#def leppard references

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

shoutout to Rebecca Clark and her suddenly deciding to post these rare HQ photos she took back in the day for real

[joes-sha-la-la-la-girl]

[bitter1stuff]

Believe it or not, these videos are more similar than they are different. But that's not how the music critics want you to see it.

[danwithouttheplan]

Gunter gliebing my glauchen globen.

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[misslavenderlady]

Once Upon a December 🖤

David/Crysta (OC)

Summary: Crysta has found true love with her darling Lost Boys. Little does she know that David in particular feels an extra special connection to her because of someone he knew long ago...

Surprise!! This is a birthday present for @hypocriticaltypwriter! Cherry, you've been such a wonderful friend, I thought you deserved something special! 🎁🎂🎉

This fic has references to the OC of @hypocriticaltypwriter, Crysta and the scrapped Lost Boys prequel script, of which there is a love interest for David. It also references the song from the animated movie/musical "Anastasia". Please enjoy!

Crysta couldn't have been happier. She was living a good life with not one but four amazing, handsome, caring men. Though her lovers happened to be bloodthirsty vampires that sucked the essence from any human who crossed them, she didn't let that get in the way of her happiness. 

Each of her boys was an absolute gem. So stunning and wonderful in their own unique ways. They treated her like a queen and took the best care of her. Being a human, she was seen as a more fragile, delicate being to them. The four boys would do anything to keep her safe and sound. Always making her feel loved. 

Though she often had at least one of them by her side at all times, the daytime was when she was by herself. One day she'd be on the same sleep schedule as them, but for now, she could keep herself occupied during the day. 

Whenever she wasn't working at the salon or running errands, Crysta’s favorite thing to do was dance. It was the perfect way for her to get in some exercise while having fun moving to the songs from her cassette collection. Today was no different. With her leotard and sheer sash around her waist, she was a dancing beauty. 

Swing music was her favorite thing to dance to, but a good Prince song got her energy up too. Crysta kicked her legs up high and moved her hips to the rhythm of “When Doves Cry”. A smile was stuck on her beautiful face as she danced around the empty hideout. The music fueled her heart and soul, truly making her feel alive. 

Before she knew it, the sun outside was fading. The day started to come to an end. The darkness would soon come, as would her boys. Surely they would be awoken by the sound and smell of her hot, pumping blood. They were such frisky things~ 

“Guess I'll pick something for a cooldown,” Crysta said to herself. 

She shut off the Prince cassette and rummaged around the container for something slower to dance to. KISS, Def Leppard, Ratt, Poison, Twisted Sister. All too wild and fast for a proper cooldown to her workout. She was about to give up when something special caught her eye. 

A simple cassette with a handwritten note on the cover. “1906” written in faded ink. 

Crysta tilted her head in curiosity, studying the writing carefully. Was it supposed to be a year? That was when the hotel that once stood on the bluff crashed into the sea, leaving behind treasures to be lost or decayed within the cave the Lost Boys called home. If that was what it referred to, what did it have to do with a cassette?

“Only one way to find out.”

The redheaded girl stuck the cassette into the boombox, pressing the play button to see what music would await her. 

To her surprise, it was the complete opposite of the boy's style. Rather than a loud electric guitar and killer drum solo, the soft sound of chimes greeted her ears. Crysta’s eyes widened as she took in the sound. It was quite magical. Soft notes that dazzled her senses. She felt it to be similar to that of a lullaby from a music box. 

Stepping backward to where her dancing space was, Crysta started to take in the melody some more. Follow the rhythm as it went on. She could work with this. Her body began to move slowly as more instruments joined in. The soft tones of a flute, clarinet, bassoon and more. All of their sounds worked beautifully together as they welcomed in the lyrics to the song.

Dancing Bears

Painted Wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

Crysta’s senses grew fuzzy as her body took over for the dance. She gravitated to a more ballet-style dance routine, gracefully gliding across the floor and swaying her hands in rhythm. One would think she was under a spell if they were to see her moving in such a way. 

Little did she know that such a thing was actually happening. 

In one corner of the main lobby of the sunken hotel, a tall, platinum-blond vampire stepped into view. David had awoken just a bit earlier than usual, eager to see his beloved human. The spurs of his boots clanged with each step, yet Crysta did not notice. She was far too focused on her dance. The lyrics guided her every movement.

Someone holds me safe and warm.

Horses prance through a silver storm.

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

David was stuck in place, overcome with shock at hearing this song. Though he had managed to find a recording of it from a modern singer, there was a time decades ago when he had heard this song live. Visions of candelabras, string quartets, and marble statues filled his mind, bringing back the memory of the resort when it still stood above the sea. 

His ice blue eyes were fixated on Crysta as the faded vision of someone he knew long ago began to take over. A lovely, dark-haired lady with a shy, yet sweet nature and soft lips that he had kissed when they were hidden away from prying eyes. His long-lost love.

His legs began to move again, carrying him to where Crysta danced. He feared the memory would slip away again if he did not go to her. The graceful movements of her dance had grown stronger as the music built up more and more. A choir sang out, filling the cave with an echo of vocals that would shake a man to his very core. Crysta was so deep within her dance that she nearly jumped in surprise when she turned to see David right behind her.

“David, you scared me!” she scolded. “What are you do-”

“Dance with me.”

Crysta was shocked by such a request. Her lashes fluttered and her eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

“What?”

David’s lip curled slightly, showing off a gentleness in his smile that was unfamiliar to Crysta. No sneakiness or devious expressions. Just a look of love.

“I wonder if I might have a dance with the princess?”

Crysta would be lying if she said she wasn’t charmed by such words. Her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink and she smiled warmly back at the vampire. She slipped her hand into his, allowing David to take hold of her waist with his other. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Someone holds me safe and warm.

Horses prance through a silver storm.

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

David and Crysta moved around the lobby with sheer grace. They danced in time, creating a perfect waltz together despite it being such an unfamiliar dance to the human girl. To David, it was like riding a bike. He never truly forgot how to do it. With Crysta as his dance partner, it was even easier. All he had to do was look into her eyes, and it all came back to him.

Without any hesitation, David leaned in to kiss her. The warmth of her skin made his head spin far more than any waltz could. He remembered a similar kiss behind a ballroom pillar, hiding away from a stern chaperone. Now, with colder skin from his inhuman nature, it was all so much more intense. His heart ached deep within his chest.

Far away,

Long ago,

Glowing dim as an ember,

Things my heart

Used to know

Things it yearns to remember

“You are the beautiful something I dreamed about, Anastasia.”

The spell David and the music had over her was broken, and Crysta looked up at the blond with confusion on her face.

“Why’d you say my middle name?”

David stopped the waltz once the gravity of his mistake hit him. In the blink of an eye, the vision was gone. The memory had faded away. No longer did he have a princess in his arms dancing in a ballroom. The age and decay and quietness of the cave overwhelmed his senses, making him realize how much time had passed since he had become a vampire.

