#Like I'm trying to be positive and hopeful that the man is included in Magazine pocket so he can continue TSS.

[renxmaiden]

Will we ever get a proper conclusion and ending to the sequels one day??

[storiesbyrhi]

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 10: Royalty

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 8055 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: The dream keeps on getting better, but really… how long can this last?

Author’s Note: Sorry that this chapter came a bit late but I promise it's a good one. The next chapter may be delayed too; I have a bit going on IRL. I'm typing out my soft romance as fast as I can though =^.^= I think I missed a lot of typos in editing too, so forgive pls.

With Halloween gone, Hawkins High turned its attention to the next event on the social calendar – the end of year dance. The biggest night of a Senior’s year. The last blowout before exams and graduation. The kind of ceremony that people planned all through high school, hoping for dreams to come true. However, not really the usual talking point of the Hellfire table. For this reason, you were surprised when the conversation turned to the dance.

“We’re going,” Jeff said, speaking for him and Esther. “Might be dumb, but we don’t want to look back and regret not going,”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re really living the all-American high school dream otherwise?” Dustin joked.

“Excuse you, Dustybun, but to deprive the world of me in a flowing powder blue dress and a matching corsage would be criminal,” Esther said, pointing her fork at Dustin menacingly.

“What about you guys? You gonna go since it’s like, your actual final Senior year?” Gareth asked.

Your head had been down the entire conversation, buried in your Classics notes. Although the question had been posed to you both, Eddie didn’t look to you for an answer and you didn’t look up from your notebook.

“You fucking serious? There’s a reason why I’ve never gone to something as mind-numbing as the dance,” Eddie started, voice full of disdain. Everyone at the table felt a Munson rant coming on. “Have you heard the music they play at those things? And the fucking… costumes those conformists wear. No offense, Esther, but everyone looks the same. It’s always blue and pink. King and fucking queen. I would rather have a prostate exam from a bear,”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Jeff said, looking at his girlfriend to see if she was hurt.

Esther was kind of immune to shit like that. She scoffed. “Edward, you honestly couldn’t offend me if you tried. And for real, it kind of just sounds like the excuse of someone that has never been asked to the dance.”

The boys all oooooohhhhh’ed. Eddie grinned at Esther, she smiled back. “I like her. Glad you kept her,” he said to Jeff.

“For fuck’s sake. Nobody keeps me,” Esther proclaimed. “Come on. Let’s go shopping for a costume for you to wear to the conformist parade,” she said to Jeff. Everyone watched them leave.

“I don’t know, man. I just thought you’d wanna go now,” Dustin said, chewing on what he hoped was meatloaf. “Because-”

“I have to go to the library,” you said loudly and suddenly, leaving before anyone, including Eddie, could reply.

It had hurt. A lot. You were heartbroken, bypassing the library and speed walking out the building, across the field, and into the forest you’d hid in at the start of the year.

Back at the Hellfire table, Eddie was unnerved by the sudden silence. “What?” he demanded of his peers. They looked around anxiously, trying to figure out who would tell him. Gareth cleared his throat. “Uh… Dude, I think what… Henderson is sayin’ that, you know, you have a girlfriend… Girls like dances?”

Eddie froze, a million and one thoughts all smashing into each other, nothing coherent. “Yeah, but she’s not… like that,”

“Like what? Just because she’s not a cheerleader anymore, and not all… Plastic or whatever, doesn’t mean that she’s as anti-the man as you,”

“Are you telling me how to be a boyfriend now?” Eddie said, too much venom in his voice, entirely on the defense. He’d messed up. As Gareth rolled his eyes and looked over at Dustin, Eddie narrowed his at the Thinking Cap kid. “Something to add?”

“You dressed as a cat for her, but you won’t take her to the most important part of the Senior year experience?”

“You’re a Freshman, what do you know about the Senior year experience?”

“I know that girls in my classes are already talking about their dance,” Dustin offered in kindness, not trying to make Eddie feel guilty. None of them were, they just loved you and thought it would be your thing.

“Whatever, you don’t know her like I do,”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, Eddie. We don’t. Sorry.”

Lunch continued, finding its normal rhythm quickly, but Eddie stayed quiet, sorting through his thoughts and trying to work out how he could possibly unfuck what he had royally fucked up.

After school that day, Eddie felt like a weight had been lifted off him when you were waiting at the van like usual.

“Angel,” he greeted, hugging you tightly. “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t- I should’ve- I-”

“What are you talking about?” you asked straight-faced. You’d practiced the expression all afternoon.

Eddie could see through it, obviously. He could also see that you’d cried off the makeup you had put on that morning. Fresh mascara coated your lashes but the eyeshadow was gone.

“If you want to go to the dance, I do too. You know that I want whatever you want, and-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted again. “I don’t want to go. It’s just before exams. I don’t wanna get all fucked up, then not be able to focus. Or like, drink all my revision out my head, you know? And also, it’s totally going to be the Hayley show. And Chrissy and Jason will be King and Queen. Super predictable. Honestly. I don’t want to go.”

Eddie frowned and tried to figure out what you were thinking. Everything you said was technically true, but he couldn’t find it within himself to believe you entirely. He didn’t have any way to make it up to you though, so he dropped it. Eddie nodded and kissed you gently.

“Do you promise? You’re not just saying that?” he asked. You nodded into him, giving him no verbal confirmation, which he knew meant you weren’t promising at all.

When your general mood that week didn’t change, didn’t dip into sadness and exhaustion, Eddie thought maybe he had overthought it all. Maybe the guys were wrong. Maybe you really didn’t want to go.

He went round in circles trying to figure it out. Eddie’s best theory was that you thought you wanted to go, because you had wanted to once upon a time, but since Eddie and your new life, something had changed. But you didn’t figure it out until Eddie said what he did. In a way, he woke you up to your own truth.

Bullshit, he called on himself.

Another week went by with nobody mentioning the dance. Eddie was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. That, it did. It was a school night, the coldness of winter setting in early. You and Eddie had been cuddled up on the couch when he watched you shiver.

“You want the fuzzy cardigan or Fangoria hoodie?” he asked.

“Hoodie!” you yelled as he went into the bedroom.

Eddie was definitely not the type to go through your things. He’d been so careful about making space for you when you’d moved in. Letting you have what privacy you could, given how small the room and trailer were. However, you were the last to wear the hoodie. He opened the wardrobe but it wasn’t hanging there.

He started to dig through a pile of clothes on the wardrobe floor when the sparkles caught his eye. A voice in his head screamed DANGER DANGER, but he couldn’t help himself. The pile of clothes was hiding a bag from the fanciest store in Starcourt. He knew what it was as soon as he pulled the dress from the bag.

Fuck.

Eddie sat on the bed and held the dress in his hands. It was so glittery, so you. You would look so fucking cute in it. If he were alone in the trailer, Eddie probably would have cried.

You were wondering what was taking him so long when Eddie finally emerged from your room, not with a cardigan or hoodie, but wearing the gown you had planned to wear to the dance. It hung from his shoulders with a grace you’d never have predicted.

“I think this is what I’ll wear. What about you?” Eddie said casually, swirling the hem of the dress left then right then back again.

You didn’t want to have the conversation; once you knew Eddie’s opinion on school dances, that was it. Call it embarrassment or enlightenment or whatever you wanted, you didn’t care anymore. At least, that’s what you’d been telling yourself.

“Angel?” he asked when you didn’t laugh or give him any response at all. He moved to kneel in front of the couch, which you had laid down on, belly to the sofa and arms crossed under your head like a pillow.

You mumbled out a, “Mmm?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I said all that shit. I should have known you’d want to go. Should’ve talked to you first,” he told you.

“Should have known because I’m a conformist?”

“No. Hey,” he said, holding your chin and making you look at him. “I want to do whatever you want to do. I thought you knew that,”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go anymore anyway,”

“You do. You got this,” he argued, motioning to the dress.

“That was before everything happened. I’ve had that forever,” you lied.

Eddie knew you hadn’t moved in with the dress. He knew it was new. But he knew you lied when you felt backed into a corner. “Okay,” he agreed, nodding and feeling like absolute shit. “For the record – you would look beautiful in this. And I do want to take you to the dance, you know, if you change your mind.”

You said nothing, so he got up and returned to the bedroom. As neatly as he’d ever folded anything, he put the dress back where he found it and sat on the edge of the bed for a bit. He was going to take you to the dance. He was going to make it good. He just needed to figure out how to make you believe that’s what he really wanted too.

…

In the depths of November, your mood began to change for the worse. It was a combination of too many things. The fear of the future. Exams. The fact that you saw your mother in town and she turned around to avoid you. The goddamn fucking dance.

It seemed like every conversation you overheard was about tulle and silk, about pastels and limos and afterparties. With only three weeks until the event, all of Hawkins High was in an absolute tizzy about it. Gratefully, the Hellfire table knew better than to bring it up. Although, nothing would deter Esther.

“I don’t believe you, you know,” she said when you were fixing your hair in the school toilet mirrors.

“About what?”

“The dance. You do want to go,”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the P and trying to be as casual as she was.

“And,” she continued. “I think Eddie knows you want to go too,”

“Can you just drop it? It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Esther turned and looked at you. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but if I can tell something’s up, you can bet your ass he can. I’m just saying… It’s not too late. You just have to not be so stubborn.”

