#with his former bandmates

[goongiveusnothing]

re Billie no he did not. You've literally made that up.

lmao, sorry you literally cannot understand that what he is saying here is that he was jealous she was the new young thing and he was not. when he says phew, we're not the same thing, what he's saying is okay, we're not competing in the same things, we're doing different things, i'm fine i'm being competitive in my lane. it's jealousy.

"Being in the band, I'd always felt like we were really young," he said, referring to One Direction, who went on indefinite hiatus in 2015. "It was fun and exciting 'cause we were young."

"I had a moment, seeing her do this at such a young age, where I felt like, 'I'm not that young anymore,'" he continued. "For a while, it was like, 'How do you play that game of remaining exciting?' And I just had a moment where I felt like, 'OK, we're not the same thing.'"

He added: "In the same vein of like, you're not always going to be the 'young thing,' I was like, 'OK, I would like to really think about who I would like to be as a musician.'"

[artisticallygay]

Who the fuck is gonna tell the girl who started the "Sold to One Direction" fic trope

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

i really don't get them. H already played stadiums in US and UK last time, so why do they care?

because it’s not harry’s success they’re solely focused on, it’s on harry’s success at the expense of others’ (especially louis)

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 222/?

John Cale - Dying on the Vine (1985)

"Who could sleep through all that noisy chatter?

The troops, the celebrations in the sun.

The authorities say my papers are all in order

And if I wasn't such a coward

I would run.

I'll see you when all the shooting's over;

Meet me on the other side of town.

Yes, you can bring all your friends along for protection,

It's always nice to have them hanging around.

I was thinking about my mother,

I was thinking about what's mine.

I was living my life like a Hollywood,

But I was dying, dying on the vine."

[halosluvchild]

people will find any reason to be mad at Liam my god

[berrywinkle]

Hard to swallow pill for some of you: just because you dislike a celebrity doesn’t mean every person around said celebrity secretly hates them too. They’ll still have friends, which will include celebrities you like. B is not secretly uncomfortable with A, you’re just projecting your own dislike

[tfgvibes]

The plane lands into Heathrow after my latest stint in the States, I head off of it and to baggage claim where, instead of standing around with my arms folded waiting for a bag that’s still being hauled out of the cargo, I go straight to the payphones. 

There’s plenty of things I should spend the pounds on; check with Carolyn to see what calls and messages I’ve missed during the flight, get in touch with Jimmy has anything new for me to get me out of this damned drought, confirm the holiday plans with mother, inform darling Annette I’ve landed safely… yet the pads of my fingers drift to that pattern long ingrained within them. 

Not on the first ring, nor the second...she allows enough time for my finger to wrap around the coil before her voice fills the receiver. It’s cool at first, but takes only a sentence or two for her smoke to smolder. 

“See you soon... I’ll be waiting.” 

No doubt, she’s precise. As I park the car in front of the cobblestone sidewalk, she emerges from behind the door, sipping from the freshly poured bordeaux in her glass and staining the rim with her matching shade of dark rogue. 

“Hello Sonny.” 

Her heels shift to let me in closer, allowing the black silk robe she draped herself in to open enough to tease the lack of a negligee underneath. My hand brushes through her ebony curls as I cup her blushed cheek, hypnotized in the notes of musk and spice from the perfume she’s dabbed on as I press my lips all up her neck. 

“Good to see you, Francesca...” 

I can feel her smile curve. She’s heard every line ever fucking wrote and mine is certainly nothing new, but God, is it true. It’s always good to see her, better to touch her, even better to be touched by her. The American girls are filled with enthusiasm, sure, and for the most part I enjoy every debaucherous aspect of their limits, but enthusiasm doesn’t quite equate skill. It can certainly make up for the lack, but it can’t replicate the complete cleansing of the soul it is entangling with a woman truly practiced in the art of seduction. The hardest talent to come by and she executes it easier than how we fall into her sheets and once again indulge in this pristine pleasure. There’s no money or power chained up in this exchange, she doesn’t want those things, just pure bliss perfectly crafted in every sensation. Despite the groupies and the diamond dangling on Annette’s finger, it’s why this arrangement of ours continues being successful. Francesca’s the only one who's been around long enough to know what rhapsody to incite in order to bring me where I need to be, and the only one who's never asked me to cough up the price. 

The sun’s set by the time I notice my surroundings. It was mid day when my flight landed, so I’m sure Annette’s already rung up Carolyn, but I’m not worried. Carolyn’s as good a liar as I can be, it’s why I hired her. The weather’s terrible in the States so the flight got rebooked, or Jimmy’s got another act he wants me to see so the trip got extended…whatever it is, she’ll find a reason to pacify her and we’ll compare notes before I dare to call her. For now, Francesca’s pouring more wine in my glass and I’m not about to decline it. 

“So how was New York?” 

It’s a question that makes me savor my sip, “Frustrating. There’s not an inkling of direction going out there currently. None of these acts  know what they want, nor do they care. It’s all about the image and how long they can blow through the advance until they go broke or burn out. I’m sure there was something out there, but this trip certainly didn’t materialize anything worth the risk.” 

“It’s all taken a sinister turn hasn’t it?” Francesca sighs, wiping the wine from the corner of her lip. “We got out at the right time. I mean…I’m not trying to imply that every show went perfectly during our tours, but we played our hearts out and people listened. The way everyone’s grown so pompous now…who wants to sing to a mob who doesn’t care to hear you? By the same token, who wants to hear a song someone doesn’t really care about singing? I don’t know....” 

“We’re either on the brink of an innovative, truly great sound emerging, or near the end of it all. I’m leaning towards the latter but I can’t commit to that philosophy. I refuse to add to the cynicism. Seems to be the essence of the problem.” 

“Noble,” She says, topping off my glass, “Have you gone to Christie’s?” 

“I can’t imagine they’d simply put up talent for a bid. My life would be too easy...” 

She laughs, “No, Sonny, it’s this bar in Chelsea. I believe it used to be a fashion shop but got bought up and turned into a pub not too long ago. I've been designing some of their posters to promote their acts. There’s been some great performances.” 

“Really?” I ask, mostly thinking back to that tight black velvet dress she used to wear on stage rather than anything business related, “That’s high praise.” 

“What happened to refusing to add to the cynicism?” Francesca scoffs, “At least go to admire my art.” 

I sit my glass down and lean closer, hypnotized by the boozy stir in those narrowed emerald eyes that are flickering down at my lips.  

“Always do darling,” I whisper, softly locking her into a kiss and drawing us both into one more tempestuous act before we’re through for the night. 

Fransceca sleeps in. Years of finding rest in buses and vans have made her a deep sleeper and she doesn’t stir when I slip out from the sheets. 

My hair’s downright matted, my blazer is crumpled, her lipstick is on my linen shirt collar, and my breath reeks with wine. Carolyn smirks upon the sight, I can’t blame her for doing so. 

“Good morning, Sonny. Wasn’t expecting you until noon. Glad they were able to make up time after that overnight at JFK…” 

“So am I,” I tell her and sequester myself into my office, locking the door until all of these clothes have been replaced with cleaner, albeit wrinkled, articles from my suitcase so I look somewhat more presentable. A little bump up the nose, and I’m finally prepared to tackle the morning. There shouldn’t be much, actual business is sort of on a lull until after the holidays, when we can resume figuring what the fuck to do about the nineteen eighties... 

I put my old outfit onto a hanger and zip up the bag so it can be discreetly delivered to the cleaners. Carolyn comes to collect it, scooping the hanger off of my desk and replacing its space on my desk with a freshly printed Xerox flyer. The details in the pictures are dark and hard to see because of the ink, but I can make out the lettering: 

CHRISTIE’S PRESENTS

A NIGHT WITH PARANOIA

XMAS EVE 1979

DOORS OPEN 9PM

Carolyn explains, “Jimmy sent this over for you to pursue. Rock and roll band with a keyboardist, he thought you’d appreciate that aspect.” 

“Ah, so he’s pandering to me now? Got it.” I sigh and settle into my leather chair. I despise how his ploy might work too. I’m so worn down from hearing nothing but poorly played Les Pauls that if someone strikes the keys of a Rhodes on stage, or a Yamaha, or a goddamned Clavinet I’ll vouch for them to be signed fucking immediately. “What’d I do to deserve such a generous Christmas gift?” 