And Crysta. God, did he feel guilty for his slip of the tongue. Looking at her pretty face, he did see a familiarity of his first ever love. She looked so much like Anastasia. Even the shade of her eyes was identical, as it was something he had studied carefully each time they were together.

But she wasn’t Anastasia. She was Crysta. She was her own person, not the ghost of someone he once knew. David would forever mourn her, yet he knew how truly lucky he was to have Crysta by his side here and now. He loved her more than anything, and he wanted a life with her and his boys. It wouldn’t be fair to her to get lost in the past. 

“I’m sorry, Cherri,” he cooed, taking hold of her cheek in his hand. “I think I’ve been around Max too much. I know he calls you that all of the time.”

Crysta let out a snort of laughter, amused by David.

“Oh God, don’t tell me you’re turning into a big nerd too, Davi!”

David laughed, bringing her in for an embrace and spinning her around once again. She squealed with delight as he lifted her up. The two of them were practically giddy with their playfulness. 

“I’m not changin’ at all,” he promised, setting her back down on her feet. “Now let’s go wake up the others so we can grab a bite to eat.”

Crysta eagerly wrapped her hands around his arm, allowing him to lead the way to the sleeping chambers of the boys. With them out of sight, the last few words of the song played for nobody to hear. 

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

Tag List: @mjtheartist04 @cryptic-michael @vampirefilmlover @oceansrose2002 @ghoulgeousimmaculate @starlahuskyz @ria-coolgirl

[violetpurpleviolet]

Supernatural , Season 5 , Episode 22

Swan song

Also is this like the first time “Carry on my Wayward Son” is played? I know it’s like the theme song. But it’s the first time actually hearing it in an episode.

OG Percy Jackson fangirl , and can’t keep seeing Adam as Luke (Though i refuse to admit that movie exists)

The chuck intro was so sad?? Also his writing wasn’t that crappy as people claimed?

“A fiddle of gold against your soul, says I’m better than you.”

Wow, Jared’s acting here is peak. I love it!

WAS THAT A STAR WARS REFERENCE FROM LUCIFER? “Such anger , young Skywalker”

Lucifer says “We’re two half’s made full , M.F.E.O.” When did Lucifer get all this slang? Is it like him taking a bit of Sam’s memories or something?

MFEO - I had to look it up , Made for Each other.

Also, Lucifer wants Sam happy.

Oh my Azaleas gang. Wait I’m still confused to why so many other were also fed demon blood for the plan then? If they knew it was Sam all along?

Chucks narration is killing me. I am killed.

“But they were never in fact homeless”

Why is Dean so.. Dean?

Is it bad that I feel Lucifer makes more sense? That no one can make “God” do anything.

Hahahahahah Dean.

I love that he’s doing it his way , and ofc he’ll give himself intro music.

“Hey , Ass-Butt” Iconic Castiel line.

“Castiel did you just Molotov my brother , with holy fire?”

“No one dicks with Michael but me” What the?

Bobby dies? :( (I know he’s there in later seasons)

“Sam it’s okay , I’m here , I’m not gonna leave you”

the Impala.

Wow. I loved that it wasn’t music , but just wind during that scene. It was wow.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean , I got him”

Did he take Michael in with him??? whaaaat?

Also , Sam’s look of fear before jumping. And then looking at Dean. And then falling in.

It reminds me of the scene where Dean is going to say yes , and then looks at Sam and says no.

Bobby is dead , Sammy is dead.

“Cas, are you god?”

oh Bobby is back too! :/

“What would you rather have Dean, Peace or Freedom?”

because he made a promise.

Did Chuck just disappear?

Uh? what?

[metalbrojack]

Might be getting into Def Leppard more tbh

These I found when I was looking for references

And the reference

[averagewriter-inthedark]

In The Name Of Love 💌 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Headcanon

Link to my TGM masterlist

Thank y’all so much for 900 followers!!! 🥹♥️ I appreciate all the love and support and can’t wait to share all my works with you lovely people 🥹 much more to come so stay tuned !!

Content Warnings: age gap (since LP was born in 1993 & probably canonically Bob was too, then lets imagine you were born in 1984-1985, also im basing this as though the setting for TGM is 2022 Instead of 2019), suggestive content, profanity, NSFW content below the cut. Also title of the song references a line in “pour some sugar on me” by Def Leppard which will be mentioned in this. Female!reader (she/her)

Bob falling in love with a woman older than him would look like:

Okay so envision you’re like 8 1/2 almost 9 ish years older than Bob & y’all didn’t meet until he was in his mid 20s—like roughly 26 and you were 35. By then he was already a Top Gun graduate and you were a civilian contractor who was very educated in astrophysics and aeronautical engineering, so it wasn’t a surprise when the school would call you back for some insight. You weren’t Bob’s instructor, in fact you didn’t formally meet him until the graduation ceremony where he accidentally bumped into you causing wine to spill on your dress.

“O-oh my gosh—I’m so sorry ma’am. I wasn’t paying attention—,” poor guy was embarrassed as hell and literally rushed to get napkins to help you. Thankfully your outfit was a simple, elegant black colored dress because if was fall so you tried to tell him it was okay and when y’all locked eyes Bob swore the Earth stopped spinning. Heat filled his veins, cheeks going bright red as he muttered a curse word before apologizing again—this time for his language. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life and the when he heard your voice, Bob felt like he could listen to it forever. Offering to replace your drink you followed Bob to the bar where you two fell into a conversation. That’s when you found out he was a WSO stationed at Lemoore and he graduated from the Naval Academy 5 years prior.

You pieced it together quickly you were quite a bit older than Bob—which was by almost a decade. At first it worried you when you started to feel attraction for him because most men in their 20s were typical bachelors and playboys who just wanted a quick fuck. They were immature, greedy, thought with the head between their legs and not the one attached to their necks. You dated playboys in college, and then in your 20s focused on building a career than having relationships. Now in your 30s you were hoping to find someone to share life experiences with and settle down. You never thought it would be with someone younger than you, but Bob seemed to be changing that opinion by the minute.

And who could blame you? In the few hours you two spent together at the ceremony & at The Hard Deck for the after party the attraction was so natural. Bob was handsome, intelligent, sweet, attentive, and hung onto every word you said. When you causally mentioned the year you graduated college and had been a Top Gun contractor for nearly a decade Bob didn’t even react. You kept doing that, mentioning details that were enough for him figure out you were much older than him. It was more so to see if he would get turned off and feel more drawn to flirting or conversing with someone closer to his age, but Bob never once gave you any indication that your age bothered him. When he excused himself at one point you thought that was it, that he had finally come to his senses or something, but then he returned with another glass of wine for you and water for him. “Why do you look so surprised?” “I…I thought you.. it’s stupid—I just thought you realized I was too old for you and would be better off with someone closer to your age.” “Forgive me, Y/n, if i’m being too forward but there’s no one else I’d rather be with right now. The age difference between us doesn’t bother me at all and I would love to continue getting to know you better if you let me. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I completely understand.”