Stubborn? You didn’t think that’s what you were being. Then again, you weren’t sure what you were being. After a couple days of thought, you realised Esther was right. You were being stubborn despite what you really wanted and entirely in spite of yourself. Ultimately, it was because it was scary to admit that Eddie had done something wrong. That, even by accident, he had hurt you.

Having time and space between the toxic friendships you had in previous years, and the relationship between you and your parents, it was easy to cast them as villains. For all intents and purposes, they were. However, that meant casting Eddie as your hero. Faultless. Invulnerable. Just. If you admitted to yourself that he’d fucked up, even in that small way, it could threaten to tear down the safety you pinned so dangerously to the idea of perfect Eddie. So, you carried on as you had been.

When the countdown hit the two-week mark, Eddie decided to try to get you to talk. He knew you always felt better when you stopped bottling it all up.

You had put yourself to bed early, it was somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00 pm. Wayne was at work, and Eddie was cleaning up after dinner. When he walked into the bedroom, the door ajar, he watched the way your body moved under the blankets. He’d never tell you, because he was sure it was creepy, but he could tell the difference between the way you breathed in your sleep versus awake and just lying in bed.

Eddie pulled his clothes off and got into the bed. As he reached out and ran the knuckle of his index finger down your spine, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

If you wanted space, you would have not answered. Instead, you shook your head no.

Eddie moved closer to you, wrapped one arm around your waist, and felt a surge of happiness when you took his hand in yours. “Do you want to… kiss about it?” he alternated, pressing a kiss to your neck.

It made you smile, then you felt annoyed he’d pierced your grumpy mood. Then you felt guilty for trying to keep yourself grumpy. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Do you want something from my secret stash of presents for you?”

It was an admission you couldn’t ignore. Turning to lay on your other side, facing Eddie, you made a face at him. “You do have a stash. I knew it,”

“Thought you might have gone looking for it,”

“I don’t go through your stuff,”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know. The curiosity would’ve killed me… Anyway. Something to cheer you up?”

Eddie jumped from the bed when you nodded and started rifling through a drawer. With the bedroom light back on, he handed you a frame about the size of one of your notepads.

“Figured it was the end of the collection,” he explained. Inside the frame was a white piece of paper with the pressed flowers you’d been storing in your History book taped to it. “I saw you take them all out a while back. Thought you might do something with them, but you didn’t,”

“I didn’t know what to do with them. I just put them-”

“Yeah. In The Hobbit. I found the frame when I was going through shit in the hall cupboard.”

You remembered the first time Eddie handed you a little wildflower. It felt like years prior when really it wasn’t all that long ago. Things had moved slowly at first, then quickly by anyone’s standards. Living with Eddie made everything before that seem ancient.

“I love it,” you told him, eyes glassy with happy tears. You could see where Eddie had struggled with the tape, it folding and creasing in places, his fingerprints visible in a few spots. It made it more special.

Eddie watched you put it on the bedside table, leaning against the wall so you could see it from any point in the room.

“I know I can’t make you feel better about everything,” Eddie said then, suddenly serious.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you replied.

“Yeah, but… I just need you to know that when I can, I will,”

“Okay.” You didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, if it was a reference to your parents and taking you in, or the valium slipped before class presentations, or if he was still thinking about the dance. It didn’t really matter. You believed him. “I love you,”

“I love you too, angel. So fucking much.”

The two of you stayed in bed, melted into each other. You touched each other slowly, with more intensity than any of the previous encounters. For hours, you messed around in the dark, practicing ‘everything but,’ until you fell asleep naked, fulfilled, and in love.

…

Two weeks later, there was a car outside the trailer you didn’t recognise. It was the type of car that made it onto the bedroom walls of teenagers, so cool and sleek, a deep red colour. Wayne almost never had visitors and you knew for a fact Eddie didn’t know anyone who could afford a car like that. You were still staring at it as you climbed the steps and entered the trailer.

A started gasp. Your eyes went wide. There were stars made of silver paper hanging from the ceiling; you looked up at how they were stuck there with fishing line and duct tape. Eddie stood next to the kitchen counter, where he had been waiting for you to get home.

He was in a suit. Like, for real. He had black tailored pants and a suit jacket. A white button-up sat underneath, fitted, and tucked. Eddie still looked like himself. His Chuck Taylors ‘for special occasions’ had been selected, rather than dress shoes. His hair was still curly and free and beautiful. Eddie picked up a red pocket square, tucked into his suit’s pocket like Wayne had taught him in preparation for this moment.

He held out a floral corsage.

“Angel, will you go to the dance with me?”

You were nodding before the doubt or the fear or anything bad even had a chance to spark alive at all. When you threw yourself into Eddie’s arms, he spun you around the room.

“Is that what the car’s for?!” you squealed, looking back out the door.

“Of course. Only the best for my baby. You’ve got about an hour to get ready. Go,” he ordered, smacking you on the ass as you squealed again and ran off to do your makeup.

Eddie lit a joint and stood in the doorway of the trailer, proud of himself for fixing the fuck up and genuinely buzzing to spend the night finding all the ways to make you happy.

…

Eddie made you laugh so hard that you got lightheaded. He kept saying stupid shit about the fancy car he’d rented, “She purrs like a kitten,” and honking the horn for no reason. By the time you got to the school, you felt high on love.

While you gathered the skirt of the sparkly pink dress in your hands, Eddie parked and came around to open your door.

“Angel,” he said, offering a hand for you to take.

The school gym had been transformed into an entirely over-the-top and very cliché winter wonderland. Eddie held in the urge to roll his eyes and gag; it was easy once he looked over at you and the ear-to-ear smile on your face.

“We should get photos first, before my makeup wears off,” you suggested.

“Anything you want.”

Although Eddie felt self-conscious in front of the camera, classmates watching from the line, he could feel how excited you were. You stood spooned together and smiled as the photographer tried to make you say ‘cheese.’

“Alright, one for me now,” Eddie said, turning you around and picking you up in a big bear hug. The camera flashed and you laughed.

After photos, you found your way to the table Jeff and Esther were seated at.

“You look so good!” Esther yelled, standing to hug you.

Jeff and Eddie quickly got lost in their own conversation, no doubt judging the sorry excuse for a band playing on stage.

“You can say ‘I told you so.’ You look like you’re gonna burst,” you offered Esther, an olive branch for brushing her off so coldly whenever she had tried to talk to you about the dance.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied. “I will, however, take my payment in the form of a dance?”

The guys watched as you and Esther slow danced together, all giggles and glitter.

“Dude,” Jeff mused.

“I know,”

“This is not how I thought my Senior year would end.”

Eddie snorted. “Which part? The girlfriend? School dance? The miracle that is your predicted exam grades.”

Jeff looked at him. “How’d you know about that?”

“Those girls tell each other everything. Congrats, man. On it all. Couldn’t think of a more deserving man,”

“You getting soft on me, Munson?”

Eddie grinned, and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders. “I’ve always been soft on you,”

“Fuck off,” Jeff replied with a laugh.

“Love youuuuu,”

“Yeah. Yeah. Love you too. Now gimme back my personal space.”

Eddie held his hands up in surrender, then kicked back in his chair. “They’re happy,” he noted, going back to watching you and Esther.

“Yeah… And, uh, you? You’re happy?” Jeff asked, not sure of the words coming from his mouth.

“Yeah, man. She’s…” My moon. My stars. My sun. My everything. “Cool. I’m happy.”

There was mediocre punch, then there was spiked punch. Swinging across the dancefloor to songs neither of you really liked. There was party food and bored parent chaperones.

When the band stopped playing and Principal Higgins took centre stage, everyone knew what time it was. From your table, you looked around the room. Hayley was clearly pissed that she wouldn't be queen. People might be nice to her face, but most of the cohort feared her. An anonymous voting system ensured she’d never reign. Besides, nobody stood a chance against Chrissy and Jason, already deemed royalty by most people.

“We’re just having some technical issues. Hold on a moment,” Higgins said into the microphone. You and everybody else watched as people ran on and off the stage, whispering.

“I’m gonna get food,” Eddie whispered to you.

“Wait. Something’s wrong?”

“What?” He looked you up and down, and when you turned and saw the concern on his face, you almost laughed.

“Not with me. I think… they’ve lost the crowns?”

Chrissy and Jason were still crowed, albeit without actual crowns. Jason held a plastic scepter, and Chrissy a bouquet of white roses. Some people cheered, but most half-heartedly clapped.

Eddie was entirely uninterested. “I think they’ve got chicken nuggets. I’ll be back.”

The rest of the dance you watched your ex-friends monopolise most of the dance floor and attempt to make everyone else feel like shit. It wouldn’t work on you. Not then. Not that night. Not with Eddie.

Eddie, who kept asking you to dance, pretending to be some nervous kid. “I can’t believe you danced with me,” he said, funny voice. “I’ve like, had a big ol’ crush on you and thought – tonight’s the night. I’m gonna ask her tonight.”

It was stupid but it made you laugh. It made you blush and bury your face in the crook of his neck while he held you close, slow danced with you like he was born for it.

“Babe, you’re the hottest girl in this room. A walking piece of art,”

“Stop,”

“Never,” he replied immediately. “You’re pretty and smart and kind and beautiful and funny and sweet and you always smell good and are just… I fucking love you,”

“I love you too. I love you so much. Thank you. For tonight. And every night. And knowing how to…” You didn’t want to say ‘look after me’ because it made you feel childish and broken, and Eddie was teaching you that you weren’t either of those things. “Knowing what I need, before I do sometimes.”

