#if the baby's a boy they name him ronnie

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Can I request a fluffy Eddie × Chrissy long fic where it's Christmas and they are having a great time at their home and opening presents and just when Eddie thinks that they have finished opening presents, Chrissy says that there is one more for him and that she has to go get it. Chrissy leaves the room for a second and comes back with a wrapped box and Eddie looks at her confused and asks her what it is and she tells him he's going to have to open it and see. Eddie notices that she seems nervous and slowly opens it and when he does, inside is a positive pregnancy test and a sonagram picture and a little onesie is inside that says Daddy’s Little Rockstar ❤️on it?

"Ta-Da! I present to you the famous Munson Family Christmas Tree Pancakes! Now, with extra sprinkles and syrup!" Eddie sat the plate of sugar in front of his fiancé with a grin, joining her on the couch in front of their small Christmas tree. It was still dark out despite being almost eight am.

"Ugh, babe, it's too early for this much sugar." Chrissy giggled as she looked over the red and green gooey mess Eddie laid before her. "Are your famous pancakes always this sweet?"

"Yep. Just the way you are." Eddie placed a quick kiss on Chrissy's cheek as he said this. "Wayne used to make these for me every Christmas morning when I was little. At first, I think he just did it to cheer me up when dad went back to prison. But then it became a tradition. And I will be extremely offended if you don't eat my foody embodiment of love." With the roll of her eyes, Chrissy grabbed the fork Eddie was holding out and scooped some of the pancake in her mouth. She paused, slowly taking another bite before letting out a pleased noise.

"Not bad. Although, I think I feel a new cavity forming. Think you used enough sugar?"

"You can never use too much sugar on Christmas." Eddie replied as his leg bounced excitedly. He kept sending side glances to the small pile of gifts under the tree less than a foot away. She didn't have to be psychic to know what he wanted as she quickly set her plate aside and pulled out a gift wrapped in light gray paper.

"Ready to open presents?"

"Yes!"

Her brother and Wayne wouldn't be over for another two hours. There was a reasonable chance that Eddie could explode from excitement if they didn't start now. Chrissy barely contained a laugh as Eddie attempted not to look too giddy when he accepted the gift from her. It didn't work as, much like a piranha to meat, her fiancé tore at the paper with excitement. Opening the cardboard box, Eddie frowned when he was greeted by a slightly smaller cardboard box inside.

"Ugh...what...?"

"Go on! Open it!" Chrissy giggled as Eddie pulled out the tiny box. He stared at it for a moment before pulling the top off the pink box. The former cheerleader watched as a look of shock crossed her fiancé's face. He turned to the blonde, mouth agape.

"You're...?"

"Mmm-hmm! Go on, there's something else!" Chrissy nodded happily. The shock disappeared from Eddie's face and was quickly replaced by excitement. He pulled out the sonogram of their now three month old baby to reveal a black and red onesie underneath. It read ''Daddy's Little Rockstar.''

"Oh my God..." Eddie rarely cried, but the look of overwhelming joy that crossed his face made it almost impossible for the man to bite back his tears.

"So...do you like it?" Chrissy asked with a small smile. Eddie responded with the shake of his head as he leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. The man buried his face in her shoulder as he finally managed to speak.

"It's perfect," he whispered into Chrissy's hair. She leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Eddie's forehead.

"Just like you." Chrissy replied as she felt Eddie grab her hands. "Merry Christmas, Eddie."

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 , 𝐉𝐁𝟓

summary , the daughter of lewis hamilton and a 3 time f1 world champion life is pretty great especially now that you have found a special someone

pairing , jude bellingham x fem! hamilton! redbull! f1 driver! reader

main masterlist | football masterlist

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton judebellingham 76,389,589 others

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton judebellingham 102,890,199 others

yourinstagram winter break photodump pt. 5

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user my wife is a madrid...I don't know what to do with why self now

user stay away from my wifey mr. hey jude lookin ass

user MR BELLINGHAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user it couple is cookin ya'll

user love that mother is living her best life

user bae wake up Y/N posted a winter break photo dump

user OKAY BUT THAT LAST PIC EXCUSE ME?!?!?!

user madam who got you those flowers

user jude better be careful or papa hamilton gonna have his head if he even thinks about trying anything with his daughter

user why am I kinda living from the idea of these two being a couple

user are you dating jude?

user Y/N come home the kids miss you

user 4th wdc pending...

user so we all know who the guy in the last slide is right?

user love my soon to be parents

user the queen soft launching wasn't on my 2024 bingo card

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TRENTSKI

JUDITH

EXPLAIN YOUR SELF

JUDITH

huh?

RICE RICE BABY

did you really think you could sneek your way into Y/N Hamilton's ig dump and we wouldn't find out?

JUDITH

yes?

SANCHOOOO

SO YOU ADMIT IT

IT IS YOU

MEEK MEALS

glad you finally got together

I was getting sick and tired of you talking about her 24/7

JACK RABBIT

I'm surprised he even got the strength to talk to her

STAR BOY

right?

his brain normally turns to mush when ever her name is mentioned

proud of you bro

JUDITH

thx kyo

I always knew you were a real one

TRENTSKI

damn I see how it is then....

RICE RICE BABY

trents going dark lads

in his sad girl era

PHIL CHEESE STAKE

so wait who knows about you 2 being together?

SANCHOOOO

besides the entire intent after that photo dump?

MEEK MEALS

LMFAOOO

STAR BOY

tell lewis he's the goat

JUDITH

hahah funny

let us have our damatic soft launch

obvi you guys know

the only others that know are max, sebastian, and charles

I'll let lewis know when he figures out I'm dating his daughter this Saturday

JACK RABBIT

mate your fucked

TRENTSKI

DAMN

secret forbbiden romance

didn't know you were built like that jude

MEEK MEALS

what do you mean Lewis fucking Hamilton doesn't know you are dating HIS DAUGHTER

SANCHOOOO

pray for jude guys

these might be his last days with us

STAR BOY

he shall be missed

JACK RABBIT

dw jude I'll delete your search history of you stalking Y/N's ig and twitter

JUDITH

thanks guys...

wiss me luck

TRENTSKI

break a leg

RICE RICE BABY

don't die

MEEK MEALS

good luck

SANCHOOOO

you going to die

STAR BOY

what colour coffin do you want?

I'm thinking bright pink and rinestones

JACK RABBIT

do you need a get away driver?

PHIL CHEESE STAKE

before you die get me and ronnie a hat singed by Y/N and Lewis

JUDITH

I feel so loved rn

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton maxverstappen1 98,328,479 others

lewishamilton replied to your story!

he's a good lad

but if he hurt's you

winning a trohpy will be the last of his concern

okay dad I'll relay that message to him

good

also don't forget to use projection...

DAD OMG STOP

carlossainz55 replied to your story!

¡HALA MADRID!

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

Christian is asking if Jude wants to come to the team dinner before the livery launch?

also if he hurts you I will run him over with our matching aston martins

landonorris replied to your story!

what does he smell like?

[munsonkitten]

steve comes home from work to find eddie on the couch with their baby asleep on his chest. eddie gave birth less than two weeks ago, and he's exhausted, steve knows that. he hates that he has to go back to work and leave eddie with the baby, even if wayne's around to help out all day and nancy and the kids stop in a lot too.

he can see the tiredness in eddie's eyes when he looks up at steve, the sleepiness in his lazy smile. eddie could easily go put their son in his crib and take a nap, but steve knows he's been fighting off sleep so he could be awake when steve came home. he's been fighting sleep so he could stare at their baby boy for just a little bit longer, listen to the quiet snuffles and baby noises, feel the warmth of him laying on his chest until he cant stay awake any longer.

"how are my boys doing?" steve asks.

eddie just smiles at him, something so content on his face. something so happy there because he loves their little family so much.

steve takes their baby, a sweet little boy named ronnie, and sits down beside eddie. he cradles ronnie in his arms as eddie snuggles up against his side and presses a kiss to his shoulder. steve presses one to eddie's head in turn.

"what do you want for dinner tonight?" steve asks.

eddie doesn't respond with anymore more than a sleepy sigh and steve looks down to see him already asleep. so steve just takes the remote and puts the tv on mute, settling in with his boys snuggled up against him, sleeping peacefully.

and steve just smiles.

[the-ace-with-spades]

This is related to one of my fic ideas, but all you need to know is that Bradley and Jake have four kids that Mav didn't know about until he saw them all together first day in the Hard Deck because he and Bradley haven't been talking

When they come back from the mission, they don't talk talk for a while, there's so much happening in the med bay and then Jake, Bradley's husband Mav hadn't even known existed three weeks ago, is always with him.

Then Ice is in the hospital, still, and Bradley comes to visit but they don't really talk either. They don't ask about the kids, but Bradley himself volunteers that they wouldn't be able to visit the hospital anyway because children are not allowed on the wards.

Finally, Ice comes home and Bradley and Mav talk.

And then, the next afternoon, Bradley comes with their two youngest, a seventeen-month-old baby boy called PJ and two a half-year-old girl named Ronnie. And they each get to hold a baby.

It's something else.

The babies are cute enough that Mav can almost ignore they're half Hangman.

The real surprise, though, is the twins.

Tommy and Nicky (no, Mav is not jealous that all Bradley's father figures but him have a kid named after them, not a lot, anyway, he gets that Bradley was really angry with him) are almost six, identical to the smallest detail, clothes and hairstyles included, and somehow Bradley, Hangman and Jake's mom (who takes care of the kids when the boys work) still can tell them apart.

They are loud and bouncy and so energetic and yet, the minute Bradley walks them through his front door, both the girls both hide behind Hangman's — their other dad, his Bradley's husband, Mav still can't get over it — legs, so shy.

And Mav haven't been around kids in so long, he doesn't know what to do.

And it takes a minute but eventually one of them — he really can't tell them apart — asks, 'who is that?' and Bradley wriggles her onto his knee and pointing a bit at Mav, says, "This is your grandpa, baby. you think you can try saying hi?"

And Mav, no matter how hard he tries, can't blink away the tears.

Because it only settled just now — that this all means, Bradley forgiving him, talking to them again, inviting them to his house, introducing them to his family, to his kids; this all means Mav is a grandpa.

(Mav cries again, weeks later, when he finds out PJ stands for Peter Jacob — even though he still can't believe Jacob 'Hangman' Seresin is the other father of his grandchildren and his son-in-law.)

[justmeinadaze]

We're A Family Part 17 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Thank you for your patience with me. I'm still moving a bit slow but I've been living in my comfort fics while writing a new comfort fic so yeah <3

Warnings: Dads Steddie and Mama Fem Reader, SMUT, mostly near the end with a lot of passion between da boys. FLUFF , we have an adorable addition to the Munson-Harrington crew <3 as well as Ro's birthday. ANGST because I'm me, Steve does something stupid with the best intentions, Him and Eddie get into a fight, Eddie's dad makes a cameo, Eddie talks about first moving in with Wayne, Dylan talks about divorce (dont panic! Its fine. We're all fine. Im not that angsty.) and I think that's it.

Word Count: 5369

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen, what are the bets this time around?” The doctor grins as he looks at your little family. 

“We’re at 3 to 2 with girl being in the lead.”, Steve beams.

“I love it. Let’s take a look.”

It had been about four months since you found out you were pregnant again and this time around was rough. The first few months were spent throwing up pretty much everything you ate and your cravings had been stronger than they had been before. You found yourself getting grumpier and more irritable which the boys didn’t seem to mind, doing everything they could to make things easier. 

You got the house by the lake and everyone (especially Wayne) was excited for the move. Aurora’s birthday was coming up soon which, while still happy, always made you and Eddie nervous. That first year his mom showed up at your door and the two birthdays after she called his phone begging him to come speak at his father’s appeal. 

Steve finally told his mom that you were pregnant with his biological child and she was over the moon. He begged her not to tell his dad and so far she seemed to honor his request. 

“Alright, Munson-Harrington gang. Congratulations, it looks like we have a healthy baby boy!”

***

“Ok, we have to think of a name.”, Eddie mused as he took a bite from the burger on his plate. “What do you think, kid?” Dylan shrugs causing the metalhead to playfully role his eyes. “You’re no help. What about you, my angel?”

“Han.”, Aurora smiles as she chews on her fries.

“I wouldn’t hate that. Harrison Ford in those earlier movies was so sexy.”

Your son makes a face as both men laugh. “You don’t have any special memories with a name? Like I did with Ro?”

Eddie thought for a moment before a smirk crept across his lips. “James.”, he nods, shifting his gaze towards you two. “When my mother left me with Wayne, I was confused. I genuinely thought she would be coming back so I sat on his couch by the door and just waited. Every now and then he would ask if I was ok or if I needed something and I always told him no. Right before dinner that night, he sat at his little table in the trailer with this rickety, old acoustic guitar and started playing Dio’s Rock n’ Roll Children.”, he chuckles. 

Dylan leaned against his side and Eddie lifts his arm to wrap around his shoulders. 

“Now my uncle is a god-awful singer but man could he play. I was so fascinated by how his fingers moved that I got up to sit with him. He smiled, placing a sandwich in front of me and I ate as I watch him. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to play the guitar. It took me a few days to realize Lynn wasn’t back but Wayne was always there with a new song. Anyway…”, he sighs as his voice becomes lighter. “The lead singers name is Ronnie James.”

You and Steve smile at him as you caress his leg under the table with your foot. 

“I like James.”

“Me to.”, the other man agrees. “James Wayne Munson-Harrington.”

#########

 “Oh, Y/N, you guys don’t have to do that.”, Wayne bashfully grins. 

“We know but we’re going to because we want to.” Winking at him, you stick your fork into the cake on the counter. 

“Honey, we have plates.”

“Yes, baby, we do. It’s this thing UNDER the cake.” Steve playfully narrows his eyes in your direction. “Look everyone else said they were full and I’m eating cake for two!”

He holds up his hands defensively as Eddie rounds the corner with Ro who reaches for her grandpa, demanding he hold her. 

“Listen here you. No more birthdays. We’re stopping today at four, understand?”

“No, granpa! I…be…a big girl.”, she declares tossing her hands in the air. 

The phone rings and Steve chuckles as he reaches over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is a collect call from Hawkins Penitentiary from inmate: Al Munson. Will you accept the call and charges?”

The man glances at Eddie who now has a big smile on his face as he tickles Aurora who in turn hides in Wayne’s neck hoping her father can’t reach her. After a few seconds, he hangs up.

“Who was it, baby?”, you ask.

“Wrong number.”

****

Steve’s foot bounces as he waits behind the glass, eyes constantly searching his surroundings. A guard on the other side, opens a door and brings over the prisoner placing him front of the awaiting man. He had never met Eddie’s dad but he had seen a few pictures. The inmate looking at him now was much older and worn by prison life. He did have a lot of his husband’s features especially in the face but his eyes weren’t as soft as Eddies. 

“You’re not my son.”

“No…no I’m not and neither is Eddie.” Allen squinted at his guest in confusion. “Look, I just came down here to tell you and Lynn to leave him alone. Every time we change our number, you guys always find it again and bother him on what is supposed to be a day about his daughter, not you. He spent so much time worried about you both and paying for the sins of everything you guys did to him. It’s time for him to be happy.”

“I see. And what are you going to do if I don’t, Mr. Harrington? Call the cops?”, he snickered. “I have done more than enough time to pay for my own sins. Edward could really help me out here and as my son he should want to.”

“What he wanted was a father and he found that in Wayne when your wife abandoned him. He gave up on you a long time ago.”

“Why are YOU here? Do you speak for him now since you fuck him?” Steve’s eyes narrowed in annoyance at the man’s comment. “Oh yeah. I know about you, him, and that girl…what’s her name. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about any of that. If my son wants to bend over and—”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Allen, or I swear God.”, he growled. “Listen, leave him alone and I can help you in here.”

“How can you help me?”

“I have some money set aside. I can give you some to make things a bit easier.”

Eddie’s dad’s jaw clenches as he weighs his options. “$500 a month and we have a deal.”

###########

A few months had passed and your little family had moved into your new home. Right on time to because about a month after James decided he was ready to join the Munson-Harrington clan. 

Aurora was completely fascinated by the new baby. 

“Dada, bra-der tiny.”

“He’s going to be tiny right now, honey. You have to be very careful with him.”

Her eyes widen as she gently pets the top of his head before leaning down to kiss his nose.

One night while he was crying, she watched as Eddie heated up a bottle and rocked him in his arms as he fed him. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong wit James?”

“He’s just hungry, princess. Babies eat EVERYTHING.” He widened his eyes making her laugh. “Do you want to help me?”

She nods, following him to the couch and takes a seat in his lap. Placing her little hand on the bottle, he allows her to hold it up as the baby continues to suck at its contents eagerly. 

Where Ro was a daddy’s girl, James was a mama’s boy. He loved being in your arms the most and the first time he smiled it was because you were kissing his chubby cheeks. 

Dylan, as always, was a wonderful big brother. He helped out where he could and even offered to babysit his siblings every now and then so you and the guys could spend some time alone. 

“Hey mom. I need some money for baseball. They said that we need $100 for boosters and some equipment.”

“Geez, isn’t that what boosters is for? To raise money for you people?” Dylan beams at you as he gives you a hug making you smile. “Steve? Little man needs $100 of baseball.”

“Jesus, why so much?”

You glanced in his direction taken a bit off guard. Usually when it came to the kids, if they needed anything financially, he didn’t think twice. Between the three of you, money wasn’t as tight but with the new baby and house things weren’t as easy as before so you let it go. Dylan answered his question and he dug in his wallet to give his son what he needed.

“Everything alright, babe?”

“Huh? Yeah, you know me. I just want to make sure we have everything, you know?”

Your head tilted to the side as your wife and mother senses started tingling again. He was hiding something but what could it be? If it was something involving a surprise for you or the kids his face and body language would normally radiate excitement. Something was wrong. 

