#rooms are on fire stevie nicks

[jhiggwv]

The History Behind the 1989 Song "Rooms on Fire" by Stevie Nicks

The History Behind the 1989 Song “Rooms on Fire” by Stevie Nicks

Stevie Nicks’ “Rooms on Fire” is a song from her fourth solo studio album The Other Side of the Mirror (1989). The song, written by Nicks and Rick Nowels and produced by Rupert Hine, was released on April 24, 1989. Up until New Year’s Eve 1999, “Rooms on Fire” was intermittently performed during Nicks’ live concerts; however, it has not been performed live since that time. Nicks intended to…

[stevienicksgifs]

STEVIE NICKS — Rooms On Fire (Official Music Video 1989) ☽ [stevie gifs] ☽

[rosalie-starfall]

The Magical Miranda

There is Magic all around you if I do say so myself I have known this much longer than I've known you

[loverusts]

Stevie Nicks - Rooms on Fire

[fleetwoodmacarthistory]

Witching Hour by Andrew Wyeth // "Rooms On Fire" by Stevie Nicks

[thewildbelladonna]

“Long nets of white cloud my memory…”

[stevienicksquotes]

I guess the single is about when you’re in a crowded room and you see a kind of person and your heart goes, ‘Wow!’ The whole world seems to be ablaze at that particular moment. You see I don’t write fantasy songs. Everything I write is based on personal experience. I guess I’m quite an intense, romantic person. Of course, selling lots of records means you can live a privileged, glamorous lifestyle, but it becomes very lonely as well.

Stevie Nicks about Rooms on Fire, Record Mirror, May 20, 1989 (x)

[captainhancock727]

Stevie Nicks - Rooms On Fire (Official Music Video)

[lyrpic]

Well, there is magic all around you, if I do say so myself….

August 12, 2017

[adverbally]

Lovers Forever, Face to Face

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “lingerie” | wc: 1,851 | rated: E | cw: none | tags: Eddie in lingerie, body insecurity, mirror sex, body worship, dirty talk, buttplug, anal sex | title from “Leather and Lace” by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

———

Eddie curses himself and scowls at his reflection. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

He turns away but twists his upper body back, trying to see his ass in the mirror. Still flat, he notes, just covered in a layer of dark fabric that looks terrible on him. The panties, stark against his skin, make him look more pale than he actually is. Sickly, even. Fragile.

It doesn’t seem fair. Steve looks so good in lingerie. He’s got a certain softness to him that’s enhanced by satin and lace— the curves of his pecs cradled by a bralette, his ass and cock barely contained by skimpy underwear, sometimes even a pair of stockings straining to contain his shapely calves and thick thighs. Always in jewel tones, emerald and sapphire and amethyst, that pop against the warmth of his skin.

More importantly, Steve wears lingerie with a confidence that takes Eddie’s breath away. He’ll stalk across the room with a sway to his hips and a fire in his eyes that tells Eddie he knows exactly how sexy he looks. He’ll grab Eddie’s hands and place them where he wants them, encouraging him to squeeze until the lacy pattern leaves an imprint on the skin beneath. He’ll grind their pelvises together, panties still on, until the fabric is wet with their combined precome and his cock is hard enough to peek out over the waistband. He’ll command Eddie to come on him, painting the material with a glaze of white that he’ll have to wash out by hand the next day.

Steve in lingerie? Insanely hot. Eddie? Not so much. He stares into the mirror and feels nothing but pathetic at the sight of himself in a black matching set. Too angular, too harsh, too awkward.

“Eds?” Steve’s voice, though muffled from the other side of the bathroom door, still makes Eddie jump. A tentative knock follows. “You okay in there?”

He should just change back into his boxers. No harm done, lingerie just isn’t for him. Steve doesn’t even have to see how stupid it looks.

Except that the doorknob is turning behind him and Steve is sticking his head into the room and there’s no way Steve isn’t getting the full view right now. Not just Eddie’s ass, which is facing him, but the reflection of his front in the mirror across the small room.

Eddie meets Steve’s gaze in the mirror. To his surprise, Steve isn’t laughing or grimacing or making that weirdly blank face he gets when he’s trying to be polite and not say whatever bitchy comment is on the tip of his tongue. No, Steve looks… flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. Gobsmacked.

“Oh my god.”

Immediately, Eddie goes on the defensive. “I know, I know, it’s ridiculous. I’m gonna take it off and we can pretend this never happened.” He twists his arms up behind him to struggle with the hook and eye closure on the bralette. It took him, like, ten minutes to get it on, and he suspects it will be even harder to take it off

“No!” Steve exclaims, voice echoing off the shower tiles. Eddie can feel him looking up and down his body, can see something like awe in his eyes. “Please, don’t take it off.”