In the beginning of your relationship with Bob, there was the feeling it wouldn’t work because of the age difference but within weeks your worries went away. You two were like perfect pieces to a puzzle, fitting so well you believed Bob was the person you’d been looking for. The WSO was very romantic when it came to you. Whatever your love language was, Bob was a natural at giving it whether it be physical touch, words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service or quality time. A big concern you had with dating a man younger than you was the idea of having to look after them like a mother would, but Bob never made you feel that way. You were his equal and Bob made sure you always felt that way. He was very mature, financially supported on his own with a great career, and could keep up with you in every way possible. Literally 😉

In Bob’s eyes, you were the definition of perfection. You were beautiful inside and out, insanely intelligent, witty, and made him laugh to the point of tears. Like you, Bob also had worries in the beginning. He thought you’d get bored of him, would think he was childish and were better off with someone your own age. But the more dates y’all went on and the weeks turning into months, Bob foresaw a future with you he was determined to have. He grew to love you so much that you being older was never something he thought of. Bob wanted to wake up every morning to you, fall asleep with you in his arms, go on long drives at night when neither of you could sleep, walk the beach, go to concerts of your favorite bands and artists, attend festivals and conventions. Have kids if that was what you wanted and simply grow old together.

Soon the whole age thing became more of a teasing lighthearted joke whenever you referenced something from the 80s/90s or he explained a popular meme you didn’t understand. Even when he proposed there was a joke somewhere in it, but again it was all in the name of love.

Speaking of in the name of love, we all know #Bobfucks and man’s definitely surprised you when y’all’s sex life was kicked into action. He loves when you call the shots and put him into place whenever y’all argue—boy does he get hard as a rock when you call him by his full name and wants you to take your anger/stress out on him—but Bob also knows how to take control….which you absolutely love. Remember you two are equals, but when it comes to the bedroom that’s when y’all can let fantasies play out and share them with each other. you are having to deal with a lot at work and being in charge of dumb people gets you pent up that when you come home you just want Bob to dominate you. And he sure as hell does with pleasure, but will do whatever you want him to. If you want it slow and sensual he’ll make love to you all night long….but if you want it fast and rough then don’t expect to walk the next day.

And Lord have mercy if a song you two enjoy fucking to comes onto the radio when y’all are driving. One time you were coming home from dinner when Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ blasted on 80s on 8 and you gave him that look….Bob literally pulled off to the side of the road where he fucked you right in the back seat until the song was over. You more than likely have more experience than him and can teach him new things, but don’t get it twisted, Bob will surprise you. Your favorite thing is when y’all go to banquets and stand on opposite sides, but stare at one another with teasing looks and gestures to see how long the other breaks. One time you were getting hit on by an older officer, who blatantly ignored the ring on your finger, and Bob swooped in after you gave him that look again ….. the officer heard your screams of pleasure when he passed the mens restroom on his way out.

Family and friends were surprised when they learned about y’all’s age gap. Everyone thought you guys were the same age and although they were shocked at first they long forgot about it and never once made comments that made you two feel insecure. Your family loved Bob and thought he was perfect for you. They were so happy when y’all got married and the same was for his family. They adored you and saw how their son was smitten with you that they always forgot you were older than him by some years. Bob did sometimes get playfully teased by his friends because they were like, “Dating an older woman, hot.” (If you got that reference pls let me know lmao.)

Like when you both got called back to Top Gun for the uranium mission where Bob was a candidate and you were the civilian contractor asked to run the calculations and tests to make sure everything was in order. At the Hard Deck the night you got in, Bob had arrived early because you had a meeting with Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick, which meant he got to meet the team before you. A lot of the team knew you from their time as students at Top Gun including Rooster, Phoenix, Payback, Hangman, and Coyote. You can bet they were all surprised to find out you and Bob were married, but a whole different reaction came the next day when Phoenix saw your class ring said the same college she attended and asked what year you graduated. The second you said 2006 some jaws dropped, snapping their glance to Bob with Hangman whistling as he smirked, “Damn, Baby on Board. It didn’t pass me to think you were into them older women. I’m a little jealous you managed to cuff the hottest contractor at North Island.” You simply rolled your eyes, made a witty comeback that had the others go ‘oooh,’ which in turn had Bob blush—not to mention you whispered something dirty in his ear to boost his confidence and remind him he was the only man for you.

You know, you thought when you entered your 30s single that it was going to be like that for the rest of your life if you didn’t find someone close in age or older who wanted the same things as you did. But that all changed when you met the sweet, adorable and lovable blue eyed man that was Robert Floyd. He changed your outlook on a lot of things, but most importantly that you anything is possible in the name of love.

………………

Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry

[ainulindaelynn]

Okay, so. Rules. Shuffle your On Repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.

Tagged by @krankittoeleven and @findusinaweek ❤️ Other people posting music is my favorite, so thank you! I promise I tried not to explain, but failed immediately, so....

Here we go:

I Will Come, Alpha Rev - Working through a character thought, okay?! 🙈

Overcome, Skott - thanks to @naariel's gorgeous art!

Would That I, Hozier

Meet Me In The Woods, Lord Huron - Halsinn😅

Old Pine, Ben Howard - Also Halsin

Autumn Town Leaves, Iron & Wine - kicking around a fic idea (also Halsin... It's almost all Halsin. I've gone off the deep end. I fought it. I really did, but the damn thing went down aragon/warg style... I have fallen over the cliff and here we are.)

As The Dawn Breaks, Richard Hawley - kicking around *another* fic idea

The Evening, Kodaline - Having OC thoughts thanks to @ithinkthiswasabadidea

You Might Not Like Her, Maddie Zahm - Okay, my baby sister sent me this last week in reference to herself and I legit sobbed. So many exacts. I wish I could explain how much relief the (shitty) protective older sibling in me feels about it. Life is a trip, man... Sometimes in really beautiful ways. She's my fucking hero.

Foolin', Def Leppard - Having a moment (month) with them, but this song extra.

Trying not to double tag this time and pulling more from side blog interaction. Zero pressure, always :)

@jiiigen @ithinkthiswasabadidea @newengland-shrike @two-hands-toward-the-sun @captainkaltar @anosrepasi @2ndhandembarrassmentt @childrenofeden @justalittlerayofpitchblack @curioussubjects

[eddiezpaghetti]

So uhhhh. I never formally made the announcement.

Coming in at a WHOPPING 214.9k words, my Celebrity-Eddie-comes-back-to-Hawkins-to-save-Steve-from-getting-Vecna'd fic is finally finished.

It's got Steddie. It's got Byler. It's got so much platonic Steve-Mike interaction it'll make your head spin. It has GRATUITIOUS '80s music references and Eddie humoring Steve when he calls Def Leppard heavy because at least he's trying.

So read it.

[joes-sha-la-la-la-girl]

When Love and Hate Collide: Chapter 15

Series Masterlist

Warning: Reference to smut

It had been a few weeks since Y/N and Joe first slept together and things were going great. Def Leppard had restarted their tour in America and they were about halfway through the American leg before they started in Canada. 