Eddie smiled softly, let go of your hips, and held your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, then nose, then checked on you for a second before kissing you, deeply, letting you kiss back and decide when you wanted to part your lips, let him in.

Later, as the gym was beginning to empty and students found afterparties to attend, you were waiting for Eddie to come back from the bathroom. You spotted him as he re-entered the gym, getting stopped by one of the techy Seniors that bought weed off him sometimes.

They whispered, something exchanged hands, and Eddie was back before you knew it. He looked at you, smirked, and you thought he might say something about it. Normally, Eddie would use his weirdly amazing intuition to see straight through you, see your mind filling with doubt.

Did he change his mind about the dance just so he could come and sell?

That was the old you, though, right? The old you would fixate on the thought. Sabotage happiness.

“You ready to go, angel?”

“Yeah. My feet are killing me,” you replied, looking down and twinkling the toes sticking out of the heels you wore. You should have donned matching Chucks.

After bidding Jeff and Esther a good night – they were off to Esther’s parent-free house – Eddie wrapped his jacket around you before disappearing into the cold night to get the car; he wouldn’t let you walk the short distance across the parking lot. You lost track of him in the crowd though, couldn’t see him until the red car came roaring around the corner.

“Angel,” he greeted, leaning across to open the passenger door. As you climbed in, quickly pulling your shoes off, Eddie continued. “So, I have two more surprises for you. First one is in the back seat.”

He was pulling out from the lot, following other car loads of students until they turned down other streets and went loudly into the bitter Hawkins evening.

“Oh my god! EDDIE!” you screamed, getting on your knees and balancing precariously to pick up the crowns. You bounced back into your seat, put your seatbelt on, and looked at the cheap plastic things. “You stole the king and queen crowns?!”

“No. I’m not sneaky enough for that. I paid someone else to steal them,” he clarified. Oh. That’s what that was. “Figured we deserved them more. You deserved it.”

Having a boyfriend who would do something so audacious for you was way better than winning a popularity contest. Being crowned a queen by Eddie was infinitely more rewarding than walking that stage ever could have been.

You put your crown on and Eddie’s too. He wore it well, lighting a cigarette with one hand and holding it out the open window.

“Can you drive faster?”

“Anxious to get home?” he asked with a grin. You nodded. “Well, first thing’s first: we aren’t going home. And secondly: no. I have a long list of things I wanna do to you, my queen, but putting you in the hospital sure as fuck isn’t one of them,”

“We’re not going home?” That’s what you had locked onto. Surely Eddie wasn’t going to gatecrash an afterparty. You didn’t want to be around anyone but him.

“No, we’re not. But don’t worry. You’re gonna like this.”

He was right, because Eddie was always right about you.

“Now, it’s not the penthouse suite at The Ritz, but it is very literally the best money can buy in Hawkins,” he introduced as he pulled up to the one nice hotel in town. It had valet parking, which was a novelty to both you and Eddie.

A man, wearing the hat and everything, collected the bags from the car’s trunk. Eddie had packed them in secret. Inside everything was classy, all gold Art Deco and Gatsby. Eddie checked in, and you listened to the interaction. The person at reception spoke to Eddie as if he was any other hotel guest, respectful and helpful. Part of you was expecting to be kicked out on sight.

“Technically, it’s the honeymoon suite,” Eddie said as soon as the door had been closed behind you both, welcome champagne and strawberries pointed out upon arrival.

“Do they think we just got married?” you asked him, your speech a little slow, distracted and in awe at the size of the room. The bed alone was probably bigger than the whole bedroom you and Eddie shared. The suite itself could rival the trailer.

“Nah. We’re pretty obviously dressed. The crowns and all.”

You gasped, grabbing the plastic on your head. “What if they hear about what happened? What if they tell someone?”

Eddie had dropped the bags on the floor near the built-in wardrobes. “Don’t think people outside of high school give a shit about that kind of thing. Besides, I think discretion is part of their job.” He turned around just in time to watch you launch yourself face-first onto the bed.

“So soft,” mumbled into the fresh, crisp linen.

Eddie laughed, then turned his attention to the radio. Once an acceptable station had been found, he poured two glasses of champagne. “Are the strawberries, like, for the champagne?”

“What do you mean?” you asked from your position on the bed. You’d pushed back the top sheet and quilt and perched yourself against the plush velvet headboard.

Eddie thought you almost looked like a fairy. Pink organza and sparkles sitting in a field of white. A fairy queen.

“Like, does it go on the glass, like a slice of lemon?”

“No. You just eat them with it. Like how cookies and hot cocoa go together.”

Eddie made an oh, okay face, and brought the glasses over, placing the bowl of juicy strawberries on the bedside table. He kicked off his shoes and carefully hung the suit jacket on a coat hanger. When he climbed next to you, you handed him his glass.

“Cheers,”

“Cheers,” he repeated.

A soft clink of crystal and you downed your glass. It took Eddie longer; the bubbles fizzed in the back of his throat and it burned in a different way than cheap beer or whisky.

He let his head roll back and rest on the velvet, eyes following your hands as they picked up a strawberry and brought it to your mouth. As your lips wrapped around it and you bit into the fruit, juice ran down your chin. Eddie shot his hand out and caught it before it could fall to ruin your dress or the linen. He sucked the juice off his hand, happy to taste anything that came from you.

“You don’t like the champagne,” you observed, breaking the moment’s spell.

“Never had it before,”

“I don’t normally like it, but this is good,”

“Guess it’s one of those things that’s only good when it’s good, you know? Like, when it’s quality,”

“Makes sense,” you agreed. “What are you going to drink?”

“Don’t worry about me, angel.” Eddie was on his side, pulling you closer and kissing your neck. “I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve,”

“Are you gonna raid the minibar?”

“I’m gonna raid the minibar.” And he was up and kneeling in front of the small fridge, rifling through it.

You got up and poured more champagne, popped another strawberry in your mouth, and watched Eddie move on to searching through all cupboards and drawers in the suite. He took all the teeny tiny shampoo and conditioners, and anything else that wasn’t glued down.

Eddie finished his quiet rampage, turning his attention back to you. He started to blush, and it hurt when he started to justify his actions. “For Wayne. Like, a souvenir. ‘Cause he helped pay for-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. “I love you.”

His posture visibly relaxed. “I love you too,”

“Can you do me a favour then?”

“Anything,”

“See those big fluffy bathrobes?”

Following your request, Eddie got undressed carefully, hanging the rest of his clothes with the jacket. He pulled one of the robes around himself and jumped onto the bed.

“I think Cuddly Eddie is my favourite,” you told him, smiling up at him.

“Come ‘ere and tell me that again,” he replied, holding out grabby hands.

“Let me just cha-”

Eddie hopped from the bed to land in front of you, stopping your path to the other bathrobe and eliciting a small yelp from you.

“Sorry, but, ah, I’m gonna need you to stay in this for just a little bit longer.”

Goosebumps broke out along your arms, and you sucked in your bottom lip. “Okay,” you whispered.

Eddie nodded at the bed, and you climbed back in. He turned the lights off, leaving only moody lamp light to see through. He returned to you, and you both got comfortable laying on your sides facing each other.

“So… did I do good?” Eddie asked, his voice gentle, his hands taking yours so he could cover them in kisses. He looked at you with those big brown eyes.

“Yep, you did the absolute best,” you praised, turning your arm so it would be wrist-up, letting him kiss along your veins.

“Can you… tell me?” There was a rare tone of nervousness in Eddie’s voice. If he was even a little bit nervous, it meant he was vulnerable. It meant he trusted you.

“You want me to tell you that you did good?”

You just wanted to be sure, wanted to give him precisely what he was asking for, and judging by the way his pupils blew out and the barely-there nod, you were. You knew what he wanted.

“You did so well, baby. Everything’s been perfect. You’re perfect,” you started, voice low but not a whisper.

Eddie wriggled closer to you, held you close, rested his head on your chest. You began to play with his hair, aimless and tender.

“And, all the other girls I know had to basically tell their boyfriends or whoever to ask them. But you had a whole plan, because you’re… ridiculous like that. You make everything special. Even the car ride and taking photos and just everything.”

Eddie was glad you couldn’t see his face. His eyes were welling up with tears. He thought hearing the praise would be good foreplay. Instead of the words going straight into his pants, they were settling in his heart.

“And you looked so hot in your suit. Kind of strange to see you all dressed up like that. But I guess you have to get used to it because that’s what you gotta wear to music award shows and stuff, right?”

He chuckled at that.

“Oh! I don’t know if you planned it or not, like maybe you just couldn’t get pink so close to the date, but the red corsage matched-”

“Your ring,” he cut in. He’d wondered if you had noticed.

“You did it on purpose?”

Eddie nodded into you. “Always thought pink and red go good together,”

“They do,” you agreed, holding your hand up and watching the ruby catch the light at different angles. For a second you forgot you were on a mission. “And the crowns! I thought I saw you selling, but you were being a different kind of bad.” Eddie liked how you said bad. “It’s so… you. It’s like, this super romantic thing but it’s a big fuck you to the whole idea of school dances, and you know Jason is probably gonna be bitching about it for the rest of the year. He’ll probably bring it up at the ten-year reunion,”

“We coming back for that?” Eddie asked bravely.