“Hey, Dylan, do you mind keeping an eye on the other weirdos while I talk to Steve for a minute?”

He nods as you grab the man’s hand and tug him out towards the back porch. 

############

When Eddie got home from work, he found you sitting on the couch gnawing on your thumb as Steve paced in the living room. His eyes found yours as you motioned for him to come sit beside you. 

“Is everything ok? Where are the kids?”

“I asked my sister to watch them so the three of us could talk.” You softly smile as you kiss his cheek. “Steve has something he needs to tell you.”

“Okay? What’s going on, Stevie?”

The way Eddie looked up at him with concerned eyes made him feel so much worse at what he was about to tell him. 

“Um, so, remember how on Aurora’s birthday, you were ecstatic because your mom hadn’t called? Well, uh, your father actually called from prison that day. I answered and hung up on him.”

As the man spoke, you kept your eyes on the metalhead’s face as it slowly fell.

“I-I-I went down there to see him, Ed, and I warned him to leave you alone. He said he needed you and was tired of being in jail, that he and Lynn wouldn’t stop until you showed up at an appeal. So…” Steve’s panicked gaze shifted your way before he looked directly at the man he loved. “For the past few months, I’ve been paying Allen $500 to leave you alone.”

Eddie’s jaw tightened as he tilted his head subtly towards you. 

“Did you know about this?”, he whispered.

“No. I just found out everything today.”

He nodded as he rose to his feet, placing himself in front of Steve. 

“Eddie, I swear, I was trying to make things easier for you. I hated—”

The metalhead’s fist flew knocking the man backwards before climbing on top of him and swinging his arms. 

“Eddie, baby! Stop!” You tried to break them apart but he was too strong. Quickly, prepared for anything, you pushed a few buttons on your phone, sending a text to the one person you knew could get through to him. Three minutes later, Wayne flew in and pried his nephew off the man beneath him. 

“Hey! That is enough! I need you calm down, son.”

“How dare you fucking go behind my back like that, Steven! I told you both NOT to go down there!”

“I was trying to help!”

“By giving him money that can be used for our family, you fucking asshole! You think this is going to stop him?!” He tried to charge at the man again but his uncle held him back. “You have no idea what he’s like. I do!”

“Steve, maybe, you should go for a drive or something. Let him cool down.” He glanced your way and you softly nodded in agreement causing the man to hang his head as he quietly left the house. “Now you look at me, Ed.” Wayne grabbed the metalhead’s face forcing him to focus as he murmured low enough so only he could hear. 

“Eddie, I know you’re angry. I completely understand that but I need you breathe, ok? Your kids may not be here but Y/N is and she’s worried.” His chocolate eyes glanced at your concerned face as you hugged your arms around your body. “There you go. Can you sit on the couch calmly?”

He nods as he moves to take a seat. Without looking your way, his ringed fingers gesture for you to come closer and he pulls you onto his lap, hugging you to his chest. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t. When he told me what he did, I was angry to. Not just because of what he did but because I knew it would hurt you. Eddie, you know how Steve is. He genuinely thought he was protecting you.”

“No. No, Y/N. This is serious. This isn’t like when you went to his mom for money so he could go to school. My father isn’t someone who can be trusted. So many things can go wrong that can get Steve in real trouble. I…”, he shakes his head as he feels his anger rise again. 

“Baby, I’m not excusing what he did but, maybe, if you explain to him more about your father and how this could backfire—”

“Which I could have done if he came to me first.”

“I know, honey. I know.”, you coo as you rub his chest. “Wayne, would you like to stay here? You’re more than welcome. Plus, I’m sure the kids would love to see you when they come back tomorrow.”

***

Eddie’s uncle did spend the night while Steve ended up sleeping a hotel. He texted you letting you know where he was and that he thought it was best to give his husband some space. 

The two youngest kids were excited to see their grandpa when they got home but Dylan sensed something was wrong especially when he walked in and noticed his dad wasn’t there. 

“Is it because I asked for money?”

“No, baby. No.”, you whispered as you kissed his forehead. “He’ll be home later.”

Your answer didn’t seem to sooth him as he sat next to Wayne and watched him try to make James smile. 

“Sir, you have the fattest little belly I have ever seen. I could just…”, he made munching noises in his stomach making the baby giggle as he scrunched his head into his shoulders. 

“Beep beep.”, Aurora parroted as the front door opened and Steve cautiously entered the home. “Dada!” She ran to his arms and he scooped her up giving her a big hug. “Dada, you have an ouch.” When she pointed to the light swelling where Eddie had hit him, he flinched slightly. 

“Yeah, dada is dumb.”

“No.”, she giggled before pointing at Wayne. “Granpa is here. He…he’s making…bra-der happy.”

Dylan’s eyes scanned Steve carefully as he sat across from him in one of the chairs. “You alright, dad?”

“I’m fine, dude. I just missed you guys.”, he smiles. 

You come around the corner and playfully swat at Ro’s curls before tickling her neck with your finger. “You. Scoot so I can say hi to dada.”

“Mama! Stop.”, she laughs as she slides down and sticks her tongue out at you. “You’re mean!”

You laugh along with her as you climb onto Steve’s lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Are you okay?”

“No. I hurt someone I love. He should have hit me harder.”

“Baby…”, you sigh as you press your forehead to his cheek. “We’re going to talk again later after the kids go to bed especially since he’s had time to calm down and process everything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I know I should have—” You fingers cut him off as you place them on his lips. 

“We have eyes on us. Later, ok?”

Steve’s own orbs scan the room finding Dylan watching you both as well as Aurora before she smiles and waves in your direction.

###########

One benefit of having three parents in the house is everyone can focus on one of the kids at any given time. After coming in to check on Ro and kiss her, Eddie stayed behind to tuck her in. As you passed Dylan on the couch downstairs, you poked your head into James’s room to find Steve with a sleeping infant in his arms.

“Alright, my love.”, you exhaled as you dramatically plopped your body down next to your son. “Time for you to go upstairs and get ready for bed.” Silently, he turns off the tv and begins to stand but you tug on the back of his shirt, bringing him down into your arms. “I know you and I know your big, beautiful brain. You’re a worrier like me. You didn’t do anything wrong, ok? You know we don’t mind giving you money for something you enjoy.”

“Everything got weird after I asked.”

“And that has nothing to do with you. Believe it or not, adults have issues sometimes that don’t involve their kids.” Dylan chuckled at your sarcasm as you kissed his cheek.

“I just don’t want to be the reason you guys get divorced or something.” 

As he began to stand, you quickly yank him back again. “Baby, they aren’t Charlie. Just because Steve wasn’t here this morning doesn’t mean that we’re going to break up. The three of us have been together too long and been through too much. And…”, you sigh hating the thoughts that fill your mind as you continue. “Playing the devil’s advocate here, if for some reason we ever did break up, I assure you no matter what, that reason would never be because of you guys or anything you did.”

Dylan smiles as he hugs you before getting to his feet and pulling you up with him. As Eddie comes down the stairs, he meets him half and tugs him into a hug.

“I love you, kid.”

“I love you to.” 

The moment he hears his footsteps bang up to his room, Steve appears and softly smiles in your direction. 

“Counseling degree at work again?”

“No, that would be my mom degree. I saw it on his face when you came home. Even though he knows you guys aren’t like Charlie, I think there’s still a part of him that feels like he could lose you at if one thing goes wrong.”

“I know the feeling.”, Eddie mumbles as he shuffles his feet. “Sometimes I was afraid Wayne would give up on me to. Obviously, that never happened.”

Your hand gently rubs his back and you gesture with your head for you three to head for the bedroom. 

***

The silence was deafening as you sat on the bed near the headboard as Eddie placed himself on the edge with his chin near his chest. Steve pulled one of the chairs from the living room so he could sit in front of you both, fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for someone to speak. 

“Did he ask you for money or did you offer?”, the metalhead asked. 

“I offered. He came up with the amount.”

“Steven, what do you know about prison? In general, I mean.”

“Uh…”

“Did you know that things are snuck in all the time? Drugs, weapons, food, etc.” Steve shook his head. “Did you know he can use your money to get shit like that or give to other inmates to do that? Did you know that people could find out where he’s getting so much money from and send people to harass you for the same treatment?”

When the man shook his head again, his eyes downcast towards the floor in shame. 

“Do you know how I know that? The first time my father went in Wayne tried to help him by sending him $100 a month. A couple months later he asked for more and my uncle told him no. The next day someone broke into his trailer and stole half his shit. We learned later Allen owed some people inside money and when they found out he would be getting out soon they wanted it all upfront. When Wayne told him no, my dad told them where he had been getting the cash from so they sent people to get the rest however they could. Thankfully, he was at work that night.”

“Eddie, I…”

“You’d think prison would reform him but it doesn’t. That’s why he’s there, Steve. He does the same shit in there that he did when he was out. He cons people or steals from them and every time he always loses.”, he sighs angerly. “And that’s just one of the many reasons I’m pissed. We just had a fucking baby, Steven! $500 barely covers half of what he needs, plus Aurora and Dylan’s essentials. That’s for the kids. The three of us need things to including this house!”

You scoot closer and wrap your arms around him as you lean against his shoulder. You had never seen him like this. When he had gotten angry with his mom at Ro’s first birthday that was one thing. Right now, this was fury out of fear for you five and something that could have been avoided if—

“But I think what pisses me off the most is you didn’t fucking talk to me. I have always been up front with you when it came to your parents and especially your dad. Your dad isn’t like mine Steve. He could get someone fucking killed and I’ll be damned if it’s someone in my family. I don’t just ignore him and Lynn for me. I do it to protect you guys. It’s a simple thing and you made it way more complicated.”

A tear escaped down Steve’s cheek that he quickly wiped away as he sat up straighter and cleared his throat.

“I’m, um…I’m sorry, Eddie. You’re right. I should have talked to you, both of you. No matter what my intentions were. I—”

“Don’t do that.”, you cut him off. “Don’t do that authoritative, businessman style voice and dialogue you do because you think it’s what people want to hear.” His eyes roll as his leans forward and his leg bounces. “Be honest, Steve. Be yourself.”

“When he called you were making Aurora laugh, Ed, while Wayne was holding her. Y/N, you were eating cake out of the pan with a fork because you were pregnant and you and Dylan were leaning against each other smiling…it was perfect. A perfect fucking day without Charlie causing problems or Lynn calling to trigger his pain. My dad wasn’t appearing out of nowhere to fuck shit up or you mom to remind you that you’re still the town whore!” Steve’s beautiful brown irises looked at anything but you two as he tried to control his emotions. 

“For this one moment, everything was exactly as it should be. Then your dad called, Eddie, reminding me something was always waiting…looming in the background to fuck everything up. So, yeah, I went down there to protect us; to protect you. Motherfucker is lucky there was glass between us.”, he growled. “With Lynn and Allen, I don’t know how you turned out so fucking amazing. I can understand why you would want them out of your life for good.” Steve shrugs as he leans back again. “Since I couldn’t hit him and I couldn’t convince him, I did the only other thing I could think of.”

“Well thank God you didn’t become a businessman like your dad wanted or he would have lost a ton of money.” Their eyes meet for the first time since they entered the room as they both let a breathy chuckle. “Steve, when will you realize that you don’t have to protect us and be the hero alone?”

The baby monitor starts to light up and you hastily get up before they can to check on James. 

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

Steve got up from his chair to sit beside Eddie and wrapped his arms around him like you had. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m so fucking sorry, babe.”

The metalhead sighs using his fingers to lift his chin and bring his lips to his. 

“Even though I’m mad at you, I still love you. I hope you know that.”

The boy nods as he kisses his lips again before trailing them down his cheek to his shoulder. 

##############

Allen glances at the three Munson-Harrington adults, sitting on the other side of the glass before really taking in his son in front of him.

Eddie knew he’d have to go down to the prison to fix what Steve had done but you were surprised when he asked you two to join him. On the drive there, he inhaled one cigarette after the other until you reached over and stole his pack so he wouldn’t overdo it. While you waited, his eyes darted around as he occasionally babbled to block out his internal panic. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. The last time was when I was 10, I think. My mom brought me and I remember them arguing about him being stuck in here. She said she couldn’t handle me alone.”, he shakily laughed. “Actually, it was more ‘what am I supposed to do with him.’”

“Eddie…”  Turning his head, you kiss his lips as you caress his cheek with your thumb. “Everything is going to be ok. We’re right here with you.”

He nodded before gazing at Steve who was glaring into the void as Eddie reached to hold his hand before leaning to whisper in his ear. “Come back to me, sweetheart. I need you.”

“Well shit.”, Allen sarcastically smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Your boyfriend and I already came up with an arrangement so you didn’t need to come down here.”

“Husband. Not boyfriend. Always glad to know you’re just happy to see me, Allen.”

“Allen? Really? You call Wayne daddy now?”

“More or less for the last about 18 years.” They glare at each other before Eddie snickers. “You’re not even going to pretend to be nice to win me over, are you? I have no idea why you or Lynn would ask me to lie for you if you can’t even say something civil like ‘Hey Ed. Nice to see you.’”

You intertwine your fingers with his as your heart breaks. This was probably just a taste of what little Edward Munson experienced and it killed you. 

“Look, we weren’t planning on staying for long. I just wanted to tell you the money Steve has been sending stops now and if you tell anyone that my family gave you that, I swear to God, I will make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell in here. You think things are bad now…”

You’d be lying if you didn’t say his dominance turned you on. There was nothing sexier to you than seeing them both be protective over you and the kids. Usually, it was Steve acting as protector and when he did it with Mr. Osbourne it drove you crazy. Hearing Eddie do it now was not only making you proud of him but excited to jump him later. 

“Fine but in return I want you to go the appeal for me.”

“No, that won’t be happening either and let me tell you why. If you keep calling me, sending letters, or any other bullshit like that, I will come to your appeal but it won’t be on your behalf. I’ll remind the judge that you’re a scam artist and a fucking car thief but I’ll also enlighten them on what a great father you were to me between the black eyes and verbal assaults.”

Eddie leans closer to the glass as his eyes burn into the man on the other side. 

“I am not a kid anymore. You two think you can still bully me but you’re wrong. You both need me way more than I need you.”

With that, he rises from the chair to leave before pausing and gesturing towards his father to wait with his index finger. Abruptly, he grabs Steve’s collar and tugs his lips to his for a passionate kiss. When he finally lets him go, the other man smirks, drunk off Eddie’s taste alone as the metalhead flips off his dad and turns to leave him behind. 

****

About a mile down the road from the prison, Eddie swerved his van into an empty area, hurling off his seatbelt and shoving Steve into the back where you had been sitting. You stayed out of the way, allowing the metalhead to take control. There was a sense of urgency in their kisses, both needing each other in that moment. Eddie needed to convey to him that he could take care of him to and Steve showing him that he could willing give up that urge to control for his husband to take be there for him.  

As they shoved down their pants, you slid your fingers down your own, rubbing your clit as you watched Eddie spit in his hand and stroke his cock before breaching Steve’s entrance. 

“Fuck, yes. I love you so much, baby. Let-Let me take care of you.”

All Steve could do was nod as he wrapped his arms around him and clung to him as Eddie pumped into him harder. His ring lined hand reached out into the air and it took you a moment to realize he was trying to find you. As you leaned into his touch he yanked the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

When he dipped his fingers into your jeans and between your legs, he couldn’t help but smile against your lips. 

“You’re so wet, princess. You like watching us together?”

Your own palm held the back of his from the outside of your pants as you rested your forehead on his. 

“I like watching you—mmm—take care of us. I love you, Eddie. I’m so proud of you.”

He heavily sighed as he thrust into you both faster. Hearing Steve loudly grunt, you two watch him as his face scrunches and he releases his spend near the bottom of his tummy. Eddie grins as you push against his hand, guiding his pace until he feels you shutter and cum on his fingers.  As you collapse next to Steve, he leans over the boy’s face as he chases his high. 

“You’re both so—f-fuck—fucking pretty when you cum.”

Watching with half lidded eyes, you softly smile as Steve reaches up to caress his face, listening as he whispers sweetly to him. 

“I love you to, honey. So fucking much. Cum, Eddie, please. We want to see it. I want to feel you fill me up. You…you deserve to…fuck…” He struggled to get the last few words out as the metalhead pumped into him so hard you imagined the van was shaking from the outside. They both grunted at the feeling as the boy came inside of him and like you collapsed on his other side.

The three of you panted as you starred at the ceiling. 

“I am sorry I put you in this position, Munson.”

“I mean… I put you in this position but you know me…I’m open to any and all positions as long as it feels good for everyone.”

They smile when you giggle as Steve shakes his head playfully. “You’re so stupid.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. I forgive you, Harrington.” He leans up on his elbow to kiss him before dramatically leaning across him to do the same with you. “Alright, you two recharge and I’ll drive us home.”

@dad-steddie @manda-panda-monium @alligator-person

#############

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @strangerfreak

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86

[hongjoongscafe]

You have you...

Drabble

Pairing: jungkookxreader(y/n)

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, non-idol au

Summary: when your life collapsed but found the right person at the same time.

Word count: 5.1k+

Warnings: cheating, name-calling, insults, bad texts, mentions of grinding.

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

Masterpost

The night was a vague reflection of how you felt from the inside. The thunderstorm was taking down the whole city of Seoul. The water was pooling to the ankles and the high flash flood alert messages were stacking up in the notification centre.

But this thunder still could not match the one inside your chest.

Seeing the person you called the love of your life turning back towards you and walking into some other woman’s arms behind your back was enough for your poor heart to crumble down into ashes. The ache was too high to feel anything else.

“Baby, I will never leave you.” “I promise, you are the only one I'll ever love.” “Love, I wanna have a family with you.” “You are the prettiest.” “I am just going with the boys, I will be back before you even know.” “I'm sorry, baby. The boys kept me there. I tried to tell them that I want to be with you but you know how they act, right?” “Baby, you don't understand! I didn't mean to yell at you!” “Love, it's nothing, you are just being delusional. You know I won't do anything to hurt, right?” “I love you forever, baby.”