Joe and Y/N had taken to sharing a hotel room, it was pointless booking two when one of them would always find themselves in the other’s room every night. The rest of the band teased them relentlessly, but deep down they were all happy for Joe. He had been miserable for so long and now he had found someone else, someone who could be good for him. 

The couple didn't really put a label on anything yet. They both knew that they would eventually end up in a committed relationship with each other, but Joe wasn’t ready for that yet and Y/N respected that.

One morning the pair of them lied in bed naked. Joe had his arm wrapped around Y/N as she cuddled into his side. Both of them were content with the silence that enveloped them. Joe ran his fingers up and down her spine.

“Love?” Joe spoke, breaking the peace between them, not that either of them minded.

“Mmm.” Y/N hummed in response. Joe smiled down at her sleepy expression.

“We have a ten-day break in a few days..” Joe started before trailing off. Y/N opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Yeah..”

“Well, I was wondering if you would like to go on a proper date with me. Not that what we’ve been doing isn’t great.” Joe wiggled his eyebrows cheekily.

Y/N laughed softly. “I would love to.” 

Joe pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. Smiling contently, Y/N kissed Joe’s bare chest, allowing his soft breathing to lull her back to sleep.

*

It wasn’t long after Y/N drifted off that they both had to wake up properly for the day. They had a day of travelling that day from Arkansas to Texas. It was about an eight hour drive so they had to leave early and they would all be sleeping on the bus that night. 

Everyone met downstairs for breakfast. Moving towards the dining room, Sav spoke up.

“Shame you have to spend your birthday travelling Joe.” Sav patted the man on the shoulder.

This caught Y/N’s attention. Snapping her head up, she saw Joe’s eyes go wide.

“Your what?” She questioned.

“His birthday?” Sav looked between the pair. “He did tell you right?”

“No he didn’t.” Y/N gave Joe a pointed look. Joe just let out a sigh.

“I knew we’d be travelling and wouldn’t be able to do anything so I didn’t bother to mention it.” Joe told her. It wasn’t like he didn’t like his birthday being celebrated but there wasn’t much that could be done.

“You still should have told me Joe.” Y/N spoke softly, making sure Joe knew that she wasn’t really annoyed that he hadn’t told her.

The subject changed as breakfast was served and then the group went to check out before loading back onto the tour bus.

“Reckon we should get Joe a cake or something?” Y/N asked Sav and Rick as she sat down near them. Joe was using the bathroom so he couldn’t hear her.

“I suppose so.” Rick agreed and Sav nodded telling Y/N Joe’s favourite flavour.  At the rest stop Y/N would try and find a cake that Joe would like. He was right, there wasn’t much that could be done on a bus but the least they could do was get him a cake.

*

Eventually, they came to a rest stop and the group all got off of the bus to stretch their legs. It wasn’t a long break but just enough for Y/N to find what she was looking for. Sav offered to help her find one and she took him up on the offer. Quickly they found a fairly big but still modest cake, pre-decorated and they bought it before hiding it in a bag and taking it back on the bus with them.

As they were staying on the bus that night, they would all be eating take-out for dinner. Y/N decided it would be best to do the cake after they got back to the bus. 

When they did get back, all temporarily full, Sav and Y/N shared a look before getting up to the little kitchenette, earning a curious look from Joe. They prepared the shop-bought cake on a paper plate and brought it out to Joe. The rest of the band caught on and despite them all being musicians, they sang a terrible rendition of happy birthday, making Joe laugh. 

They shared the cake out between them before they all went to bed for the night. Just as Y/N settled in, she felt a weight behind her. Turning over in the small space she had, she saw Joe’s beam. Grinning back, she moved as far back as she could to allow Joe in before moving to half lay on top of him, making them both slightly more comfortable.

“Thank you for this evening.” Joe whispered.

“I didn’t do much.” Y/N told him.

“That might be true but you didn’t have to do anything. I really appreciate it.” 

Y/N just leaned in to kiss him, Joe moaned out in surprise but he quickly melted into it.

“Can you two not shag on the bus!” Phil shouted from somewhere above them, earning giggles, yes giggles, from the rest of the band and causing the couple to pull apart.

*

They were officially on their ten-day break, which meant Joe and Y/N were going on their first date. They had previously travelled from Texas to Florida as that was where the next show was. 

Joe had decided to take Y/N somewhere nice for their first official date. Y/N didn’t have any clothes ‘date-worthy’ with her so she decided to go shopping that afternoon for one. 

It took her a while but eventually she found a nice red dress that had a short skirt and a low neckline. Nothing dramatically revealing but at the same time, Joe would definitely know what was underneath. It wasn’t something that Y/N would usually wear but she knew that night would be special.

Paying for the dress, Y/N left the shop and went back to the hotel to get ready. When she got back, she realised that Joe wasn’t in their room so went to the bathroom to start getting ready. About ten minutes before they were due to leave, Joe came back to their hotel room, dressed in a shirt and trousers. He had the top few buttons undone which left Y/N nearly drooling.

Joe looked her up and down and couldn’t believe his eyes. She looked absolutely stunning. He hadn’t realised how long he had been staring at her for.

“This okay?” She asked him as she watched his eyes travel down her body.

“Uhh.. yeah. It’s umm… perfect.” Joe struggled to find any words. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on a minute, can you just help me put on my necklace?” Y/N asked him. He nodded and walked behind her. She passed him her necklace over her shoulder and he wrapped it around her neck and fastened it. He let his fingers linger for a moment, as he moved his lips down and kissed the back of her neck, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. 

“Gorgeous.”

The pair of them walked to the door hand in hand and made their way downstairs. It was only a short walk from the hotel to the restaurant and the weather was nice so the two enjoyed a peaceful stroll. 

When they got there they were quickly seated in a private area, something Y/N assumed was due to his celebrity status, not that she minded having some alone time with Joe. 

*

Dinner went wonderfully. The pair of them spoke about their childhoods and anything else that came to mind. It was like they had known each other for years. When they finished, Joe paid the check, despite Y/N’s protests to at least go halves and they left, walking hand in hand back to the hotel. 

As they made their way back up to their room, Joe couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

“I was wondering..” Joe started breathlessly as he struggled to keep his lips off of Y/N’s neck for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to make this a more permanent thing, y’know…?” Joe trailed off, feeling like he wasn’t asking her right. Luckily Y/N knew what he meant.

“I would love to make this official with you.”

The two stumbled through their hotel room door, lips attached and ready for a long night together.

[phenomenologically]

As "Ameriican Requiem" opens with gospel-inspired elegance, the melody will quickly switch into -- what will become -- Cowboy Carter's signature acoustic twang. As the melody turns with synth sparkle, you realize Beyoncé has provided us her new 'pledge of allegiance': "For things to stay the same, they need to change again." Amen!