“No. We’ll be too busy,”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know… Being in love,”

“Sounds good,” Eddie thought out loud. “Sounds really fucking good to me, angel.” Your red-coated nails scratched against his scalp, making Eddie’s whole body tingle.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” he whispered on a breath out.

“Then, after all that, you bring me here. This must have cost you so much…”

It didn’t start so emotional; you’d honestly just tried to call him a good boy and get him all worked out, the same way he could do to you. But then you started to think about it, started to ramble, and you were reminded of how goddamn special Eddie was. How the night was perfect, ripped from the pages of your Eddie-coded love stories.

“All the kind and thoughtful and weird things you’ve done for me, not just tonight but all year… It’s like, made up for everything else that’s happened to me, you know?”

There was something in that. Did Eddie treat you like a queen because the world owed you and he was doing his part? Or would he be the same doting boyfriend even if the rest of your life had been peachy? Did one mean more love than the other? A different kind of love?

Eddie’s brain was going around in circles and he decided to shelf the thoughts, and come back to them another time.

Giving yourself a couple beats of breath, you reigned yourself in from the emotional cliff of love, setting yourself back on the path you had intended to take.

“On top of all of that, you make me feel so warm… and tingly… and like, I get this weird heavy drunk feeling sometimes when you do stuff to me.”

Eddie smooshed his face into your chest, dramatically groaning. “Tingly?”

“Tingly,”

“Where?” he asked, untangling himself from you and sitting up against the velvet headboard.

You followed him, obeying his commands as he held his hands out for you to take, and he brought you over him to straddle his lap.

“Um, well, it starts in my nose,” you explained, watching Eddie’s amused expression. “It goes down and I can feel it all across my neck and chest.” You used your hands to show him, open palm mapping out the hot spots. “It’s like butterflies in my tummy.” A year ago, you never would have willingly drawn attention to your stomach, but you hadn’t even given it a second thought. “Down my spine, and it doesn’t matter how much I arch or bend, it’s always just… I don’t know, running up and down.”

Eddie hadn’t blinked, mesmerised by the very cute and very hot show you were putting on.

“Then I feel it in my thighs, but like, just on insides, where I’m soft,”

“So soft,” Eddie involuntarily repeated. His breathing was getting heavier by the second.

“Yeah. And, uh, where it’s most like that, most tingly, is in my underwear, where only you’re allowed to be,”

“Where exactly is that?” Eddie asked, desperate to hear you say any word that could be deemed even half dirty.

None of the words felt right, either too obscene, too clinical, or too childish. But Eddie was hanging on your every goddamn syllable, and you wanted to see what happened when you said something… like that.

Leaning forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought yourself close to him. It would be easier if you didn’t have to watch him watch you. You kissed the side of his face, then behind his ear, letting your hot breath do some of the work for you.

“Eddie-” He shuddered under you. “You make me… You make my pussy tingly, and warm, and I want you so bad,”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” was all you heard before he had you flipped onto your back, legs spread, and underwear coming off. You were giggling when you felt his lips come into contact with you.

“See… Just… like that,” you praised. “Jus’ like…”

Eddie made you cum once, then afraid to ruin your dress, he helped you up and lifted the dress over your head, putting it on a hanger next to his suit. You watched him, heart all aflutter.

“Again,” he ordered, manhandling you back onto the bed.

“‘Kay,” you agreed happily.

The second time, Eddie had lost himself in the taste of you and how your feet curled and the sounds you made. He watched you more carefully, lifting his head from your body to watch you as he slipped a third finger into you. You grabbed the sheets and pulled, whining and panting and then, pressing down onto Eddie’s hand, doing the work for him.

“Ah, fuck, good girl,” he murmured not loud enough for you to hear. Eddie was grinding himself against the bathrobe and bed, the fabric of the robe creating perfect friction. As you got yourself closer and closer to orgasm, fucking yourself on Eddie’s fingers, he quickly caught up.

You were saying his name over and over, voice getting higher and back lifting from the bed. He took over from you, pumping hard and fast, pulling not just the orgasm from you, but a wave of warm, clear liquid that Eddie immediately started to lap up, making you writhe against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around your thighs to stop you from crawling away from him.

Senses coming back, you could hear first. Eddie swapping between your name, angel, various praises about doing such a good job, and something about the word ‘gush’ which would have made you embarrassed under any other circumstance.

Rich strawberries and fresh clean linen. That dominated the scents of the room. Distantly, Eddie’s shampoo and your perfume.

Your vision was a little fuzzy, so you focused on the ceiling until you had enough energy to sit up on your elbows and look down at Eddie, who had rested his head on one of your thighs, closed his eyes, and wore the sweetest smile. It was completely at odds with what he was doing only seconds before.

Everything felt soft, lavish under your fingertips. And, your mouth tasted of nothing, instead your tongue pressed against your teeth, begging you to find Eddie’s lips and kiss.

“Eddie,”

“Mmm,”

“Come,”

“Already did.”

It was stupid but it made you laugh. “Okay, good, but come here, to me, please.”

Eddie stood, taking off the robe he’d made a mess of, then came to where your arms were held out in wait. He pulled the covers down and brought them back over both of you, finally cuddling up with you. He kissed the top of your head, more content than he’d been in… He couldn’t remember.

“I want to have sex,” your small but sure voice came from under the covers.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at the finality of your statement. All business.

“Why are you laughing at me?” you squeaked, looking up at him with the cutest angry face.

Eddie leaned down and kissed you. “Mm’not laughing at you. Promise. You just sounded… I don’t know. I’m not laughing. I swear.” Pulling another cute, angry, and suspicious expression, Eddie kissed you again. “We-we can, yeah, do… that,”

“Only if you want,” you said then, a little thrown by his reaction.

“I want!” he almost yelled. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “I want. And I like… No, wait, I’m proud of you… you know, for asking… None of that came out right,”

“It’s okay. I know what you mean.”

Eddie meant ‘for you to get to the point where you can verbalise what you want is so fucking massive, and I am infinitely in awe of your progress and entirely in love with you’ and you knew that.

“Um, I might have, planned… for this… just in case, you know?” he told you, trying very hard not to sound like he did all of it to earn sex, like you’d ever think that.

“Yeah?”

Eddie paused to look at your face. You were glowing, happy, excited. Eddie nodded, “Yeah.” He retrieved a packet of condoms and bottle of lube.

You’d never really seen either, so were curious, took them both from him and read the packaging. “Strawberry flavour? To match the champagne?” you joked.

“No. Not even I’m that cheesy. It’s all they had. Hawkins, you know?”

“What could you get out of Hawkins?” you wondered out loud.

“Any other flavour. No flavour. Glow in the dark. Some that feel real cold. Some that feel hot. Sky’s the fucking limit,” Eddie answered, no comedy all education.

“Oh… Where… from?”

You’d trapped him. Eddie grinned and scrunched his nose up at you. “There’s, ah, a sex store… in Lafyette,”

“Can you take me?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose and his grin got wider. “Yeah? Absolutely… Jesus, you’re killing me in all sorts of ways tonight, angel.” Eddie pounced, tickling you and making you kick the air and squeal. When tears were running down your cheeks, he stopped to watch you catch your breath. “You good?” he asked, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m good,” you whispered back, looking at him like he was your whole entire world.

“Good. Come ‘ere.”

Eddie devoted a lot of time to making sure you were ready; mind, body, and soul. He wanted jelly legs and dripping wetness. Heart beating fast. Clammy hands. He wanted you begging, which you did. You whined his name, pushed at his face with your nose.

“I got you,” he said, getting himself between your legs. Everything about your body was screaming please and ready. You were so warm and open, and his mind was going to short circuit if he didn’t pull himself together.

You wriggled under him, getting comfy, then wrapped your legs around his waist. Eddie hissed at the feeling, making you smile.

“Here, put this under your butt.” Eddie placed a pillow there, and two under your head. He was fussing over you, then the condom, and it was adorable.

“Eddie, hey, hey,” you almost clicked at him like a puppy. “I’m good.”

He nodded, suddenly nervous. You, on the other hand, were somehow the opposite. No nerves. No anxiety. You just really, really wanted to feel him.

The kissing started off slow, then needy and messy. You felt caged in by his arms, pressed into the mattress by his hips; you loved it. Safe in a bubble.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh, yes,”

“‘Kay, just, ah, tell me… if… anything,”

“I know. I will.”

Eddie nuzzled into your neck, kissed your skin lazily. He was painfully hard and just a little terrified that he’d cum within seconds. You felt him glide himself over your clit, and down, lining the tip up. Eddie looked at you as he slowly pushed in.

Your eyes were closed and your mouth opened, a happy gasp escaping. He couldn’t read what it meant when your eyebrows pulled together, but he knew the look of pleasure on your face. Eddie stopped himself from asking you if you were okay; he didn’t want to ruin the moment for you.

The arch in your back. How hard your fingers were gripping his arms. The smile forming on your face.

Then, he had bottomed out, whimpered, and the sound cut through you. You needed him to do it again, so you bucked your hips. It worked, a string of chaotic noises coming from him.

“Are you gonna move?” you whispered.

“Um… No… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” he admitted, a bark of laughter ending his sentence.

“It’s okay if you do. Honest. This feels really good,”

“Doesn’t hurt?” he asked. You shook your head. “At all?”

“No. I read in a magazine that it’s a myth that it’s normal to hurt. Like, it can. But not like how people always say,”

“Oh… okay,” was all he could say. How the fuck were you forming full sentences? “Jus’ tell me… if, ah, faster… or whatever.”