You scoffed. Fucking lier. There were so many moments when you felt his disloyalty towards you. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him be. Ronny had his way with words. He used them for his benefit. The way he manipulated made you want to rip his head off.

If it wasn't for your colleague who saw him in the car with someone else, eating each other’s face, a couple of days ago, you would have still believed his empty words.

When he came back that night, you checked his phone for the first time as he passed out on the couch. You knew he wouldn't wake up until the next afternoon.

As much as you regretted reading those texts, one part of you needed disclosure. You sat there on the cold tiled floor, tears running down your cheeks, feeling like a loser.

-Y/n is just so fucking dumb, man. I've never been with someone as dumb as her but I guess good for me🤷🏻‍♂️.

-Hey, sexy💋 Last night was so fucking good. You were so wet for me, you little slut😏.

-Dev just asked me to fuck her. If y/n calls, tell her that I'm busy working.

-You up?

-Ronny? I need your big cock in me, plz. Meet me in the Motel…😉

-Y/n looks so fucking ugly, man. I feel so embarrassed next to her. I can feel the vomit in my throat whenever she talks. It's so fucking bitter to tell her that I love her����.

-Man, I get so irritated when y/n talks. I can feel myself hating her more and cheat even more just to see how fucking dumb she is.

His last text was what made you get up at this hour of the night and go to the striper club.

-She will be busy with her pathetic painting on Friday. We should meet at the bottom up. When I think about you, I can still feel my cock getting hard thinking about last time😮‍💨. [Allie- sent]

A laugh bubbled out of your throat as you read it. Him and your best friend. Who would have known?

Turns out, everyone knew other than you.

Everyone wanted some drama and they got it. The great Ronny garnished it on a plate and severed it to everyone. Even to those who you thought were your genuine friends.

Now here you were, sitting on a bench in front of a random complex, drowning in your sorrows. When you went inside that club, you caught them wrapped around each other. His one hand was groping her ass and the other was rubbing her pussy through her skimpy shorts.

Your heart was gone. There was no way your tears could stop. When confronted, they laughed and called you names. People around looked at you disgustingly for ruining the perfect mood they were in.

“Get out you bitch. No one needs you here!”

“Damn, you thought I would actually love you? So fucking delusional.”

“How can you be so dumb? You couldn't even see that we both were involved.”

“She just wants me to fuck her pathetic pussy because no one else wants that thing.”

It was difficult to handle. You just let yourself cry loudly like a pathetic person that they said. They weren't wrong. No one else ever wanted you. You were bold enough to think that Ronny truly wanted you even after seeing many red flags. But nothing could win in front of a good manipulation.

“You look like you need a hug,” a sweet voice pulled you out of your head. You looked up at him and noticed there was a charming man standing in a raincoat and an umbrella above your head.

His big doe eyes looked concerned, and his thin and pink lips were frowning. “There is a flash flood warning, you know that, right? You shouldn't be here. Do you want me to call your friends or family?”

Hearing friends and family, your eyes filled with fresh tears and started crying in front of a handsome stranger. You hid your hand behind your hands and wailed.

Six years. It was six years' worth of pain hurling out. It was hurting you as if someone had stabbed you over and over again slowly, making you feel every single inch of it. It was like someone was reopening the fresh wounds with their bare fingers that you just treated.

“I'm Jungkook,” the man said as he sat down, holding the umbrella over you. “You are soaking and it is winter.”

Jungkook was in his apartment, playing his guitar, and composing some new music. He was waddling around and looked out of his window when he saw a girl sitting in the rain, hunched over. He kept looking at her and started to worry when she did not move.

He quickly wore a jacket and raincoat and carried an umbrella for the girl.

As he got closer, he heard her cry loudly all alone in this ungodly rain. He was worried about her. The level of water was rising pretty fast. When she looked up at him, his breath hitched. She was prettier than anyone he has ever seen. So soft and innocent.

He pouted when she didn't say anything but stayed there, still holding the umbrella. He heard her cry for a good twenty minutes before she calmed down and only soft sniffles could be heard.

“I'm Y/n,” you said in your broken voice, throat sore from crying so loudly. “Can you please book an Uber?”

“Y/n, no Uber will pick you up now,” Jungkook said.

You looked at him, another set of tears ready to roll down. “Why?” Your lower lip wobbled.

“Look around, the water is reaching our ass and we are sitting on a bench,” he said.

Only then you realized how bad the rain was and he was not wrong. The water level was rising. “What am I supposed to do now?” You asked yourself, already crying again. It was too much to take in little time.

Jungkook bit his lip and thought about it for a moment. “You should come to my place. It’s bad for you to stay out here especially when you… when you are so vulnerable,” he carefully said.

He was half ready for you to get up and swim away. But he let out a sigh of relief when you nodded, agreeing with him. “Okay,” your voice broke.

Jungkook gave you a soft smile, “I live here. So follow me,” he pointed behind them at the complex. “Here, hold my hand, let me guide you in. Don’t fall unless you know how to swim,” he giggled to himself but quickly regretted when you looked into his eyes and a wobbly chin. “I’m sorry,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you held it. You felt your heart thump against your chest at the skin contact. Never once have you felt like this with Ronny.

Jungkook’s apartment was clean, minimalistic, and scented like fresh laundry. The light cream walls with contemporary paintings looked perfectly decorated. The simple lamps hanging from the ceiling were just enough to make it look modernized. The couch had many papers laying around along with hand-knitted blankets and a guitar on the carpeted floor. And a beer can on the coffee table. The gigantic windows overlooked the city. It looked decently luxurious.

“Umm… Stay here, I'll bring some towels for you,” Jungkook removed his shoes and scurried inside his cosy house. And came out in no time. He wrapped a bigger towel around you and handed you the smaller towel. “Washroom is there,” he pointed next to the wall. “You can take a shower. I'll give you some of my clothes. And leave your clothes there, okay? I'll put them in the washing machine with mine. Oh, wait, let me show you the drawer in which you can find anything you want… Well, almost anything.”

He waddled in front of you into the washroom. He turned on the lights and opened a drawer in his cabinet, “Here, there are sanitary napkins, tampons whichever you prefer. Shower things, scrubs, unused loofah, hair ties, these one-use undies, lotion, and face cream. Here is a hairdryer and hair straightener, if you need those. And if there is something else you need, let me know. I'll find it if I have it,” he informed and smiled at you before going out, leaving you alone. He knocked again and peaked his head inside after you opened it a little. He handed you clothes and finally left.

You looked at the closed door with wide eyes. It was amusing seeing this stranger all prepared for emergencies. His girlfriend or fiance or wife must be lucky, you thought. You shook your head in order to not think about it and compare your sorry life with the unknown girl you are not even sure existed. But it won't be a surprise if she did.

Under the warm water, your tears rolled down again. It wasn't easy to just forget and not feel hurt after committing for six years. You mourned about not listening to your gut feeling about him before. Maybe you wouldn't be here, taking a shower in some stranger's washroom.

You took your sweet time before you came out, after drying your hair. As you opened the door, you were met by the melodious voice of Jungkook. The acoustic guitar complimented his mellow voice. The lyrics brought tears to your eyes but you tried your best to not let them flow down your cheeks. You felt like sitting by him and just kept on hearing his voice but he was not in the living room.

You quietly walked towards the entrance door and found him sitting there on the floor, wrapped in a towel as he sang-

We laugh and cry together

These simple feelings

Seems like they were everything to me

When will it be

When I face you again

I want to look into your eyes and tell you

I’ve missed you

Inside the blissful memory

Even if i dance by myself, the rain pours down

By the time this fog clears

I’ll come running on my wet feet

Then, hold me

That moon looked lonely

Because I felt like it was crying brightly in the night sky

Even when I know the morning will come someday

I wanted to remain in your sky like a star~

Just then you noticed that he was still in wet clothes. “Oh my god, Jungkook! Why are you still wet? Why did you not change?”

Jungkook was startled and looked at you. He stood up and rested his guitar on the wall. “Ah, there is only one washroom. I mean, there is one by the bedrooms but the water connection is not working.”

You gasped, “Why did you not tell me before?! Go in. You are going to catch a cold.”

“Nothing will happen to me, don't worry,” he said and noticed how swollen your eyes looked. “You know what? There is a pile of clean and dry clothes over there. You can fold them and leave the dress shirts. I need to iron them beforehand. So, can you do that? As a thank you favour?” He wished it could distract you from your pain. “Do you like FRIENDS?”

You dumbly looked at the basket full of clean laundry and nodded, “yeah,” you mumbled.

“Great! I'll put it on the TV so you won't get bored… I'll take a little time there. So, yeah…” he wanted to leave you alone for a while so that you could have some space. It wouldn't hurt to do a long Sunday night routine on Friday anyway.

His trick worked decently. When he came out, he saw you ironing his clothes and silently giggling at the show. He stood there and admired you. You looked so pretty in his baggy clothes, smiling and just being there. He didn't know who you were, why you were so beaten up mentally, or why he even bothered to bring you to his house. But at that very time, he saw someone who he could consider spending time with. Maybe just to make you feel better before you go away forever.

“I didn't ask you to iron the clothes,” he said as he rubbed his towel in his hair.

“It's alright,” you whispered.

You both said nothing for a while. You ironed his dress shirts and sat on the loveseat in front of him. There was a thick layer of awkwardness. After all, you both were strangers.

“So,” Jungkook began. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to be left alone? Or do you want to play any video games or board games? Beer?”

Thinking about it, you felt like talking to him wouldn't hurt. He doesn't know you and after the water drains out, you will leave this place for good. And beer didn't sound bad at all. “You wouldn't mind me talking?”

“Not at all! Why would I mind?” He frowned. “I’m a good listener.”

“I think beer will be good, too,” you cleared your throat.

Jungkook smiled and stood up with a jump, walking towards his fridge, “a perfect combination!” He came back with a box of canned beer and dropped them on the coffee table and passed you one can. The clicks of cans were heard almost immediately. “Tell me one thing first. Why are you not afraid of being here? I'm just a stranger to you. What if I do something bad to you?”

You thought about it for a second. He wasn't wrong, but, “I’ve nothing left to be worried about…” you mumbled. “I can ask you the same. Why did you let me in? What if I do something to you? Wouldn’t your girlfriend or boyfriend be angry about it?”

Jungkook looked at you with a pout but said nothing about the first sentence you said. “Well, you looked like you could use some company plus no criminal would sit in that rain to hurt me. And I do not have any partner.” He said. “Now. You can talk about it, I’m all ears.”

Your mind went back in time. The flashbacks started to pour back in. All you could do was scoff at them. It was hurting you and you needed to let your emotions out. You had bottled them up for a long. He kept you tongue-tied for as long as you remember being with him. It was shitty and you were aware of it but every single time, you just tucked your tail between your legs and went along with what he had to offer you and it was only insecurities and insults. “I’m just so fucking dumb and stupid.” Jungkook sat up straight, focusing on you fully. “My boyfriend was cheating on me with my best friend.”

“Fuck no,” Jungkook felt anger bubbling up in his guts. If anything he hated the most about people was them cheating on other people. He absolutely loathed people who even dared to think about it. He always believed in being loyal to the partners and yourself. He believed that if one was falling out of love, which is not a big deal, they should be honest about it and find a mutual solution than just going around and being a fucking asshole. He was a man of character. Je didn't even need to know how he was and he already hated him and sympathized with you.

You huffed, “There were so many times when I felt like he was cheating on me but I just trusted him too much to let those feelings get to me,” your eyes teared up as you took a long sip of your beer. “I don’t even know for how long or if he ever even liked me let alone loved me.” From his texts and how he talked to you this evening. You figured he was cheating on you for longer. Possibly since the beginning of your relationship.

You still remembered how wonderful it all felt when you got involved with him. Ronny would act as if he cared and loved you. He would spend time with you, take you to parties, and introduce you to his friends, you felt like you were an important part of his life. However, slowly he stopped taking you with him and started stay away more and more. He would smell like other people's perfume. He would come back, drunk out of his mind.

“I’m so sorry about—”

“You know what's worse?! I caught him red handed with her in a strippers club tonight. They were hugging and touching and rubbing each other. Then I just– fuck. I made a fool out of myself. I ruined everyone’s night. And they kicked me out,” you cried.

“Shit, y/n. Everything was closed down by seven. Were you outside all this time?” Jungkook asked, concerned about you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Go back to that house where I could only see how fucking brainless I am? That place would mock me for being so oblivious,” you picked another can of beer.

Taking the blanket, Jungkook walked to you and wrapped it around your shoulders before sitting back in his place. “It's not only the friend, there were so many girls in his DMs. And he said I was ugly and so irritating. Everyone agreed and I think they were right.”

“Hey,” Jungkook felt bad for you. You were beautiful and such an adorable person. “Don’t say that. They all are wrong. You are so pretty and adorable,” he let out. “I don't think you should believe in them. They have no idea what they are talking about. And you should not think about that prick.”

“I was with that prick for six years, Jungkook. I loved him for six years, slept with him, and took his shit on my head. I can't just not think about him,” you sobbed.

“How can he be so terrible? Man, if I find who he is, I would beat the shit out of him. That boy is just a scumbag. Jeez, I'm so fucking pissed,” he was holding back from asking you his location so that he could go and teach that asshole some much-needed lesson. Jungkook could never even have thought of doing something like that to anyone let alone actually cheating on someone. He felt disgusted by this boy.

“For the past six years, he has become my personality. I thought he loved me and I was just being too much to the point he even called me delusional.”

Jungkook gasped, “No way, that asshole said that. What does he think of himself? Ugh, he should be ashamed of himself.”

“He would always text me cute, lovey-dovey messages. He would buy me things after such arguments and would tell me how much he loved me and that promise to be better,” you finished your second can and opened another one.

“Honey,” Jungkook softly said. “I'm sorry but he manipulated you.”

“And I was too dumb to know that,” she shook your head and covered your face with your hands.

“No, honey, you are not dumb. I think when you love someone, you just do whatever it takes to make things work. And the person who gets manipulated, they don't get to know because that's exactly what he was doing. He knew it. It's not your fault.”

“Jungkook…?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Is your offer for a hug still up?” you shyly asked.

Jungkook quickly stood up and sat with you, wrapping his arms around you, respectfully. “Of course it is,” he mumbled.

“I should have known, you know? She was his close friend that became my friend later on. She was always overly close with him even when she had other guys in her life,” you said.

“Girls like her don't deserve a friend like you, y/n… They are just an embarrassment for us,” Jungkook mumbled as he caressed your head that was resting on his shoulder and rubbed your arm.

There was silence for a while. A comfortable one. His even breath was keeping you from drifting away. And his hand caressing your head was helping your headache. He felt safe. You felt safer than ever in this stranger's arms. He never made you feel like this ever. He only made you feel bad and dumb all the time through his sugar-coated words.

“Can you tell me about yourself? If you don't mind,” you asked.

“It's only fair. I'm Jeon Jungkook. I'm twenty-five. I make music,” he said.

“Really? What kind of songs do you sing?” you found it interesting.

“Well, you probably don't know me,” he shyly chuckled. “I have released a couple of songs on Spotify and nothing more. I can't afford to make a video just yet.”

You look up at him. “But you look like you can.”

He giggled at your reaction. You found it amusing and wanted him to giggle more. It was music to your ears. “Ah, I have a rich father so my funds were good. I saved them over the years. I bought this place with those funds but I don't take any money from him anymore. I want to earn it myself. So I spent all of the money on this apartment and nothing is left for video. I can make a low-budget one and can edit it myself. But I think I'm just not ready for that either,” he disclosed.

“That is so smart,” you commented. “You knew your priorities.”

“You can say that,” he smiled.

“Why are you single?”

Jungkook thought about it. He never really cared about being in a relationship. He was satisfied with how things were going on. “I don't know, honestly. It's been years since I was in a committed relationship. I just didn't feel like I needed it, you know?”

“Ah, okay. Makes sense,” you said. “Are you always open to strangers?” you asked genuinely.

Realization hit him this time. He was always super awkward and shy around new people. He never talked to them and usually, it would take him days to open up. He pouted, “No...” he mumbled. “Anyway, you tell me about yourself,” he quickly changed the topic.

“I'm y/n, twenty-six years old–”

“Noona!” Jungkook looked at you with a toothy grin. “You are noona!”

“Shhh,” you shushed him as you both giggled. “I make paintings for my living.”

“Really?!” he looked at your face with a wide bunny grin. “I make paintings, too. But just for fun. These are all my art pieces,” he pointed around.

You admired them for a while. The details in them were so sharply presented. The colour contrast, blending, and everything was looking professional. “Jungkook, you are so talented. They all are so beautiful. The details and technique look so consistent and appealing!”

He smiled shyly. “It's nothing… What would you like for dinner?”

You helped him in the kitchen as you both settled on making some viral baked feta pasta. And a side of cheesy garlic bread. You both talked about different things and found out that you both had many things in common. Almost everything you loved, he loved them, too. He told you about those disposable undies (it was funny for you to think about). He said that one of his girl-friend once had her periods before the time and it ruined her clothes. He had nothing to help her with and she just wore his shorts and used a tampon. He said that he felt bad for not being able to help her so he bought these just in case someone needed them.

He also mentioned how his mother was open about girls and their needs related to periods and clean shower products. So he always made sure that his place had a full stock for emergencies because his Hyungs’ girlfriend usually came along with them or other friends. He wanted them to not worry about such things and find his place comfortable enough.

You could tell he was raised by a kind-hearted and responsible woman. It was shocking to you. For six years, you lived with someone who didn't care about any of your needs or brought stuff that was considered necessary. He would just make and mess and leave. He felt like a burden more and less like a human.