The gospel -- in terms of scripture, rather than musicality -- captures my attention here. Perhaps I've been listening to too much old-school blues, but Cowboy Carter's biblical references provide through-lines to the heart of Southern Black country and blues music. This isn't to say that this is Beyoncé's first time bringing God into her lyrics; but rather, the spiritual exclamations and jubilations of Cowboy Carter seem more fully realized when married with the sounds of blues' forebearers like Blind Joe Taggart ("God's Gonna Separate the Wheat from the Tares); Sister Rosetta Tharpe ("Precious Lord, Take My Hand"); and Arizona Dranes ("My Soul is a Witness"). These parallels can be drawn through acoustics, through the embellished runs Beyoncé uses to emphasize milestones within her songs' narratives (think of the octave change on "early age" in verse one and the bridge of "16 Carriages").

The prose-like approach to personal narrative throughout the album also serves the connection to late-1800s/early-1900s emerging blues, "negro spirituals," and country songs from Black artists of the era. While Beyoncé has drawn her life experiences plainly into her discography prior to Cowboy Carter, the styling of the album feels particularly attuned to imparting heartfelt, genuine lived experience.

In "Protector," Beyoncé soothes her children (in the song, Rumi's voice is sampled) with promises of protection, projection, and "Liftin' you up, so you will be raised." The content here reminded me, by contrast, of the well-loved blues anthem "(Sometimes I Feel Like A) Motherless Child" covered by icons like Sister Rosetta Tharpe, multi-hyphenate Paul Robeson, and folk-revivalist Odetta. While the singer of "Motherless Child" laments their lonesomeness, their isolation "a long ways from home," Cowboy Carter subverts this relationship and ensures that she will "lead you down that road if you lose your way." This points to another relationship between the album and its possible early blues-inspirations: "For things to stay the same, they need to change again."

Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter seeks to establish a new dialogue between Southern Black parent and child; husband and wife; community and individual. "Texas Hold 'Em" clarifies my point. Here, Beyoncé invites her muse to "lay your cards down," a phrase relevant to cardgames, yes, but one that's also used figuratively to indicate succumbing to vulnerability. In the pre-chorus after verse one she says, "I can't read your mind," indicating that while her partner may be connecting with her physically (on "the floor"), he still needs to "lay [his] cards down" so they can "work [their problems] in the middle," rather than side-stepping and dancing around them.

Her continual request to "pour some sugar on me," while immediately recognizable as a possible allegory of Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me," the line reminds me more of "the Empress of Blues" Bessie Smith's "Need a Little Sugar in My Bowl." In the song, Bessie pleads for "some good man to tell my troubles to," -- laying her cards on the table. Interestingly, both Bessie Smith's "Need a Little Sugar," and Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar," carry a... frisky, let's say, subtext. I would be remiss to say that "Texas Hold 'Em," is entirely about breaking down emotional barriers between partners, without recognizing there's a lot of physical barriers Beyoncé tangles with as well. However, ultimately "Texas Hold 'Em" helps to elucidate that larger theme of the album: starting hard conversations among partners and families, and reasserting love and forgiveness above all.

The empassioned declarations of love and support -- to daughters, to husbands, to mothers and fathers -- are peppered throughout the album. "Bodyguard," "My Rose," "Alligator Tears," and "II Hands II Heaven," provide Beyoncé the platform to express these wishes singularly; while duets like "II Most Wanted" with Miley Cyrus more explicitly illustrate how important unhindered commitment in partnership is to Beyoncé. And, once again, these themes between romantic/sexual/lifelong partners mirrors much of the content of early blues, particularly (to me) the work of Sippie Wallace: the inspiration of blues/rock artist Bonnie Rait.

For instance, Sippie's biggest hit, "I'm a Mighty Tight Woman," recounts her wishes for a good man who will make her happy, "and I will make him happy too." She describes herself as a "jack of all trades," able to support her "pretty papa" in any wish or struggle -- mirroring some of the promises Beyoncé extends in "Bodyguard," for example. Much of Sippie's discography presents cynical (but wise, perhaps) views on marriage. Her song "Women Be Wise" advises married women, "don't advertise your man," as desperate women will come looking for him: a similar case as Cowboy Carter's "Jolene." Yet, once again, Beyoncé reaffirms her pledge of change by telling Jolene, "I'ma stand by him, he gon' stand by me." She doesn't relent to the "inevitability" of female competition, of unfaithfulness. She reaffirms wholeheartedly the trust in her partnership, and the value they add to one another. This is an evolution on Sippie's narrative, in which "Women Be Wise," ends with her own admission of guilt: "Lord honey, I just might sneek up and try to make him mine." Rather than committing to a partnership, she too moves on to the next.

I would be remiss to publish this review without addressing "Ya Ya." Here, Beyoncé partners with a soulful chorus to opine on American realities: sex, God, and shady insurance companies. The narrative retelling of these moments intercut with a toe-tapping "ya ya ya" chorus brought to mind lawyer, professional football player, activist, singer and actor (that's what I meant by multi-hyphenate) Paul Robeson. His famous rendition of "Joe Hill," details the 1914 murder of union organizer and communist Joe Hill. Parallel to the repetition of "ya-ya" and "la-la" through Cowboy Carter, Robeson returns again and again to Joe Hill's empowering response to questions of his death: "'I never died,' says he." And similar to Beyoncé's questioning of "workin' time and a half for half the pay," so too is "Joe Hill" questioning the working class: if your leader dies, does your cause die? Does your need for change die? No, "they organized." For this, Beyoncé prays "that he don't crash," but similarly, that her hardworking man "gotta keep the faith." Now -- "Ya Ya" is not a call to union organization and worker's empowerment as "Joe Hill," was. But, it's an important touchstone onto my earlier point: that Cowboy Carter is calling not only for changes within partnership and family, but larger communities and perhaps, American society at-large. To recognize the shared struggle, faith, and love of delicious cheesy grits that has always connected working-class Americans -- rather than superficial categories pre-determined by melanation -- despite a bloody "History that can't be erased."

I could unpack many, many more connections between Cowboy Carter and the blues genre, but I'll end on the poignant necessity of "Amen." Here, Beyoncé returns to the hook of "Ameriican Requiem,": Can you see her point? Can you hear her history? "Looker-there, looker there now," she croons in the opening track. "Have mercy on me," she belts at the close. "Amen," brings us visions of the present South; meticulously upkept plantation homes "built with blood and bone," though the homes of the enslaved Americans who built them have "crumbled." Civil War and Colonial-era monuments standing above struggling neighborhoods, beautifying the "lies of stone."

"For things to stay the same, they need to change again." For freedom to remain intact, to remain the foundation of "country," it must evolve to new heights, new communities, new dialogues. To "purify our Father's sins," requires not only a reckoning with the self, but a reckoning with the greater culture. It means not only shamelessly extending love and support to those closest to you, but recognizing the opportunities to spark love with those farthest from -- or most dissimilar to -- you.