You nodded at him, let go of his arms to reach up and fold his hair behind his ears. When you ran your hand along his face, he rubbed his cheek in your palm.

“Kiss,” you ordered.

Obeying, Eddie shifted his weight onto his elbows, let his hands find your hair, then kissed you. Slowly, he started to move, careful, deep movements. He was able to find a rhythm that made you bite back a stupid grin.

“Faster,” you asked, breathy.

“If I do… I won’t… last,”

“S’okay. Please.”

Faster felt deeply right. Like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Your mind went blank, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled Eddie down against you hard. He was panting, swearing, and just over a minute later, he came harder than he ever had before.

Almost all of Eddie’s weight was on you, but it was comfortable. Before he could speak or check on you, or even pull out, you’d sighed happily and then, much to Eddie’s amazement, passed out.

When he got up, respectfully cleaned you best he could, and tucked you in, Eddie kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you, lightweight.”

Next Chapter: 11- Afterglow

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch@harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 A@briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo---expressooo @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair

[greensparty]

Movie Review: The 4:30 Movie

This year marks the 30th anniversary of Kevin Smith's directorial debut Clerks, one of my all-time favorites. When I was getting into filmmaking, seeing Clerks was highly influential. It was a full-on “you can do this too” moment for me. Since that debut, Kevin Smith has had such a unique career in that he has made big budget movies, low budget, and everywhere in between for both studios and independently. He has built up a cult following and brought his characters into various sequels including 2022's Clerks III (read my review here). When I interviewed Clerks III stars Brian O'Halloran and Jeff Anderson after it's release, they both spoke fondly of Smith and the fun environment he creates. Smith's earlier work like Mallrats and Chasing Amy are his strongest era. Since then, he has tried to dip his toes in other genres with mixed results (i.e. Red State and Tusk), but he tends to do his best work when it's somewhat personal. Being released this week from Saban Films is his semi-autobiographical coming-of-age comedy The 4:30 Movie.

movie poster

In suburban NJ during the Summer of 1986, teen Brian David (Austin Zajur) gets up the guts to call Melody Barnegat (Siena Agudong), a girl he flirted with the previous Summer and never got the guts to do ask out. She agrees to meet him for a movie at 4:30PM that day. Before that he goes with his goofy buddies Belly (Reed Northrup) and Burny (Nicholas Cirilo) to the same movie theater for some cinema trickery (one buys a ticket and sneaks the others in, etc). But when they piss off Manager Mike (Ken Jeong) the plan for Melody to meet Brian at that same cinema becomes endangered. There's small appearances from Kate Minucci, Method Man, Sam Richardson, Adam Pally, Rachel Dratch and loads of View Askew alumni.

Smith directing

The tone of this movie is similar to Mallrats in that it is a teen movie that's combining romanticism with crude humor, which isn't always easy to pull off. It is a coming-of-age teen movie in the vein of Smith's hero John Hughes, which in 2024 is refreshing to see. I'll start with the positive about this movie: this was something that truly spoke to me and more specifically the person I was at 16, even though that was more than a few years past 1986. The protagonist is a teen film geek, who has a vast knowledge of film and pop culture, insists on keeping quiet during a movie and staying for the credits, and reads Starlog magazine. To say I could relate would be an understatement! There was a real heart to this movie that looked back a pre-cell phone era (there's a funny gag where a character calls the movie theater and ties up the landline, drawing the ire Manager Mike). Now here's what I had an issue with: since this was Kevin Smith, I had hoped it was going to be LOL funny throughout. Instead there was some funny parts and then long periods before the next part I laughed at. Some of the jokes were low-hanging fruit winking-at-the-audiences references to the time period and what we know changed since (i.e. jokes about how no one would care about Star Wars sequels, prequels or spin-offs). In other coming-of-age comedies like Adventureland for example, I'm alright with it not being laugh-a-minute, but there's a certain expectation with Kevin Smith and because of this I wished it had been funnier. There's also some characters that are more like caricatures. I am pleased to see Smith going inward and personal like a lot of his best work (i.e. the Clerks movies). Clerks III was a serious comeback for him and here he's trying to sustain that...with mixed results, but it's the main character / Smith alter-ego Brian who makes this movie as we don't often get movies about film geeks (Clarence in True Romance being one of the notable exceptions). Let's hope Smith's next semi-autobiographical film is even better!

For info on The 4:30 Movie

3.5 out of 5 stars

[marvelous-imagines]

Still loving you

Johnny Lawrence x reader

Request: Awesome! If I may submit 2, 1) where reader likes Johnny, and Johnny is going back and forth with Daniel bc of Allie, and reader breaks it off with Johnny and angst then they get back together. (it's hardly anything like the request and I just realized that and I'm so sorry)

Warnings: mild language. Angst. Fluff at the end!

@jojosgirlkat1dluvr

You Was Seated at a booth with your boyfriend Johnny and his friends at a dinner, listening to them joke around and and just talk about how their karate training went today. You was seated beside Johnny who had a arm wrapped around you, his red cobra Kai jacket on you as you leaned into his side.

"God the waitress is hot, I'm gonna ask her for her number next time she comes around" Bobby, one of Johnny's friends said, causing the rest of the gang to laugh at him.

"she's twice you're age idiot, she's not going to" johnny laughed out, eating a French fry off your plate which makes you swat his hand away playfully.

"oh yeah? 20 bucks says I can?" the boy bets, making you shake your head at him.

"you're honestly betting on it?" you lift a brow at him, shaking your head. Tommy throws 20 dollars on the table causing the rest to do the same.

"if she gives you her number you're not only winning this money, but my respect Bobby" Dutch tells him. You roll your eyes at the boys and finish up your food. After a few minutes the waitress came back to hand you your bill, which Johnny payed for, and you nearly choked on air when Bobby give the older woman a smirk while leaning back in his seat.

"hey babe, I was wondering if maybe I could get you're number?" he said confidently, looking the woman up and down. She scoffs and shows him a ring on her finger.

"I'm married asshole, the only thing you're grabbing is a ride out of here" she growls while stomping away. Everyone at the table burst out laughing, including yourself. Bobby flips you all off and stands up. Causing everyone to follow him out the door.

"you really know how to speak to the ladies Bobby" Tommy laughed, slapping him on the back as you all walked outside into the night air. Johnny still having a arm slung around you pulls you closer. But you can feel him tense up, looking up at him your about to question him what's wrong, but then you see his eyes focused on the new kid larusso and Johnny's ex girlfriend ali.

You couldn't help but feel a bit jealous, you knew he still felt a little something for the girl. He always gave her lingering glances, his eyes lighting up with anger when the larusso boy hangs around her.

It made you feel a little pinge of hurt whenever you would catch him staring at them, especially since you and him has been dating for nearly a week or two now, you feel so in love with the boy, he was so sweet towards you, funny and loving person. And he was so handsome, any woman would kill just to be in your position, having Johnny Lawrence have his arm around them. But you didn't feel as lucky when he looked at ali...

"look at that loser, who the hell does he think he is strutting around here?" johnny seethes while looking at the two, watching how Daniel put his arm around ali. But poor Daniel stops in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights when he sees Johnny and his gang.

"oh no...." Daniel muttered, "maybe we should go..." he looks to ali. But Johnny, pulling his arm away from you stops him from moving by pushing his shoulder, causing Daniel to stumble back some.

"where do you think you're loser?" johnny asks with a smirk, the anger in his blue eye's caused you to give Johnny a confused yet angered look.

"don't be mean to the poor kid Johnny, let's just go" you said trying to get him to leave the boy alone. But he doesn't listen, Johnny's friends watching this go down with snickers and chuckles like it was funny. But for you, it was far from it.

"look man, I don't want any trouble I'm just trying to grab something to eat with my -

"you think I'm gonna let you get away with what you done larusso?" johnny questions while pushing Daniel back again.

"johnny stop being such a jerk and just let us be" ali spoke while standing behind Daniel.

"yeah Johnny let's just go please?" you say but Johnny only scoffs at you.

"and let this loser -

"johnny please?" you whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder trying to get him to calm down. But he doesn't even pay attention to you.

"I don't wanna fight man, but I will if you don't back off" Daniel says in defense, causing Johnny to laugh at him mockingly. You feeling anger bubbling up inside you at how childish your boyfriend was acting.

"did you hear that boys? Larusso thinks he can beat us!" johnny snickers, but Daniel shakes his head.

"just let us go prick"

"who you calling prick loser!" johnny grabs Daniels jacket and ali grabs Daniel while you push Johnny back, his glare falling on you.

"leave him alone Johnny! God you're acting like such a child! Picking on someone so - so innocent!" you say, face flushed with anger. Johnny rolls his eyes and looks away from you.

"so what? You're taking his side now?" he asks, venom dripping from his voice. You scoff, watching how he glares at the ground, jaw tense and fist clenched. "is he taking you to? Stealing you away from me like he did ali?" he questioned with the same harsh tone.

You feel a wave of shock and disappointment wash over you. "why would you even think that? For one thing he never stole ali Johnny, she broke up with you! And another I'd -

"then what the hell do you call that!" he points at ali and Johnny, ali holding Daniel back as he glared at your boyfriend. You feel a wave of fresh anger and glare at Johnny.

