bit more about the venue, Industry City. This is a line of historical warehouses and factories now largely occupied by various small businesses, including The Shops at Japan Village. It's a vastly more engaging space than a hotel, at times even beautiful, and helped make up for the two-track nature of the con. If you weren't up for the current panel and had tapped out your Dealers' Room budget, there was still plenty to look at. The panels were held at various spaces throughout the venue, and getting to them was sometimes a bit of an adventure. The Higuchi panel was decidedly cramped. It seems inevitable that the con will keep growing, given Godzilla and Ultraman's ever-climbing popularity in the States, but I wonder how much physical room it has to do so in Industry City.

If you're on the East Coast, Kaiju Brooklyn's well worth the trip. For as much as kaiju fans bicker online, the ones who come to in-person meetups remain a blast to talk to, and they know how to put on a show.

[louistomlinsoncouk]

It was not his first time in Spain, far from it. However, it was the first time that Louis Tomlinson gave a concert at the emblematic Wizink Center in Madrid, and also alone. The Briton visited the capital in what was the second event – ​​of a total of three – scheduled by our country (after Bilbao and before Barcelona) to present his second studio album with his world tour Faith In The Future World Tour.

The surroundings of the venue presented a lot of agitation and movement. Long lines formed to buy the merchandising, while other groups of friends immortalized the moment on Avenida de Felipe II before validating their tickets and crossing the doors towards the track or their seat on the track. Many dared to follow a non-imposed dress code with red clothing, in honor of the aesthetics of their second album.

Once inside, the excitement and desire to see their favorite artist multiplied as the minutes passed and the songs of the two opening acts that opened the show: The Academic and The Lathums. Now, the people who were already filling the space enjoyed and gave themselves to these two bands, applauding each song they heard, who returned the affection (and the opportunity to play before an international audience) giving the best of themselves).

After these two performances, nervousness began to be felt in the atmosphere. It was after nine at night when the Wizink Center finished filling up to capacity, despite not hanging the sold out sign. It should be remembered that the last time Louis Tomlinson was in Spain he did so in 2020 – just a few days before a global health emergency was declared due to the COVID-19 pandemic – at La Riviera, with a capacity of just over 2,500. Therefore, multiplying attendance capacity tenfold in two years is quite a feat (even coming from a former member of the successful boyband One Direction).

Minutes later, the premises plunged into darkness to give way to shouting that rose to the ceiling of the building. Tomlinson's band appeared on stage first and, finally, the one from Doncaster made his way to the center of the stage to start his show to the rhythm of The Greatest. The lighting was dyed red to continue with Kill My Mind, Bigger than me, Holding on to Heartache and Face the music.

With this first block of songs, one thing stood out above all else: the noise became thunderous. In the best of the senses. The choruses of the audience could be heard, on some occasions, even above the artist's voice, proof that everyone who came there was willing to give up their last breath. And we don't know if it was because of singing from the depths of his gut, because of the heat, or because of a surge in blood pressure, but the fainting occurred throughout the two hours that the concert lasted. Fortunately, the emergency services always acted as quickly as possible thanks to the help of mobile phone flashes.

"Madrid, Spain. Thank you so much to each and every one of you for coming. This is my favorite part of my job," Louis said on a night when he wasn't particularly talkative. He himself was honest and admitted to being "especially exhausted." However, the love and the "incredible" welcome from his fans in the capital undoubtedly gave him enough "adrenaline" to go out through the big door.

A constant reminder of your past

The setlist included, along with small bursts of pyrotechnics, We made it, Paradise, Chicago, High in California and Written all over your face. Tracks from a very Britpop second album that is reminiscent of the pop/rock of the 90s and 2000s, and the sound of bands like Blur, Oasis or Arctic Monkeys, with whom Tomlinson grew up (and has reflected their influence on Out of my system or Copy of the copy of the copy or the rocker version of Back to you).

What's more, the 31-year-old performed a cover of 505 by the group led by Alex Turner. And, of course, he gave away two versions of the discography that saw him born and grow musically. He performed Night Changes and Where do Brokens Hearts Go, by One Direction. Melancholy made an appearance here, but also with Angels Fly.