Favorite Tracks:

"16 Carriages"

"Alligator Tears"

"Ya Ya"

[hellcheer-heaven]

Slippery When Wet

Chrissy and Eddie are all set to go see Bon Jovi in Indianapolis. She’s beyond excited to see one of her favorite bands. Eddie is happy that he’s going to a concert with her, but why did it have to Bon Jovi? Out of all the bands that are touring right now, why them?

The trip to Indianapolis would be another hour or so, and Chrissy was having the time of her life belting it to Bon Jovi’s Livin’ On a Prayer. When the band had listed the cities that they would be touring months ago on MTV, she practically begged Eddie to get tickets. Her wish was his command and he made sure to wait at the ticket booth at Starcourt. He wasn’t at all surprised by the long line, this was just customary when it came to the experience of going to concerts. Whether if he was going on his own or with his friends, going to see a group of talented musicians was one of the few things in his young life that made things feel a little easier. From Alice Cooper to Ozzy to Metallica and hopefully more in the near future. Still as much as he could appreciate rock and metal, Bon Jovi was the last band that he ever wanted to see.

Bon Jovi, Poison, Cinderella, and Def Leppard were the bane of his existence. Oh hell, even Mötley Crüe’s music sounded so dumb to him. He tried to give each of these bands and others a chance, but if their discography didn’t click, that was it. As soon as one of those bands played on the radio, his lightening fast reflexes turned to a different station and it was nice to not have to hear them. Of course that all changed once he learned that Chrissy adored Bon Jovi, especially if she ever saw one of their music videos or listened to Jon answering questions during an interview.

Chrissy flipped her locks and sang into her imaginary microphone. “Whoa, we’re half way there! Whoa oh, livin’ on a prayer! Take my hand- Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I know, and we’ll hear it at the concert pretty soon,” Eddie retorted as he ejected the cassette tape.

She pouted, “Eddie come on I want to finish it.”

He shook his head, “Nope, I want to take a break from Jon and listen to Ozzy.”

She crossed her arms, blue eyes glaring at him, “That’s not fair! We listen to your stuff all the time and I don’t complain about it.”

His hand was prepared to put in the tape, but Chrissy was quick to snatch it back. “Eddie I want to finish my song first.”

He breathed slowly through his nostrils, “No way, we’re gonna hear every one of his songs tonight. Besides you’ve been playing his music nonstop this whole week.”

“So?”

Eddie’s brow rose, “Chrissy, look, you gotta understand something about rock and metal music.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated at his tone, “Oh no Eddie, not another speech. Please not tonight-”

“No, I’m totally serious this time. Bon Jovi isn’t metal, they’re not rock. They’re just a bunch of pretty boys posing as rockstars. Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, Heart, Jimi Hendrix, and The Who; they’re actual rockstars. Hell, Bruce Springsteen is a rockstar!”

She scoffed before speaking up, “Eddie did you take something before we left?”

“No Chrissy, I didn’t take anything. It’s just… I mean…”

She leaned over, “Yeah? Go on.”

How on earth was he going to put this in words? Chrissy’s cold glare was like an ice pick to his chest. He gently gnawed the inside of his cheek. Well Munson, you got yourself into this mess, you’re gonna have to get yourself out.

“Well? I’m waiting Edward.”

Ooh, referring to him by his birth name. She would only ever call him that when she was very much in love or when she was annoyed with him. The former was certainly not the case. His stomach felt as if it were doing back flips while his heart pounded against his rib cage. He felt so stupid! There was no way she would take him seriously after this.

He sighed, “I just… don’t like him, okay?”

“You’ve already made it clear that you don’t like their music. What else is new?”

He tapped his finger tips on the steering wheel, “No baby, I mean… I don’t like Jon.”

She listened and considered his answer, the gears in her mind turning until something had clicked. Her eyes widened as a little smirk pulled at her pink lips, “Are you jealous?”

His cheek felt so hot, his voice going up just a bit “No! No, no, no, no! Absolutely not!”

She snickered, “Oh my god, you’re jealous Eddie. You’re actually jealous.”

He tried to sound mad, but he couldn’t get through as she giggled. “I am not jealous of that stupid pretty boy! You’re crazy! Seriously it’s not funny.”

Her giggles turned into snorts, trying her best to cool the engines of her laughter, “I mean, it kinda of is. Just a little.”

He rolled his eyes, slowly letting out a long drawn out sigh through his nose again, as he gripped the steering wheel. “Whatever, just put your music back in. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He handed back Slippery When Wet and she held it in her hands. Her eyes went from the plastic tape to his face. He seemed defeated, his eyes focusing on the road ahead. They stopped at another red light, the silence was deafening, not even the outside noise of cars passing by on the other side of the road could be heard. Chrissy reached out and brushed back a curly lock behind his ear.

“Eddie, I love you baby.”

He believed her, she would never lie about admitting how she felt about him. And she was right, he was jealous and he felt so idiotic for feeling like this. Who was he to tell Chrissy what she could and couldn’t listen to?

“I know.” He looked at her loving smile, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

She bent forward and pecked his cheek, “I’m sorry for yelling too. And maybe I could take it easy with Bon Jovi for a bit.”

He smiled back at her, “No sweetheart, you play whatever you want to.”

She tugged at her blouse, erasing the wrinkles from the material with her newly painted black nails. He fished through his locks, digits lightly scratching at his scalp. He wanted to say something else, but the words wouldn’t come to him. Chrissy thought for a moment and decided to break the silence.

She placed a supportive hand on his thigh, “You know Eddie, if the world ended tomorrow and I had to choose between him and you: I would spend my last day with you.”

He almost didn’t believe that to be the case, still he was curious, “You would?”

“Absolutely. Pretty boy rockstars like him are a dime a dozen. I want you, just you. Only you.”

His heart felt as if it was going to burst, his eyes starting to get a little watery. Eddie wiped away the tears before the light changed. And so they continued to follow the band of vehicles on the highway, passing by the next series of exits until they found the one that they needed.

The luminous spot lights hit the skies in a heavenly glow, the traffic was becoming denser the closer they got. Thank god they left when they did, otherwise they would have missed the show. Getting a parking spot was a bit hellish to find in the giant city parking structure, but they were lucky to find one. As they made their way to the stadium, Eddie had noticed that there were a number of young women in groups ranging from two to five to ten, possibly even more if they were waiting for the rest of their party. A fair amount of guys were here as well, but he wondered if they were in the same boat as him; still it was possible that maybe they were fans as well. He was so used to seeing guys at concerts that forgot that women enjoy attending as well.

Chrissy was all starry eyed and filled with glee, clinging tightly to Eddie’s arm. “Oh my god! I can’t believe it! We’re actually going to see them!”

He tried to sound enthusiastic, he didn’t want to ruin this night for her, “Yeah, this is gonna be fun.” A bold faced lie, but still there were one or two songs that he liked. Yet he couldn’t let Chrissy know about that, at least not yet.

“Eddie, I can’t thank you enough. My first real concert, and I get to spend it with you.”

He stopped walking, “You’ve never been to a concert?”