"of you can't stop being such a asshole then I'm leaving you Johnny! So you can choose right now, either leave them alone or I'm leaving" you state, crossing your arms. You expected Johnny to calm down, to wrap his arms around you as his tough guy facade washes away for a split second to keep you with him. But you was wrong, instead he let's out a un-amused chuckle.

"go then! See if I care! All you do is nag me over stupid shit like this!" he motioned toward the fight, his once blue loving eyes cold and heartless. You feel hot tears filling your eyes as your bottom lip trembles. You only stare at him hoping he would realize what he said and take it back. But he doesn't, he only gives you a glare.

"okay then, I guess that's that..." you muttered, tears falling from your eye's as you push past him and leave him standing there with his friends, Daniel and Ali.

You walked home that night, heart broken into a million peices. You had thought Johnny was different, that he was the sweet heart of a man whenever you both started dating, the sweet things he would say to you, the way he couldn't stand not holding your hand every second. You thought his soft kisses and exclaims of love for you was genuine, that he actually loved holding you close to him, loved you...

But now you know that was all a lie, the Johnny you thought you knew was just a dream you couldn't even have... Once you was home you laid in bed and cried, the pain of knowing that Johnny didn't love you hurt, the feelings you felt for him apparently unrequited.

The next morning at school was unbearable, seeing him laugh and joke around with his friends as if nothing ever happened, as if he didn't end things with you. But the next few other days was worse, so bad you skipped a day of school, that day being today. You was laid in bed just reading a magazine when your phone rings, ignoring it you continued reading the dumb magazine in hopes of taking your mind of things, but the phones insistent ringing forced you to throw the magazine down and reach over your bed to grab the ringing phone off your bed side table.

"hello?" you grumbled into the phone, but you feel your heart drop, the dark cloud of sadness you've pushed away for the day came right back.

"hey y/n, I know you really don't -

You hung up on Johnny, tears swimming in your eye's. His voice sounded glum, cracking slightly as if he was on the verge of tears. But you knew he wasn't, at least that's what you thought. Because over these past week he seemed happy without you.

Just as you was about to pick the magazine back up the phone rings again, this time you wipe your eyes harshly and pick the phone up.

"look Johnny I -

"it's Bobby, and before you hang up I wanted to let you know that Johnny has been a absolute mess without you... He hasn't been showing up to training at the dojo lately, he's skipping school and he won't even barely talk to us..." he explained, and even though you wanted to forgive Johnny, you knew that it should be in person.

"if he really wants to fix things tell him to meet me at the dinner..." you muttered while playing with the phones curly cord.

"what time?" Bobby sounded relieved and happy. You let a small smile grace your face.

"tomorrow evening at 3pm" you said, hearing Bobby bid you goodnight before hanging up.

You sigh and laid down on your bed, wondering if forgiving would be the right decision. Or if not forgiving him was the wrong....

The diner was full, friends laughing at one another, family having a great time. And then there was you, waiting at a booth by the window alone. It was nearing 3pm, but Johnny was nowhere to be seen. You sigh and can't help but feel slightly disappointed by his absence, you thought he'd actually missed you, regretted his decision that unfortunate night outside this diner.

Looking down at your watch you see Johnny was already two minutes late, sighing your ready to stand up, deciding Johnny needed some time to gather his thoughts...

But you sat back down when you spot Johnny walk through the doors, blond hair a mess atop his head, black cloth that's usually tied around his head gone. He wore a faded old t-shirt and jeans, his blue eye's holding a glum glow about them as he looks up and spots you, quick to stride over and slip into the empty booth with you. You give him a emotionless expression as he opted for gazing out the window.

"penny for you're thoughts?" you asked harsher then meant to. But Johnny looks at you, big blue eye's holding nothing but regrets.

"I - I'm sorry for what happened that night... I was wrong for saying what I did... For pushing you away -

"being a big jerk?" you added to the list. He nods and looks back out the window with a deep sigh.

"I miss you y/n... Please just - forgive me" he whispers, voice holding a genuine hurt tone to it. You sigh looking over Johnny's face, taking in how miserable his eyes are, showing the misery he truly was in over this past week. Reaching over the table and grabbing ahold of his hand you give him a gentle squeeze, causing him to look up with a hopeful glint.

"as much as I hate how you was doing Daniel that night... I suppose I forgive you" you muttered, his face lighting up as he tries to say something but you cut him off "if we start dating again I expect you to leave Daniel and Ali alone Johnny" you explain, giving him a pleading look, begging for him to at least listen to you, promise you.

"okay, done. But if he starts it I'm not letting the little prick walk all over me y/n" he tells you with a serious look. Which causes you to roll your eyes.

"only if he starts it and throws the first punch" you confirmed with a small little smile. Johnny squeezes your hand that he held in yours atop the table as he gives you a little smile of his own.

"and one last thing to discuss..." you trail off, looking away from his concerned and confused eyes.

"what is it?" he swallowed thickly, worried by the look in your eye, how you looked afraid, hurt and skeptical.

"stop making me feel like I'm only just you're friend... I see how you look at ali, the only reason you hate Daniel so bad is because he - what you claim, stole her away from you..." you struggle to look at him, knowing your insecurities was starting to boil over the top. "I know she's prettier and -

"y/n you're the most beautiful woman I've ever lied eyes on, if you even for a moment think I'd ever leave you for ali your wrong. I love you, more than anything and nothings gonna change that" he interrupted your train on insecure thoughts. You feel your heart skip a beat and melting at his words, the way he gazed at you with love and truth, a genuine smile on his face as he let his eyes roam every detail and feature about you.

"johnny - I love you too..." you stuttered as you felt a wave of emotions hit you. Causing tears of happiness to form in your eye's. Johnny let's a little smile tug at his lips as he leaned closer, halfway across the table to cup your cheek.

"I know ya do babe, and like I said before, I love you more" he gives you a quick peck on the lips before bringing your hand up to his lips placing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. Heart fluttering at his sweet little kisses.

That day in the diner you and Johnny sit and talked for hours, his eyes on you never leaving once. He regretted the night he had hurt you and pushed you away, but he knew that if he kept his promises to you that nothing could ever keep you both apart.

A/n: here it is! I hope it isn't as bad as I believe it to be lol, it was rushed. I've been incredibly busy with work and have hardly any time to myself lately!, but here's this and then I'll work on the other one!

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Eight

A/N: Okay, firstly I cannot apologize enough for the delay. I'm sorry for not posting when I planned on, I have no idea how I feel about this chapter, it's all over the place and I've honestly thought of erasing it and starting back over but that'd take even longer and I don't want to make you guys wait any more. I'm sorry for falling through on my assurance I'd post by Friday.

Timeline in case anyone is wondering, this chapter starts around the 18th of September (flashback is last couple days in July) and ends at the end of September.

I hope you guys like it, perfectly understandable if y'all don't and I will be trying harder next time. Thank you🖤

P.S.--I haven't forgotten about the "D" Viv gets tattooed on her, it's being mentioned in the next chapter.

Words: 4.4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, insensitive implication of suicide.

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I'm taking another bite of eggs, before an issue of Playboy is plopped down in front of me, into my food. 

I was expecting the cover to hit stands sooner, rather than later. We went back on tour the first of September, and the issue wasn't out until September 16, a couple days after getting back on tour from a separate break that took place a week and a half after our first break at the end of July did.

I'm on the cover, naked, and I hesitantly run my eyes up Doc's body to his eyes, giving an uneasy smile, knowing I'm in trouble. 

I swallow my food and he glares at me. 

Within ten minutes, he's got all of us back into another meeting. 

"Playboy?!" He's pacing the floor, throwing his hands up. "Y-You…" he trails off, the vein popping out on his forehead. 

I look around and notice everybody--Ross, Fred, Tommy, Vince, Mick, Rich--has got a copy of it, flipping through, including Nikki, and I feel my face heat up, slowly sliding down in my seat. 

"...Playboy!" Doc gets out again, before he starts laughing. 

"Was a staff meeting really necessary for this?" I ask him. 

"I mean, it could be worse." Fred tries to take up for me as my question is ignored. 

"Yeah, she could've went behind our backs and shot a porno." Vince adds, glancing at me. "...or did you do that, too?" 

Apparently I don't deny that quick enough because Doc is looking at me with an even more severe look. 

"Did you?!" He asks. 

"No?!" I argue, starting to get pissed. "I posed for Playboy, what's the big deal?" 

Doc starts laughing again. 

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal? What's the bi--what's the big deal?!" He pulls at his hair. "I am about to have a heart attack. I am about to have a heart attack. You--" he lets out a loud yell of frustration and we all look at each other. "--Are you trying to kill me, Viv?! 'Cause I feel like you are!"

"From a photography perspective, they're quite beautiful photos." Ross says positively.

"Yes, I for one want to express my gratitude and admiration for Saint Viv's--well, Dirty Stripper Viv's--contribution to the livelihood of many a jerking offs." Vince states. "Also would like to note," he looks at a particular picture of me before adding, "I've only imagined her doing this position but now that it's here on paper, I'd like her to demonstrate--slowly, in detail--exactly how she twisted hersel--"

"--Dude, shut up!" Tommy snaps, his hands over his eyes, his head back, and Vince grins at me, making me roll my eyes. 

It kind of scares me how quiet Nikki is as he calmly thumbs through his. 

"Okay." Doc takes a deep breath. "When did this happen?" He asks me.