When it was time for All This Time, Louis even sat on the stage twice, as if wanting to capture that moment to engrave it in his memory. Rainbow colors were projected across the Wizink during She's Beauty We are World Class, blending in with all the LGBTI flags that were flown.

It is surprising that he is the former member of the boyband with the fewest monthly listeners on streaming platforms, when the madness he unleashes wherever he goes is impressive (you just have to remember his last visit to La Resistencia). So, maybe it's not so much about quantity (or numbers), but about quality. And his fans have given him the opportunity to do what he really wants, and he has given his fans the creation of a movement where there is only room for affection, unconditional support and hope.

Tonight, Louis Tomlinson will be at the Palau Sant Jordi Barcelona.

[dasphinxone]

The Rescue of Riri Williams

I wanted some random Riri and Attuma interaction. Enjoy this! I may be a 'lil wine drunk at the moment, so blame that 😂

Riri disappeared from campus. One minute she was out grabbing a coffee with her dorm mates. The next, she was being mugged by two masked people and tossed into the back of their blacked out, unmarked SUV. Her roommate got shot but survived. She was understandably distraught.

The genius scientist became a missing person case. The community organizers refused to let the story die for a few days. As did Riri's mother, her family, her old neighborhood back in Chicago.

Until it mysteriously did.

Whispers on twitter talked of a government conspiracy. Someone's grainy ring doorbell footage was hash tagged #wheresriri. It showed a black suited, dark-haired woman with purple highlights visiting Riri's mother house with a cavalcade of unmarked black SUVS. SUVs that look remarkably similar to the one that snatched Riri.

All mentions of Riri were scrubbed from twitter after that. Her mother never set foot in front of a media camera again.

Then again, leave it up to the U.S. government to underestimate a Black girl from Chicago. They may have rendered her into custody at a black site. Forced her into an orange jumpsuit with the humiliating threadbare socks and suicide watch foot slides. What they didn't take from her were her kimoyo beads.

She refused to wear them on her wrist. Too obvious, she smirked at Shuri before she left her lab on her way out of Wakanda.

How else would you wear them? Shuri was rarely confused. So seeing her arched brow was a new expression for Riri.

The scientist touched the end of her braids before slipping a bead off the bracelet. She slid it up the end of a braid, feeling it automatically adjust to tighten around it.

GRIOT, how's my signal? She was still in the habit of looking up at the ceiling or sky whenever she called on the AI.

I can hear you without interruption, GRIOT pleasantly replied.

Shuri helped slide the rest of the beads into Riri's hair. After that, Riri never forgot to add them back into her hair after every new braid install.

Normally, they shouldn't work so far underwater in The Raft prison site. Except the U.S. Government didn't know how Shuri outfitted the Talokanil who wished it with their own versions of kimoyo beads.

Theirs were jade green with gold Mayan glyph lettering. The AI integrated with to GRIOT. Working AI Venerating Everyone or WAVE Shuri dubbed it. WAVE was the voice of woman, soft but firm. It was amusing hearing WAVE and GRIOT chat in Shuri’s lab as she brought WAVE to life.

A wandering pod of Talokanil out hunting along the east coast of the U.S. picked up on Riri's distress signal. They didn't realize the raft's existence because it wasn't too deep under the waves. Enough for a normal human unable to dive down far enough without being killed. But not deep enough to disturb the Talokanil, who preferred deep sea hunting in this area relatively close to the Puerto Rican Trench where their kingdom lay.

They used their current system to rush back to Talokan, Namor arching a brow at the news. He'd evolved; while annoyed the scientist could reveal his nation's secrets, he didn't demand her death. She was barely a woman full grown in the surface world. Her kidnapping was outside of her hands. Besides, Namor proved far more incensed at the existence of The Raft.

The surface dweller also helped save his people's sun. Freeing her from the colonizers' custody would be the smallest of debts he owed her.

"Destroy that accursed prison," he ordered when he met Shuri in her lab with the news. "The scientist will be be only survivor. Everyone else-"

"Dies," Shuri finished his sentence, gaze alight.