“Um.” He releases the band where he had tugged it halfway down his back to reach the clasps more easily.

Steve steps up behind him. His hands hover over Eddie’s shoulders. “Can I— is it okay if I touch you?” he asks softly.

Eddie doesn’t know if he can speak, nerves squeezing his throat shut. He nods instead.

It’s just light pressure at first. Steve’s fingers skim along the bralette’s straps, down Eddie’s back and up again, tracing over his shoulders until they reach the triangles of lacy mesh that serve as the cups.

“Look at that,” Steve breathes. “Gorgeous.”

Skin meets skin now as he steers away from the fabric and follows the lines of Eddie’s tattoos. The spider below his left collarbone, the demonic face beneath it. On the other side of his chest, more recently inked, a pair of twenty-sided dice showing rolls of one and twenty.

“The black really stands out against your skin,” Steve tells him. “Matches your tattoos.”

“Steve,” Eddie protests. His face is heating up, a flush spreading across his cheeks, down his neck and chest. He watches his skin going pink in the mirror, which makes him flush even more in a feedback loop of embarrassment.

Steve gently runs his palms up and down Eddie’s upper arms. “You don’t like it.” It’s not a question; he saw Eddie’s reaction, his body language screaming his discomfort.

Even knowing that Steve knows the answer, it’s hard for Eddie to say it out loud. “Not really.” He shifts his weight, awkwardly folds his arms across his front.

“Why not?” When Eddie’s reflection just gapes at him, Steve elaborates, “What’s wrong with it? Is it how it feels?”

No, Steve had chosen well with this set. It’s not scratchy or restrictive or anything, perfectly sized for Eddie and comfortable enough to wear all day, he thinks. “It’s not that.”

Steve frowns. “Is it… I don’t know, is it too girly for you?” He had struggled with that at first, the way it forced him to embrace a side of himself that he had always rejected. Now he has fun exploring his feminine side.

Eddie doesn’t have particularly strong feelings about gendering underwear, though, so he doesn’t think that’s the problem, either. He struggles to find the right words for a moment before he settles on, “It just doesn’t look good on me.”

“I think it does,” Steve says simply.

How can it? How could anything possibly look good on Eddie’s scrawny, scarred body? He almost wants to ask Steve what he sees in him, but he’s scared that the praise will sound like it’s for another person entirely.

As always, Steve seems to read his mind. “Black is your color, obviously. It makes the rest of you look like you’re glowing or something. Like the moon.” He tugs one of the bralette straps aside to plant a kiss on Eddie’s shoulder. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve’s hands come up to cover the lace panels adorning Eddie’s chest. “So pretty. I can’t decide if I want to take it off you or leave it on.” He pinches one of his nipples through the fabric, prodding it into hardness. “Does that feel good?” he asks Eddie, almost as an aside to his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps. Fuck, his mouth is dry. He can feel Steve’s cock, half-hard against his ass, and his own dick plumping up in response.

“Yeah,” Steve echoes absently. His chin rests on Eddie’s shoulder for a better view of the mirror. “Yeah, I bet my mouth would feel good, too.”

It would, Eddie knows it would. He watches Steve’s hands teasing him in the mirror and pictures his tongue licking over the material, his mouth sucking the taste of Eddie’s skin right through the lace, turning the fabric dark with spit.

“And this—” Steve wiggles a finger under the band, pulling it away from the skin only to release it with a sharp snap that steals Eddie’s breath. “I could jerk you around with this. Leave it on while I fuck you from behind and use it to pull you back on my cock. Keep it tight enough to leave marks under your tits.”

Eddie can’t do anything but groan and bend over the counter in invitation. Sadly, Steve lets go of the bralette rather than letting it keep digging into Eddie’s ribs, but he makes up for it by grabbing his lace-covered hips and grinding his cock against Eddie’s ass.

“Perfect,” he breathes. “I can see right through your panties when you bend over like that. You didn’t tell me you were gonna wear a plug, too.” Steve’s thumb trails down the seam at the back of Eddie’s underwear, tracing it until he hits the silicone base of the toy plugging Eddie’s hole. He nudges it deeper just to hear Eddie’s breath hitch.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna wait,” Eddie explains, pressing back into Steve’s touch.

Steve chuckles. “You mean you didn’t wanna wait.” When Eddie looks up at the mirror, Steve’s reflection is looking right back at him. His eyes are molten with want. “You wanted me to push you down on the bed, tug your panties to the side, and slide right in, huh?” His fingers follow his words, pulling the lingerie out of the way and coaxing the plug out of Eddie.