"I got an offer in the mail, and took them up on it, and when we were in Chicago I went by their studio." I explain. "I still don't know what the big deal is. I thought it was the idea for rockstars and Playboy models to be together." 

Doc looks at me with flared nostrils before flipping through his magazine.

"Whose is this?" He asks, turning the magazine around to show me, his finger on Duff's bass. 

I just look at him, not knowing what to say. 

"I know what every bass of Nikki's looks like and it's got too many personalized ticks on it for it to be a random prop they tossed at you." He adds. 

The room is quiet for a moment.

"It's Duff's." Nikki says and Doc raises his brows. 

"The fuck is that?" He questions me. 

"Guns N' Roses bassist." Nikki informs him, his tone neutral.

I'm afraid to look at him, knowing it's gonna break my heart. 

"The band that you've been in my ear about bringing on the tour?"

Nikki let's out a confirming sigh and Doc looks at me. 

"So this kid's gonna bring this bass to play on tour, and everybody's gonna recognize it when they flip through your little stunt here," he waves the magazine, "and it's all gonna come together and they're gonna realize a few days after Vanity allegedly dropped a bombshell about her and Nikki supposedly having an affair--which is said to be bullshit--his wife comes out humping another man's fuckin' bass." He tells me and I roll my eyes. "You roll your eyes all you want. Vanity fucking fried all of us, and then you decided to toss us into the fucking fire. Not that I expect anything different from a goddamn Sixx at this point. You both know how to make shit worse than it already is." 

"I highly doubt they'll notice, Doc." Tommy cuts in again. 

"You stay out of this." Doc snaps at him. 

Another beat of silence goes by.

"Nikki? Your thoughts? You're her fucking husband. You helped kickstart this snowball of shit that just keeps getting bigger and bigger. What's your fucking opinion on her doing this? Am I gonna have to worry about you bending another girl over on stage and going to town in retaliation or what?" Doc sarcastically throws out there. "I mean nothing will fucking surprise my anymore. I just need to know what I need to prepare to clean up next." 

My heart pounds as I look at Nikki, liner smudged, tired eyes, glancing at me as he lets out a defeated sigh. 

"She's a grown woman, Doc." He surprisingly says and I widen my eyes in shock, as everyone else looks worried that Nikki's not screaming at me for it right now. 

Not yet, at least.

"That's it?" Doc asks him, raising his brows. "She didn't say a word about it, didn't give a warning, a heads up, nothing, and she comes out like this and you have absolutely nothing to fucking say?" 

Nikki just shrugs. 

"She just does whatever the hell she wants to do. Doesn't matter how I'd feel before, why does it matter what I feel like, now? Like I said, she's grown. Whatever she wants to do, she can do." He finishes, standing up to leave. 

"Nikki, are you fucking me right now?!" Doc complains as Nikki heads to the door. "You flip your shit over tiny stuff but your own wife does this without even telling you about it and you just brush it off?!"

"Just because she calls me 'daddy' doesn't mean I can act like her fucking father, Doc." Nikki sternly says and my face heats up. "We're not even together so why the fuck would I care what she does or who she does it with?" 

His bark was "I don't give a fuck" and "she can do whatever she wants", but a couple months later his bite was "you aren't worth a fucking thing which is why you had to get naked in a magazine to get validation in the first place" then proceeded to bare his teeth down further into my heart by adding, "just another pussy to unload in and get on to the next attention-humping slut." 

The next thing I knew, Duff was knocking him to the ground and the two of them started ripping into each other like dogs.

Once the meeting is over, after another hour of going back and forth, feeling like I was going to vomit from impending guilt, I'm getting back to my room and making a beeline for the toilet. 

I take a deep breath once I'm done, wiping the few tears from my cheeks. 

I don't feel bad for posing…the entire meeting it took everything not to confess that me posing naked with Duff's bass should be the least of their worries, compared to what other activities  I've gotten up to with him the last time the band had a couple days off and we went back to L.A. 

The sound of my room phone ringing pulls me out of my head

“Hello?” I answer.

“H-Hey.” I hear Tansy’s voice on the other end and I perk up.

“Hey, Tans, how’re you feeling?” I ask her, nervously.

“Good, um…” She lets out a soft sigh. “...I relapsed.”

I close my eyes for a moment, exactly like I did last week, and the week before, and the week before, and so on.

After Sparkie did his damage, Tansy promised to swear the bastard off. But within two weeks of her incident, she was back with him, only because her babysitters--Slash and Steven--left her unattended and she ran off to find him.

They’d find her, threaten Sparkler, bring her back home and the second they turned around long enough, she was gone again. 

Nikki had ordered them that she wasn't supposed to be around Sparkie because he had "accidentally" taken it too far while they were messing around…

Skylar squeals as tickle at her stomach, shampoo sticking her blonde hair straight up while Sharise runs a wash cloth over Sky's back.

When she's done, she's wringing the water out of it. 

"Sky, we gotta wash the shampoo out of your hair." I tell her.

"Nuh." She protests, shaking her head. 

"Skylar, we gotta get the shampoo out so we can get conditioner in your hair and get the tangles out."

"Nuh." She states, looking at us like we're crazy. 

"Don't be a diva like daddy." Sharise tell her, raising her brows. 

"Da-da?" 

"Da-da's golfing." She replies.

Skylar looks between us. 

"Nuh." She argues. "Beebee." She points at me. 

Sharise looks at me and hands me the little plastic cup she uses to rinse Sky's hair. 

"I'm gonna grab a towel from the couch." Sharise tells me. "Let Veevee rinse your hair." 

Skylar's cooperative, letting me get the shampoo from her hair and letting me put conditioner in and rinsing it out. 

When we're done, Sharise is picking Skylar up from the bath and wrapping her in her towel. 

The phone starts ringing and I dry hands off and stand up. 

"I'll get it." I assure Sharise.

"Alright, it could be Vince. He said he'd call before he headed home."

"Okay."

I go to the living room and pick the phone up.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming by to pick you up." It's Nikki, and I furrow my brows and look at the time. 

"What're you doing up before two o'clock?" 

"I got a call from a hospital in Malibu. Tansy's in surgery right now."

My blood runs cold and I can't get my thoughts together. 

"Just be ready when I get there." He adds. "I'm leaving the house, now."

"O-Okay." 

He hangs up and I head to Skylar's room where Sharise is helping her pick out some clothes. 

"That was Nikki." I inform her and she looks at me. "Tansy's at the hospital in the middle of a surgery."

"Oh my God, is she okay?" 

"I don't know."

"Is she having more heart problems or--"

"--I have no idea, Sharise. Nikki didn't explain."

Despite her body being pumped full of varying drugs, none of them caused her to be sent to the ER. Something else entirely, did though.

"She's more susceptible to complications during surgery due to her previous heart problems and her drug use. She did decide to sign a DNR--"

"--I'm sorry, what's been signed?" Nikki raises his brows at the nurse. 

"A do-not resuscitate order. Meaning if she were to code, we can not perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation." 

"So you just fucking let her die?!" 

"Nikki, they had to explain to her what it meant, and she still agreed--" I'm cut short.

“--You know how much fucking heroin she fucking shoots on a daily basis?! I'm not even sure she could fucking see to sign her God damn in the first place, let alone comprehend you motherfuckers selling her death!" Nikki barks and the nurse sighs.

“Nikki, she’ll be fine.” I try to tell him.

"Fuck that!" He screams, fear in his eyes.

"Nikki, that's only if something goes wrong, alright? So far everything is going okay." I try to reassure him, my eyes drifting to her nurse. "Right?"

The surgery itself was going smoothly. One thing Tansy didn't tell us, however, was one of her kidneys was shot from her drug and alcohol abuse, and she asked her doctor to go ahead and take the thing out.

"She's in good hands." Is all the nurse says, before adding, "she should be out in a couple more hours." 

She walks away and Nikki shakes his head and lets out a heavy breath. 

"It'll be okay." I say to him.

“You gonna fucking pray about it or something?” He sneers at me.

“Yes.”

“Right, imaginary friends solve all of the world’s problems.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me doing something that brings me some peace.” I argue.

“You’ve been praying for me for the past six years. Feel any fucking peace, yet?” He snaps.

Believe it or not, no. I hadn’t felt any fucking peace.

It doesn’t take Tansy much longer to get out of surgery, and Nikki and I are horrified when her doctor explains what exactly he was repairing, being that the nurse wouldn’t tell us.

“Like...a shooter sized bottle--”

“--Pint.” He says to us and Nikki and I look at eachother.

“They tried to fit a pint sized bottle of Jack into her…?” I trail off.

“Well, they made it fit, it just didn’t stay intact.” He replies.

“The bottle of her vagina?” I question.

“I had to stitch up her vaginal wall extensively, and made sure to remove every piece of glass, including micrograins. Her left fallopian tube would have been compromised if the piece of glass that completely punctured through her vaginal wall, would have moved 0.004mm, which is about the thickness of a single strand of hair.” He states. “She’s very lucky her uterus or ovaries weren’t compromised. That wouldn’t have been as easy of a fix.”

“A--A bottle?” I’m stll stuck on them fitting a fucking bottle into her, my face twisted in horror as my stomach drops and my skin crawls.

He holds up a small container and rattles it around, the sound of glass swishing around making me cringe.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Nikki lets out.

“I’m going to tell her when she wakes, but please reiterate after me, that the next time she and her partner wish to add some heat to their sex life, maybe try not to be so blatantly reckless.” He suggests and Nikki and I nod, still speechless.