“What do you think about…” Jungkook nervously started. “Dating someone now that you are single again.” he had never clicked with any women as he did now. It felt like he knew you for longer than anyone else. He wanted to hold you again and tell you how much more you were worth than you were told. He wanted to whisper good things about you in your ears and make you feel like the most special being ever.

You felt shy under his gaze. “I don't know… I have been cheated on for longer than I even know.”

“What if your date wants to be there for you and help you heal and show you what a real man is like and treats you with utmost care and serves you loyalty which is the bare minimum?” he made eye contact with you. “Because he knows he is better than him and you are much more than what he says.”

It was not worth crying over someone who gave no damn about you. But you still loved him. You needed to heal and being alone, it was going to be difficult and you needed someone’s shoulder to lean on. “I think that won't be that bad…”

Jungkook softly smiled and let out a sigh of relief. “I guess, you are going to have a date tonight by the window.”

Your little date was perfect. You both sat in sweet silence and enjoyed your dinner. He even lit some candles to set the mood. The mellow music on his record player was soothing.

If someone told you that your night would end up like this in a stranger's house like this, you would have laughed and called them an idiot. But it was not bad at all. You had nothing else left so giving this a go was not bad.

The dinner ended with ice cream and cookies. After that, Jungkook laid down some mattresses on the ground by the ceiling-length windows along with a blanket and many pillows. He left his Mikrokosmos mood lamp on and turned off the other lights. And gave you some medicines to keep you from falling sick.

You sat there, wrapped in the blanket as he joined you. “Would you like to cuddle?”

“Yes, please.”

“How are you feeling now?” he asked as he wrapped himself around you.

You smiled, resting your ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Better… Much better.”

“I'm glad,” he whispered. “Just… Don't ever believe in shit he said, okay? You are nothing but a kind, intelligent, hard-working, smart, and beautiful woman. You deserve nothing but happiness.”

“Where was I even wrong? I tried so hard for what?” you thought out loud.

Jungkook kissed your head. “You were not wrong, baby. He was. He is at a loss. He made you feel like this because he could never reach your level. You are the best and he knows it. He needed to bring you down to make himself feel better about himself. He was just a pathetic douchbad. He was just an immature boy.”

“Jungkook… Thank you for today. I don't think I could have survived anything tonight. I felt like I lost everything all at once. I'm thankful more than I can ever express. I don't know how to return this favour.” You could not express your feelings through words. They were too heavy for you to form into sentences. You have no idea what you could have done tonight if it wasn't for him and his kindness. Even if it ended without this tiny date, you were already saved by him.

After years, you felt like someone listened to you for the first time. It was enough for you to make you want to cry with joy. It felt embarrassing and yet so good.

“It's not a favour, y/n. It's just something I did because I just couldn't see you sitting on the bench like that. I'm happy that you are here and happy. If you had gone somewhere else, I would have kept on thinking about you and how you were. I'm just so happy that you are here and I know that you won't do something stupid.” He expressed his feelings.

It must have been hard on him as well. It's not a daily occurrence but something strange. But this time, it was strangely beautiful.

“You,” he said after a long comfortable silence. He was still thinking about what you said earlier. It was bothering him to an endless extent. He was afraid that you kept yourself so neglected.

“Huh?” you asked, confusingly.

Jungkook looked into your eyes and kissed your forehead softly and slowly, it felt much more intimate than he imagined. His heart was going crazy just like yours. Call it a first-sight love but you two knew it was more than that. He again looked into your eyes and spoke up –

“You have you to worry about…”

.....

Sanaa's note:

Hii! I hope you enjoyed this. I really appreciate your feedback. Plz, do leave your thoughts behind. It helps me to write more and motivates me to improve. My college is starting on Monday. So I won't be able to update anything sooner. I hope you guys understand😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

Have a nice day/night💓

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

[theoddcatlady]

My Brothers and Sisters Lived in a Secret Room

Growing up, I knew that my family’s arrangement wasn’t normal. As I got older, I even had an inkling that it might be wrong. But it was all I knew, and I won’t let myself feel guilty for not doing anything about it for as long as I did.

I was the only biological child of my mom and dad, I found albums stacked away in a corner of the attic. The beginnings of baby books. A picture of an ultrasound, sometimes even a happy card announcing ‘It’s a boy!’ or ‘It’s a girl!’ in blue and pink lettering. Mine was the only one who had pictures of a squishy faced infant with tangled red hair and fat lil cheeks.

My first sibling arrived when I was about four. I’d made the horrible mistake of asking Santa for a baby brother when I sat on his lap. My mother burst into tears when she heard me and I knew I’d done something horrible. When we got home, mom told daddy about it and he told me to go play in my room while they talked about it. I knew that it wouldn’t be right to ask Santa for that again.

Next week on Christmas Day though, I woke up to hear a baby cry.

I ran downstairs to the Christmas tree only to find nothing there. I was confused until I heard a cry again. I followed the sound to the basement, where the most beautiful sight met my eyes.

My daddy had built a secret room behind the bookcase. My old toys I’d grown out of were scattered on the floor, the crib repainted to look brand new. My mom sat in the rocking chair, smiling so brightly as she cuddled a baby wrapped in blue blankets.

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like a dream as I walked up to them, peering to look at his face. His face was all red from crying and a fat tear rolled down his cheek as bleary blue eyes looked back at me.

I probably almost cried. My dad came up behind me and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

“Merry Christmas, Ella.”

They let me name him Robin. I can’t tell you why I picked that name, maybe watching Batman cartoons with my dad every Saturday morning had an effect on me. But Robin was the biggest secret I had to keep. I couldn’t tell all my friends at school I had a brother. If I told anyone, my dad told me that Robin would have to go away, and I didn’t want Robin to go away.

Every day after kindergarten I’d sneak downstairs and just talk with him. Once he stopped crying all the time he was a real sweetie. I’d cradle him so carefully and talk to him about my day. I was so, so happy. I didn’t think I could be any more happy.

Until I got a baby sister. My mom named her Caroline, I just called her Carol. Carol had thick dark curls and the softest skin. I loved her just as much as I loved Robin.

I got five more siblings over the years. Robin, Carol, Andrew, Andrea, Ivy, Ronnie, and Isaac. So many cute little babies. Ivy had a bit of a colic and Ronnie constantly had ear infections, but they were all little dears… well, except Isaac.

Isaac was the oddball out of the kids. He was the only little sibling that wasn’t a baby when he arrived. I was about eight when we got him. I remember my dad come back super late and hearing him walking into the basement. His shadow looked like he was carrying something and I felt a spark of joy in my chest. I knew this meant I’d have a new brother or sister come morning.

I went into the basement the moment I woke up, expecting to see my mom feeding my new sibling a bottle or for him to be kicking his lil feet while relaxing in his crib. I was shocked when I walked into the nursery and found a little boy my age, with a gag in his mouth and handcuffed to his bed.

Confused, I walked over and peeled off the gag. “Are you okay?” I asked.

The boy immediately screamed, straining against his handcuff as he attempted to struggle free. Judging by the bruises and bleeding around his wrist, he’d already tried this. Instead of trying to help him up, I tackled him, slapping my hand over his mouth. “Shut up! You’re gonna wake up our brothers and sisters!” I hissed.

My new brother responded by biting my hand. Hard.

I wailed as I ran back upstairs to my parents. My dad went downstairs to deal with my brother while my mom took extra good care to wash clean my hand and bandage it up. She explained that Isaac was troubled. It would take him time to adjust to his new home, I just had to work really hard to be a good sister.

But I was never to undo his handcuff and I was never, ever to let myself get too close. He was dangerous.

I did my best to stay out of arm’s length of Isaac. My dad had to build another room to put him in, one that was below the staircase. He wasn’t safe to keep around the babies.

I did try to befriend Isaac. For that first month or two all he’d do is lunge at me and spit or just scream in my face.

When he did start talking, it was the things I didn’t want to hear.

“My name isn’t Isaac, you know.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard him speak that first time. He was quiet that day, only giving me a sullen glare. I’d decided to leave when he finally spoke up, his voice raspy from all the screaming he did.

“It’s Kevin.” He turned around to face me. “I want my real mom and dad.”

I shook my head. “But my mom and dad are now yours too,” I said. I was such a selfless child, I figured, being so willing to share my parents.

Isaac just shook his head. “No. I don’t want them. I want mine. Your dad came into my bedroom and stole me.”

“You’re a liar.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “I hate you.”

Isaac shrugged. “Just ask him. I bet he killed my mommy and daddy so they wouldn’t look for me, either,” He said.

I stormed out, slamming his door a bit hard. But what Isaac said got to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when my dad came to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight. I even almost asked him. But I couldn’t make myself face the truth.

I barely got any sleep for a week. Every time I closed my eyes all I saw was Isaac, all alone under the stairs. Thinking about his real mom and dad.

I still didn’t do anything until I overheard my mom and dad talking about getting rid of Isaac.

It was late, probably close to midnight. I still couldn’t sleep so I was going to my parent’s room to ask for something to drink when I heard them talking.

“I told you, Isaac is too old. He’s too far gone. We can’t help him,” I heard my mom.

“Give it some more time, we can still help him!” My dad sounded so desperate, so… so sad.

“I’m sorry. But this was your rule, and breaking it was never going to end well. I’ll… I’ll take care of it myself tomorrow. Take Ella out while I handle Isaac. We’ll just tell her he ran away.”

Even at my young age I knew something really bad was going to happen to Isaac. And even if I hated him, I couldn’t let that happen.

I found the key to the handcuffs, ran into the basement and ripped open the door. Isaac, no, Kevin jolted up in bed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

I didn’t say anything, I just slid the key into the lock and freed him. Kevin gaped as he pulled his hand free. “… But why?” He asked.

“We need to go to the cops. Come on, hurry!”

I took Kevin’s hand and we snuck out the back. I held onto his hand when we ran down the street, and I kept holding on when we finally came across a cop car. Of course, seeing these tiny tykes at that time of night got his attention.

I told him everything. About the children behind the bookcase, what I heard my mother plotting. All of it.

My life was turned upside down after that. All these children my parents had taken. Just little babies that were taken from their cribs in the middle of the night, the parents awaking to find their child was gone.

Kevin was right, he was the only one whose parents had been killed. Their throats had been cut open. My dad claimed that by the time he’d gotten there Kevin’s parents were already dead, but that really didn’t hold up in court. My mom swallowed a bottle of pills before she could be tried and my dad was sentenced to life in prison.

The last time I saw him, he just patted my shoulder and told me it wasn’t my fault how this all turned out.

He hung himself that night in his jail cell.

Now I was an orphan just like Kevin.

I went into the system, which was just as shitty as it sounds. I’ve literally done everything from sleeping on the floor to showering with my clothes on because I didn’t feel safe. I bounced from house to house until a great aunt crawled out of the woodwork to save me. She really didn’t do much other than clothe and feed me but that’s all I needed. By then I was fourteen, I could basically take care of myself.

The last thing she did for me was make sure I got my childhood home back. I know it’s fucked up, considering what went down there, but my heart ached whenever I passed it. No one ever bought it. The yard was unkempt, windows gathered dust and paint began to peel. But my aunt, penny pincher that she was her whole life, had saved enough to give me all I needed to scoop it off the market.

I’ve spent the last month cleaning up the place. It’s actually starting to look like a home, and it was only two nights ago that I stumbled across those old albums I told you about.

There was another one though, for all the kids my parents abducted. It was hidden behind a fake panel in the wall, I only found it because I accidentally kicked the damn thing. I contemplated just leaving it there. A part of my past I didn’t need to dig up.

But I went through it anyway… and there was so much I actually didn’t remember.

I didn’t remember that Robin’s eyes glowed ultraviolet in the dark. I didn’t remember that Andrew and Andrea never slept. I didn’t remember how Carol sprouted a mouth full of needle like teeth and had leathery wings jutting from her back. I didn’t remember that Ivy had patches of pale blue scales breaking up her otherwise dark skin. I didn’t remember that Ronnie’s ears came to a slender point and that he had a second set of near transparent eyelids. Kevin seemed normal, maybe, but now I’m not so sure. When I think of his hands, I remember how each fingertip ended in a sharp, bone claw.

I’ve not slept since then. I’ve stayed up to research those kids, my little brothers and sisters. In the news footage they looked normal enough… almost. If you squint you could almost see Ivy’s scales or Ronnie’s ears not looking right. But then you blink and they just look like normal little kids.

I’ve dug up their fates. They all went back to their families. But all their families are now all dead and have been for a while. Ivy’s family drowned, that much I confirmed. I think Ronnie’s dad just never woke up. The others I’m still researching.

And Kevin? His foster parents had their throats cut out one night. He’s never been seen since.

[denim-mixtapes]

Aren't We All Sinners? - Vol. II: People Write Songs About Girls Like You

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader Word Count: 10.4k Summary: It's a night full of firsts, and new feelings for Eddie start to surface when you go to see Corroded Coffin perform. After some less than stellar news from your mom, Eddie cheers you up with a late night call and your very first orgasm. Warnings: 18+ ONLY Heavy sexual themes + Explicit smut. Chapter specific: Alcohol consumption, drug use mention, Making out, reader insecurity, more in depth discussion of faith/loss of faith, more of Eddie being a Thigh Guy (TM), Phone sex, Guided Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Eddie's disgusting overuse of pet names (Specifically: sweetheart, angel, and baby).

[Series Masterlist] [Mixtape Playlist] <- This playlist, aesthetically, is NOT Eddie-centric. Ignore that. I was going more based on themes than the actual music genre.

You aren’t entirely sure how you got here. 

Lying has never really been your strong suit, obviously, but with a thinly veiled half truth about going to visit with your college roommate, Veronica, at her family home in Muncie and a promise to call as soon as you arrived, you were set free for the night. It cost extra volunteer hours at church, a promise to start coming to choir practice again, and what feels like your sanity, but you’re on your way to Muncie. 

In reality, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You are meeting your roommate at the bar, but the couch she offered you for the night was that of her boyfriend who you hadn’t yet met. You aren’t too keen on staying there, but the curiosity to see Eddie’s band and excitement to see your friend after weeks apart won out in the end. 

The Phoenix is a larger bar than you’re used to seeing in Hawkins, obviously built for live music and an expansive crowd, but still small enough to host local bands. After making your call home from the pay phone out front, you make your way to the door. House music and the sound of a crowd seep out from the open door as you approach, floating alongside the haze of cigarette smoke, and a large stoic bouncer stands just out front. When he asks for your ID, you panic, but a commotion from inside commands his attention and he waves you through without looking before walking away to break up the fight. 

Your arms wrap around your torso uncomfortably as you weave through the crowd toward the bar, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Veronica calls out your name and waves you over, happy to see a friendly face. 

“Ronnie!” You shout back, a bounce to your step now that you’ve seen her, making a beeline in her direction.

A quick hug, an introduction to her boyfriend, and then she’s in full judgment mode, scrutinizing your outfit. 

“The hell are you wearing, girl?” She giggles, already tipsy, holding out both of your hands to take a closer look at you. “You know you’re at a rock show, right?” 

“My parents thought we were going bowling!” You exclaim, embarrassed, “this was the best I could do if I wanted them to let me leave the house.” 

It’s not a completely hopeless outfit, you don’t think, a baggy pair of overalls over a long sleeve white ribbed tee and a pair of All Star sneakers. Nothing revealing, but nothing too church girly either. Clearly, your friend does not agree. She takes your hand and drags you to the bathroom and pushes you into a stall. 

“Trade me,” she says simply. You try to stutter a response, but she’s already throwing her black polyester miniskirt over the stall wall. “Keep your shirt, we’ll fix that next.” As you reluctantly strip your overalls and pass them to her over the stall, she adds, “If this boy means enough to you for you to drive out to Muncie and lie to your dictator parents, then you better look hot for him, that’s all I’m saying. How do you know him, anyway?” 

You huff in protest, pulling the skirt onto your hips with a wiggle and a jump and slamming the stall door open to meet her out in the main bathroom. “He doesn’t…mean anything to me. It’s not like that. He works at the record shop and has been showing me new music. That’s all this is, just another new band. It just happens to be his.” 

“Sure,” she scoffs, rooting in her purse to retrieve a pair of manicure scissors. She doesn’t even ask before she starts butchering your shirt, cutting off the bottom hem just above where the waist of the skirt sits and pulling, twisting, stretching it until it rolls. “The shade of red you’re turning right now suggests otherwise. Is he hot, at least?” Next, she snips the collar off of your shirt, leaving a raw edge, the same at the cuffs of your sleeves. You try to protest as she reaches to keep cutting but she bats your hand away, cutting a “V” into the neckline to reveal a little more of your decolletage. Thankfully she stops before anything too damning is revealed. 

“He’s…” you trail off. You’ve never called anyone hot before. It never felt fitting. But Eddie is decorated in too many tattoos and piercings, too much darkness for you to want to call him handsome. So you relent. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Yeah what?” 

She’s having too much fun trying to get you to admit it. 

“Yes, he’s hot, okay? Really hot.” Now that you’ve started you can’t stop the words from falling from your lips. “He’s got these eyes, gosh, they’re the most stunning thing you’ve ever seen. He has this way of speaking that just captivates you. And Ronnie, his hair. I just want to run my fingers through it.” 

She giggles, handing you a dark, brick red lipstick from her bag and urging you to put it on. “Jesus, even when you’re hot for someone it’s rated G.” 

You mumble a soft “shut up” and throw the lipstick back at her. You try to push past her to get to the door, but she grabs your shoulders and focuses an intense stare into your eyes. 

“You look sexy,” she says, reaching up to pull the scrunchie from your hair and muss it up just enough, “own it. Forget your parents for a night and show that rockstar what you’re made of.” 

It’s with all the love in your heart that you say, “you’re so lame.” Both of you laugh and make your way back out to meet her boyfriend at the bar. You order a water, much to her chagrin, and twist around in your seat excitedly when an emcee takes the stage to introduce the band. 