The bright vengeance in her eyes made him want to throw her down on one of her work tables and fuck even more flame into her. Only his wish for her to come him to voluntarily and without regret stopped him. He'd jerk himself off to fruition with his fantasies of her in the privacy of his hut back in his grotto. Imagining her burying her claws into his back as she writhed under him with her name a chanted prayer on his lips would do him nicely.

"Who will you send?" he asked.

Her hands furiously sifted through holographic scenarios of how best to breech The Raft from schematics of it GRIOT hacked off the NSA servers. Such tacky and careless security protocols these colonizers had when it came to their cyber infrastructure.

"Only the best, of course," she excitedly replied, waving up the profiles of Wakanda and Talokan's finest warriors.

That's how Okoye and Attuma found themselves leading Riri's rescue.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It's cuffing season and now we've got a reason…to get a big boy…I need a big boy, give me a big boy….” Riri sang under her breath.

The chaotic aftermath of her rescue was certainly fucking with her brain. Riri blamed the massive trauma of being kidnapped by her own government for daring to sing such a thing in the enclosed space on this Wakandan airship with her previous potential killer in Attuma.

Which was why she let out a small screech when she felt the Talokan general drop down onto the vibranium bench next to her. She froze, swallowed and then only slightly remembered how to breath as he grunted out her name. What she didn’t expect was for him to ask her why she was singing.

Fuck.

“How in the hell could you hear me?” she’d slid all the way to the end of the bench. Staring down at the floor with her shoulders hunched in, her hands were clasped in between her bouncing knees. She nervously tapped her foot on the ground.

She absolutely believed Okoye when she explained how they married and how there was a now a solid treaty between Wakanda and Talokan. Still tho…

“You were singing,” Attuma shrugged, “Quite off key, little scientist,” he frowned.

“Under my breath,” she hissed, “You shouldn’t have been able to hear me…oh, shit, you a mutant, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t see his confused expression at the word "mutant" since his beads’ WAVE AI couldn’t properly translate it. After a short bout of silence, realization dawned on him.

“I am not like our god, K'uk'ulkan,” he murmured. She didn’t expect his natural voice to sound so human and deep. Or actually like he didn’t want to kill her. “My people are stronger than you surface dwellers due to the herb our ancestors ingested. Along with living below the waves. I can hear in many ways where you surface dwellers cannot. Such as your rapid heartbeat,” he reached out to point a finger at her chest.

Riri clutched at her chest. It only made her heartbeat echo even more in his ears.

A concerned expression came to Attuma's azure face. "You also smell of radiating fear. Careful, little scientist, or you will find yourself in cardiac arrest as your people call it," he reached out to place a comforting hand to her wrist's pulse point.

Riri vaguely remembered Shuri explaining the history of the underwater folk. Of how they escaped those dirty-ass, smallpox ridden, Spanish colonizing fucks by drinking some sort of mixture of a vibranium infused herb. It apparently gave them gills and forced them into the ocean to breath oxygen pulled from the water. Logically, heightened sense due to living in the seas would be one of their main adaptations. A need to survive the heavier equivalent of air from the water. Plus the stress of the constant depth pressure would mean denser bones, thicker blood, higher rates of their brain synapses firing.

In laymen’s terms? Yeah, elevated senses.

She still jerked away from his touch. "Sorry," she whispered at his hurt expression, "It's...I just been through a lot, you know?"

"Understandable. You survived long enough for rescue," Attuma drew his hand away. "You are a civilian. These sorts of things are not expected of you. You were brave against your tribulations. Do not feel ashamed," he shrugged.

Riri's expression was astonished as he continued, “Were you singing a song of victory at being rescued, little scientist?” He sounded amused but Riri wouldn't personally take a bet on that.

She blamed her adrenaline and sitting within proximity to her former enemy for the bark of laughter that escaped her mouth. However, she quickly held up her hands in surrender. “Look man, I’m not out here looking to offend you,” she squeaked as she finally glanced up and to her side to take him in.