“Steve,” he begs, keeping their gazes locked in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Steve tells him, reaching for the bottle of lube Eddie had left on the countertop. “You’re gonna get exactly what you wanted.” He slicks up his cock, wiping the excess from his fingers around Eddie’s hole, and then he’s lining up and pushing inside.

Eddie is suddenly aware of everywhere the lingerie is touching— the elastic waist and leg holes of the underwear leaving indentations in his skin. The band of the bralette fighting the expansion of his lungs if Eddie breathes too deep. The mesh covering his nipples chafing a little when Steve holds his torso against the counter. The wet spot where his cock leaks into his panties making him shiver when it presses into the cold edge of the sink.

And there’s Steve, around him, inside him, kissing the bumps of Eddie’s spine, fucking him so good it makes Eddie’s eyes water, trying to get Eddie to see himself like Steve sees him, something dark and beautiful and his…

In the mirror, Eddie watches Steve’s face as they both reach their peak. Creased brow, bitten lips, eyes scrunching shut against the inevitability of his orgasm. He feels the throb of Steve coming inside him, the weight of Steve’s hands anywhere he can reach, touching Eddie like he’s something holy. That touch grounds both of them when the pleasure threatens to carry him away.

For a moment, they both slump against the counter in exhaustion. Then Steve reaches down to feel the mess Eddie made of his panties, rubbing the come-soaked fabric against his cock until Eddie’s knees are shaking with oversensitivity. He does the same when he pulls out, kneeling behind Eddie to clean him up by sucking his own come through the gaps in the lace.

“Stevie, wait, too much,” Eddie slurs, waving a trembling arm back in Steve’s direction to make him stop.

“Sorry, baby.” Steve catches his hand and tangles their fingers together, then leverages himself back to his feet with a huff. “Hard to resist.”

Eddie turns around to face Steve, not his reflection, for the first time this evening. He looks the same but he’s warm flesh instead of cool glass when Eddie pulls him in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says into Steve’s mouth.

Steve brushes their noses together affectionately. “Any time. Change your mind about the lingerie?”

He grins back. “I could be persuaded to give it another try.”

[stevienicksgifs]

STEVIE NICKS — Rooms On Fire (Official Music Video 1989) ☽ [stevie gifs] ☽

[fuctacles]

The day Eddie quit his job

Me: it would be fun to mix this months microfic prompt with last years Me: hey I don't have anything for rarepair *proceeds to write CheerScoops for STEDDIEmicrofic prompts*

ANYWAY

for @stevieweek Day 7: Rare Pair + sapphic (+ one + pool) | M | 1111 | Stevie/Chrissy &Eddie, mentioned Chrissy/Eddie | open relationship, streamer!Stevie, FanslyModel!Chrissy, friends with benefits (?) lots of wiggle room for interpretation, CHAT FIC

Short stream, big announcement!

elderning: is it time????

beatred: Cheer100 this better be about the pool stream

"Chat, chat, calm down, it is about the pool stream." Stevie is rolling her eyes as soon as she appears on the screen. "I had a nice speech prepared and you're ruining it." She frowns, pouting her full lips. "Can you stop yapping for five seconds and let me speak?"

bimbothelotrguy: No yapping

ballstothewall007: Proceed queen

bimbothelotrguy: :x

"So, we recently hit one million subscribers on YouTube, which, thank you so fucking much, holy shit!" She grins. "And, true to my word, I'll be doing a pool stream as promised. Don't know when yet, but stay tuned, I'll give you a heads-up. And thank you again, though I know you had ulterior motives." She smirks at the camera.

mojito_chan: ulterior motives?? us??

mojito_chan: must have mistaken us with a different chat

bimbothelotrguy: BADONKERS

powerdrill1000: message deleted by a moderator

"Yeah, exactly," she snorts. "Okay, I don't have much time today, but there's this one game I want to check out and we can talk out the details while we're at it."

MasterOfChatters: I have a bad feeling about this

Stevie looks at her chat, and smiles.

"Are you high again, Master?"

MasterOfChatters: would you fire me if I was?

"No!" she laughs.

MasterOfChatters: then yes

She leans close to the mic.

"There's someone in your house, Eddie."

MasterOfChatters: FUCK OFF

big stream big surprise!

beatred: oh

bilbothebimbo: oh no

mojito_chan: I mean...

Stevie's not there yet, but they can see the set-up for today's stream. The pool behind SailorSteph's house is right there. Still behind her house. Still behind the glass door. Behind a huge inflatable pool full of colorful plastic balls.

ballstothewall007: is there at least some water in there?

footjoblover: -slow clap- well played

MasterOfChatters: STEPH YOU MINX

MasterOfChatters: KNEW YOU WERE COOKING SOMETHING

MasterOfChatters: @footjoblover nice nick

SailorSteph: @MasterOfChatters oh I'm not done cooking

footjoblover: @MasterOfChatters thank you good sir

The chat starts flooding after her brief appearance, and her moderator has to put it in slow mode.