“Survive New York, apparently.” She shrugs, “He says they’ve had a lot of local buzz. Sounds said their last show was an interesting yet refreshing fusion. Something along the lines of Ziggy meets Zeppelin.” 

“Easy there with that, my companion last night already convinced me to try this place. Supposedly they put on some real stellar gigs...” My eyes drift down to the date. “On Christmas Eve, no less---good God, Annette’s going to lose her mind. ”  

Carolyn takes the Amex from me, “Shall I pick up a gold necklace for her at Selfridges?” 

“Please.” 

[backseatloversz]

i think being part of panic at the disco at any point would be hell on earth But i am pretty envious of the fact they were rich successful rockstars by like the age of 20 and they were all buying their first houses or whatever right before/as the country was going into a fucking recession

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh

Length: 4606 words

Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming

TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)

“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”

Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.

You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some. 

“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”

“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”

You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings. 

“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”

“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”

“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”

“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”

For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”

“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything. 

“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”

#

“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you

“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni

You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy. 

“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you

“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni

“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you

That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea. 

You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.

“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni

With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment. 

Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you. 

“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.

“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”

“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”

No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.

“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”

You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.

After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”

Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.

“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”

“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”

“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.

When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.

“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”

You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.

“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”

“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.

“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”

“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”

“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”

“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”

Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.

“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”

“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”

“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”

You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”

Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~” 

“Huh?”

You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.

“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”

Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.

The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation. 

“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”

“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”

You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.

“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”

Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.

“H-how did you know, Unnie?”

“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”

Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.

“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”

You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.

“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”

Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum. 

“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”

Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”

Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.

“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?” 

“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”

“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”

You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you. 

Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.

“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”

You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.

“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”

“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”

“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”

“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”

Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.

“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.

“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.

“I-it was… the best.”

A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”

“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though. 

“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”

“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”

“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”

“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”

You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.

“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.

“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.

“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight. 

“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”

“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.

“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”

“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”

“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”

Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.

“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”

“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.

“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”

Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.

“That was so good, Sir—”

“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough. 

With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly. 

“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek. 

“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch. 

“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”

The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.

“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.

“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”

Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”

(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)

[captain-joongz]

summer recap/favourite fics/fic recommendations for the first half of 2024!

Pretty flushed by @holybibly

♡ 2 parts, wolf!hwa x rabbit!reader x wolf!joong, a/b/o, smut smut smut, a little dark

Industry baby by @kitten4sannie

♡ mingi x reader x joong, rock band au, cuckold play, bf!mingi and bandmate!joong

Arriba! + Freak! by @teeskzagain

♡ f!reader x joong, yunho, san, woo and mingi, college au, a lot of smut, sex under the influence, ateez are absolute pervs, "the boardgame made us do it"

7 minutes of compensation by @k-hotchoisan

♡ hwa x f!reader x yunho, frat!teez, threesome

in the wings by @sanjoongie

♡ rapppers hwa and joong x f!reader, backstage pass, smut, double penetration, groupie au

Case: It's you by @potatomountain

♡ ot8 x f!reader, e2l, police au, workplace romance, investigative and horny ;)

Inception by @remedyx

♡ a repeat from the last list, but it's sooo good, go check it out!!

The happiest girl in the world by @holybibly

♡ camboy!hwa x f!reader, private call, smut, streamer x fan au

February filth fest 2024 day 13: Uniform by @sanjoongie

♡ new captain!hwa x former captain!reader, mutiny au, scifi, mean dom hwa, humiliation and degradation

February filth fest 2024 day 21: aphrodisiacs/overstim by @sanjoongie

♡ alien!joong x human!reader, alien poison as an aphrodisiac, oviposition

Ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore + Ugh, as if - bonus

♡ punk!joong x f!reader, joong works with leather, cute and hot, joong helps reader overcome insomnia with some good old-fashioned orgasms

Look after you by @mingigoo

♡ musician!joong x nurse!reader, a little angsty, but with a sweet ending, smut

Plug & Play by @bangtanintotheroom

♡ guitarist!joong x f!reader, rock band au, s2l, backstage sex, reader is horny and hongjoong is hot

this ask by @nateezfics

♡ sex with angry joong, bratty reader

Honey and blood by @nateezfics

♡ vampire!joong x maid!reader, dark but sweet, smut with feels

10:11 : féconder by @yeosgoa

♡ assistant!joong x witch!reader, academia au, accidental aphrodisiacs, desperate joong under the influence of a sex potion

cross my heart by @doitforbangchan

♡ brother's best friend!joong x f!reader, dark, yandere joong, he's very manipulative, dubcon/noncon, sex under the influence

February filth fest 2024 day 4: public sex by @sanjoongie

♡ cowboy!san x wise woman!reader, wild west au, san is injured, san is head over heels for reader, save a horse ride a cowboy ;)

no hesitation by @daemour

♡ fratboy!san x f!reader, bff2l, college party au, misunderstandings, fools in love, smut

February filth fest 2024 day 23: breeding kink by @sanjoongie

♡ kitty hybrid!woo x f!reader, rut sex, cumplay, bratty woo

deliver us from evil by @holybibly

♡ priest!woo (or is he???) x f!reader, hierophilia, sacrilege, church sex, very dark, rough sex and humiliation

IT's You by @shinestarhwaa

♡ debate team au, college au, e2l, mean woo, rough sex

Right here by @0097linersb

♡ bff!woo x f!reader, pervy woo who wants to fuck his bff, very sexually frustrated reader

My library | BTS fic recs

[thewalrusespublicist]

Cynthia Lennon truly was gods strongest soldier. Like imagine your husband, your childhood sweetheart, father of your child, the man who carved your name into the churches of Europe as his form of worship. This same man, the man who once wrote you aching letters about wanting to live and be alone with just you, telling you and the world that he can’t be apart from his boy besties for five minutes.

Then barely a year later he gets into a frankly comical amount of LSD, essentially moves in with his most special boy bestie, goes through his multiple affairs in detail with you like a hellish ‘what I did on my holidays’ slideshow, and finally tells you that he wants to leave you by having his mistress/heroin buddy/your former stalker sit on the sofa wearing your dressing gown as you return home from holiday before dragging you through the court until you are broken in every sense. Broken hearted, broken financially and broken homed. You are destitute, in tatters with a little boy he won’t see due to distance and commitment to said former stalker who he is parading round with on a ‘peace and love’ tour whilst filling up rooms with fur coats.

Then a few years later he temporarily splits from his new wife, seems to recover himself slightly and finally trots out a song. A song of apology, contrition, love, devotion, and recommitment full of personal little in jokes and messages. It is a song of love but you can’t understand it because it isn’t to YOU, it mostly isn’t even to HER, but to his FORMER BANDMATE.

HIS. FORMER. BANDMATE.

With hammers. I would have killed him with hammers.

[goongiveusnothing]

Mod, the trainer was also in the photo where wigrry went swimming on his bday. The shippers are passing out! Wiggy could marry a woman tomorrow, and these shippers would still go crazy

first of all, age has no been kind to harry styles, he looks like a 50 year old.

second of all, what trainer is this? has brad also aged in harry years?

[cevansbrat0007]

Indecent Exposure Pt. I: Bye Bye, Daddy

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when your father decides to leave you in the care of his four best friends, your fake Uncles, while he's on away on tour for the summer. Read Part Two!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Bucky Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Unwanted Touching, Dad's Best Friend Themes, Older Men/Younger Women Themes, Brief Discussions of Voyeurism, Brief Mentions of Mouth Soaping, Brief Reference to Spanking and Discipline, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Please heed all warnings. Part of my Indecent Exposure Series. If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

"But Daaaad.” You whine, drawing out the word as you follow your father into the kitchen. Shoulders slumped, you can’t seem to stop yourself from pouting. 

While you’d initially made peace with the prospect of being left alone for the practically the entire summer before you planned to start your freshman year at NYU, you positively balked at the idea being left in the care of a fucking babysitter. 

Four of them, actually.

“No buts, pumpkin.” Your father drops his carry-on bag next to the door, on top of his other luggage. “It’s not good for you to be stuck in this big old house all by your lonesome. You even said as much just the other week.”

“Yeah, well…” You trail off, pissed at the fact that you’d essentially brought this on yourself. “That was back when you weren’t even sure if you were going.”