Three band members take their place and start playing, a long, slow build of music that introduces the first song. From somewhere off stage, a guitar riff sounds, and you perk up, eagerly waiting to see your friend (could you call him a friend?) take the stage. 

When he makes his entrance, Eddie is breathtaking. His staple black, ripped denim adorns his lower half, handcuffs locked at his waist to hold them up. Other than his battle vest, his torso is bare, a smattering of tattoos you’ve never seen before on full display under the harsh stage lights. A black bandana is wrapped around his forehead, holding back those enticing curls, and the same guitar from the flier hangs heavily on the strap across his shoulder. You can’t take your eyes off of his fingers as they glide up and down the fretboard, a speed and a talent you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing live. 

Not only does he look good, but they sound incredible. You can feel the bass in your chest as they play, and before you know it, you’re abandoning your post at the bar and joining the crowd that gathers in front of the stage. You feel electrified, not a drop of alcohol in your bloodstream but you’re drunk on the atmosphere, swaying with the beat and grinning stupidly up at the man who has yet to notice you. 

When he does, when his eyes lock on yours, it only amplifies the adrenaline in your system. As he strums the final, lasting note of their first song, his eyes meet yours and you forget how to breathe. 

Eddie isn’t so sure it’s you at first. You’ve never looked like this before. Plush thighs on full display in a skin tight mini skirt, torn tee shirt exposing your midriff, a brick red stain on your lips in lieu of your usual clear gloss; but your smile is wholly you, and the tiny, shy wave that you give confirms that this is real, you’re here, and you look like you were ripped straight from a wet dream. Silence overtakes the crowd. Eddie forgets that he’s supposed to speak, supposed to be putting on a show. He’s distracted at the first glimpse he catches of you in the crowd. Gareth gives two kicks of the bass drum to snap him back to reality. 

Your trancelike eye contact is broken when the drummer snags Eddie’s attention back and he introduces the band to the crowd once again. 

They put on one hell of a show. Not that you have much to compare it to, but the way your body is buzzing, moving with the crowd, prickling with excitement all night, you know they’re good. Toward the end of the show, there’s a song that showcases every member individually with a solo, a little bragging right for each of them. When it’s Eddie’s turn, he power slides to the edge of the stage, where the crowd has pushed you to the very front. He’s knelt in front of you, eyes wound shut in concentration and fingers playing at the strings sinfully. His tongue pokes between his lips, and that's when you find yourself screaming along with the others in the crowd. At the sound of your voice his eyes fly open, a cocky, sly grin gracing his face as his solo comes to an end. A guitar pick is flicked your way, and when you catch it, he shoots you another wink before standing back up and moving on with the show. 

The rest of the night is vibrating floors and sweaty bodies and ringing ears. The push and pull of the crowd around you, and a giggle caught in your throat when Eddie takes a dramatic bow at the end of the set. Your cheeks sting from smiling, and when you make it back to the bar and order another water, it’s the most refreshed you’ve ever felt in your life. 

Conversations swell around you, the hum of a satisfied crowd and the rattling of ice in cocktail shakers. You spot your friends at a table in the corner and wave, but at the same time, Eddie is pushing through the saloon doors to the side of the bar, denim vest now exchanged for a cropped muscle tee, and his eyes are locked on yours. He’s headed straight for you, so you stay put. 

“Hey!” He shouts, all of his excitement and a post-show high poured into one little word. Without hesitation, arms wrap around you, pulling your frame into his. One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other rests on the small of your back. You breathe him in, the acrid stink of pot and sweat masked by cheap bathroom cologne and leather. You should be disgusted, but you can’t be bothered. Pulling back to gauge your reaction, he holds onto your elbows, making sure not to let you get too far. You grip his forearms in return. “What did you think?” 

“Eddie!” You shout, at a loss for words but praise dripping from your tone. “So good! You guys killed it!” 

Speaking to your lips now instead of your eyes, he rolls his own bottom lip between his teeth, breathing, “fuck yeah we did.” The bartender stops in front of the pair of you. Eddie greets him by name, because of course he does. “Hey Joe, give me a PBR, and…” he trails off, looking sideways at you and dropping a hand to your waist with a squeeze. Your skin shouldn’t be tingling where his palm rests against it, but it is. “What’re you drinking, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. 

“Oh, uhm, just water.” 

SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart.

“Fuck that,” he laughs, “we’re celebrating! C’mon, it’s on me.” He narrows his eyes at you, calculating, before looking back to the bartender. “Give her an Amaretto Sour on the band’s tab.”

When the bartender, Joe, you assume, turns his back you widen your eyes at the man beside you. “Eddie! I’m not drinking-” 

“Shh,” he insists, holding a finger to his lips. “You’ll love it, I promise…and if you don’t, you don’t have to drink it. I’ll give it to Gareth, kid’s a bottomless pit.” 

He’s right, you suppose. You’ll be 21 soon enough anyway, what’s a few months?

When the drinks are passed across the bar, Eddie presses the cold glass of light amber liquid into your hand. The coolness is a reprieve against your warm skin even if you don’t end up drinking it, but you do give it the tiniest taste at the eager prompting of the man beside you. The sweet, nutty drink is nothing like what you expected and goes down easy, but you still nurse it slowly as Eddie introduces you to his bandmates, chats about the set and asks you which songs were your favorite. All of them, you want to say, but manage to recall a couple of titles. 

When your drink is almost gone, Ronnie approaches you, boyfriend in tow. You introduce them all, they praise the band on a great show, and your roommate pulls you aside. 

“So, we were thinking of heading home,” she says, looking from you to Eddie and back, leaving her statement open ended. 

“Oh…” You look over at Eddie yourself, liquor and adrenaline clouding your judgment. He’s talking to Jeff animatedly with his hands and smirks over the other boy’s shoulder when he catches you staring. “You know what, you guys go ahead. I’ll hang out for a little bit.” 

“Are you sure?” She asks, gripping your shoulders, “Have you had anything to drink?” 

“Just this one,” you say, “I’ll be fine, promise. I’ll stay a while and I can just head home. I’ll tell my parents I wasn’t feeling well if they ask.” 

“Okay,” she nods, “just be safe, and call me tomorrow to tell me everything.” Wrapping her in a tight goodbye hug, you promise to do so, and when she pulls from your embrace, her focus is behind you instead of on you. “I think someone else wants your attention now. Bye, Eddie!” She’s gone with a flutter of her fingers. 

Turning on your heel you find Eddie just behind you, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He nods toward the door he came out of earlier. “Wanna go somewhere a little more quiet?” 

You only nod in response, and he grins victoriously, guiding you toward the back exit of the building with a commanding hand on the small of your back. 

He tries not to crowd you, he really does, but your skin is warm to the touch, soft where his fingertip slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re here, and you’re dressed so differently than you usually do, and he can’t help but wonder just what else you might do to rebel tonight. He only hopes he’ll be lucky enough to find out. 

Stepping outside into the balmy night air, he takes you past the band’s van being loaded up with their equipment and toward another slightly smaller van. You hesitate when he opens the back door and holds it open for you, but the laugh lines that crease around his eyes when he offers you an encouraging smile are enough to get you moving. As you climb in, his hand never leaves the small of your back for support, and you can practically feel the way his eyes linger on your backside, but aside from the rush of heat to your cheeks you don’t react. 

It’s clunky and awkward, getting yourselves situated in the back of Eddie’s van. Where he falls gracelessly into a pile of blankets with an air of confidence only Eddie Munson could manage, you’re still tripping over your own feet and hunching to accommodate the low ceiling, unsure of where to sit. He grins up at you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he found your anxiety amusing. His gaze is fixed on your skirt hem where your fingers idly fiddle with it, a glint in his eye and heave in his chest from where he still can’t catch his breath after an exhilarating show. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs, the word hanging quiet in the dusty air. He pats on the worn out, threadbare bean bag chair beside him and unsuccessfully tries to stifle his joyous laugh. “I won’t bite, sweetheart.” His smile flashes with mischief and it’s only when you give in and settle into the cushion next to him that he leans in closer and adds in a breath, “unless you want me to.” 

You pretend not to hear him.

“You guys really did kill it tonight,” you compliment instead, grinning and nudging his bent knee lightly with the rubber toe of your sneaker. “I don’t…I mean I guess I don’t know what the standard is, since this was my first concert and all, but it was seriously so good.”

“No fucking way,” he exclaims, savoring the way you blink involuntarily when he swears. Reaching out to catch your ankle before you can withdraw it, he squeezes gently and grins up at you. “You’ve never been to a show before?” 

A shrug. The press of your knees tighter together, hyper aware of your skirt riding up in this position. “Not unless you count the church choir’s Christmas performance or Worship before Sunday service.” 

He only manages a soft chuckle and another thoughtful, “no way,” when he releases his hold on you, playfully dropping your foot. A few moments of silence pass, interrupted only by a ruckus outside, two men arguing and then the slamming of car doors. When it passes, Eddie speaks up again. “So you’re really into all that, huh? Jesus and whatnot.” 

You can’t stop the giggle from coming out at his phrasing. “I guess, yeah?” You shrug again. “Although, I used to say I enjoyed worship because I could feel God moving me through the music…but now I’m starting to think that might just be what live music feels like, because I got the same rush in there as I used to during worship…maybe better.”

Eddie tries to not let it go to his head that you basically just equated him to God.

“You guess? You don’t sound so sure there, sweetheart..” His eyes fall from your own and trail downward, lingering on the crucifix around your neck before continuing on. You shy under his gaze, skin warming under his attention as you wrap your arms around yourself again. “But you still wear that cute little thing, so I’ll believe the good girl act for a while longer. ” 

He knows it’s not just an act, that you truly are as innocent as you seem, but there's curiosity and drive behind your eyes – a hunger to learn more and be more than just the church girl, and so help him, he’s determined to help you reach that potential.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging. Always shrugging. You fear you might develop a hunch from it. As you continue talking, Eddie leans across the front seat to turn on the radio, turning the volume down to a more appropriate background level. Still, you don’t miss the way he stiffens in reaction to your next sentence. “My dad is a pastor, so it’s kind of all I know. I grew up in the church, went to catholic school, the whole nine yards, so it’s just been kind of drilled into me.” 

“Seems like a good reason to believe in something, just ‘cause others told you you should.” He says, voice dry but not cruel judging by the hearty smile on his face. This time when he plops back down, it's on the beanbag beside you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You try not to focus on the fact that the dip in the cushion has rolled your body in toward his, or on the way that his thigh presses into yours, or the heat that lingers there. “When I moved out for college, I kinda got the drift that things weren’t as black and white as I was raised to believe. Like for example,” nudging his shoulder playfully with your own, “not all secular music is made to worship the devil.” 

Eddie snorts, “right, only the good stuff.” 

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sarcastically agree. “Exactly! I dunno, it’s just hard sometimes, finding my place in the middle. I like to believe that there’s still some truth to the Word, but I also don’t think that I should be living life in fear of being labeled as a sinner for the kind of music I like, or the kind of company I keep, or the length of my skirt. Frankly the concept of sin just seems…I don’t know, like a threat nowadays? How are we supposed to let the promise of an eternity in Hell stop us from enjoying the life we’re living now if we don’t even know for sure that Hell exists!? I just– sorry. Sorry, I’m going off on a tangent.” 

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, and his voice is soft and earnest when he urges, “you have nothing to apologize for, I asked.” 

“I– I suppose.” 

Your eyes shine with worry when you meet his, and it only makes his smile even wider. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know the truth, your truth. And besides,” his expression is downright giddy when he lets his head lean back against the seat back behind you, eyes shifting to take a peek at you, “I get what you mean. Nobody is truly perfect, but that doesn’t make them inherently evil either. Sure I’m tatted up and swear by the word ‘fuck’ and play a game that society sees as devil worship, but there’s also like, murderers and people who beat the shit out of their kids and animals and rob banks. So it’s a spectrum, I’d say.” He takes your hearty laugh as a sign that he didn’t cross some sort of unspoken boundary and presses further. “Really, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? I find it hard to believe that you haven’t rebelled at least a little since leaving the nest.” 

“Uh…” you take in your surroundings and let out a chastising laugh. You could tell him about your sole experience at a frat party, but you hugged the wall and nursed a solo cup of water the entire time, so you wouldn’t say that counts. “This?” 

Eddie balks. “No!” He protests, voice thick with disbelief, “no, come on there was never any sneaking out in high school? No secret late night rendezvous with the quarterback?” 

You lean your head on his shoulder, unable to face him head on when you admit, “there was, at best, a peck on the lips with the captain of the debate team after prom.” Your laughter is dry and self deprecating. 

It makes no sense to open up like this to Eddie. Earlier in the night, you weren’t even certain you could call him a friend, but now here you are openly admitting your dirty little secrets…or lack thereof. There’s just something about him that offers you comfort. His charming presence, the confidence he carries that never feels judgemental, the arm around your shoulder holding you close to his chest as he chuckles at your admission. 

Wait– when did that get there? 

“Sorry, sorry, I should have known.” His laughter is more jovial than cruel, a dig at his own ignorance rather than your innocence. His free hand crosses both of your bodies to grab your left hand, holding it up and twisting so that the dull overhead light reflects off of the gold band on your ring finger. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Promise ring? How far do the rules of that thing reach, anyway? Like does–” There’s a pause and a stutter in his breath. For the first time since you met him you can feel uncertainty wavering in his voice. “You know what, no that’s too far. Even I can recognize that.” 

The giggle in your voice is music to his ears when you press him to say what he wants to. The jab of your elbow in his ribs, your little playful smack to his chest. You lean into him with a raised brow, challenging him to continue.

Eddie stares you down, scrutinizing, narrowing his eyes as you continue to giggle innocently up at him. He’s begging every God he doesn’t believe in to forgive him when he gives in. “Okay, but only ‘cause I want to know if it’ll make you blink like swearing does.-” 

“ – I do not blink at swears!” 

“You definitely do,” he confirms, coolly ignoring your interruption with a smug grin. “Now do you wanna hear the question or not?” Doe eyes shine curiously back at him through the dim moonlight as you nod. Reaching for your hand again, he fidgets with the ring on your finger, with your fingers themselves, turning your hand about in his own with his gaze fixed on your joined hands. Quieter now in the still air of his van, his voice is even more gravelly than usual when he asks, “D’you take it off when you wanna touch yourself?”

You blink.

 He likely already knows the answer, but the image of you getting yourself off has already wormed its way into his brain and he just has to know.

“I-” your throat is suddenly the driest it’s ever been, and your attempt to clear it is only partially successful. The atmosphere in the van has shifted, your previous laughter and playfulness sucked out the cracked front windows and replaced with a sudden awareness of your proximity. You should chastise him for bringing it up. It’s inappropriate. You shouldn’t answer him, it’s inappropriate, but the way his Adam's apple bobs and his eyes dart up to meet yours as he patiently awaits your answer compels you to give it. You answer to his lips, unsure if it’s because you don’t want to meet his eye or because you simply can’t look away from the perfect cupid’s bow framed by late evening stubble. “I don’t do that.” 

“‘Cause it’s a sin?” He teases, and despite your earlier rant on sin, you give a shallow nod in response. 

“It’s like you said earlier,” the space between you is getting smaller, but neither of you are aware of who’s at fault for that. You feel drawn to him, the gravel of his voice, his own personal gravity curling around you and tugging. “We don’t know if heaven or hell exists,” closer, “and even if it does, aren’t we all sinners in the end?” Closer. He’s close enough now that his breath ghosts your collarbones, his free hand on the curve of your waist, his gaze drops to your own mouth as he finishes, “The way I see it, if you don’t sin a little, then doesn’t that mean Jesus died for nothing?” 

You’re close enough now to taste the beer and hope on his breath, and for a brief moment you think he might kiss you, but then another ruckus breaks out outside the van. Excited hollering and slamming of doors and a broken beer bottle against the concrete just outside the van startle you and Eddie apart. Your heart is racing when you look out the window to see the car that was parked next to you peeling away, and you take the moment to calm yourself. 

Shaking your head, you settle back into the bean bag an acceptable distance away from him once again, but he spreads his legs as he settles further into the cushion, pressing his thigh into yours and commanding the space. You convince yourself he’s just getting comfortable, not trying to stay close to you, but the way he smirks down at your naked thigh pressed against the black denim covering his own sends a shiver down your spine. 

You both wait out the moment, a beat of quiet passing between you, but when the tape that’s been playing in the background clicks to signal the end, he speaks up again, nudging his knee into yours. 

“For real, though, you’ve never even been curious about it?” He asks, turning to rest his arm against the seatback behind you. 

“About se…about sex?” 

God if that little stutter wasn’t endearing to Eddie and God if the curious pinch between your brows didn’t go straight to his cock because you aren’t denying it. He decides to test the waters, lean in a little closer again and gently push the hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. 

“Well, sure, yeah…but not even that far. Just like,” he pauses again. “Even the PG-13 stuff. Making out under the bleachers or missing half the movie and steaming up the windows at the drive in are essential to the teenage experience.”

You hum thoughtfully, his question bouncing around in your head. You can’t stop focusing on his hand that’s come to rest on the outside of your thigh, pulling you just slightly toward him. Your brain is foggy, you can’t for the life of you remember being curious about what you might be missing out on, but then again you’d never had anything to compare it to either. It’s not that you don’t know about sex. Sure, the schools you went to taught abstinence only sex ed, but you’re not stupid. You know the logistical side of things, you’ve just never experienced anything first hand so you don’t know how it feels. If the way your pulse races whenever Eddie meets your eye or the jolt of adrenaline you get when he touches you in a new unfamiliar way has anything to do with his so-called teenage experience, then you just might think you have been missing out. 

“Not really? I guess I never saw the point.” You finally say, shying under his attention. “But I also didn’t have any experience to inspire such curiosity.” The way you say it is like a question, meek voice lilting up towards the end of the statement and another shrug pulling at your shoulders. Then, turing from shy self-pity to the mask of self-deprecating humor you’re used to using with your roommate, you tack on, “y’know, ‘cause the captain of a catholic high school debate team is bound to be the object of every girl’s fantasies, right?”