"Chat, I'm coming! Calm down!" the microphone picks her up from somewhere in the house, and soon she appears in the camera's view. Her outfit is skimpier than usual, with a tiny crop top and bootcut shorts. She's holding a colourful drink and she steps into the ball pit to settle down.

footjoblover: F E E T

MasterOfChatters: @footjoblover I'll let it slide this once

She sips on her drink while adjusting the stream settings.

"I know some of you might be disappointed..." She skims over the chat briefly. "Yeah, I'm not sorry about that. If you didn't see it coming it means you're new here. Anyway, since you're not getting your softcore fix, I have another surprise for you big babies. We're having a guest today."

ggiirrllss: is it ChiChi???

prawncocktail: please be cheerscoops

bimbothelotrguy: oooo a collab?

elderning: if it's a secret boyfriend announcement imma kms

thepizzaguy: is your hot mod visiting? owo

MasterOfChatters: @thepizzaguy nope, still in my basement. thank you though

bimbothelotrguy: @thepizzaguy boooo sucking up to the mod

MasterOfChatters: @bimbothelotrguy you're just angry you weren't first

bimbothelotrguy: @MasterOfChatters u got me there hot mod daddy

"I'd be angry that I'm playing into your guy's sick fantasies, and I've seen your fanfiction, okay?" She looks straight into the camera, leaning in, eyes squinting. "So don't even try denying. I know what you're thinking about. Anyway, I would be angry if she wasn't such a genuinely lovely person. And she agreed to play with me today."

prawncocktail: SHE

bimbothelotrguy: chichi???

prawncocktail: please be chichi please be chichi please

"Come on babe, don't be shy." Stevie smiles at someone off-camera, and then stands up to help them step into the pool.

"You know, chat..." The mic picks up a new voice. "I've actually been lied to as well, and I flew in here with a bag full of swimsuits." The girl pouts and when she sits down you can indeed see she's wearing a bikini with a kimono-cut short robe thrown over it.

"I didn't lie, you all just assumed pool means water." Stevie rolls her eyes. "Besides, we can still go take a dip later." She sends a suggestive smile to the girl on her left, who takes a sip of her drink and wiggles her eyebrows with a smile.

"I think we broke your chat," she points out. Stevie turns to one of her monitors to see what's happening.

Among the slew of emotes, only her mod's messages can be seen.

MasterOfChatters: CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK

MasterOfChatters: YOU SAID YOU'RE VISITING YOUR MOM

Chrissy, aka CheerCheer or ChiChi, as she's known online, stirs her drink slowly.

"No, I said I'm visiting Mommy." She grins, throwing her long, bare legs over Stevie's lap. Stevie smiles brightly and her mod, who's also Chrissy's boyfriend, knows it's directed at him.

MasterOfChatters: I'm

MasterOfChatters: appaled. speechless. mad.

MasterOfChatters: and so glad I put these fuckers in emote-only

MasterOfChatters: iF ANY OF YOU EVEN SUGGESTS A THREESOME I'M TIMING YOU OUT FOR 24H

emote-only mode is off

footjoblover: message deleted by a moderator

MasterOfChatters: OR A FOURSOME OR IS JUST NASTY IN GENERAL

milkpudding: message deleted by a moderator

milkpudding: I need fanart refs

MasterOfChatters: @milkpudding THIN ICE

Chrissy, unfazed, turns to Stevie.

"One hundred?"

"I'd do it for free." Stevie gives her the most charming smile while idly stroking up her shin. It finally makes Chrissy blush.

MasterOfChatters: GODDAMNIT CHRIS

MasterOfChatters: ENABLERS

MasterOfChatters: @SailorSteph UNMOD ME PLEASE I CAN'T HANDLE THE CHAOS

milkpudding sent $100

"Well," Stevie shrugs, already leaning in. "A hundred dollars is a hundred dollars, right?"

"Right," Chrissy says softly, parting her lips for the other girl to slot into.

The kiss is sweet and chaste, Stevie's hand squeezing briefly her knee before caressing her cheek and letting go. She smiles at her, pecks her nose, and turns back to the camera.

"Hope you got your money's worth, milkpudding. Thank you for the one hundred." She smiles sweetly.

milkpudding: yes thank you!!!

milkpudding: see you in #fanart on discord later! teheheh

prawncocktail shared a clip: CHEERSCOOPS IS REAL

"Should we tell them now?" They share a thoughtful look. Chrissy shrugs.