At first, your old man had been rather skeptical at going on tour with his former bandmates. They’d had a couple hits back in the day, but nothing major. Even still, they’d somehow managed to amass a bit of a cult following. 

And so when he was offered the opportunity to open for a much larger classic rock band, he just couldn’t pass it up. And you hadn’t had the heart to make him either. Dreams like this seldom came true for anybody, let alone a mild-mannered pharmacist who was pushing fifty. 

“Why can’t you at least take me with you?”

He turns to you then, heaving a sigh before pulling you into his arms. "Life on the road is no place for my little girl. Which is why I’ve asked your Uncles to check-in on you.” He presses a gentle kiss on your mop of curly hair, giving you one last squeeze before releasing you.

“And this is where I’d like to point out that I’m 18 years old, which makes me a full-fledged adult.“ Wrapping your arms around your middle, you try to play it off like you don’t care about him leaving so soon after your birthday. 

But you do. While your birthday had only been last week, you two hadn't even had the chance to embark on your annual fishing trip yet.

“I know that. Of course I know that.” He’s quick to reassure you. “And as a newly minted adult I’m sure you’ll be on your own some nights – the ones when Bucky can’t stay and none of your other uncles are available.”

“Ugh! Can you please stop calling them that?”

Little did he know that you were mere seconds away from covering your ears and letting out a frustrated scream. 

“Well, that’s what they are. They may not be blood, but it still counts.” Your father just shakes his head. Apparently he hadn’t expected you to put up this much of a fight before his departure. “And while it might be true that it’s been a while since you’ve seen your uncles, each one has assured me that they would be more than delighted to keep an eye out for their favorite niece.”

“Dad, I don’t even know them like that! At least not anymore...”

You’re rewarded with yet another weary sigh. “Then it looks like you’ll have the whole summer to get reacquainted with them then, won’t you?” His hands go to grip your shoulders, all but forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Besides, Buck’ll be around. I’m sure he’ll help ease you into everything.”

It’s impossible to stop the derisive snort that escapes the back of your throat. 

“Sweetheart, my ride is going to be here any minute now…” He tells you, making it clear that neither one of you has time for the tantrum you seem so keen on throwing. “You’ve gotta know that I only want what’s best for–”

The two of you are interrupted by the sound of a vehicle pulling into your driveway. And while you don’t recognize it, you’re almost certain that it’s too sleek and expensive to belong to any Lyft driver. 

“Speak of the devil!” Your father suddenly exclaims before throwing open the door and rushing down the steps. Which is fine, except for the part when he decided to drag you along with him. “Bucky fuckin’ Barnes – just in the knick of time too!”

Well, there went Plan A. So much for locking up the house after your Dad was gone and refusing to answer the fucking door for anyone except the pizza delivery guy. 

However, in spite of your annoyance and frustration, you can’t help the tiny jolt of electricity that hums along your skin as you watch the dark haired man peel himself out of the driver’s seat so that he can properly greet you both.  

“Get a look at you, old man!” Bucky chuckles as he enthusiastically brings your Dad in for a hug, lightly thumping his back as he does. “Can’t believe somebody actually fucked up and told you you got to be a rockstar!”

Your uncle’s smile only broadens when he finally lays eyes on you. But it’s the way he’s looking at you that catches your attention – it’s not quite a leer – but his blatant perusal is enough to make you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. 

“I know!” Comes your Dad’s eager response. “That’s why I’m trying to get out of here before whoever signed off on this sobers up and realizes his mistake.” Both men are grinning from ear to ear when they finally take a step back. 

And that’s when all eyes turn to you. 

“And who’s this gorgeous young lady?” Bucky inquires, his pearly white teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he makes a quiet show of looking you over once again, this time allowing his gaze to linger just a fraction too long on your cutoff denim shorts. 

“Oh, come on now.” Good ol’ Dad reaches over to grab your wrist, pulling you even closer. Which is the absolute last thing you want. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your niece.” 

“Is that my sweet, little Clover?” Bucky pretends to rub exaggeratedly rub his eyes while evoking your childhood nickname. “I guess it is. Except now she’s all grown up.” Your Dad drops your wrist in time for the other man to grab your hand so that he can give you a little twirl. "Just turned 18, in fact."

“I heard. So pretty.” He hums, although the words are spoken just low enough so that only you can hear them. “You’ve got yourself a knockout for a daughter, Dale.” You resist the urge to squirm when you feel the roughened pad of his thumb lightly stroke along the ridges of your knuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you kept a shotgun by the door.” 

While you suspect that his words are meant in jest, the only person that laughs is the man who raised you. 

“I actually keep it in the front closet. Which reminds me…” You father turns to you then, pinning you with a knowing look. “Now pumpkin, I know you're not super excited about the current arrangement and all that, but I’d appreciate it if you’d, uh, refrain from having any boys over at the house while I’m gone.” 

You swiftly open your mouth to protest, only to be surprised when Bucky beats you to the punch. 

“Roger that.” He grins down at you, the dimple in his left cheek on full display. “Your Daddy said no boys allowed, little Clover. Do we have your promise you’re gonna respect his wishes?”

Tugging your hand out his grasp, you turn your attention to your Dad, offering up a sugary sweet smile. “But what about Peter? You actually like him, remember? Besides, he’s pretty much my best friend.”

“Well…”

Because you couldn’t fathom the idea of a summer without him. And you just know he’s going to relent and make an exception. That is, until Bucky decides to go and open up his mouth. 

“You heard your Daddy, sweetheart.” He gently admonishes you, a hint of mockery in his tone. “Besides, I don’t think any of your uncles want to have to deal with strange boys wandering around the house.”

“Good man.” Your father agrees, clapping the other man on his shoulder. “And speaking of Andy, Ari, and Steve, this one here is a little nervous about seeing them again. I don’t know why. I mean it’s been a while since everyone’s gotten together…”

“Aww, bug.” He coos, wrapping a brawny arm around your much smaller waist. “Are you worried we don’t love you anymore?” You find yourself gritting your teeth to keep from elbowing him in the kidney. 

Why the hell did he have to make that sound so…suggestive? And how come your father didn't seem to notice? 

“No.” You grunt, hating the man for having the nerve to smell so damned good – like spiced vanilla and cedar. 

“Because we most certainly do. You know, Andy was just looking at your senior picture the other day.” His large, warm hand settles just above the curve of your hip. “He actually sent it to the group chat and none of us could believe just how much our little Clover had blossomed. Right under our noses.”

“A–awesome.” You mumble, wishing he would stop touching you so much. It did funny things to your belly, which you did not appreciate.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he gets here.” 

Shock has your mouth falling open, briefly leaving you almost too stunned to make a sound. And to make matters worse, your father’s Lyft picks that very moment to pull up behind Bucky’s sports car. 

“What?” You eventually croak. Not that you receive much of a response, what with both men choosing to abandon you in favor of grabbing luggage and loading it into the driver’s trunk. 

“Alright, pumpkin.” Your Dad calls out once they’ve got everything secured. “I’ll call you from the road. I left instructions on the fridge and with Bucky. You need anything you call me, okay?” 

Seconds later you find yourself pulled into a bear hug. And, because you don’t know when you’ll see him again, you choose not to argue or struggle. You can only hug him back as if your life depends on it. 

“Be good.” He mumbles in your hair. “Listen to your uncles. It may not seem like it, but they know what's best. And you have my word that they care about you just as much as I do.” 

“Okay.” Is all you can muster as you fight back tears. “I–I love you.”

“You know it.” He holds you even tighter. “To the moon and back, plus the galaxy and beyond.” Smiling when he releases you, you watch him climb into the waiting car before giving him one last wave. 

And then he’s gone. You watch unmoving as the car backs out of the driveway and takes off down the road in the direction of the airport. It takes a moment for you to remember that you’re alone now.

Left to your own devices for the entire fucking summer. 

“Save those pretty tears, Clover.” You jump when you feel a hand press against the small of your back. “You’ve got us – me, Andy, Ari, and Steve – and won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Bucky whispers, his mouth hovering just above your ear.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” You growl, stomping towards the front door.

“Fair warning, sweetheart.” He calls after you, his voice tinged with laughter as he goes to follow you inside. “Your Uncle Steve doesn’t like that kind of language. And I’m afraid Uncle Andy isn’t the type to put up with that attitude either.”

“Then tell them they should keep their asses home!” You snap as you reach the stairs, taking them two at a time all the while silently praying that he doesn’t follow.