Eddie’s face falls again, his fingers stilling where he was once stroking the exposed skin of your thigh. He tries to hide his shock, but you still catch a glimpse of it amongst the gleeful look of curiosity. “So you weren’t just being hyperbolic, huh? You’ve really never even been so much as kissed?” You’re about to jump in when he waves you off and rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, prom with Dorky McChristian, I know. But I don’t think that counts. I mean really, truly kissed. A toe curling, basement flooding kinda kiss that leaves you wanting more, you know?” 

“When you put it that way…” your laughter is soft and nervous. There’s no judgment from Eddie, not that you can feel. He’s leaning in and speaking with a genuine sort of curiosity that sparkles in his eyes, like he really wants to know what makes you tick and what hasn’t yet made you tick. It’s the same voice he uses when he asks if you’ve ever seen Evil Dead or listened to Kiss, like he’s just banking away another fact about you in his memory. So without that feeling of judgment, you confirm his statement. “...then no, I’ve never been kissed.”

He tries to keep his voice full of seduction and not the hope that swells in his chest when his gaze drops to your lips and he asks, “would you like to be?”  

Your heart is in your throat, caught there with the little gasp and exciting sort of uncertainty that bloomed in your chest at his offer. You should get going. You should make note of the time and tell him you’ll see him on Monday at the shop. 

Instead, you nod. 

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, grinning proudly, the cat that caught the canary. The hand behind your head comes to rest on your jaw, two fingers pressing into the pulse point under your jawline and thumb tugging gently at your lower lip. He relishes in the way your pulse races under his fingertips, “gonna have to hear you say it, angel.”

“Yes.” 

It’s barely audible, the hint of a whisper on shaky breath but it’s enough for Eddie. Eddie, who crowds your space even further, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixated on your lips until he’s too close to focus. Not for the first time tonight, your breath hitches, fingers tingling, heart hammering, the thump thump thump against your ribcage rivaling the band’s earlier performance.  

Time seems to stop in this moment, surrounded by the scent of cheap cologne and musk and summertime air leaking in through the cracked windows. Minutes or hours or days pass there, breathing each other’s air, leeching body heat from tacky skin. 

When it finally happens, you’re surprised at how tender it is, the gentle press of lips against lips so quick you’re unsure who even finally closed the gap, but Eddie leaves no room for doubt. The moment you pull back enough to voice your confusion, near protesting that – while better than your prom kiss – that was still absolutely just a peck, his grin contorts into that self-assured smirk. The hand on your jaw shifts behind you again, working into the hair at your nape and pulling you back into his embrace with an involuntary squeak. 

It’s hard. Shoulders tense, teeth pressed tight against closed lips, eyes wound tight. 

You’re unsure what to think at first. 

But then Eddie breaks away just enough to mumble, “‘s okay,” and, “just follow my lead, sweetheart,” between another set of rushed kisses. You try to relax, and remember, oh, yeah, you should be kissing him back. That’s a thing. 

Eddie is soaring with pride when you relax enough to return the kiss, leaning up and into it, unknowingly pressing your chest up against his in an effort to get closer. Despite your obvious nerves and initial stiffness, you’re more than making up for it now. She’s a natural, he thinks smugly, a quick study, and when he coaxes your lips apart and hears the soft whine that comes with it, he can’t help but let his mind wander to all the other noises he might be able to get you to make. 

You don’t know how much time passes before he breaks the kiss, pulling away with reluctance and a tug of your lower lip between his teeth, but your breathlessness suggests it’s been a while. 

“How ya feelin’, angel?” He wears his smugness in the dimple of his smirk, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, his own breath ragged but much more controlled than your own. “Like you wanna confess?” 

He swears he could live off of the flushed smile and bitten lip that you try so desperately to hide from him before carefully answering, “Not…necessarily.” 

There’s a soft thump when his head falls lazily against the seat back, smirk growing as he sizes you up. “No?” He teases, eyes raking across your features, taking in your rumpled clothes and heavy lidded gaze, the shy smile hiding behind the curtain of your hair. Nimble, calloused fingers hook into the space behind your knee, tugging until your legs drape over his lap. Your skin burns where his fingertips tickle just below the hem of your skirt, goosebumps forming in their wake. They stay there, dancing along your exposed thigh as he allows you a moment to catch your breath, and he can’t help but praise, “you look fucking perfect like this.” His touch teases higher, dipping under the polyester just enough to make you squirm. “Now don’t get me wrong, I love your usual look, but this…” Tugging on the hem, he shifts again to hover over you and nudges your nose with his own. You can feel the brush of his lips against yours as he speaks, “...worst part is you don’t even know what you were doin’ to me in there tonight.” There’s no time to answer before he kisses you again, a hungry growl in the back of his throat. 

You’d never given much thought to kissing before tonight. Truly, out of sight out of mind. When you’d overheard Veronica on the phone with one of her friends talking about the date who used too much tongue, you remember thinking any amount of tongue in a kiss must be too much, surely. 

But now, Eddie is coaxing your lips apart with his own, every move calculated and commanding, and when his tongue sweeps into your mouth to massage your own…oh.

Something akin to static settles deep in your stomach, tendrils of it curling from your chest and down to tingling fingertips. Reaching out, you fist a hand in the collar of Eddie’s tee shirt and pull, wanting him as close as possible. Betraying his suave demeanor, the action makes Eddie lose his balance, toppling him over with a joyous laugh and a hand on either side of your head. He drops his weight onto one elbow and reaches out for you with the other hand, tilting your chin with his thumb to make space for himself in the crook of your neck. 

“Feelin’ a little eager are we?” He murmurs into your ear, breath ghosting the shell and making you shudder at his closeness. “By all means, sweetheart, manhandle me all you want.” 

Teasing, always teasing, he noses along your jawline, savoring your shallow breath and the way he can feel you arch up into him. Your hand slips into his hair as he tests the waters, kissing, licking, sucking at little points across your neck. A nip of his teeth into the soft flesh just below your ear has you gasping and tightening your grip on his curls. You press your thighs together unknowingly as he soothes the sting with a pass of his tongue and continues on, latching onto another lower point on your neck. 

“E-Eddie, wait-” You gasp, gently pulling him away from you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks gently, biting back a smile as he admires the sight of you flushed and pliant beneath him. “Not feelin’ it?” 

“No I – um, it’s not that. I mean it’s different. I feel weird, but…good weird?” Your voice falters, brows pinched, and you bring a hand up to rest on your own neck in the space he just occupied. 

“That’s called horny,” he teases, interrupting you. 

You choose to ignore the comment, finally eeking out,  “please don’t, um…I can’t have any hickeys. I’ll be dead. Literally six feet under if my dad sees anything.” You pout at your own statement, big, round eyes and a puffy lower lip that Christ, Eddie just wants to sink his teeth into. 

He’s about to do just that when a loud banging comes at the back door of the van. His face falls, head sinking, curls tickling your chest before you both look to the still-closed doors. Thankfully Gareth doesn’t open them, only yells through the layers of metal. 

“Ed, bar’s closed. We gotta get going!”

His voice is practically a growl that you can feel in his chest, “can’t you hitch a ride with the guys? ‘M a little occupied at the moment.”

There’s a long pause on the other side before he calls back, “...all the equipment…no room in the van, I’m sorry man.” 

He heaves a sigh and presses another hurried kiss to your lips, nipping at that pout just as he wanted to, but much more playfully quick than intended. He quietly murmurs an apology to you before yelling back, “fine! Give us a second, jackass. Take a lap around the block or somethin’!” Then turning to you with puppy eyes, “sorry, I am so sorry about that.” 

He kneels away from you, leaning on his heels to offer you a hand up, which you gladly take. 

“It’s okay,” you hum, not wanting the evening to end but knowing it might be a good idea to head home before things carry on further. “It’s, um…it’s quite late, I should probably be on the road already anyway.” 

You right yourself as he goes for the door, pulling your skirt down where it bunched up, finding your discarded purse in the corner and fishing out your car keys. By the time you’re situated, Eddie has already hopped down from inside the van and is offering his hand to help you down easily. 

With youreet secure on cracked asphalt, the real world settling in alongside the cool night breeze around you, you’re suddenly nervous again, shy. You find yourself worried that outside the comfort and closeness of his van, he’ll see you for what you really are; an inexperienced girl playing dress up with false confidence. The next time he sees you at the shop in your usual, modest getup, he’ll regret ever kissing you – or worse, forget it even happened. 

Dejected by your own thoughts, you nod at him in thanks and clutch the strap of your purse nervously. 

“It really was a good show,” you say in place of a farewell, “Eddie, tonight was really fun.” 

“Thanks, angel,” he says through upturned lips, lighting a fresh joint. He leans against the open door of the van, one foot propped up on the bumper, the free hand not pinching his smoke stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. He looks like he was ripped straight from the silver screen, the bad boy John Bender type in your own little coming of age flick. He exhales, billowing smoke into the air in the direction opposite you. “I had a pretty stellar time, myself.” He grabs you by the forearm before you can retreat to your car, pulling you into him for a much more chaste goodbye kiss, mumbling, “drive safe,” against your lips, not wanting to part even to share the sentiment. 

“Promise,” you assure him, pressing a final kiss high on his cheekbone and turning to start the journey to your car. You turn to say a final goodbye and are met with the flash of a Polaroid Spectra. “What was that for?” You ask, voice lilting, giggling musically. 

You can see Gareth returning from around the corner and wave, feeling floaty as you walk backwards to your car. 

Eddie simply says, “Told you you look fantastic like this. Wanted to remember it.” Like this, he thinks, hair a riot, skirt bunched up, flustered and breathless from nothing more than a kiss.

Shaking your head, you shout another goodbye before getting into your car and driving away. 

As the photo develops in Eddie’s hand and he’s joined by his drummer, he shakes the thoughts from his mind. You don’t know what you’re in for. 

Fuck Gareth for needing a ride.

—

Monday following the concert, you flit into Camelot music in your regular getup. Hair twisted into two messy braids, soft off-white tee shirt layered under a billowy thin denim dress. The forecast called for rain and a bit of a chill with it, so instead of sheer pantyhose you opted for a pair of over-the-knee socks, surely covered by the dress when you left the house, but now exposed by the knot you’d tied over one knee. 

Eddie’s with a customer when you walk in, but his attention is solely on the tops of those socks and the way they cut into your skin. You busy yourself by looking at a rack of new releases that don’t interest you as he finishes up, ringing out the cheerleader/letter jacket couple with a shallow nod and empty responses to their questions. 

As soon as the door shuts behind them, you’re joining him at the counter. 

“Hi,” whispered nervously, uncertain where you stand after the weekend. 

“Hi, angel.” Eyes dart over your shoulder briefly, ensuring there’s nobody around before he reaches over the counter to hold your face with both hands, pulling you in for a searing kiss. You squeak with surprise and he laughs into the kiss, breath ghosting your upper lip. “Thought about you all weekend.” 

You insist he’s trying to flatter you. 

He’s not lying. Only omitting the fact that most of those thoughts were lewd, obscene little brain worms. Images of you panting beneath him, your chest pressed against his, nipples perking under his attention. He kept returning to that damned thought of you touching yourself, of his name on your lips as you reached your peak. Every chance he got, every moment of alone time, his imagination ran wild, long, languid strokes of his cock spurred on by the memory of those perfect sounds you made for him from just one silly makeout session. It fueled him, how sensitive you were, so new to everything. Moreover, nothing turned him on more than the fact that he was, apparently, the first and only person to make those precious sounds, to make you feel that way, not even yourself. 

“You did not,” you accuse, rolling your eyes. 

“Cross my heart,” he mumbles, jaw slack at the memory. Then, ducking suddenly below the counter he adds, “Hey! Made you something.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the way his hair stays suspended in the air just a beat longer than he does, and you lean forward further to see him rooting around under the counter for something. He returns with another mixtape, this one labeled sloppily as People Write Songs About Girls Like You. 

Raising an eyebrow at the title, you turn the tape about in your hands. 

“Should I be worried about this one?” 

He quirks a single eyebrow, “only if Daddy finds it.” 

“Oh my gosh.” Mortified, you stuff the tape into your purse and hide your face in your hands. 

It’s a short visit this time. While a few Metallica tracks were featured on your first mixtape, he decides to play you their ‘86 album Master of Puppets in full over the store stereo, pointing out certain tracks and what they mean to him. He credits the title track for literally saving his life in his third (and final) senior year, says the dedication to learning to play it on the guitar by ear is what made it click for him that he wasn’t as stupid as everyone tried to convince him he was. It was that push that allowed him to finally cross that stage and inspired him to put a real honest effort into the band too. 

“I think this is my new favorite song, then,” you note with a soft smile as it comes to an end. 

“Softie,” he teases, throwing a balled up receipt at you. 

“Maybe,” you giggle. Then, noticing the time, “hey, I gotta get going, have to cut it short today. Mom said she wanted to talk about something when she got off of work. Sounded important.”

Ever dramatic, he mimes a dagger to the heart, twisting it, writhing with the pantomime of pain and falling limp against the cash register. “If you must,” he heaves. “Can I call you tonight at least?” 

You fiddle with the gold cross around your neck, and his eyes follow the movement. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” you say uncomfortably and note all too quickly the hurt on his face. “It’s not!” You insist, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s just that if you call while my parents are awake, they’ll…ask questions. And probably listen in on the other end.” 

“Well,” he chuckles, “we don’t want that.” 

“Nope.” 

“Tell you what.” He pulls a sticky note from off the stack near the register and scribbles hastily, passing it to you when he’s done. “When do they hit the hay, what, nine? Ten at the latest?” You nod. “Give me a buzz when they’re out. I’ll be around.” 

Grinning, you plant both hands on the counter and lean across it to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “sounds like a plan. Talk to you later!”

“I’ll be waiting!” 

—

As it turns out, your mother’s talk was not important. 

“I’ve arranged a date for you,” she says over the rim of her coffee mug, her post-work decaf practically a ritual at this point. 

“You what?” 

“A date!” She repeats, smiling sickly sweet like she’s doing you a favor. 

Dread swirls in your stomach, all color draining from your cheeks. “Mom, I- you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to, silly. I just thought it might be nice for you to get out with a nice, respectable boy, and besides, Justine was practically begging me to make the arrangement, what with the way she was bragging about Tom’s doctorate studies and empty social calendar.” 

You balk with realization, “wait- Justine…? Mrs. Murray? You mean you set me up with Tommy Murray?” 

The Murray’s were well known in your parish. Charitable, well off…uptight. Tommy had been in the youth group with you for a few years, but he aged out in your 8th grade year. Janie had a massive crush on him, but you thought he was an arrogant jerk, a narcissist at best. He was smart but he knew it and that soured you to him immediately. 

“He goes by Tim now, honey.” Is all she manages in response, not acknowledging your disgust. 

“Mom,” you scoff, “I am not going out with that guy.”

“Don’t be rude,” she chastises, the mug in her hand thunking against the table harshly, dark, milky liquid threatening to slosh out from the force of her setting it down. “I’ve already made the plan so you will go through with it. Now I suppose you don’t have to continue to see him if you don’t like how it goes but I did you the favor of setting this up, the least you could do is show up. Respectably.” 

It’s almost painful, suppressing the eye roll, but you know you’ll be better off just giving in. At least maybe you’ll get a good meal out of it. Your voice is soft, obedient when you ask, “when and where?” 

“He’ll pick you up Thursday at noon for lunch.” 

“Can’t I drive myself?” She doesn’t have to answer. Her stern look is enough to have you sighing with defeat. “I’ll be ready by 11:45.” 

“That’s what I thought. Now go clean up for dinner.” 

—

By some miracle, your parents both manage to turn in before nine that night and you retire to you room, door cracked and handheld landline receiver tucked under your pillow, waiting for any sign that they’re asleep. By 9:20 the bedside lamp clicks off, the thin stream of light from under their door going dark. By 9:35 your father’s snoring indicates that they’re out. 

Still, you wait another twenty minutes to assure that they’re asleep for the night before you pad quietly across the room to shut your door and throw a blanket in front of the crack at the bottom. Just in case. 

Your heart skips a beat with each ring, until finally the other line clicks. 

Silky smooth and hushed, voice mottled by the crackling of the line, he answers, “hello?” 

“Eddie?” You ask hopefully…stupidly. You know who you dialed, he doesn’t know who is calling. You can’t see him smiling at your blunder over the phone, you just clear your throat and continue, identifying yourself. 

“Yeah, I knew it was you, sweetheart. Did you think I could forget your pretty voice?”

“You’re such a flatterer, you know that?” You tease, twirling the fringe of your throw blanket between the fingers of your free hand. 

“What!?” He’s all mock shock and dramatic gasps, the other line rustling as he gets comfortable in bed. “Me? Never. I haven’t even told you how nice you look tonight.” 

“Please,” This time you do snort through your laugh, shaking your head even though you know he can’t see. You settle back into your pillows, tucking the receiver between your ear and shoulder so you can free up your hands for idle fidgeting. “You can’t even see me.” 

“Just cause I can’t see you doesn’t mean you don’t look nice.” He argues, “I bet you’re a stunner. Describe it to me. What’re you wearing?” An overused line, a cliche for any late night phone call, he’s aware, but he’s dying to know what someone like you wears to bed. 

You hum into the phone, tucking your feet underneath you and hugging your knees to your chest. “You won’t laugh?” 

“I could never.” 

You think about lying, but something tells you he would be able to tell. 

“It’s a, um,” you giggle at how predictable your answer must seem to him. “A white nightgown.” He’s quiet on the other end, not much more than an encouraging mhm, trying to pry more details from you. You’re not sure exactly what he’s looking for, so you go for the obvious, describing the details of the garment. “It’s got, like, a french collar and this frilly lace on the hem and the straps…little bow on the neckline.” 