"Better get this out now before Eds gets a heart attack."

MasterOfChatters: ?????????

"We made something for Chrissy's socials too," Stevie starts, playing with the hem of her friend's robe. "We can't link it here, but keep an eye out in Discord and her Fansly." She smiles at her with mischief before looking back to the chat to see the chaos they've surely created.

emote-only mode is on

MasterOfChatters: GODDAMNIT GIRLS 

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: I Will Run To You

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

Extra warnings for chapter: Mentions of medical malpractice, death in childbirth, mentions of male sexual assault via power dynamics, lots of complex feelings.

A/n: next chapter things ramp up.

3.1k words

A/N I gotta apologize y'all. this was meant to include so much more but I guess this chapter is getting split bc I just put so much Jonah lore. I hope y'all are formal about liking him. We finally get some backstory on the uprising, Tom, and Madonna's dad, who BTW, had a name change. JACK IS NOW MARCUS more info after the story!

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

One so young, so changed Should not be left alone Two in love should confess And not be left alone And I will run to you Down whatever road you choose Yes, I will follow you down I will run to you ~I Will Run to You, Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty

“You paint a lot of fire”

Jonah’s voice startled you, making you turn around but you relax when you see it’s just him. Reyansh was watching you outside your studio, and Jonah coming meant you must be summoned somewhere. 

You were painting a picture of a burning house, something you saw in a dream last night. Ben and Will treated you normally, fucking you but also spending time together. You supposed Francisco’s behavior was normal too, considering that he continued to treat you like you only existed to fuck when he had to fullfill his duty. He never touched you alone. In the week since you got your period Santi was ignoring you. He’d call you to his room, fuck you with your face pressed into the mattress, and then toss you out. Last night he shoved you into the hall with your dress still bundled up in your arms.

“I paint what I dream.” You mumble, tired and not totally there. You were terrified to sleep, and after a second visit from the succubus it was getting worse, forcing yourself to stay up later and later. Lack of sleep was making it difficult to be alert, and little noises make you jump.

Jonah approached where you stood, keeping a respectful distance. He’d been distant as well since the night you saw him, and you still were unsure what you did wrong and why Iris was so upset with you.

“You dream of houses burning?” His voice was gentle but curious.

You take a deep breath, too tired to fight off any questioning. It’s best not to lie, anyway. “Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of fire. I dreamed I was dancing in front of it. I dreamed I caused it, and it was out of my control and now I must dance in the smoke and watch as the flames consumed things that I loved.” A pause, tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. “Sometimes, he stood inside them.”

“He?”

“My father.”

Jonah drew in a sharp breath and you worried he thought you were sympathetic to his traitorous cause. You weren’t, you had remembered how betrayed you’d felt that he’d thrown everything away to follow Deacon Davis, the judas who had killed the Divine Mother. As per tradition, when someone is sentenced to death, they burn at the stake and the unmarried women are expected to dance. The closer you are to the individual, the closer you are to the fire. You had been Marcus’s only family, him and your mom having adopted you as an infant. He died in front of you as you danced, embers blowing in the wind and singeing your white dress and sensitive skin. You were only 12, but you knew right from wrong, and your father was wrong. Sometimes you woke up still smelling his burning corpse. You had danced longer than anyone, keeping all the energy your child body could give you until you passed out.

You turn to Jonah with tears in your eyes, “I hold no mercy in my heart for him, please know that. I am loyal to the Divine Mother, I am loyal to my husbands above all else! I don’t know why I didn’t get pregnant but know I’d die for them happily should it came to that!” Crying now, you desperately plead to him but it’s not Jonah you are speaking to, truely. You know Pope is questioning you right now, and you cannot bear the thought that he doubts you.

“Honey” Jonah’s voice is strained, pain anguishing him. “How much do you know about the uprising…”

Your face is wet with tears, almost shaking in fear and frustration. You didn’t know how you’d messed this up so badly so soon. You just wanted to be held, you don’t remember the last time you’d been held without sexual desire… it was probably your father, may he be damned.

“Deacon Davis… he was an advisor to the Divine Mother, a friend to my husbands… he and Deliliah conspired against the Divine Mother and her family. Dad- um, Marcus, was a part of the traitors and he allowed Deacon Davis into Divine Mother’s quarters where he murdered her. Deliliah was Will’s betrothed before. She had seduced him for information and, and betrayed her husband! I would never do that, Jonah!” You realize now why he was questioning you, he thought a traitorous blood ran in your veins. Had Pope sent him? Had Francisco seen the evil in your heart, the evil that was inviting a demon?? Or had Jonah simply seen you for what you were. “I would rather die than betray them! You have to believe me!” You sob, closing your eyes as you are no longer able to look into his in shame. Strong arms wrap around you, practically holding your body up. 