“All I’m saying is that I’d hate to see Stevie have to wash out that pretty little mouth out with soap.” He calls from the bottom of the stairs, no longer bothering to hide his laughter. 

The fucking pervy bastard was enjoying this!

You slam your door with a flourish, briefly reveling in the sound it makes as it shakes the entire frame. If Bucky, or any of your so-called uncles thought you were still that same, sweet little girl you used to then they were in for one hell of a rude awakening.

Fuck! You’re so busy fuming over your current situation that you have no idea what’s taking place quite literally beneath your feet. For tonight, you decide that ignorance is bliss. If you got hungry later you’d just have to find something on DoorDash.

You throw yourself on your bed with a huff, punching your pillow over and again until you feel some of the rage leave your body. This summer was going to fucking blow unless you found a way to stay busy away from the house. 

Meanwhile, Bucky has taken a seat at the bottom of the stairs. Pulling out his phone he opens the group chat he has with his buddies and proceeds to start typing. Call it intuition, but he had a feeling that he and his friends getting reacquainted with their precious little Clover was going to make for one hell of summer.

Oh yes, this was going to make for one hell of a summer indeed.

END

Unofficial Taglist:

@cjand10

[ultrameganicolaokay]

FML #1 by Kelly Sue DeConnick, David López and Cris Peter. Cover by López. Variant covers by (2) Álvaro Martínez Bueno, (3) David Lafuente, (4) Nicola Scott and (5) Pepe Larraz. Out in November.

"From the Eisner award-winning creators who brought you Captain Marvel, Bitch Planet, and Wonder Woman: Historia comes this genre-busting, apocalyptic odyssey about a group of metal kids who face a medley of bizarre foes and encounters in Portland, Oregon during a worldwide pandemic. Riley is a teen that sketches out his heavy metal future with a ballpoint pen between monster movies and band practice. But musical stardom needs to compete with high school, the temper of a former Riot Grrrl mother, the morbid obsessions of a goth sister, and the eccentricities of bandmates that threaten to drive him and everyone around him insane. The balance gets harder after a ritual during a party in Portland's Forest Park causes him to wake up one day to discover that the creatures, witchcraft, and metal world he's obsessed with may be a bit closer to home than he preferred."

[missbutterworthless]

[i’m not a violent dog. i don’t know why i bite.]

The lead singer of BOTB’s Season 4 projected underdogs, Arlo Beck of Penny Arcade, declined further comment in regards to the threatening of a member of the media when questioned about former band mate and fellow competitor, Seven Lawless of Soft Violence.

Further Info Under the Cut!

TW for mentions of addiction 🫶

Introducing Arlo Beck, lead singer of Penny Arcade, a pop punk band of humble origins known most for their musically delivered political commentary and their revenge anthems (it is of particular note that such anthems were not common in the Lawless Era, with the band leaning far more heavily into charged love songs. Which could mean nothing.)

Fun Facts!

Beck is an Aquarius!

According to an insider source, beyond singing, Beck is quite capable with the ocarina.

Beck is known to juggle at any and every opportunity, regardless of who may or may not be watching. (He is apparently rather talented as well.)

Beck is known for accessorizing with heart motifs, noted by a previous local publication to be a nod to fellow bandmate Rowan Hart.

Beck often carries a bottle of quick dry black polish for ‘manicure emergencies’. He is known to have addressed such emergencies while on stage after chipping a nail during a performance.

Beck is often cited as the source for Penny Arcade’s ‘gimmick’ of collecting loose change in collection bins during a dedicated song at every performance. The change is then matched and donated to queer and at risk youth. Beck remains firm that every member of Penny Arcade, past and present, is equally responsible.

Picture Easter Eggs and more Fun Facts!

Arlo is wearing a WWOD? bracelet in the pic! The band got together to make bracelets with Orion’s most recent catchphrase while waiting for filming to start. Arlo made his particularly fruity. He also made a keychain version for Orion.

The time on Arlo’s phone is a nod to MCx7. Seven is, well, 7. And Arlo is 1 & 2 because his initials are the first and second letters of the alphabet. Hence, 7:12.

Arlo’s initial tattoo utilizes the S in SD as an infinity symbol. He acknowledges it is cringy. And poetically tragic.

Not shown is his tongue piercing, which Orion chewed him out for getting because his tongue was swollen and his speech slurred for nearly two weeks!

As stated above, he likes to wear motifs of his band members! Because he is a doofus! Most common because it’s his daily accessories is a heart motif for Rowan, but he also has jellyfish pendants and vampire bite chokers for Iris and different color bee pins for Devyn depending on their hair color! Jazzy is represented in the case he carries his juggling equipment in, which he takes literally everywhere after she bought him one for his birthday years ago. He is currently racking his brain for what to do for August!

43 of the 57 missed calls on his phone were from Orion. He knows because Orion’s ringtone is I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2.

He is heavily addicted to nicotine (to Orion’s chagrin) and became a functioning (for now) alcoholic after The Fight™️. Prior, he imbibed during social functions but never alone and never when he had plans. Up until the audition, he never partook in other substances but caved into peer pressure. Despite his snark and notorius RBF, he is a chronic people pleaser.

The eyebrow slit is a scar from slicing his eyebrow open in Lucy’s diner after crashing head first into the dish station and shattering a plate. With his face. The scar is almost entirely faded but he can no longer grow hair there. He’s actually really insecure about it and has considered getting the spot microbladed.

That’s all for now folks! I mostly wanted to share my art :) I adore @infamous-if and have been playing with Arlo as my MC since Day 1! He finally fully clicked in my head and after days of attempting to find a face claim or craft him in the sims I decided to crack open Ye Olde iPad and do it myself!

Please feel free to share any fun facts about your own Infamous OCs! Regretfully my friends stay firmly opposed to interactive fiction so I am starved for fellow Infamous fans

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Summary: A baby shower has you reuniting with Eddie (and Harris). Unbeknownst to Eddie, it's right when he'll need you most--but is he ready to forgive?

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, small allusion to sex, mentions of Grandma Sweetheart's death, mentions of learning disability

WC: 7.4k

Chapter 11/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Mid-January in Hawkins is cold, with temperatures in the mid-30s, but a bundled-up Harris Munson is unfazed. Eddie happily watches as his son practically flies across the empty playground and heads straight for the swingset. In the warmer weather, it’s a coveted spot amongst the kids and usually ends in a battle, but the chill in the air means that Harris doesn’t have to fight for a turn. 

“Daddy! Uncle Jeff!” he calls out, voice muffled by the blue scarf securely wrapped around the lower half of his face, “come push me!”

Jeff laughs with a shake of his head as he and Eddie trudge across the frost-covered grass. “You heard the man.”

“Ready to have a little gremlin of your own?” Eddie teases, hoisting Harris onto the swing, making sure his bottom is squared on the rubber surface. He catches a glimpse of the baby swing to his right, and his heart pangs at the memory of Harris being tiny enough to fit in there. “Lemme tell ya, it goes by quick. The days are long but the years are short.”

Jeff just gives a little nod, and Eddie can tell that he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m serious, man. And all that stuff they say about not knowing what love is until you have kids? Man, I thought that was the biggest crock of shit. Like, of course I know what love is! I love my music, my uncle, even you guys,” he adds with a gleam in his eyes, referring to his former bandmates. “And then Harris was born, and I was like, ‘holy shit, this is what it means to love someone.’” He positions himself behind the swing, giving Harris another big push before stepping aside to let Jeff have a turn. 

Jeff looks at him incredulously. Eddie Munson is no stranger to a good rant, but never one this vulnerable. He’s speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “Th-Thanks, Ed,” he manages, offering the white paper bag he’d picked up on the way to the playground. “Y’still like peanut butter creme donuts, right?”

“Hell yes!” Eddie cheers, pumping his fist in excitement. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the chocolate frosted confection, taking a huge bite triumphantly. “‘M tellin’ ya: Em and Abi’s Gourmet Donuts is the best thing about this town,” he exclaims with a mouthful of peanutty filling. 

“Really?” Jeff chuckles, taking a honeycomb donut from the bag. “Better than a certain preschool teacher you may or may not be infatuated with?”

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks, and he hopes he can pass it off as a reaction to the winter winds. “Not in front of…” he trails off, jerking his head in the direction of his son. 