“Now why would I ever laugh at that? Sounds to me like you’re just living up to the nickname, angel.”

“Don’t be cruel,” you giggle, though his tone doesn’t hold any malice. 

“Wouldn’t dare. How long is it? Hittin’ the floor?”

“Nope.” Playing with the lacy hem of it, you correct him, “little bit above my knee.” 

You swear he groans on the other end. Eddie, who’s been playing shows in sleazy bars for years, who’s seen his fair share of scandalous outfits on girls much more sexual than you, is groaning over the mention of…your legs? No, that…that doesn’t add up. 

“So you’re letting those pretty legs out to play, hm?” His voice is rougher, gruff, and he takes note of the rustling of pillows behind you. “You in bed?” 

“Mhm,” you don’t know which question you’re answering. Both are true, you suppose. 

“Yeah? Me too. So…” Eddie sighs into the receiver, palming his growing erection through his jeans. He is far too into this already, and he’s getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t even know if this is pushing your boundaries too far yet, for fuck’s sake, but God, is he hoping you take the bait. “I was thinking.” 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you tease. 

“Cute.” 

“Sorry,” you giggle, “couldn’t resist. What were you thinking about?” 

“...how unfair it is that you’re 20 goddamn years old and you don’t know what an orgasm is like.” Your fiddling fingers halt, the air sucked from your lungs at his boldness, that same churning, staticy feeling starting low in your stomach at the thought. “And I know you say you don’t know what you’re missing out on so it’s not that bad, but hear me out. I know what you’re missing out on, and I think it’s a fucking shame.”

“I’m…sorry?” 

There’s a long pause between you before he finally breaks down and joins in on your laughter. 

“No need to be sorry, angel. I just want to help you out.” 

“And that’s an entirely selfless offer, I'm sure.” 

“Baby, there’s lots of ways I’d love to be involved, but tonight’s about you. You need to learn about your body first, find out what you like.”

“You want me to…on the phone with you?” You know what he’s suggesting, but still can’t quite wrap your head around the idea. 

“Only if you want to. This is only good for me if you’re enjoying yourself.” His words settle right in between your legs, your thighs squeezing together and trapping them there with the growing heat between them. Against your will, a whimper makes its way past your lips at the thought. “Sounds like you’re into the idea.” 

Glaring down at the gold band on your finger, you sigh before ripping it off and shoving it in the drawer of your nightstand. You want this, you think, and you don’t need judgment from some dumb piece of symbolic jewelry. Still you hesitate. 

“I don’t…hate the idea, but I don’t know how to– I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“That’s why I’m here. I’ll walk you through it. Just do as I say and tell me how you’re feeling. If you like something, don’t like something…if you change your mind all together. Just tell me and I’ll adjust accordingly. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, “we’ll start you off slow. Want you to play with those gorgeous tits for me, okay? Start over your nightgown, just do what feels right.” You shake away the nagging insecurity and oblige, running a hand across your chest, steadying the phone in the other. It takes a moment to find your rhythm, cupping, softly groping at your own flesh, but Eddie can tell the moment you relax into it, soft sighs and hitched breath like music to his ears. “Good, now don’t forget your nipples, sweetheart. Light touches, tease yourself a little, remember we’re just getting warmed up.” 

You settle further into your plush mattress, letting the down pillows and Eddies gravelly, rough voice envelop you. He continues to coach you until your muscles are loose, movements slow and careful, appreciating your body in a way you never considered. 

“When you’re ready, I want you to hike up that skirt and touch yourself through your panties. Don’t take them off yet, stroke that pretty cunt until you’re whining.”

“Eddie!” You don’t know if you’re scolding him or praising him, shallow breath stuttering as your touch ventures south, teasing through your underwear and letting out a soft moan when your fingers press against the damp cotton. 

“How’s it feel, angel?”

“F-feels good,” you simper, gasping when your touch focuses on that spot that makes your toes curl. 

“You want more?”

That gets him what he wants, a sharp whine disguised as a, “please,” and he’s finally giving in and unbuttoning his jeans, allowing his aching cock some reprieve from the denim confines with a satisfied grunt.

“Lose the panties, baby. Slide your fingers between your folds, tell me how wet you are for me.” The phone gets knocked aside in your haste to peel your panties off, kicking them off the edge of the bed, but you make sure it’s securely back in place on your shoulder before you follow his instruction. It’s obscene, the sound your arousal makes as you part your lower lips, sliding two fingers between them. “Fuck, don’t need you to tell me,” he groans, pulling his boxers down just enough to start stroking his cock in time with your moaning, “she’s telling me herself. Keep playing with your clit, baby, I could listen to those sounds you’re making forever. Might fuckin’ put ‘em on my next album.“

The line goes quiet for a few moments, just the sounds of wet, slapping skin and labored breath and needy mewls. 

Your pleasure floods your stomach, coiling tight and hot and as your fingers toy with your sex. Muscles tense, the sound of Eddie’s ragged breath on the other end of the line spurring you on further, faster, needier. You’re chasing a feeling you can’t even identify but you know you can’t wait to get there. 

“Mmh– Eddie, I-” You cut yourself off with a hand over your mouth, stifling the desperate keening sound threatening to come out. 

“You’ve been needing this, angel, I can tell. So desperate already. Haven’t even fingered yourself and you’re already about to cum, aren’t you? C’mon pretty baby, try a finger for me.” Without hesitation, your fingers dip down to tease at your entrance, forefinger curling in without much resistance. It’s tight, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. You cry out at the intrusion, slowly pumping in and out and pushing yourself further toward the edge. “That’s it.” He croons, “doing so well.” 

Your hips have a mind of their own, grinding on your hand, seeking out that sweet friction that you lost from your clit. Thigh muscles tense even more, shaking, your back arching off the bed. You don’t have to warn him, he can tell that you’re just on the edge, all it’ll take is one little push, and he’s happy to give it.

“Let go, baby.” It’s practically a growl and you can feel it in your bones, mixing into your growing pleasure and making it boil over. Suddenly, your body can’t help but obey, tipping over its peak and tumbling toward sweet release. 

Eddie has to bite into the meat of his bicep to stop himself from shouting with his release, the muffled sound of it lost on your ringing ears because you’re still coming down from your own. 

It’s quiet again for a moment. You can hear what you think is Judas Priest playing from somewhere in the background on his end while you both catch your breath, until finally you break the near-silence with an involuntary giggle. Eddie can’t help but laugh with you, aimlessly, tittering over nothing on a late night phone call like you hadn’t just had your entire world turned upside down. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks after a moment. 

“Dunno,” you giggle, “you were right, I guess. I mean it really was pretty darn unfair that I went my whole adult life not experiencing that.” 

“Just you wait. That was nothing.” Then, despite himself, he laughs again. “Did you just say darn?”

“I– yeah?”

“You mean to tell me you just moaned an entire year’s worth of spank bank material into my ear and you still won’t swear?” 

You protest, “that’s different!” 

“How is that different! I would even argue that swearing is the lesser offense here! Shit, I’ll get you to swear for me one of these days. I guarantee it.”

Both of you stay like that a little while longer, joking and laughing and teasing as if you hadn’t just come undone in each other's ears. It’s comfortable, familiar, like you’ve known him much longer than a month. Eventually, when his tape comes to an end, he reaches for his acoustic guitar and starts to play a quiet tune, soundtracking your conversation. It starts to lull you to sleep, but just when you’re on the precipice Eddie's voice brings you back to reality again. 

“Hey, angel?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re my girl, right?” 

He isn’t entirely sure why he asked, the thought burst from him like a Xenomorph before he could stop it. But there was something there, a pride that swells in his chest at the thought of claiming you as his.

“I’m your girl, Munson.” You confirm, sleepy and gleeful and satiated. 

[seramilla]

Hey.... If you decide to make Velvette, Kiki and Clara, triplets a thing. Dm me up. I like the series. I wanna draw them. OwO

They are already kind of a thing at this point! 😄😄 This AU has taken off! But if you want more to work with, here ya go! I took some time to give them names and more depth. Appearance-wise, they are a lot like Disney kids and look very similar to their associated parent (because I’m lazy and also because I think it’s hilarious):

Cashmere (Caz for short): Ironically the oldest and tallest of the triplets. Takes after Velvette. Always brags about being born first. Hyper independent (except when he’s upset, then he becomes a mama’s boy to Velvette) Is a little bit of a germophobe. Has an eye for fashion just like Velvette. Maybe has a touch of the ‘tism if he would ever bother to get diagnosed. Obsessed with purple.

Oberon (Ronnie for short): Youngest. Takes after Clara. Despite being the youngest, is the most mature and level-headed. Personality is a lot like Carmilla, and he usually takes her side in any argument between her and Velvette. Was a little baby goth/scene kid when he was younger. Is an amazing cook, like, fucking fantastic. Best cook in Hell. Obsessed with blacks, grays, whites, and muted colors.

Rhys: Middle child. AMAB but identifies as nonbinary. He/they pronouns. Looks most like Kiki / an incubus. Has horns. Absolute dream boat. Very popular with the ladies and gents. Always seems to have a new partner but very dramatic and breaks down when they eventually break up. Has so much love to give but often gets taken advantage of for it. Huge people pleaser with self esteem issues. Very close with Oberon and often likes to cook with him (but he bakes more than cooks). Obsessed with reds, pinks, and whites (and associated love colors).

[aki-draws-things]

Well, does someone want angst?

I swear, it's only an au because I wanted to hurt ronnie...

And because I've fell in love with Chris I can't stop writing him!

@oh-surprise-its-me

"I've been called back to top gun."

That's the first and only thing Jake told his dad. Chris knows better than ask for more knows Jake can't tell him anything else. Besides, if he's been called back, it must be big. His boy is old enough. His boy is strong enough. Chris still is his father, he worries.

"I know you can't tell me more," he told him instead. He pulled Jake closer before he walked toward the plane that would take him to Miramar. He hugged him tight. "Promise you'll be as safe as you can, chickie, okay?"

Jake can only nod tearfully. Chris almost never called him that, it's usually Jake. Jakey. Baby. Never chickie, unless--

"I promise papa. I love you."

"So do I."

Chris slipped not so discreetly something in his pocket. When Jake was sitting on the plane, javy at his side, he pinned the medal to his jacket.

"Any idea why we've been called there?"

Jake shook his head.

"As much as you do, Jav. Uncle is so busy that he even missed dad's birthday."

"You're kidding, I hope. He never--"

"I'm not expecting a text for mine either. Look, Jav, honestly... ever since Papa's--"

"So he just cuts you two off? Seriously?"

Jake doesn't tell him that last time he saw his uncle Ice, at least six months before, he could read him so well, and what he saw was raw pain. Something not even maverick could fix, something Jake only ever saw on his dad.

"The commander is busy..."

Jake said instead, and Javy scoffed. He looked at him, at the medal pinned to his jacket. He gently knocked twice on the medal.

"Admiral kerner, Sir, just in case you can hear me, there's an ass to kick, if you wouldn't mind."

Jake choked a laughter. He knew javy was trying to make him laugh. He also knew he would ask his father that, too. Except if his father was there, javy wouldn't need to ask him.

Seeing Maverick was weird, too. It wasn't like he stopped visiting, he still did it, and he still worked on cars with dad. But he was captain Mitchell there. And he was lieutenant Seresin.

Fuck. He wanted to change his name, he.thpught of that ever since papa and dad got married.

"I wanna take both. Can I?"

He never did, in the end. His name was still Jacob Seresin, and nothing else.

Captain Mitchell gave him a little smile, and Jake smiled back. And that was it. Jake stopped just a moment longer, staring at the pictures in the hall. Just one, long enough to feel himself tear up, and Javy wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"He's proud of you. I know he is. And--"

He hesitated, waited for a group to pass behind them, shielding Jake from their prying eyes.

"He'll watch over you, like always."

Jake knew his best friend meant well, it didn't help him, though, not as he wanted to.

"Don't want him to watch over me, Jav." He sniffled quietly. "I wanted him there with me and dad."

Javy simply held him tight, so tight that Jake wished to disappear into his arms.

God, he missed him so, so much.

Jake almost got mav. God, he got so close to lock on him that it's almost scary. Mav knows he can't pick Jake. He can't play favoritism. Hell, if it was for him, he would pick none of those kids. He would fly out himself, on his own.

Jake almost got him, he's the one who got the closest, no wonder, he has one confirmed kill, too. The kid is good, and he's always been good.

Jake almost got a lock on Maverick, and all he could think as he initiated evasive maneuvers and got a lock on him was how crazy familiar that was.

Jake almost got Mav, the first time round, and it was so fucking painful. Two and half years had passed and Mav thought it was alright, he thought he was alright. He knew Chris would never be, nor would Jake. And God forbid Tom. But he thought he-- God, how wrong he was.

Mav swallowed as he passed the boys doing push up after losing. He didn't look down at them, his back straight, his eyes set ahead.

"He flies like him."

He doesn't say hi when Tom's face appears in the phone screen. Mav's crying, he can't stop, he can't fucking stop. Ice frowned, he tilted his head to the side.

"Bradley?"

They haven't talked to Bradley in years, he saw the photos, he looks exactly like Goose. Down to the last bit. It's like seeing Goose over and over again, there was no other way Mav could react, after all.

Mav shook his head, a louder sob escaping his lips, he wiped his face.

"Jake."

The sound is almost strained. Choked.

A plead.

"Tom, he flies just like Ron. I can't-- I can't even look him in the eyes without seeing him."

Jake had always looked like Ron. Not physically perhaps, but in the way he talked, and moved, amd, yeah... apparently flying, too.

"Mav--"

"Never thought I'd say it, you know? But I miss him. He should've--"

He shook his head.

"Forget I said it, baby."

He muttered when he saw Tom's eyes get glassy.

"I know, Pete. I miss him too."

For once, he spared him of the blame and guilt he felt every time.

Tom still felt guilty, he will always feel guilty. He sent Ron there, he sent him in the mission that ultimately-- he sent him to his death. It was a suicide mission, one with no ways to come out victorious. Or, well, they were victorious, there was no way to win AND come back too. Ron knew, Ron accepted.

Ron kissed his husband, and their son. He kissed Mav on the top of his head. He kissed Tom a moment longer.

Ron knew the risks. Ron knew there was no other way. He could've refused. He didn't.

Tom had to hand out the folded flag without a single tear on his face. Tom had to say a speech he wrote down, a paper where the ink was smudged by thousand tears and the page was crumpled. Tom-- the commander of the pacific fleet had to take off his wings and punch them.

Chris dared to forgive him.

"I miss his every fucking--" he broke.

Tom almost called Mav off when he decided to fly as team leader. He flew to Miramar, burst into the room like a fury, screaming at Maverick before even setting his eyes on him.

"It's suicide. You know it is."

"That's why I can't have the kids do that, don't you think?"

The commander almost called off the mission. Oh, if only he could.

"Tom--"

"I can't lose you. I can't-- I've lost enough already, don't make me lose you too."

"I do the impossible, Mr Iceman. You're not gonna lose me."

Tom prayed. For the second time in his life. He begged them to bring his husband home.

Mav was down.

Tom felt the world spin and shrink around him. Not his husband.

Rooster was down.

Tom felt like he was going to die. Not him too, oh God, not him.

They were back. They were airborne again. A miracle, Cyclone muttered.

Tom knew that miracle really well, and it had golden wings, large enough to shield them.

He promised. He promised, amd they were his pilots. Heavens, he could swear he almost saw a golden shine.

Jake flew like him. Tom realized the.moment he took off and killed the enemy aircraft, emerging from the smoke. It was I'm the mathematical precision he took the shot. It was in the way he inclined his jet to return on the carrier.

But it wasn't everything.

Jake looked like him.

He took his helmet off and hopped down of the jet with a little jump, he rushed to Mav and Bradley. He didn't stophe picked Bradley up, the man gave a strangled squeak as Jake's arms wrapped around him, he held onto him when he spun him around twice, setting him back on the ground, kissing him like that was the last day on Earth. Or perhaps the first.

Tom could see Ron run up to Chris. He was his son down to the last bit.

Mav wrapped himself on him as Tom took out his phone, he closed his eyes, his nose against Tom's neck, he vagiely heard the soft sound of a call in waiting.

"Tommy?"

Mav looked up.

Jake looked back, his face finally detaching itself from Bradley's.

"Hey, Chris, darling... I'm taking our boys home."

Mav saw Chris break in a tearful smile.

"I never doubted you Tommy. Not one time."