The secret was out, Chrissy gulped, her cheeks glowing, “Well, I mean… my folks would take me to those um, religious concerts that preached about jesus.” She rubbed the back of her neck, “I wasn’t allowed to go to actual concerts Eddie. My parents, well my mom, told me that girls who go to concerts are bad. And they’ll be corrupted by the ‘devil’s music’ or something stupid like that.”

Eddie couldn’t help himself when he busted out laughing, “Shit, can our town by anymore like Footloose?”

“No, god I hope not,” she snuggled into his chest as she came in for a hug. “Do you think I’m a poser Eddie?”

Eddie pecked her forehead, “No Chrissy. Tonight’s gonna be a great night. And you what? I’m glad you told me that this your first concert.” He held her close, brushing through her long strands of strawberry blonde hair. “I just want you to be happy and enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you Eddie.”

He took her hand, “Come on, let’s get you a t-shirt!”

“Right now?”

Right, she doesn’t know the basics of concert expectations and etiquette, “Absolutely, if we wait until after the show, then we’ll never get one. Let’s get you a poster too!”

The lines went along, everyone showed their tickets and made themselves comfortable within the impending building. As soon as they made it past security, Eddie hurried to get her to one of the merchandise booths. She picked out a white shirt with a photo of Jon taken from the shoulders up. His handsome smile and piercing blue eyes captivated her, hair beautifully quaffed with about half to a full can of hairspray, and he was adorned with a black button up. Two buttons were left open, two necklaces rested upon his hairy chest. He stood before a hazy purple and magenta background, with the band’s name in bright red letters above his hair. She picked out a poster of the band looking at the viewer, all of them gorgeously posed wearing the most bright and colorful clothing that most bands like them had worn nowadays. Jon being the front man presented the goods, his shirt unbuttoned and his face, like the rest of the members, made him look so enticing.

Chrissy hugged and kissed Eddie to no end, the merchant having to let them know that it was time for them to head to the next available register. With the time that they had left, they were able to find the bathroom and grab something to eat. Eddie offered Chrissy sips of his beer as they looked for their seats. To her surprise, Eddie was able to get them pretty close to the stage. The only thing standing between the audience and the stage was the protective barrier and the security guards.

He draped his arm around her, “What do you think? Pretty rad huh?”

Her eyes examined the small amount of feet between the two of them and the platform. Her cheeks began to glow a shade of light pink, her heart beating a little quicker. Her very first concert with the love of her life, and she was that close. She was going to remember this night forever.

“Thank you so much Eddie.”

He wrapped her up, “Anything for you baby.”

The concert was truly an incredible display of lights and music. Each member contributing their part to make it as spectacular as ever. For every city that they visited, each performance was going to leave the audience in awe. Chrissy’s eyes, like everyone around and behind her, focused on the group giving it their all. The booming vibrations travelled from the soles of her shoes to the top of her head, making her feel as if she were on a never ending rollercoaster of sound. She didn’t realize or notice just how loudly she screamed when Bon Jovi stepped out in all their glory. Everyone was beyond ecstatic to see the boys from New Jersey take on Indianapolis. Eddie may not have been a fan, but seeing Chrissy so happy made his heart flutter. He couldn’t hide his smile and his joy when he watched the way she sang and danced.

The songs had changed from bombastic and lively to slow and romantic. Eddie and Chrissy held one another during the band’s gentler tunes, pressing her cheek into his shirt and smiling as Jon’s vocals made beautiful music with the microphone. Eddie softly cradled the back of her head, pressing his lips to her forehead. Her tears of happiness cascaded down her face, closing her eyes as she hummed at the feeling of Eddie’s lips on her skin and Jon’s voice in her ears. Jon had then addressed the audience, talking about how great it was to be back in Indianapolis, how the tour has been, and how beautiful the ladies were; creating the loudest collective of ear piercing screams that Eddie has ever heard.

Jon flashed his boyish grin, “I bet every one here is having a pretty good time right now.” His eyes went down, blue ocean met blue skies, two pairs of smiles meeting in the middle. “You, yeah you Red, I’ve been keeping my eyes on you babe.”

Eddie’s hands protectively tightened around Chrissy, yet she couldn’t help but stare in awe. Slowly fluttering her lashes and he did the same. Eddie’s lips tightened, a part of him wanted to toss his beer at the singer, but he didn’t want to spoil this moment for her.

Jon stepped closer to the edge, whispering to one of the body guards before looking back at her, “How about you come on up here? You wanna do that?”

Chrissy was already at the barrier before the security guard offered to help her through. Eddie felt his heart sink, this can’t be happening! Chrissy bit her bottom lip as the audience cheered for her, the guard escorting her backstage and over to Jon.

He wrapped his arm around her, “What’s your name honey?”

“Chrissy!” She answered enthusiastically, vibrating with glee.

Jon chuckled, “Chrissy, what a pretty name. You havin’ fun?”

She nodded quickly, she honestly couldn’t believe that she was actually standing beside him. My god he’s so handsome! She felt so lost in those hypnotic eyes of his. A pleasant shiver crawling up her spine as his thumb caressed her shoulder.

She leaned into the mic, “This is my first concert ever! And I’m here with my boyfriend Eddie! Hi Eddie!” Chrissy waved at him, and he had to force a smile as he waved back. “He’s the best! He got us tickets as a graduation present!”

His hand made its way to her hip, “Oh yeah? What school?”

“Hawkins High!”

Jon’s side smirk was still evident, “Oh, high school sweethearts. Just like me and Dorothea.” Jon pointed to Eddie, more or less aware of the seething hatred coming from the metal head. “Eddie, guys like us are lucky to have ladies like them in our lives. Treat her right man.”

In any other context, the phrase “Treat her right” would have sounded great from Wayne or Steve; hearing it from the pretty boy front man sounded like a joke and Eddie was certainly not laughing. He could feel his eye twitch, he was more than ready to hop over the barrier and punch that little shit right in the mouth. Unfortunately Jon’s mouth aimed straight for Chrissy’s lips, thankfully she turned away in time and was gifted with a single peck on her cheek. The stadium roared with applause, Chrissy felt that if she died right there she would be a happy woman; but the clock was still ticking for her.

Jon was about offer another, but she was already making her way off the stage with the guard. She turned back and gave him a wave and blew a little kiss to him before following the large man back and regrouping with Eddie. That desire to fight him was still present, but having Chrissy hold him tightly allowed for that need to slowly, very slowly dissipate.

Jon bowed before his adoring fans, giving his bed room eyes to her once more before standing tall. “Alright, let’s give it up for Chrissy and Eddie everyone!”