Jonah held you tightly and you cried into his shirt, so tired, so sleepy… You just wanted to feel peace again. Jonah allowed you your release, wetting his shirt with your tears until your breathing slowed. It occurred to you that you were hugging and being held by a man who was not your husband, so you take a step back looking down.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I haven't slept well-”

“It’s okay, honey.” His voice gently reassures you. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.”

You shake your head. “No… no I’m happy, I should be happy here, happy with my husbands, I am!” You’d shown weakness, surely Jonah would tell Pope that you were unhappy, that this was proof of your doubt, of unworthiness… Instead, Jonah pulled a sleeve down on his hand, stepping up to you once more. He ran the sleeve carefully under your eyes wiping the tears.

“There is nothing wrong with feeling what you feel. Your husbands are blessed with a kind, beautiful, artistic wife and they should be so lucky you sit at their table, nonetheless someone who cooks them dinners and paint them pictures. It is they who are unworthy, not you.”

You gasp at the blasphemy. “Jonah! No, no they are-”

“Gods, I know.” He wipes snot from your running nose. “But you… you’re like a daughter to me, and a father is allowed to place his children above Gods. Marcus may not… he may not have made the right choices, but he wanted nothing but good for you, just like I do. So please, for me, show him and yourself a little grace.”

With a little sniffle, you nod. “Thank you, Jonah.”

He gave you a smile, the bright one you like that made his eyes squint. “Good girl. Now, I got a surprise for you that I think will brighten your day.”

*

Jonah watched as you practically skipped down the hallway. When he told you Frankie wanted to take you out for a picnic, you perked up so fast it was like you hadn’t even been sobbing in his arms a moment ago. He wished he could be honest with you, he wished he could tell you the truth about Tom, Delilah, and most importantly, Marcus… but you were so brainwashed, there was no way for him to break through to you. He couldn’t simple tell you everything you’d know and believed whole heartedly, your religion, your life, the very thing that you chose above your father was a lie… not yet anyway. Maybe one day you’d doubt, you’d question, and the first people you’d go to would be Iris or him, maybe even Reyansh. Rey played the part well of a good soldier boy, he wasn’t as overt as Iris was but he knew you trusted him.

Despite being late already with the crying, you insisted on stoping in your room to grab a ribbon for your heart. Jonah’s heart hurt watching you put so much effort into this.

Will treated you well. Despite Jonah and Will’s… past, he couldn’t deny Will  was a good husband. He took care of you.

Ben was a little shithead and was absolutely going behind your back with women still he just couldn’t figure out who. Ben had to be more sneaky now. This didn’t stop him from very loud late night fucks with Frankie that it seemed only you and Santi weren’t aware of. Still, he gave you affection and spent time outside of sex with you.

Santiago, he expected nothing less. Santiago’s moods were unpredictable, they had been ever since he was a child. Jonah had known Santiago and Beatriz since he was young, when all this was fairly new and traction was growing more and more. Jonah didn’t exactly believe, but his wife Jess did. Maybe he did for a while, it was hard to not with the things he saw… Beatriz had taken an interest in him and thus, despite being married, he spent a lot of time at the mansion with her. Jonah felt like a hooker, like his body was a commodity and up for grabs from anyone, and the worst part was how okay Jessica was with it. She fucking encouraged it. “Its an honor!” It wasn’t such an honor when she died giving birth to Iris and was denied medical treatment. Doctor said it wouldn’t have helped. Jonah knew Beatriz had something to do with it. He was luck Irish lived. She was his only reason for living sometimes.

It was Frank he was surprised about. Jonah had known all four men for most of the 3 decades of their life, and next to Santi, he knew Frank the longest. Frankie was raised with Santiago, practically as brother. Beatriz couldn’t adopt him, because something something divine blood, but that didn’t matter when Santi pissed her off enough. Jonah had witnessed the lashings and beatings he had taken, but what seemed to hurt the teen the most was when Beatriz would hang his godhood over his head, saying that it should be Frankie who was the savior, not him. After Jess’s death, Jonah was moved into the mansion and promoted to captain of the guard. It was just an excuse for Beatriz to demand sex even more.

Frankie was a good kid, but he always followed Santi like a lost puppy. Santi became obsessed with Frankie, forcing Frankie to become more and more withdrawn. Still, the nice young man was in there somewhere, and Jonah would bring it out. After the girl came to his room crying about Frankie not loving her, Jonah spoke to him and said he needed to do better by her hence the picnic.

Rey was out at the stables by the time Jonah got there, preparing the three horses. He was there a lot, knowing a lot about horses. If he has any choice, Jonah was certain he’d have been a vet. Another life, he supposed. Jonah and Rey would accompany them since they were going out a ways.