“Got it, got it,” Jeff smoothly agrees, but he still presses the topic in a roundabout way. “But, uh, any luck with that?”

“Nope,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ve just been giving her space like you said, but she hasn’t reached out or asked about tutoring again.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t bother him, but both he and Jeff know that that can’t be further from the truth. 

Jeff gives Harris a big push, smiling when he hears the boy’s giggle. “You haven’t called or anything?” he asks. 

“Once, after I saw her during drop-off.” Eddie admits, twisting the ring on his pinky finger. “Left a message but she never called back.”

He plays it back in his head, a constant loop that he’d practically memorized before relaying it to your answering machine. As much as he wanted to resolve everything sooner rather than later, he was embarrassingly relieved when he’d heard your outgoing message. Still, the sweetness of your recorded voice was honeyed tea on a dreary day, and he didn’t anticipate his breath to hitch when it played. 

“H-Hey, Sweetheart. Shit, can I call you that? Um, anyway, give me a call when you can. I think we should talk.”

The two men take turns pushing Harris and chasing him around the playground. At one point, Harris makes his way to the pole, painted school bus yellow. He reaches out with two chubby hands, but his feet stay grounded on the platform. “‘M scared,” he whimpers, still clinging to the pole. 

“You got this, Mini Munson!” Jeff cheers, frowning when Harris remains in place. “Tell ya what: if you slide down the pole, I’ll make your dad do it, too.” He grins mischievously, and Eddie would discreetly flip him the bird if he didn’t have a better alternative. 

“Yeah, bud, and then Uncle Jeff will go after me.” He mouths a silent ha at his friend, but neither seem to mind. 

And after a few seconds of deliberation, Harris flings his body forward and slowly makes his way down, hands squeaking along the metal.

“I did it!” he announces triumphantly, turning to Eddie. “Your turn, Daddy!”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, but a smile dances on his lips. He darts up the jungle gym steps and hangs onto the pole. He could simply put his feet down and touch the ground, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he lets out a high-pitched, “wheeeee!” as Harris cackles loudly. 

He claps Jeff on the back once his shoes touch the rubber turf. “You’re up, big boy.”

Jeff follows suit, mimicking Eddie and making Harris laugh even harder. 

“Uncle Jeff, you’re so silly!” he exclaims, using hands and feet to clamber back up to the top and slide down the pole; this time, there’s no hesitation. 

Harris repeats the routine again and again until Eddie catches a glimpse of the digital watch around his wrist. “We gotta leave in five minutes, Har Bear,” he reports matter-of-factly, hoping his lack of emotion will ward off any impending tantrums. 

Harris’s lower lip juts out as his pupils dart back and forth between Eddie and Jeff. “Aw, why?”

Eddie crouches down to match his son’s height, pressing palms to his knees for stability. “We’re gonna help Uncle Jeff pack up the presents from the baby shower, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pauses, pursing his lips in concentration. “How did the baby get in Auntie Viv’s tummy?”

Jeff’s eyes widen at the question, and he glances at Eddie, silently willing him to say something. Eddie clears his throat, wracking his brain for a response that will placate his son’s curiosity without giving away too much information. “Um, well,” he begins, biting the inside of his cheek to buy himself more time before settling on: “when a man and a woman love each other, that love can make a baby.”

Fortunately, Harris seems satisfied with that answer, and Jeff hands him a chocolate donut to distract him from asking anything else. The boy plunks down in the grass a few paces ahead of them and takes a big bite.

“How is it?” Jeff calls to him, chuckling when Harris responds with a chocolate crumb-covered thumbs up and turns his attention back to the dessert. “Nice save,” he says to Eddie, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “But what are you gonna say when he asks about his mom?”

“Jesus H; he’s gonna have to give me a few years to come up with an answer for that one.”

Despite every cell in your body urging you to stay away, you’re back in Hawkins. More specifically, you’re in Viv and Jess’s parents’ house, cleaning up after an overall successful baby shower. You’re spooning the leftover food into Tupperware while Jess washes dishes and her girlfriend, Robin, dries and puts them in their respective cabinets.

You’d returned to Grandma’s apartment last night after Jess begged you to come to the shower, lamenting that the party was going to be all of her sister’s lame friends and she needed someone actually fun to hang out with her and Robin. Her insistence, coupled with your desire to finish out the remainder of the school year, is why you’d tossed your suitcases into your sedan and made the trek. Yup, those were the only reasons; certainly nothing to do with–

“Have you talked to Eddie since you got back?”

His name alone brings a surge of emotions, none of which you have the energy to identify. “No,” you mumble, a heat blooming in your cheeks, “he left a message a week ago saying ‘we should talk,’ but I didn’t return it.”

Jess snaps off the faucet, hands still dripping with soapy water as she places them on her hips with an exasperated sigh. “What? Why not?”

“Because.” You try to leave it at that, but her defiant glare obligates you to elaborate. “Because I’m embarrassed!” you admit to Jess and Robin–and to yourself. “The guy practically chased me down the night we met, and now that he got to know me, he doesn’t want to sleep with me? Is my personality that much of a turn-off?” You snap the lid on a plastic container, desperate to end the conversation with your rhetorical question, but your friend keeps going.

“Look, I don’t know him that well–only what I’ve heard from you and Jeff–but he seems to really care about you. Jeff says he hasn’t seen Eddie down this bad, like, ever.” She lowers her voice. “Apparently, some old hookup was coming onto him, and he turned her down because he's, quote, involved with someone.” She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, though you both know that the someone in question is you.

“Wait, hold on–Eddie Munson?” Robin breaks in, nearly dropping the serving spoon in her hand when she makes the connection. “Metalhead, senior year three-peat, alleged Satan-worshiper Eddie Munson?”

“Well, the jury’s out on whether I worship Satan or I actually am Satan, but, yep, that’s me.” The familiar voice from the kitchen doorway startles the three of you; this time, Robin does let the oversized utensil fall to the floor with a clang. 

Nerves send your heartbeat into a frenzy, and you have to rest your open palm on the countertop to steady yourself. Eddie stands before you, tip of his nose tinged red from the cold, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Wh-What are you doing here?” You whisper the words, but you might as well be shouting with the level of anxiety steadily rising in your chest.

Eddie rocks back and forth from the soles of his feet to his toes. “Jeff asked us to help him load the gifts into the car.”

“Us?”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris flings himself into your embrace, and as soon as you stoop down to reciprocate his hug, he’s wrapping his arms and legs around your torso. “I miss you! When are we gonna do the alphabet and eat pizza again?”

Eddie looks over at Jeff; you hadn’t even noticed the other man behind him until Eddie’s gaze drifted over. You watch as the two men exchange a knowing glance, and Jeff quickly speaks up. “Hey, Har,” he motions the boy over to him, “why don’t you use your super strong arms to bring stuff out to the car? I bet you have bigger muscles than me.”

Harris begrudgingly lets go of you, sliding to the floor and dragging his feet to Jeff. He heaves a dramatic sigh and grumbles, “fiiiiiine,” and you and Eddie have to hold back your laughter at his theatrics.

“He is definitely my kid,” Eddie says once Harris has left the room and is out of earshot. He walks closer to you as you turn back to packing up the food. “You, um, never called me back,” he murmurs, placing one hand on either side of you, his chest almost touching your back. Robin and Jess creep out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, leaving you and Eddie alone.

You clear your throat and swallow your fear. “I didn’t have anything to say.” That’s a lie; there was so much you wanted to confide in him, but the thought of him rejecting you again, or getting another glimpse of the hurt you caused reflected in his deep brown eyes, kept you from returning his call.

“Well, I did.” His tone is calm but firm. “I just need to know one thing, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” He pauses, gathering up his own courage before speaking again. “That day…why did you ask me to sleep with you?” 

“I told you,” you say, desperately trying to keep your voice from wobbling, “because I needed to feel something.”

Eddie shakes his head, stepping back and crossing his leather jacket-clad arms over his chest. “No, but why did you ask me? Why didn’t you go to the Hideout and pick up some random dude?” His volume starts to rise, and he clenches his fist and drags it back down as if reminding himself to be quieter. “Was it, like, a convenience thing, or did you really think I’d be okay having sex with you while you were so upset?”