His expression appeared genuinely interested. Dark eyes a little wide, he took her in with a tilt of his head. Due to his clear rebreather, she could see how his mouth was curled in question. His hands were empty, his scythe set on the ground next to his feet.

Riri shrugged and swallowed. “I was singing so I don’t have a fucking panic attack-”

“Should we prepare for an impending attack against you?!” Attuma growled.

Shuri startled at how his large arm darted out in front of her as a shield of sorts. It reminded her of how her mom and stepdad would always slap an arm across her front whenever they’d almost get into a car accident. The universal sigh of parental protection. That this giant blue man did it despite her extremely strong suspicion he’d never been in a car before in his entire life made her laugh again.

The pure absurdity of it all.

She shook her head in disagreement as she gingerly pushed his beefy arm away. “Again, bruh, I’m fine…we’re fine. I’m just singing a meme thing ‘cause I’m nervous…and tired,” she suddenly yawned as the exhaustion hit her with a wave.

“What is a meme?” Attuma narrowed his eyes.

Riri really didn’t want to piss him off. She suppressed another snort of laughter and shook her head. “Promise I’ll explain later. Just need to catch some shut-eye…sleep,” she simplified, just in case the beads couldn’t translate the idiom. “If you don’t mind?”

How in the fuck does his big ass move so damn fast?! her mind raced as he was suddenly gone from the bench. Before she could muse on it, she slumped and situated herself on the wide seat to lie on her side. A few moments later, she felt a thick, warm blanket being pulled over her. Another folded one was placed near the top of her head.

“Sleep, little scientist,” Attuma quietly ordered above her. She felt one of his large hands quickly pat her shoulder and tighten the blanket around her before he retreated. “No harm will come to you on our watch. My beloved wife will bring us all back to Wakanda upon this flying whale.”

Riri really couldn’t hold in a giggle as she pulled the extra blanket towards her to use as a pillow. "Flying whale." These sea folks really were something else.

“Thanks, man,” she slurred out.

At his grunt of reply, she suddenly heard his soft humming. She barely had time question how its notes curled around her with a caress before she felt herself lulled into a pleasant sleep.

Perhaps Okoye's shark man husband wasn't so bad after all.

[fallouttboy]

hi can i just take like three seconds of your time

i was at tourdust chicago (opening night) so i had zero idea about the set or the horrors that were going to be occurring for the rest of tour. one thing that i noticed pretty much immediately was the set for the tttyg songs. it looked different than the rest of the set before and after SPECIFICALLY the tttyg songs (gta, chicago, calm before the storm). i wanted to see if they would keep it for the rest of the tour or if it was just a chicago thing/crew mistake/etc, and they did! they kept it! so let me introduce to you what ruined my life for good:

the lowered light fixture!

but, jasper, who fucking cares? ME. I CARE. AND YOU SHOULD TOO. because what else came with the lowered (and tttyg blue) lighting? they all stood closer together, closer to the center of the stage (for the most part). sure, that could be so the lighting hits all of them equally, but is it? no. not for me.

you know what it reminded me of? shitty tiny basement shows. little clubs. cramped together on a glorified box of a stage, hardly enough room to coexist let alone put on a show, lights haphazardly hung from the ceiling to pretend that the atmosphere was good and not smelling of moldy carpet and overpriced cheap beer.

they’re playing stadiums and big arenas, they aren’t a little band anymore. tourdust was an exploration of their music through the years, not just as a nostalgia grab but as a genuine, hey-look-where-we’ve-come presentation. they could’ve kept old music off of the setlist, just stuck with saturday and maybe gta, but they didn’t. they played their old songs for old fans, but they played them for themselves. it wasn’t just for fans this tour, that’s evident in the patrick solo time and the 8 ball-they wanted to do this for themselves just as much as for us. they love fall out boy just as much as us, if not more.

the lights hanging low on the stage at wrigley field got me feeling some type of horrible wax-poetic way and i don’t know if they did it on purpose or if it was just coincidental, but regardless of purpose, the message was clear: they know how far they’ve come. there’s a light on in chicago and they finally came home, under the glow of the city, forever a lake effect kid.