“Hello, Francisco.” She spoke softly, but enthusiastic. For all he and Santi hurt her, she loved him.

Frank gave a small smile. “Hi, Madonna. I thought maybe we could take a picnic. Get away from… everything else.” He brushed the mane of the horse.

Everyone else, Jonah thought.

“That sounds wonderful!” You walk over to him. “What’s his name?”

“This is Cielo. And those two,” He points to the other horses being settled. “Are Estrella and Flora.”

“Will we be riding Cielo?” You ask, but Frank turns away.

“I’ll be riding alone.”

You look dejected again, so Jonah steps up, frustrated with Frankie. “C’mon, you can ride with me.” Jonah puts a put in a stirrup, launching a leg over the saddle and onto Flora, his favorite horse.

“Actually” Frankie interjects. “I think she should ride with Rey.”

Of course. 10 years later and everyone was still suspicious of him. Frankie climbed onto Cielo, and Jonah rode up to him, whispering. “Compliment her ribbon. She picked green just for you.”

*

Reyansh pulled you up and onto the saddle, allowing you to ride the side saddle to protect your modesty in the dress. If you knew you’d be riding a horse, you’d have worn pants. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and you feared falling, but Reynash’s arm was strong around you. He was careful to keep his hands at appropriate places, which you were thankful for. 

“How is your painting going?” He asks, as since Jonah leads the group and Francisco is in the middle still not keen on talking to you. Still, this was a step forward.

“It’s good, thank you. It’s nice and peaceful. I miss-” You stop yourself. What you missed was when Santi used to sit and watch you paint, drinking his wine and intent eyes on you. It had been a comfortable silence. “I do miss having company sometimes…” You missed your husband, you missed his laugh, his smile, his praise.

“Hey, I’d love to sit in on a session!” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was smiling. “I’d love to see a real artist at work!”

You laugh just a bit, “I’m not an artist, but if you’d like to watch, I'd like that.”

“Deal.”

*

You sat against a tree, legs bent modestly in your skirt and eating the sandwich Iris packed. She also packed apple juice, which you loved.

Francisco was silent. He’d thanked you for your help setting up the blanket and spoken as he served his food, but now he simply sat there. He looked sad, but even then he was handsome. Francosco sported a mustache, which had remained consistent the whole time you’d known him. Santiago was growing out his hair and beard, which was making your heart ache even more that you couldn’t kiss and touch him like you wanted to. Still, the silence wasn’t awkward. You had begun to wonder if he was just… quiet.

“Thank you for taking me out.” You say, speaking quietly. Jonah and Reynash were circling the parameter and you felt… watched. “I hadn’t realized how much time I spent inside until now.” Had you even left the house at all since your wedding? When was the last time you felt sunshine before today?

To your delight, while still looking down, he smiled. “I’m glad. Don’t like seeing you cooped up in that house all day.”

Your heart warmed at his concern for you. Feeling emboldened, you scooch close to him.

“It’s not cooped up with the men I love.”

This makes his eyes flick up to you. He narrows them suspiciously, but not angry “You… love… me?”

Your heart nearly shatters at the question, and you can’t help but find him so endearing. “But of course I do!!!” Careful, you place a hand on his face and feel the patchy bit of stubble. “You’re my beloved husband!”

“But… you had to marry me.”

You shake your head. “No, Francisco I chose you, I chose all of you and I love all of you. Is that why you’ve been distant? Is that why you’ve been so cold to me?”

“I-” He stutters over his words. “I don’t think this is good for you… I don’t think I’m good for you…”

If there were ever words you hadn’t expected from him, it wasn’t that. Francisco was a God, he was holy, good and righteous, how could he not be good for you. It didn’t matter. Clearly he was hurting, and as his wife, it was your duty to make him happy again. “Francisco Morales, you are my husband, you are the foster child of the Divine Mother, and the love of my life. I chose you before, I choose you now, and I will choose you in heaven, Divine Mother willing.” You bring your face closer to his. “I adore you, in all your God and human.” Feeling brave, you bring your mouth to him and tenderly take his pouty lower lip into your mouth, making him whimper. You liked that sound.

“You choose me?” He whispers, slowly kissing back. “Out in the open, no secrets?” His voice is slightly higher now, almost whining as he begins to chase your mouth. 