Your heart pangs at his question. It had never even occurred to you that he’d perceive it that way. Were you being selfish? Taking what you felt you needed? Admittedly, yes. But were you asking Eddie specifically because he happened to be there? Absolutely not. “No, Eddie,” you say, forcing yourself to face him, “it’s because…because I knew you’d take care of me. If I wanted to stop or slow down, I knew you’d listen. I trust you.” Speaking the truth aloud is like letting the air out of an overfilled balloon on the cusp of popping. Both you and Eddie visibly relax, easing a tension you hadn’t realized he was also holding. 

The room is quiet for a moment. Eddie’s knee softly bumps against your thigh as he wills himself to close the gap he’d created. “You said something in your message about it never being meaningless. Not even the night we…we met.”

The reminder of your confession floods you with humiliation. You—unsuccessfully—threw yourself at him for sex and then left a message saying that you’ve been clinging to the hope of a relationship since your alcohol-laden first hook-up. How humiliating. 

“I’m sorry if that was weird, but I told Jess that I’ve never been good at one-night stands. I always get too attached.” And it doesn’t help when I have to see the guy and his adorable son twice a day, you think wryly, but you store that anecdote inside. 

Eddie shakes his head, lacing his ringed fingers with your bare ones. The pad of his thumb brushes against the knuckle of yours, both comforting you and zapping electricity through your body. “No, ‘s not weird,” he reassures you, giving your hands a squeeze. “I felt the same way, even if I didn’t realize it. I think that’s why I asked you to stay, why I held you…I’ve never done that before.” He’s sheepish but not ashamed; if he’s being honest, he’s pretty damn proud of himself for admitting it aloud. 

You tilt your chin up knowingly. “Yeah, I heard you shut down a sure thing because of your involvement with someone.”

Your emphasis of that one word has Eddie dropping his head, letting go of one of your hands and covering his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Damn, word spreads around here like it’s the five o’clock news. But, uh, yeah, I did. Turn her down.” His tongue darts out to coat his dry lips. “Not that it’s any of my business, but did you, um, see anyone over the holidays?” 

“Nope.” You shake your head, bracing yourself for what you’re about to tell him. Even though he’s the one holding you, allowing your bodies to intertwine, it’s nerve-wracking to be so vulnerable. You forge ahead, allowing the words to tumble out of your mouth. “I…I only want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s breath gets caught in his throat. Want want want. Present tense, not past. “Want, like, present tense? Like you still feel that way?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t reek of desperation for a millisecond before realizing that he doesn’t care, as long as you still want him.

“Is that okay?” Your voice is small, an almost comic contrast from the bravado you used during your last in-person encounter. 

“It’s more than okay, Sweetheart.” Eddie’s whisper matches yours. His thumb ghosts over the plush of your lips as his hand slips to your cheek, bringing his remaining four fingers behind your ears and to the nape of your neck. He leans in, drawing you closer with his tantalizing smoky scent and raw desire. One step in, noses nudging together–

“Daddy, look at me!”

Eddie whips his head around at the sound of Harris’s voice, nearly crashing against yours, and you stumble backwards into the counter, wincing as you make contact with the linoleum. You bite back the string of swear words on your tongue, both at the pain and the missed kiss.

Jeff is panting as he chases after him, bending forward at the waist and resting his palms on his thighs. “I tried to keep him entertained, but I was not prepared for this level of energy,” he huffs, chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. His eyes dart between you and Eddie, easily picking up on the guilty looks on your faces. He mouths “sorry” and shrugs, but the moment is already over.

Harris, oblivious to the burgeoning tension in the room, tugs on his dad’s sleeve in a demand for attention. “Daddy, wanna see me lift stuff?” He jumps up and down as he asks, making his words vibrate. “Uncle Jeff says I’m the strongest kid in the world!” He opens his arms the entire length of his wingspan to emphasize his point.

“Uh, y-yeah; sure, bud.” Eddie stammers. He looks over at you and you follow his lead, watching as Harris lifts a box of diapers with a dramatic grunt. When Eddie is sure that his son has fully turned around, he grabs your hand once more and gives it a little squeeze. “We’ll pick up where we left off later,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Ms. Sweetheart, you watch, too!” Harris insists; so you do, trailing after him all the way to Jeff’s car. Unable to see over the box, he walks it right into the back bumper, and Eddie has to step in and help him.

Once the diapers have been tetris'd into the trunk, Jeff closes the door and slaps it for good measure. “Well, I think that’s everything. Thanks again, Munson…Mini Munson.” He ruffles Harris’s mop of curls with a grin.

Eddie holds out his hand, pulling Jeff in for a hug when he takes it. “Congratulations again, man. I’m really happy for you guys.” And he genuinely is. He can’t wait to see one of his oldest and closest friends experience fatherhood.

He turns to you as Jeff heads back into the house to help Viv to the car. “Did you have anything to eat?” he asks. “I mean, we can go to Benny’s if you want. I was gonna take Harris.” The kid hasn’t had anything since breakfast except the donut, and he’s bound to get cranky sooner rather than later. 

You shake your head. “No, I wasn’t really hungry. But I’m down to split a stack of pancakes with you, if you want?”

“Like you used to do with Grandma?” He remembers you mentioning the tradition during her eulogy. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, though his smile quickly falters when he notices the misty film glazing your eyes. “Sorry, I—”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, dabbing at your lash line with the heel of your hand. “Someone really special once told me that it’s okay to be sad, so I’m kind of giving that a shot.”

This time, Eddie’s grin remains. “Is that a ‘yes’ to the pancakes?”

“Yeah. It’s a yes.” You giggle when Eddie makes a fist and pumps it in celebration. “We usually got blueberry, but I’m down for chocolate chip,” you say, remembering his food preference from your first date.

“Nah, I can get behind blueberry,” he says. What he doesn’t say is that he would eat anchovy pancakes if it meant making you happy. 

“But I want chicken fingers!” Harris scrunches up his nose, and both you and Eddie know that a hungry four-year-old is not to be challenged. 

Eddie scoops Harris up into his arms, smacking a wet kiss to his chubby cheek. One day, his son will wipe them off, but Eddie’s glad that today is not that day. “Then the boy shall have the finest chicken fingers in all of Hawkins!” He declares in a deep voice before winking at you. “More pancakes for me and the pretty lady.”

Harris’s eyes widen. “So you do think she’s pretty–”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” Eddie cuts him off. You duck your head as though that will ward off further questioning from Harris, but not before catching a glimpse of Eddie mouthing, “like a princess.”

You can smell the aroma of the deep fryer as soon as you pull into Benny’s parking lot. Since you drove yourself to the shower, you and Eddie take separate cars and meet there. The small diner isn’t overly crowded, and the three of you squeeze into a booth in the back corner. Eddie sits on one side and you on the other; you assume Harris will slide in next to his dad, but he chooses you instead. 

Your waiter introduces himself as Ryan and places three sets of silverware on the table. He starts to hand you the menus, but Eddie politely shakes his head and tells him, “‘S all good, man. We know what we want.” He orders a plate of chicken fingers and fries for Harris and a short stack of blueberry pancakes for you and him. “Y’want anything to drink?” he asks you, and you contemplate for a moment before ordering a hot coffee, and Eddie gets the same.

“I want a coffee, too,” Harris pipes up, flashing his million-watt grin at Ryan, who holds back a laugh and promises that the food will be right out.

 “So, Harris,” you start, taking a small sip from the glass of ice water in front of you, “how was your Christmas? Get anything good?”

“Mhm!” he chirps, swiveling his body to face yours. “I got a bunch of new Hot Wheels and some cool markers for drawing. They smell like fruits!”

“Very different from when I used to sniff markers back in my day,” Eddie jokes, and you kick his foot lightly in an attempt to silently tell him to behave. His eyes twinkle mischievously when you playfully roll yours.

“That sounds awesome!” you exclaim, bringing your attention back to Harris and adding, “I bet Mr. Will would want to see your new markers if you want to swing by my classroom on Monday.”

Harris’s face lights up, and he claps his hands together in jubilance. “Maybe I can draw something for him!”

“He’d love that,” you tell him, and the little boy squeezes his hands into tiny fists and lets out an excited squeal.

Ryan returns a few moments later balancing a plate of chicken fingers in one hand and the pancakes in the other. Your stomach rumbles; you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were presented with food. Eddie peels back the film of one of the small plastic syrup containers, positioning it over the pancakes and cocking his eyebrow to get your approval. You nod, and he tilts and swirls it as you watch it drip down the sugary stack. 