In a couple more hours, Nikki and I’s ears perk when she groans a little, our eyes shifting to look at her in her hospital bed.

Her bright blue eyes blink open, her brows furrowed in confusion, and it seems everything slowly falls into place for her.

“Tans?” Nikki says and she looks straight at him, just blinking.

“Where’s Sparkie?” She asks and we look at each other.

“We haven’t seen him.” I explain.

“Oh.” She quietly mumbles, closing her eyes again for a moment.

“Tansy, what the hell happened?” Nikki starts, a sharp tone in his voice.

She looks at me, carefully, before speaking.

“We were just trying to spice things up.” She says softly.

“With a fucking Jack Daniel’s bottle that clearly wouldn’t naturally fit inside of you?” He lets out.

She doesn’t say a word back, I almost think she doesn’t hear him, until she says:

“I’m not fighting right now.”

“Let’s just let her rest, okay?” I suggest. “She’s exhausted and she doesn’t need to be stressed out right now.”

Nikki sighs, but keeps his mouth shut.

After a few more minutes, I’m wanting a snack.

“You have any cash?”

He looks at me and I give him my best smile, making him exhale softly, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

“How much?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“Like, a couple bucks.” I shrug and he hands it to me. “Thank you.”

I go to the vending machines past the waiting area, to see Sparkie sitting by the window, eating his food, and I glare at him as I walk by.

He doesn’t see me, unfortunately, and I just keep going to the Pepsi Cola machine calling my name.

I want to go curse him out, but Tansy doesn’t need the stress, and being they were both high as a kite, I can’t solely put the blame on him and only him.

She should have just left him years ago. All he’s been is trouble that she doesn’t need.

I get my Pepsi and a pack of M&Ms, walking around a little to stretch my legs since I’ve been sitting for hours.

I let out a heavy breath when I remember I’m nearly out of Nardil, being I flushed a majority of my bottle down the toilet in an angry effort.

I’ll make sure to call in some more before we leave for the next leg of the tour.

As I start on my way back to the room, I’m interrupted by the sight of Nikki and Sparkie standing face to face in the waiting room, and I drop my Pepsi and food when Nikki slams Sparkie’s head into the wall without a single word beforehand.

“Sir!” The receptionist yells, standing up as I go to them as fast as I can to get Nikki off of him as he grabs his shirt and punches the shitfire out of Sparkie, one of his teeth crumbling to the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He promises as he punches him two more times, not taking a breath in between with no signs of stopping his assault until Sparkie’s brain is bursting from his skull, but I’m managing to get Nikki off of him, making him drop Sparkie to the floor, his nose and mouth busted up as security comes in.

We were escorted out, and when we got home I called Steven and informed him what happened to Tansy, leaving out what actually happened because I didn’t need anyone else possibly being sued for trying to kill Sparkie, and he went to keep an eye on her.

“Anyone else you want to beat the shit out of while we’re home?” I snap as we get to the car.   “First Vanity, now Sparkie--”

"--What, you wanna go back in there and coddle him the way you did Vanity?" He hisses and I roll my jaw. 

"You know exactly why I 'coddled' her."

"Oh, right, because men aren't suppose to hit women so I'm an evil bastard for knocking the shit out of her even though she was punching and hitting at me."

"I've punched and hit at you and you've never--"

"--She came into our house, attacked me, and punched you, too, Vivian! I had a reason to bust her face up a little bit!"

"I can handle shit myself, Nikki, there was no need for you to hit her like that!" 

"It's called 'equal rights'! All you women want is to be seen equally and shit! You fucking punch me like you're a man, I'm gonna fucking punch you back, like you're a fucking man! Don't hit me like you've got bigger balls than I do and then scream and cry and whine and plead 'frail, innocent, victimized, dainty, woman' when you get treated equally!" 

"I don't do that!" 

"No, but you sure as hell were all about feeding the cracked out beast when she fucking did!" 

"That's it. I'm walking home." 

"Walking home? We're forty minutes away from L.A., Viv." 

"I'll hitch a ride! I'd rather be in a car with a sketchy stranger than be trapped with you for the next hour!"

"You've been trapped with me the past four years!" He barks. 

"Not for much longer, thank God!" I bite out and his face slowly falls. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Pretty sure going our separate ways is just inevitable for us at this point, Viv, so it's fine." He brushes it off and my heart hurts at the thought. "And I'm sorry for going after Sparkie in public. But I'm not apologizing for defending Tansy. I'm not ever gonna be sorry for defending any of my friends."

“What happened, Nikki?” I ask him. “What the hell made you go after him like that? You were fine when I left.”

He lets out a breath, his nostrils flaring, his knuckles gripping tightly to the wheel as he closes his eyes and forces himself to calm down, before saying:

“Nothing. I just really thought about it and it got to me.”

I didn’t find out what happened until Tansy told me months down the road, and nobody else knows that’s actually what happened.

If Stevie and Slash knew what really occurred to put Tansy in that shape to begin with, they would’ve killed Sparkie the second Tansy first went back and "relapsed" on him.

"Tansy, he hurt you." I remind her. "And I know it was an accident but it doesn't matter. He could've seriously messed you up more than he did."

"I know, but I love him, Viv." She argues. 

"Tansy--"

"--Nikki shot you. And you're still with him." 

"Because Nikki was high out of his mind and didn't realize he actually was shooting at me. He thought I was someone after him." 

"Sparkie was fucked up and didn't know he was hurting me."

"Who the hell shoves a pint-sized glass bottle up their cunt to begin with, Tansy?" I raise my voice, getting aggravated with her.

"I'm gonna go." She tells me, calmly, after a moment of being quiet. "And I saw your Playboy issue--Steven got it. You look very beautiful." She genuinely says and I let out a defeated breath.

"Thanks."

"I'll talk to you later, Viv, okay?"

"Got it."

"I love you, bye."

"I love you, too, bye-bye." 

I hang up and fall back on the bed, groaning loudly in frustration. 

"How the hell can someone be as passively suicidal as she is?" I let out.

I'd find out soon enough.

In the last ten days of September, "Girls, Girls, Girls" is certified double-platinum, a $5000 lawsuit is filed against the band after a mother had apparently suffered "severe hearing dysfunction and mental anguish" at a recent concert. 

I wish I could sew these bastards for hearing dysfunction and mental anguish because God himself sure as shit knows I've had my fair share of it due to them, too.

By the end of the month, Nikki has Doc convinced to bring Guns N Roses on tour for the south leg, starting at the end of October…and I don't know how to feel about it. 

"Are you not excited about it?" Fred asks me after Doc leaves his hotel room after coming in to tell me the news. "Thought they were your buddies." He adds and I look at him from where I'm eating a fry from the fast food bag that he'd gone and got for us.

"They are." I confirm, nodding. "I'm excited." 

"...You just acted like Doc told you we were going to a funeral." He chuckles, sipping his drink and I lick my lips a little. 

"No, it's great, I'm just a little stressed out." I shrug. "But I'm fine." 

"Viv, what's going on?" He's not buying it and Iet out a soft breath, nervously picking the skin from the instead of my cheek with my teeth. 

"There's just a slight complication." I tell him and he raises his brows. 

"I'm all ears." He offers and I exhale, shaking my head a little, before opting for a way to confess my sins to him without him knowing I'm the one that needs forgiveness. 

"Well, you know how Sparkie and Tansy have been together for a long time?"

"Yeah." He nods. 

"She's really good friends with Axl, too, and her and Sparkie have been having some problems and might even break up so Tansy's been anxious and panicking a little, and, well…" I think for a moment. "...over this past break, Tansy slept with Axl." I say and his brows raise. "Who's the singer for Guns, and they've kinda been having a weird relationship situation thing happening ever since, but she's still with Sparkie, and being that she and Sparkie are along for the tour, Axl's gonna be around and she doesn't want Sparkie to find out what's been happening." 

"Why won't Tansy just break things off with Sparkie?"

"She doesn't want to hurt him."

"He's a piece of shit to her, are you kidding me? I'd tell that motherfucker he could go blow his fucking brains out over it." He scoffs, chewing his burger and I feel my heart sink, apparently he reads the look on my face. "Sorry, I forget women are wired a different way than guys are." He apologizes, swallowing his food before saying:

"Does Axl make her happier, you think?" 

"Sparkie's just exhausting her at this point. I think she really loves him, she's just tired of fighting and she hasn't had any peace in years, you know? She's just really tired. But when she's with Axl, she feels like everything isn't falling apart. She's at peace." 

"I think she's gotta tell Sparkie they just aren't working anymore. And be honest about how she feels instead of trying to brush over it and find ways to escape from it. I've seen her do some questionable shit, and I know it's because she's in pain and just doesn't want to deal with what's hurting her. I think this fling she's got with this dude is another way of crying for a way out, but she feels like she's too trapped to actually leave Sparkie." He explains. 

I nod slowly, tearing up a little. 

"I'm just worried about it, is all."

"Don't be." He shakes his head. "Just tell her what I just told you, and maybe she'll be done with Sparkie before Guns comes on a month from now." 

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment.

"I doubt it." I say so quietly he doesn't even hear it.

I felt like I'd gotten a little bit of my guilt off my chest--aside from the fact that I was leaving out a minor detail:

"Sparkie" = Nikki, "Tansy" = Vivian, and, "Axl" = Duff.