After everyone applauded them, the lights dimmed low and they started up their next song. The pounding of the drums, followed by the wailing of the guitar, mixed with the melancholic bass, and finally the haunting vocals of the lead. It’s was one of Chrissy’s favorites (and Eddie’s as well): Never Say Goodbye. As the chorus was sung, Chrissy looked up and held Eddie’s face. Her thumbs drawing little circles upon the apples of his cheeks. Tears began to flow once more, her smile as radiant as the moonlight. He couldn’t stop his own tears from falling, his hands traveling along her back, one making base at the nape of her neck. One kiss is all they shared, the music and the crowd were muffled in that moment. The world had stopped, time was no longer present. All they could touch, hear, smell, and taste were each other. Lips locked in the kind of embrace that could only ever be written in a romance novel. The departure from one another was slow and steady, a tiny line of saliva still connecting them as they opened their eyes. There it was, his smile so full of wonder. Her smile was filled with hope.

The last few numbers were played and then the encore. The band stood proudly before the adoring crowd, standing side by side and giving them a bow. Waves and blown kisses were given before they made their way backstage. The real fun was set to begin in the dressing room and all they had to do was play the waiting game. The more ardent and dedicated fans were invited to party with the boys. Everything was prepared: Booze, cigarettes, weed, and condoms. Jon’s only poison for the night was a bottle of beer. He had a good laugh with Richie, discussing how they had another successful concert in the bag. Once they were ready, security brought back a group of excited fans more than willing to spend the evening with them. The band mates whispered amongst themselves, already deciding who they wanted. Jon’s eyes looked at the line up, his smile fading momentarily. Where did she go?

The old van followed slowly through the busy traffic. Chrissy was trying to fight the need to sleep, her mind replaying everything that she experienced tonight. She couldn’t stop talking about how amazing the concert was. Eddie smiled, he remembers how he felt when he went to his first concert with Wayne. The same amount of enthusiasm and passion was all there.

“I’m glad you had fun Chrissy,” he noted, taking her hand and kissing it. “It’s gonna be a while before we get home, try to get some sleep.”

She giggled, “I can’t Eddie! I’m just so happy!”

“Trust me, getting a little shut eye is necessary,” he stated calmly.

Chrissy was about to speak, but a yawn tumbled out first, “But I’m… not… tired. I’m wide awake… Eddie.”

Eddie batted his lashes, “Just close your eyes for a few minutes baby.”

She slowly nodded, another yawn soon followed, “Ok, just a few minutes.”

He looked and saw that she was out like a light some moments later. Eddie reached around and grabbed an old blanket, spreading it out and tucking her in. Chrissy shifted a bit in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the warmth of the material. Eddie’s eyes were focused on the road ahead, the busyness of the traffic had eventually calmed down. Within a matter of miles, more and more cars made their way off of the highway and main road. The world had changed as Eddie continued to drive, greeted by the familiar stretch of land decorated with corn fields and old trees. He wasn’t sure what time it was, all he knew was that in the wee small hours of the morning, the stars looked as bright as ever. The moonlight illuminating the dashboard, his hands, and Chrissy’s sleeping form.

Uncle Wayne was visiting a friend that night, so they had the place to themselves. Eddie unbuckled her and kept the blanket securely wrapped around Chrissy. Carrying her inside and easing her onto his bed. He bent down and kissed her lips once more before he locked the front door and removed his shoes. Chrissy’s footwear was next, easily slipping them off and placing them aside. He grabbed himself another blanket and snuggled close to his sleeping beauty. Holding her close and playing with the loose strands of hair.

“Edward…” she mumbled.

His whisper quiet voice rang softly in her ears, “Say goodbye. Never say goodbye. Holdin’ on, we gotta try. Holdin’ on to never say goodbye.”

[make-me-your-animal]

Okay so I'm going to a concert with a ex coworkers husband. He invited me and told me his wife just doesn't want to go. Now he gifted me a def leppard shirt. He also asked if I would think about going to another concert with him. Then he referred to me as his punk rock girl(wrong on a few levels but) I'm getting alittle wigged out. Am I being over dramatic or would you be alittle suspicious

[eyesofglitter]

FULL   NAME. gionna jene daddio

NICKNAME(S). gio, daddio, daddy, jene, olivia, livvy

AGE. 29

DATE   OF   BIRTH. june 9, 1994

HOMETOWN. morristown, new jersey

NATIONALITY. italian american

GENDER. female

PRONOUNS. she/her

SEXUAL  /  ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. pansexual / too romantic for her own good

RELIGION. no real preference

OCCUPATION(S). soap maker, farmer, wedding crasher, bad driver, and professional wrestler.

LANGUAGES   SPOKEN. english and basic italian

TATTOOS. riott squad’s anniversary date on the back of her neck

SCARS. faded scar along her thigh where she needed stitches, smaller littered around her body from being a tomboy as a child and daredevil during her harley quinn era of jumping off of things.

SLEEPING   HABITS. she’ll sleep when she’s dead

EMOTIONAL   STABILITY. just keep her caffeinated and there won’t be issues. watch out when there’s a full moon though.

ALCOHOL   USE. occasionally but for reference as to why she shouldn’t find total divas where she spills a vase filled with alcohol. 🙂🙃

POSITIVE   TRAITS. ambitious, connected and vibrant.

NEGATIVE   TRAITS. annoying, loud, obsessive

FEARS. not leaving a legacy her family can be proud of her for, being forgotten, never improving her craft

HOBBIES. creating new items for shoplivmore, baking and cooking, taking care of her farm and animals, using her home gym and ring to continue elevating her skills and move set

HABITS. loudly laughing and obnoxiously when nervous, pouting her lips out for no reason, pushing up her glasses constantly, swinging her legs while sitting somewhere her feet can’t touch. quadruple texting if she’s into the conversation, twitching her nose

FAVORITE   WEATHER. it depends on the season, during fall a nice gloomy day so she can snuggle up with a horror movie or during spring getting under the bright sun to swing on the large swing hung beneath the large tree on her property.

FAVORITE   COLOR. the rainbow honestly, all colors are gorgeous in her eyes

FAVORITE   INSTRUMENT. loves a good guitar solo

FAVORITE   BEVERAGE. the pink drink or medicine ball from starbucks

FAVORITE   FOOD. put it in front of her and she’ll eat it. just don’t put eggs or dairy in front of her !

FAVORITE   ANIMAL. she is the animal whisperer

FAVORITE  SONG. pour some sugar on me - def leppard

FAVORITE  MOVIE. child’s play, obviously !

BIOGRAPHY.

forced to slow down was worse than the pain that radiated from her shoulder. what was that? was she able to sit still? she hasn’t been still since … well, never, unless you count when she was listening to stories being shared from a locker room veteran. even then her legs were moving in some way, it was just how she was. perhaps the excess sugar of needing several cups of coffee a day. how? grabbing one only to leave it and forget thus needing an entirely new cup just to repeat the cycle. while the animals and farm needed more attention than she had time to give being pulled in what felt like a billion different directions.

“i can do this. i can do this. no, no i can’t.”

peripherals glancing towards the suspect in question, her own shoulder with a pointed exhale. it wasn’t the fact that she was soon to be on “vacation” time; it was the simple fact that she would be missing out on various opportunities within the women’s division. the very division she would have to prove herself in once she returned, yet again. always the underdog, this time she was far more hungry than she had ever been. her coined term would mean something much more this go around. watch me.