“How was your visit with your family?” He doesn’t refer to it as your visit home, because he hopes that you consider Hawkins your home now. He unfurls his napkin and pulls out the fork and knife, cutting into the stack, and you mirror his actions.

Harris stretches his arm out across you, and you realize he’s reaching for the glass ketchup bottle, so you twist off the cap and plop some onto his plate. He dips a fry into it happily. “About as good as it could be,” you answer Eddie. “Everyone kind of tried to act normal, but it was like they were trying too hard, y’know?”

“Was Grandma there?” Harris asks through a mouthful of fried potato.

You bite your lip, not quite sure what he knows and what Eddie wants him to know. Death is a tricky subject to broach with young kids, and you don’t want to say anything that will confuse or scare him. Luckily, Eddie jumps in and comes to your rescue. “Har Bear, remember I told you that Grandma went to Heaven?” He gently reminds his son. “That’s why you made that nice card for Ms. Sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harris’s expression morphs from inquisitive to concern, even as he chows down on a chicken finger. “Are you still sad?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, more to yourself than to him, “but it gets a little better every day. And being around my favorite guys helps put me in a good mood.”

Eddie presses a syrupy hand to his chest in mock astonishment. “Who, us?” He smiles and spears another cut of pancake with his fork. “How did you know flattery works with me?”

Before you can formulate a response–something teasing but not overly flirtatious–Harris poses a new question: “Ms. Sweetheart, do you have any babies?”

“Harris!” His son’s name comes out sharper than he intends, but Eddie’s too flustered to think twice. He looks at you apologetically, practically crimson from his cheeks to his ears. “Sorry, he hasn’t stopped talking about babies since I told him about the baby shower.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, giving his hand a small squeeze to show that you truly don’t mind Harris’s curiosity. You look at the boy and tell him, “I don’t have any babies, but I consider all of my students to be my babies.”

“Me, too?”

You chuckle and take a sip of coffee. “Of course, you, too!”

There’s a brief silence as you all eat–Eddie steals a fry from Harris’s plate and shoves it in his mouth before he can get caught. While hilarious, his timing couldn’t be worse, because he has no way of stopping Harris’s next statement:

“You and my daddy could have a baby. Because you’re a woman and he’s a man.” It’s matter-of-fact, said while dunking his food in the ketchup pile, as though this is something everyone drops into normal conversation. “That’s how you get a baby in your tummy like Aunt Viv.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter, not wanting to reinforce his inadvertently entertaining assertion.

Eddie is far less amused than you are, nearly choking on his swiped French fry. “Chrissakes…” he hisses, ducking and bringing his fist to his forehead, “Harris, eat your chicken fingers, quietly.” He breathes out with a puff of his cheeks as Harris obliges, completely oblivious to the meaning behind his suggestion. 

A beat of awkward silence ensues as you eat a hunk of pancake, warm blueberry juice seeping into your tongue. Grandma used to joke around and say that the blueberries made it a healthy food. “Practically a fruit salad,” she’d tease with a glint of happiness dancing in her eyes. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is desperate for a subject change. His palms are slick from what he’s like to think is merely embarrassment, but it’s multifaceted. The idea of the three of you sitting in Benny’s just as you are now, only you’re eating for two, has his stomach in knots. And if he even dares to dream about what getting you pregnant entails? He’s a goner.  

“Harris has a birthday coming up,” he blurts out a bit too loudly, unable to control his volume. “He’s turning the big, uh, five.” 

You can feel Harris eagerly kicking his legs next to you, so you match his enthusiasm. “Wow, Har! That’s a whole hand!” You hold up five fingers and Harris does the same, bringing his palm to yours.

“Are you gonna come to my birthday party?” He peers up at you with hopeful eyes, and you’re left scrambling for a response that doesn’t give away that you haven’t exactly been invited.

“Oh, I, um…”

“She’s going to check her calendar and see,” Eddie offers, and you exhale at his quick save. Turns his attention to you. “His birthday is February 6, but that’s a Thursday, so we’re gonna do his party that Saturday at the bowling alley. Just me, Wayne, and a couple of the kids from school. And you, if you can make it.” Shit, is he rambling? Was that too much information? You spend every day with kids; would you really want to spend a Saturday afternoon at a birthday party surrounded by them?

He’s not overanalyzing for long before you speak. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do grown-ups get to bowl, too?” You perch your chin on your hand, blinking to emphasize your curiosity. Bowling has never been your forte, but you imagine you’ll fare quite well compared to a group of five-year-olds. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs kindly, letting his arm cross the table so that the back of his fingers can graze your forearm, “that’s a given.”

The three of you head out to your cars—not before you and Eddie argue over who’s going to pay the bill, with you eventually winning the battle. He takes Harris’s right hand as you step off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot, and Harris instinctively slips his left into yours. He walks between you and his dad naturally, as though it’s always been this way. Like you all were a little family that made regular outings for pancakes and chicken fingers.

“Har, go get in your car seat, and I’ll be there in a sec to buckle you in,” Eddie says gently, opening the door for him. 

Harris climbs in clumsily, calling back, “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” His farewell ends with a yawn, suggesting that there will be a nap in the near future. 

Eddie closes the door, shoving his hands in his pockets bashfully. It’s one of his nervous quirks, you’ve noticed, and you’re immediately inclined to reassure him about whatever’s on his mind. “Hey, um, could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I talked to the people at the school,” he starts, kicking at the gravel under his feet, “and Harris has that evaluation thing on Monday. Would you…”

You don’t even let him finish his request before confirming, “I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s body instantly relaxes, relief flooding through him at your words. “You’re amazing.” He looks around to make sure Harris can’t see before kissing you, lips quickly melding together. He has to pull back before he wants to, before either of you want to, to avoid getting caught. He tastes like coffee and syrup with a hint of berries, though the kiss is too brief to pick up on anything else. A stirring inside you informs you that he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. “See you, Sweetheart.”

Mondays are characteristically exhausting; kids are home for two days on the weekends and return behaving like they’ve never seen a classroom before. Today is no exception, but the coffee Eddie left on your desk this morning certainly helps. He’d tried to sneak in, but you’d caught him, and it took everything in your power not to plant a kiss on his cheek right then and there. Scrawled on the side of the to-go cup in his messy handwriting were three simple words that made your heart soar: For my Sweetheart. 

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had thought about what he’d wanted to write for the entire car ride. Nothing too clingy, but nothing too distant. Not sappy but not brusque. Even the word my between “for” and “Sweetheart” was daunting; how would you feel about being his? 

By the time the afternoon rolls around, neither of you are too concerned with romantic gestures. You and Eddie sit in the hard plastic chairs outside the school psychiatrist’s office. He’s already answered all of her questions, so now it’s simply a matter of waiting for the observation to end. 

You can hear Harris giggling from the other side of the door, and you look over to smile at Eddie, but he either didn’t hear it or his nerves have built up an impenetrable barrier. 

He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks and leaning his head back against the brick wall. It’s a sigh of defeat, not relief, and you lean over and squeeze his hand without a second thought. The edges of his skull ring dig into your palm, but you couldn’t care less. Your only priority is keeping him calm. 

“Hey,” you murmur, crossing one leg over the other. He looks through you, not at you, and you  brush a stray lock of hair from his face to ground him. Once he’s settled, you continue talking. “Everything will be alright. Either he doesn’t have a disability, or we’ll be one step closer to getting him the accommodations he needs.”

Eddie nods. “I know. I just…” He pauses for a beat, struggling to find words that accurately convey his myriad emotions. Besides anxiety about the unknown path that lays before him and Harris, guilt gnaws at him for his past misgivings. The careless sex with Harris’s mom, the stupid fucking tour that he just had to go on while she was pregnant, the blissful ignorance that he could have his cake and eat it, too. “I hate that he can’t learn, like, normally. Like the other kids.”

Your instinct is to tell him that Harris doesn’t need to be like the other kids, that he’s perfectly and unequivocally himself, but that’s not what Eddie needs right now. 

“It’s tough,” you agree, “but Harris is a great kid with big dreams, and he’s not going to let anything stop him. All we have to do is support him along the way.”