[saintsons]

hc + 💔 for both

miles' love — kaoru suzuki was one of the greatest names in baseball during the time miles attended university. to miles' surprise, when he arrives at stanford, there's a boy on his team: sora suzuki. they're teammates to begin with. the pair would show up to practices an hour early to use the weight machines without interruption. it's before the 6 a.m. gym rush and they'd get moments in passing to talk. it's starts out with the simple things: what classes are you taking? how long have you played baseball? all conversations that eventually pivot into talks about life. while miles never had in mind what kind of partner he was looking for (he always felt like such a kid, he was a devoted son, he wanted to be his siblings' baby brother, and he craved his mother's affection as a toddler would), there was something about sora's drive to do better that had the pair clicking the way that they do. sora suzuki was a crossfitter, he was a world traveler, and most importantly, he wanted to make a change in the world. there was always a goal to do better for himself and in turn, that would give him the tools to contribute. while it was expected of him, he knew that baseball wasn't going to help him change the world. the got to bond over over certain pressures and hurt. at the very least, they'd listen to one another. that fades into a certain kind of love. one that the two didn't quite know how to pinpoint. because love always felt like an understatement. it couldn't be hidden by a sense of camaraderie, the two were never seen without the other. there was no issue in sora's need to hide miles from his family. with their families renowned names in their respective industries, miles would have been a fool to not understand. on the other hand, miles never felt a need to make any sort of announcement. it was a simple love. when his sister ronnie visits, they don't hide. miles brushes sora's hand and helps fill his boyfriend's plate with food. after university, they move to los angeles to play baseball professionally. there are marathons in the city that the two run together. life with one another is a lovely thing. they learn from each other and find ways to navigate responsibilities outside of their bubble. they were never the type to take work home. that is, until sora's first game of the season requires him to undergo a UCL surgery. for recovery, he moves back to the bay area. it's mentally taxing for both of the boys and they decide to gives each other some space. it's not no contact so they talk to each other here and there. the love between the two never fade but brows are raised amongst their circle of friends when sora goes months without speaking to anyone. it's unlike him and miles does make a bigger attempt to make contact when their annual marathon comes around. considers the years they've spent training alongside each other and how despite any disputes, sora would show up. though there were no plans, they'd sign up for the marathon prior. sora is nowhere to be found and miles finds some acceptance that maybe it was the end of their relationship. trigger warnings: death there's an obituary that's sent around the friend group and one that's later found in the news. all those months, they had been messaging someone that couldn't respond. miles was projecting insecurities and waiting on someone that was no longer there. sora suzuki was hit by a vehicle that blew through a stop sign and succumbed to his injuries hours later. image description: miles lee receiving the news about sora minutes prior to a press conference.

trigger warnings: abandonment, smoking cigarettes parker's to blame — “ sometimes i think about it and i feel like patience would still be around if parker wasn't such a...  ” phoebe's voice trails off and there's a palm to the table. parker hears some of the silver to porcelain clink as her and logan, her partner at the time, sighs. “ he's turning eighteen next week right? can't we technically just cut it off? it's like having a kid and i'm not ready for that.  ” he stands in the dark, silently praying for any bit of context. in his own mind, he considers his recklessness as a kid. there's a scene he watches from the window: a group of older boys walk and loiter in the corner street of the neighborhood. he watches them go through packs of cigarettes before tossing some over the shoulder. the grass is drier that season and by no means was free from assisting the fire that comes. their home is one of the many that go down. when a new family takes them in, there's an unease. parker could tell that there was something that strikes fear in patience. it's not until her open-casket that he finds himself questioning more and more of the family and the system they've been forced into. maybe that's the grudge that phoebe holds against him. parker had told his sisters that he'd seen the group of kids with the cigarettes. they seemed to think the detail was unimportant until they hated their new home. phoebe is in shambles when she finds that perhaps, parker's silence was the cause of every unfortunate event that leads up to that funeral. “ oh you're home already?  ” ... “ how much of that did you hear?  ” he shrugs, “ enough to understand that you want me out by next week. yeah, that can happen. i'll figure it out.  ” when the following week comes, phoebe takes parker out for dinner. “ life has always been hard, hasn't it? ” she follows up by saying that she was looking into places for the two of them to stay. she admits that there are hard feelings about patience but she couldn't find it in herself to cast him out so she left logan instead. “ phoebe, i think this is the first time you've blamed me for something that's going to sit with me for a very long time.  ” parker leaves his dinner untouched. image description: parker naveau overhearing phoebe and logan.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

MAC don't throw h/c at me and leave!!

I need more!

I need more of rin thinking he never escaped his father, he's still a young boy and his father will get angry because he's sick. Ron will never find the strength to leave, he will probably be dead in a couple of years if he's lucky, never meet Chris, the man he obviously dreamed because he's too good for him. He will never be that close to his tommy, he wants to, but he'll never get old enough for that.

But it was a good dream, a nice one, he would like to stay in that dream a little longer if he could. It would mean not waking up in the not dream life, and Tommy would be sad, but he likes the dream, and Tommy's there. tom and Chris are so terrified they don't know how to make him see that it's not a dream, they saw him feverish, but never like that. Never to the point he can't separate dream and reality

You know I’m always happy to write…

Tw! implied abuse/ some darker thoughts coming from Ron.

It’s only time until his dad forces him up. He guesses he might as well just stay in this dream. He’s warm in a way he never normally is.

Ron looks grown up when he looks around. There’s cowboy hats on the posts of the bed. Huh. Cool. He always did think cowboys were hot.

He keeps looking until he catches sight of a man. He flings himself backwards to escape. He assumes it’s his dad just waiting for him.

“Woah! Ronnie it’s okay baby! Tom will be back in a second.”

Ron starts to cry. Why does this angel sound so worried about him. Did he finally escape? Is he free?

There’s a bang from farther in the house. It makes him jump. Not free. Never free.

A taller blond man walks in with a mug. “Hey hon.”

Ron blinks at him. He knows that accent. “Tommy?”

The man grins at him. “Hey! You back with us?”

Ron stares at the man- no. Tommy. Looks at fake Tommy.

“I’m dreaming huh. Guess this is good as any. But please don’t make me go back I’m sorry.”

The sitting man smacks Tom’s shoulder. “What is he talking about.” Tom shrugs. “Back where Ron?” “Why are you sorry?”

Ron can feel the tears go down his face. “Home. Back to him. I can’t. I won’t. I’ll run. Try to come back here even if it kills me.” Fake Tom slides onto the bed to touch his head. It feels so close to being real.

“I’m sorry because I got sick. Not supposed to be sick. Weak. Can’t be weak. Wasting good time. Miserable disappointing kid.”

He gets a kiss brushed across his head. Ron grabs Tom before he can leave. Figures it might be his only chance to tell Tommy he loves him. “I love you. Always have. If staying here means I won’t see you again though I want to go back. I need my Tommy.”

“Baby you don’t ever have to be sorry.”

Ron turns his head to look at the other man. “You’re an Angel right? Sent to watch me?” The man laughs. “My name is Chris but sure okay.”

Ron nods. Good name. Cute guy for him to imagine up. “You’ll take care of this Tommy right? I’ve gotta go take care of mine. Even if dad might kill me.”

Chris smiles. It’s such a forced smile. The tears are streaming down his face. “Course I’ll take care of him. You’ll be back to help take care of him. Don’t you worry about it. Go to sleep yeah?”

Ron makes a grabby hand at him. “Wanna Go back with you two holding me. Sounds safer.”

Chris slides on the other side of the bed and presses a kiss to Ron’s head. “It’ll be okay. You end up living through it.”

Ron drifts off again. He fears the wake up he’ll get next but knows he’ll treasure this one forever.

—

Once Ron falls back asleep Tom sits up. He scrubs his hands across his eyes to get rid of the tears. He feels a hand brush over his shoulders. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Tom laughs. He can’t help it. “I don’t know. He’s not dreamed of his dad in years. The last time was probably when we were 20.”

Chris nods. He brushes a hand through Ron’s hair. “He’ll be okay. He’s got us.” Tom can only nod. He can’t shake the image of 13 year old Ron covered in bruises.

14 year old Ron almost dying.

17 year old Ron falling into the lake and crying because he wanted his grandmother.

20 year old Ron begging Tom to not take him back to his father.

Tom shudders. Chris pulls him over Ron’s lap. Tom puts his face into Chris’s neck.

“It’ll be fine. If the fever doesn’t drop by tomorrow night we’ll go to the hospital.”

Tom kisses the side of Chris’s neck. “Thank you for taking care of this.” Chris shrugs. “I don’t have the memories y’all are both having during this. It’s easier.”

-

They drift off like that. Ron’s fever breaks in the morning and he’s very excited to find that it wasn’t a dream. He actually doesn’t really remember thinking it was a dream. Knows they talked the night before but can’t remember what about.

Tom and Chris decide to not bring it up. They’ll protect him from his memory.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Almost finished with the last chapter of just hold my hand and questioning whether to write one more, so here are some bits that didn't (won't) make it into the fic

tw mpreg

• Jake and Bradley won't ever name their kid after someone, at least not exactly the same way, but they're okay with using some version of their parents' names, or will use it as a second names if exact same, like with the twin girls (Tommy Carole and Nicky Patricia). The exception is of course their boy, PJ (Peter Jacob), because Jake wanted some kind of name that can be shortened to XJ, like CJ, AJ, etc. Peter is also Jake's (late) dad's second name. Jake's family has a tradition of doing all of the above with all their kids.

• PJ is definitely daddy's boy (Bradley's) and he's extremely shy around strangers. Even when he was an infant and technically couldn't recognize people, he'd get very fussy when someone who wasn't Bradley or Jake's mom would hold him. Yes, this applies to Jake as well - he was on deployment the first few months after PJ was born and when he came back, PJ would regard him as stranger for the first couple of months. He accepts only a couple of people, including his favorite aunt, Nat. He's also a quiet, angel of a baby.

• Ronnie is also quiet but not as much of an angel. I've mentioned it but she has speech development issues and instead communicates in different ways - this includes being a bit more touchy and more expressive with her body language as well as simply trying to do/get what she needs herself without asking for help. They've taken her to her paediatrician but she wasn't too worried as she seems to be developing well socially and has plenty of support and examples at home.

• Both Ronnie and PJ are a bit clingy, just because Bradley spent a lot of time with them when he was on maternity leave/pregnancy leave/office duty due to the timing of the both pregnancies being so close. The twins were more used to staying with Jake's ma and had been going to the nursery/preschool most of their lives so they're the most social and the most independent of the kids. (I also think they have ADHD and are a bit oblivious to social cues...)

• The first pregnancy wasn't planned. (I might allude to it in the fic so spoilers) Bradley and Jake were actually broken up when Bradley found out - it had been Bradley who started getting a bit scared and had his issues resurfacing and did the breaking up when Jake started being more serious about them. This has happened before and Bradley would always come back within a month so Jake was going to just wait it out - he didn't know it, but this time Bradley was more adamant and had planned to be transferred and have that break up be permanent. The whole plan changed when he was pregnant just because he couldn't be stationed at Atsugi and because he felt like Jake should have a chance to be present in the baby's life. It took Jake half the pregnancy for him to actually get them to move in back together (and that only happened because Bradley was having trouble getting by alone in his apartment) and then almost another month for Bradley to actually let them get back together - he had a lot of issues before but after he found out he was pregnant it was like he started worrying about them about three times as much. It was a very emotional time for them.

• Bradley started therapy before the twins were born and Jake proposed to him when they were still in the hospital after labour (not very romantic but Bradley liked it) and married when the twins were around six months old, no ceremony, just them, the twins and Jake's ma

• The second pregnancy was planned. It was Bradley who brought up that he wanted another kid - Jake had been thinking about it for some time but remembering that pregnancy wasn't easy on Bradley, he didn't want to pressure him. It took them ten very frustrating months but another nines months later Ronnie (Veronica Rose) was born. Her second name was Jake's memaw's first name and Veronica is a name Bradley's mom really liked for a girl.

• The third pregnancy was kinda planned - they knew they wanted another kid, they just thought they would wait a couple of years before trying so it was a surprise when not even a few months later and during Bradley's flight fitness physical it turned out he was pregnant again.

• Obviously, the fourth pregnancy wasn't planned at all. They haven't talked about having more kids, but neither was opposed to, even if it was implied they would wait at least a couple of years so Bradley could get back into service for some time.

• Bradley did have problems with work related to having kids -- each time there had been offers (that sounded more like orders...) of early retirement or switch to non-flight positions and a lot of pressure to take them. Each offer and its rejection was followed by some shit happening - first time around, they put Bradley on alternative jobs that were too physical for his condition or gave him minimal maternity leave ultimateum; second time around, it was Jake's deployment being moved from after the due date to before and during the due date, Jake being sent abroad for special training way more often than anyone else. It was also why Bradley was held back from being sent to Top Gun, the argument being 'we send you there, you take a place of someone who won't get pregnant and be out of action for months'. It changed when he and Jake transferred from Oceana to Lemoore, partially due to Ice's influence behind scenes. 

• Jake had been amazing through each pregnancy, even if the first one was an adventure of trials and errors. Bradley was very stubborn and emotional and Jake had the patient of a saint and didn't take it that personal whenever Bradley would explode/reject/etc at him. But also pregnancy wasn't the easiest on Bradley (each time, the last 2-3 months he'd end up on med leave, not because he was high risk but because the symptoms were quite intense), also in the emotional sense (he's really sensitive to hormone changes) so Jake tried to make it as easy as possible on him each time.

• Further into the future, Mav will pretend he can actually tell no to the kids (he can't) but Ice straight up melted and doesn't even try to say otherwise. It's enough that they mention something once and Ice already makes up a plan to get/do it for them...

• Mav is also absolutely hypnotized by Bradley's baby bump once it shows, always so taken back when he sees it. He'd be glued up to his side if he didn't know how much it annoys him (and if Hangman was always nearby and taking the spot already...)

• Jake's ma, Pat, is quick friends with Ice (she teaches him to knit and quilt). Mav is friendly with her but it takes him awhile to warm up to her completely - mostly because he's kinda jealous? that she was there for the boys the whole time, since the twins were born, while Bradley never even thought to reach out to them or even just tell them about the kids (even if he knows it was his own fault)

• Mav and Ice also have different perspectives on Bradley having kids. Mav never thought about it, having Bradley stuck on being barely 18 in his head, and Ice always knew that Bradley would eventually make his own family, he just prayed they would be included in it.

• The first time Mav watches the kids, the twins lose their front teeth. They trip and don't even cry but when Mav checks them out, they're each missing one of the front teeth. He absolutely panics, thinking that Bradley will absolutely hate him and will never let him watch or even see the kids and then Hangman comes to pick them up and he's ready to be ripped to shreds and Jake just goes, "Oh, yeah, they've been moving the whole week. Did you keep them for the tooth fairy?" Ice makes fun of him for weeks for this even though he'd be scared shitless too, if that happened with him.

• Jake and Mav eventually do have a truce, even if they still are a bit sharp with each other. It's the typical (if less toxic) in-laws relation where Mav still thinks Bradley could do better and where Jake still thinks Mav had been a bit of a crappy dad and has a slightly limited trust in him (mostly follows Bradley's cur tho). Ice likes Jake for Bradley a lot tho.

Could go on but I'll leave it here...

[mattey-stu]

Ftm!Ronnieaintavampire x male!reader

I wrote this on new years eve n i was horny asf so excuse the bad writing PLEASE

BTW THIS IS SMUT WITHOUT PLOT

As Ronnie was sucking [Name]'s cock, swirling his tongue around it, trying to take it deep down in his throath..[Name] was talking to him. He just liked to do that sometimes. It was new years eve and Ronnie has been fuckin & suckin him all night.

"Baby, youve been fucking me for hours without any breaks. The fuck is going on?Are you on your period?"

"No, [Name]."

Ronnie said with half a cock in his mouth.

"I just- im so horny..The way you touched me and looked at me at [Friend name]'s house..It was so fucking hot."

He said, his british accent clinking just right trough.

"Well, cant say youre wrong there. And the pictures i took of you in bed yesterday..Right before i fucked you dumb like i always do. Yknow.I fucking love when youre shirtless. Especially in the morning. And the way you were looking at me while i was holding your face..So fucking hot, baby."

*Ronnie stopped sucking for a moment.*

"Do you really think i was hot?"

"I always think youre hot. Besides, youre fucking beautiful. No wonder why you get blowjob requests all day."

*[Name] chuckled at his own joke.*

"Oh, [nickname]..Can you atleast rail me?My pussys drenching in wetness."

"Of course i can, Rons.I should fuck that stupid mutt ass of yours too."

"Oh yes you fucking should. You should cum inside me. Breed me."

"Oh i fucking will. Ill spill my hot seed inside you and get you pregnant, baby. Full of my babies."

Ronnie finally sat on Matts dick, facing him.

"Youre so fucking pretty. Now bounce on my cock like the good boy you are."

If Ronnies uncomfortable with these kind of posts i'll take it off

[emzchaos]

Oasis Springs - Devil's Lounge

Krystal: No, He is the only Hernandez. He keeps his name for a personal reason, only my Mother In-Law knows Rebekah: *Sighs* I wanted to know the reason too, now I’m just disappointed that its a big secret Emma: I guess we will never know the true Carlos story, watever it may be . Does Ronnie know it? Krystal: The only leads he has on his father is he was born is South Mexico. Carlos only trusts in his wife and Geoffrey Landgraab. Such a secret to keep from all his kids must never feel easy. Kira and Carlos though are extremely loving and welcomed me and now our baby

Rebekah: Happy The baby, you know if it’s a girl you have to name it after me Krystal: *Laughs* I do not, you are in charge of baby shower and gender reveal but the name is mine Emma: The way I see it Becks, you have full controll but the name is already chosen Krystal: Wrong Emma, I’ve got nothing. I’m still trying to get Ronnie to buy a house for us three Rebekah: So there’s a chance baby can be named Becky Emma: I would be hoping for a boy Krystal Krystal: *Laughs* I’m hoping just for a very healthy baby

Emma: My mother in-law is nice but she constantly asks for a grandbaby, Nolan and I are just not there yet in our marriage. Krystal: Kira and Carlos already have a granddaughter, so it wasn’t a big deal for them Rebekah: Don’s mother said she would like one but because I’m stil young I don’t need it Emma: My mother worries I’ll dry up and rust away, what ever the frick that means Krystal: There’s no rush to having kids, have fun you and Nolan have only been married two years Rebekah: Don and I eloped six months ago by some Elvis impersonator, we wanted the Drag Queen not him but it was legal I think?

Nolan: So that’s the new plan? Don: *Nods* We just need to keep out of the spotlight Nolan: I know a guy, I’ll get him to meet us when we get back [Phone Buzzes] Don: *Smirks at phone* If you trust him, I’ll trust you my friend. I’m going to take Rebekah back to the hotel Nolan: I will talk to my guy and let you know what he says, get back safe.

Don: See you tomorrow, Ron let your beautiful wife sleep tonight Nolan: Ah Ronnie wont be sleeping once the baby is born Ronnie: *Chuckles* Emma and Rebekah will want one next Don: Who said we arn’t trying to have a kid Ronnie? Nolan: I’m staying out of this conversation

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