“Always” The desperation growing, you give him everything you have. You don’t care that it’s an open field surrounded by trees, you don’t care that Reyansh and Jonah could ride up at any point, and you don’t care who might see you. You were divine and if you wanted to make love to the god of nature in his own fucking land you will. You had Francisco Morales, demi-God, whimpering for your touch. You had HIM, finally had him and you weren’t going to waste it for one second. He wanted thing sout in the open, you would show him you weren’t ashamed to be seen getting filled by his seed. Before you, your husbands were not celibant, that much was known. The sex parties were stuff of rumors and you couldn’t decipher the truth from fact. However, it was clear that public sex was not off the table. Shame is a punishment for the sins of Adam and Eve, and for men born without original sin, there was no shame in sex. “I choose you, always.”

Frankie entangles his fingers into your hair, feeling the green tie in your locks. His other hand slides up to cup your breast.

“I love this ribbon, it suits you.”

*

“Whatcha think’n, old man.” Rey asks as he rides up to Jonah. Both are perched up on top of a hill overlooking the field you lay on and he watches you kiss Frankie. 

“I’m thinking,” Jonah turns to Rey, nodding his head back home. “That I got it here, and since the others are out, you should run back and try and sneak some time with Iris.”

Rey smiled at that, but hesitated. “You sure? Morales didn’t seem like he wanted her with either of you.” 

Jonah rolled his eyes, but it was good natured nonetheless. He liked Reynash, loved him even. He was a good kid. Iris was put in the position she was in, not any older than the girl was now, because of his shortcomings, his weaknesses. She was punished to punish him. She deserved all the good she could get, and Reyansh Saha was about the only bit off good left in this world, beside Iris and now Marcus’s kid he was looking after. He reminded Jonah of Delilah in a lot of ways. Always smiling. Always kind.

“Look at ‘em.” Jonah referenced the pair kissing below. “She’s going home on his lap.”

Rey laughed brightly, turning his horse. “Oh yeah, you’re quite the matchmaker!” And he road off, long dark hair wild behind him. Handsome devil.

The words matchmaker hung in the air. Was Jonah giving her false hope he wondered? Or was he giving her the time she had left and filling it with better memories. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was delaying the inevitable. It was always going to end one way for her. There was no way to live up to what Santiago wanted.

Because what Santiago wanted was Frankie with a womb.

SO MUCH JONAH HAPPENING!!!!!!!!

And poor madonna bc Jonah christ smelling your dad burn is a lot

So Marcus's face claim is David Habour, this came out of some chats with. @umnitsa in my romanaverse discord server. He is now your adopted father to keep things inclusive, but this is important as he has background info and ties in a lot. Think hopper in stranger things. Also May is already shipping him and Jonah so that ship name is Jonus lmfaooooo

If you are an active participant in one or more of my universes and have a discord (this means commenting or comment Reblogging, im looking for people who want to theorize and chit chat) dm me for a link! This is primarily focused on giving you extra content and sneak peaks but a lot of cool people are there too and you can share your work!

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

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[doyourememberrocknrollradio]

Stevie Nicks - Rooms On Fire

[thewildbelladonna]

“Rooms on Fire” music video shoot, 1989.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bestie, im now obsessed with Manny Perez, can you do something with #5 from the midnight prompts - kiss you in a crowded room?

It’s crowded in Smokey’s tonight but then again it always is when Luke Leone’s girl is playing. She’s got a voice like Stevie Nicks and a way with a guitar that makes you contemplate the possibility that she might have sold her soul to the devil. Usually Manny would want to stick around, listen to her set but it’s been a tough day and all he wants is to spend a little time with you.

It's been a couple of days since he’s actually laid eyes on you. He’s been doing OT up at the Fire Camp and you’ve been studying the specs for the new helicopter that Nozzle is donating to the SAR crew. He’d heard your voice over the radio a few times during the cliffside rescue but there’s nothing like the real thing.

It takes Manny a minute to find you amongst the throng of people. You’ve been forced out of your usual spot by a couple of groupies so instead you’re leaning against the jukebox, sipping a soda with an umbrella in it and a crazy straw to jazz it up a little.

You don’t have a problem with alcohol but he does which is why you steer away from it when the two of you are together. It’s a concession you’ve come to on your own  because you hate the thought of the discomfort it brings him when he tastes it on your lips. He would never ask that of you but it’s that thoughtfulness that reminds him just how perfect you are for one another.

Your entire face lights up when he appears in your field of vision and for Manny it feels like coming home, because those eyes and that smile. It’s everything he needs after a rough day.

His lips brush over yours, soft, tender. There isn’t room for anything else tonight, he’s too tired, too worn down. He knows you understand that from the way your fingertips ghost along the line of his jaw. This thing between the two of you, it may have started hot and heavy but it’s developed into much more. You’ve become attuned to one another over the course of your relationship, you operate on the same frequency. You can read his moods just as well as he can read yours.

“Let’s get out of here.” You whisper as his forehead comes to rest against yours. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

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