Eddie ponders that for a moment, slightly amused at the accuracy of your statement, given what you don’t know. Beyond reading and math–both of which he’s shown improvements in since you’ve begun your tutoring sessions–Harris refuses to give up on his quest to get you and Eddie together. The hand-holding drawing was only the tip of the iceberg; Wayne’s since reported that the boy has asked multiple times about when “Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart will fall in love.” And, of course, he hasn’t stopped talking about your Saturday afternoon diner date, constantly badgering Eddie about whether or not you two were married yet.

Eddie rests his head on your shoulder, curly tendrils tickling your collarbones. All you want is to let him stay there as long as he needs, even if your legs fall asleep, but the nagging thoughts of passersby’s perceptions triumph over your desires. 

“Eddie, I…” you trail off, gently lifting your shoulder so he’ll get the hint without you having to say it aloud. Self-consciousness pinkens his cheeks as he sits up, adjusting his posture and mumbling a soft “sorry” under his breath.

“S’fine,” you rush to reassure him, praying that he doesn’t misconstrue your professionalism with shame of being seen with him. You would comfort any of your students’ parents in times of distress, but let’s face it–you would never snuggle up to Jason Carver or Carol Perkins. “Just don’t wanna be accused of canoodling on the job,” 

He lifts his eyebrows. “Canoodling?”

“It’s a word!”

“You’re the one with the fancy college degree, so I guess I gotta believe you.” 

You giggle softly, brushing his Reeboks with your flats. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. The words replay like an enchanting melody. You’ve got him. You’ve got him, and you’ll have him as long as he vows to hold on.

“Mr. Munson?” 

Eddie’s attention snaps to Ms. Cassie, the school psychologist. Harris darts from her office, a giant smile on his face as he leaps into his father’s arms. “Daddy, we played games! It was lotsa fun!”

“That’s great, Har Bear,” Eddie murmurs into Harris’s scalp. He looks up at Ms. Cassie expectantly. “How did everything go?” Is my son okay? Is there something wrong with him? Is it my fault? He doesn’t dare pose those questions.

The psychologist offers a smile, lacing her fingers together in front of her stomach. “Like Harris said, we had a great time. I’d like to speak with you briefly…” her gaze flits over to the hallway. “Is there someone who could keep an eye on Harris while we talk?”

Eddie’s heart sinks; privately, perhaps naively, he’d been wishing that there wouldn’t be anything else to discuss. Maybe a chipper, everything’s fine; he’ll catch up to the other kids on his own! But nothing so serious that it required an additional meeting.

“My TA can,” you pipe up, remembering that Will had stayed back to prepare an art project for tomorrow morning. Eddie puts Harris down, watching as you take his chubby hand in yours and make your way to your classroom. 

Ms. Cassie starts to wave Eddie into his office, but he shakes his head. “Wanna wait for her to get back,” he tells her, and she nods understandingly. As soon as you return, the two of you take a seat in front of her desk. Paperwork is stacked neatly in piles across the top of it, and framed diplomas line the walls. Board games sit on the shelves, and Eddie can’t help but wonder which ones Harris played this afternoon.

“I want to start off by saying that Harris is one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Ms. Cassie says. Her tone is even and patient, which makes Eddie more anxious. He wants to jump up and demand that she spill the bad news already, but he bites his thumbnail to calm his nerves. You notice the gesture immediately and inconspicuously grab the hand closest to yours, hiding your display of affection below the desk. Eddie grips so tightly that you have to actively suppress a grimace.

“The evaluation indicates that Harris meets the requirements to be classified as a ‘preschooler with a disability,’” she continues, “and as a result, he qualifies for special education services–”

“What the hell does that mean?” You wince at the vitriol in Eddie’s voice, and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. It brings him back down enough for him to clear his throat and apologize, but you can sense that he’s still on-edge.

“That’s alright, Mr. Munson. You’re not the first parent to react that way, and I’m positive you won’t be the last.” She taps a small pile of papers on her desk to even them out before handing them to him. “The classification means that he will get an Individualized Education Program–IEP for short–that will help us target goals for Harris to make progress alongside his peers.”

Ms. Cassie drones on about short-term and long-term objectives, but Eddie can’t focus on what she’s saying. Preschooler with a disability. My son has a disability because I left, because I wasn’t there, because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It’s all my fault. My fault my fault my fault–

“Eddie,” you whisper, but it’s no use. You watch as his ribcage expands and contracts faster with manic breaths, on the verge of hyperventilation. You shoot the psychologist an apologetic glance and pull Eddie from the office before he can launch into a full-blown panic attack. His body is like a ragdoll, and he trails behind you mechanically; if you let go of his hand, he’d probably stop dead in his tracks.

“Baby,” you say, bringing him to an empty classroom. The nickname rolls off your tongue easily despite technically being in your place of work. “Baby, it’s just you and me right now. You’re okay–”

“Harris–disability–my fault.” His words are low and gravelly, but you hear them without having to strain. They’re similar to the sentiments he’d uttered that day at parent-teacher conferences when he’d unexpectedly showed up at your door.

There’s no use trying to convince him otherwise, not when he’s like this, so you try a different approach. “I can talk to Ms. Cassie about rescheduling the meeting. We don’t have to figure everything out right away.” He nods, just a miniscule bob of his head, but it tells you that he’s cognizant enough to comprehend what you’re telling him. “In the meantime, why don’t you go see Harris? I bet he’s drawing something for you.”

That gets a smile out of him. “Y-Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t move; instead, he brings you closer to him and holds you to his chest so close that you can hear his heart beating. His body shakes, but it’s not until you feel a warm teardrop fall from his face onto the top of your head that you realize he’s crying. You wrap your arms around his lithe waist until you feel him begin to steady, staggered breaths becoming fuller. 

Wiping the tear trails from his cheeks carefully, you press a tiny kiss to his nose. “Wash your face and go to my classroom. I’ll meet you there.”

“‘Kay,” he manages, wishing he had the means to express his gratitude for your words, your presence, you. 

When he gets to your classroom, Harris is furiously scribbling on a piece of construction paper with his new markers. Eddie smiles, leaning against the door until Will spots him.

“Harris, your dad’s here!” he announces, and Harris looks up excitedly.

“Daddy!” he exclaims. “I’m almost done with my picture, hold on!” He grabs a blue marker and uncaps it, marking the paper with concentrated dots. He replaces the cover and slides the marker back into the yellow-and-green box. 

He’s always so diligent with his art supplies, Eddie notes.

“Ta-da!” Harris spins the drawing so his dad can see. There’s three people–you, Eddie, and Harris. You’re standing around a large purple rectangle with a line coming out of each corner, which Eddie recognizes as a table. There’s a circle representing the plate of chicken fingers in front of Drawing Harris, and a circle between Drawing You and Drawing Eddie with blueberry pancakes. Just like on Halloween, he’s drawn a smile on everyone’s faces.

“He’s really good,” Will says, and Eddie looks at him in amusement. “Seriously, he is. He’s got great spatial awareness when he draws, which most kids don’t develop until later. And he’s got an eye for detail,” he adds, pointing to the blue dots on the pancakes. “Looks like you’ve got a little artist.”

An artist. Not a failure, not incapable, but an artist. A boy who could grow up and inspire the world with his creativity.

“I love it,” Eddie says finally, reaching out to take the drawing. He frowns when Harris snatches it back.

“This one is for Ms. Sweetheart,” he explains exasperatedly, as though this is something he’s had to repeat multiple times. “We already have one at home, Daddy. Renember?” His pout quickly becomes a grin when he sees you enter the room. “Ms. Sweetheart, I drawed this for you!”

“I love it!” You inadvertently echo Eddie’s statement as you hold the paper to your heart. “This is gonna go on the kitchen wall so you can see it when you come over for tutoring.” You turn to Eddie, eyes warm with understanding. “How are you feeling?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly. “Kinda sad, kinda mad, kinda relieved that there’s an answer.” He scratches at the stubble on his cheeks. “‘M just…really glad I don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I’m always here for you, Eds. You and Harris.”

Eddie’s curls bob up and down as he slowly nods. “Speaking of which, um, you said something about tutoring him? Are you feeling up to it? I can bring pizza—o-or not, if it makes you sad. We could do Chinese or something—”

“Eddie?”

“Ya?”

You look down at the drawing of your little chosen family at Benny’s. It’s certainly different from the times you went with Grandma, but you’re filled with the same feeling of belonging that you’d felt then.

“Extra olives for me, please.”

--

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