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bbanghiitomi · 2 months

Text

THE SAME PLACE AND DIFFERENT TIME

pairing: kim minji x fem reader

trope: fish out of water! childhood friends! first love! little bit of angst! fluff!

waking up feels weird for y/n again, inside the body of a first year college student, her little young soul is stuck somewhere she doesn't want to be. peeking on the window of her colorless room, it's an ordinary sunday, clear skies with no clouds and her view is blocked by buildings. it's so boring sitting here inside her room, a bed with no presence of a certain person she longs for. there's almost no time for her, the world is too fast and there's always something to look forward for.

but lately, her days have become more boring, it feels like she's starting to lose the meaning of a secret world she used to have as a child. consumed by sadness and boredom, y/n doesn't really know what to do, she's stuck inside her dorm maybe for a few more years?

"no, i shouldn't sulk like this..." y/n mentally sighs as she stands up from her bed and walks towards her study table. she hasn't changed one bit, at least that's what she thinks, she's the same old kid who hates sitting around looking sad, someone who persists through every conflict and is spontaneous.

if minji were to see her again, would she think the same?

y/n have always wondered about that, when she thinks of minji, she starts to miss the tall girl again, like always since she left to study far from her home. y/n at first liked to believe it hasn't been that long, until maybe a few more years passed because she hopes when she comes back, minji would remember her again.

but in reality, it's been more than 2 years, 5 years to be exact... in that amount of time, how many memories did minji make without y/n? how many people did she meet?

how long did she ever think about y/n? when every hour felt like another day without warmth for y/n.

does she care for y/n anymore? the thought is extremely scary, thinking about being forgotten is scary...

y/n sits on her chair, grabbing her laptop as she opens it and looks at an email from her school, after her test, the school announces a break for the students and it's 4 weeks.

enough time to go back to gangwon province and maybe see minji again.

"no!" y/n shakes her head as she buries her face on her palms, the warmth of embarrassment spreads around her face. will she even remember me? y/n thinks to herself as she sighs, stretching her arms to her table and leaning over to it, her fingers touching the small and fuzzy bear figurine that minji have gifted her before, there's a smaller version of it, the baby bear.

back then, there really wasn't a lot to worry about, just when y/n's piano practice starts or when minji needs to go back home. back then, these feelings she had for minji were all just something to laugh about and forget tomorrow, but it turned into something bigger the longer she looks for minji.

times used to be more simple and minji used to be enough for her to reach, maybe she have wished for too much and that dream she had since she was little came true, but now y/n feels lonely.

the girl also comes across her last messages to minji, before everything went radio silent.

"sorry!" as if she have caused minji some trouble again.

"it's okay. message me again when you're free." minji sent her.

"okay!" y/n's reply and she hasn't gotten any free time ever since.

should she really come back? is the biggest question she wants to know right now, before she spends her break rotting on her bed all day long.

luckily, y/n's parents came to the rescue, they've been planning on building a small house in a small town in the province and they wanted to hear her thoughts. that means y/n can have an actual reason to go back...

on her way home in the car, y/n sits behind and listens as her parents converse. "what have our daughter been doing? we missed you so much." y/n's mother pipes in, the girl gives her mother a smile before leaning towards her mother's seat. "a lot actually, i didn't know there's a lot to do in college."

her father's laughs, shaking her head. "you'll get used to it kid, we've been living in the city for 5 years... things will get more rocky in the future." he says, y/n nods and smiles at her father. "i understand." she mutters.

her mother smiles endearingly at the interaction before looking behind her daughter who immediately meets her gaze, "don't you want to see minji?" she asks, y/n raises her brows and purses her lips before leaning back to the backseat and shrugging.

"i actually don't know if i want to..." she admits, sighing before laughing and shaking her head. "it's just that, it's been 5 years." she adds, y/n's father takes a peek at his daughter and looks at his wife before back at the road.

"didn't we talk to her family last week?" he asks, y/n's mother perks up and nods, looking at their daughter, who then gives them both a confused look.

"oh right! we missed the town so much, we decided to build a home again in the same neighborhood." y/n looks at her parents and squints her eyes at them before speaking. "okay? and what did you guys talk about?" the parents look at each other before laughing.

"a lot, about the house, the town, the city, university and you! minji said she misses you." y/n's father say and y/n cannot help the way her eyes widens. "o-oh... really?" she mutters.

her mother nods with a bright smile. "she said, you seem very busy and she was wondering why you weren't with us." y/n fixes her hair and the way she sits, before raising her index finger. "so, what do you guys plan to do there?" she asks.

her father looks straight to the road, occasionally peeking at his daughter from time to time. "well, minji's family owns a small inn, right? we can stay there for a while, talk about what we want our house to look like." he shrugs, y/n nods and gives her parents a small smile.

"i won't mind that. i wish it would look like our old house though." the girl receives nods from her parents and it didn't take them any longer until they finally arrived their old town.

standing in the middle of the street, y/n looks rather... lost? or maybe she is, the day is about to end and y/n starts to hear crickets all over the place. it's as if she's never been in this town, there's so many turns, left and right and it's making her head dizzy.

there weren't that much people too, it's like she's in a ghost town! it's not like this in the city, so bustling and loud, full of life.

and y/n starts to wonder whether she was really from this place, did she really grow up here? why does this place look so unfamiliar? just a few moments ago, y/n walked away from the inn before she could even see minji, wanting to gain enough courage to talk to the tall girl again.

and now here she is, lost in the town, not sure where to go. this moment made y/n realize she's changed, a lot... that maybe she really wasn't the same person she was before. the small y/n would never be lost like this...

still, y/n wants to find her way back home, even if she doesn't know where.

"do you still know this way?" y/n hears someone behind her and she immediately turns her body around to look at the familiar face of her childhood friend.

"m-minji..." she can only mutter, minji laughs and walks towards the girl. "why did you leave? when i went to welcome your family to the inn, you were nowhere." y/n shakes her head and puts a hand on her face and she sighs.

"i just wanted to walk around..." though, it was clearly a lie. minji nods and raises her hand as if to gesture y/n to follow. "let's go back to the inn." minji tells the girl, a very endearing and totally not charming smile on her face.

the girl nods and tucking in lost strands of her hair behind her ear before watching minji walk past her and the girl follows immediately.

minji doesn't look back but she's smiling, it's nerve-wracking, y/n doesn't know what to really say as if the words are stuck in her throat. no motivation to fight for her feelings.

"so, how's the city? i heard many great things come from there." minji starts, looking behind. the girl looks at minji and sees the smile on minji's face, her round eyes and very recognizable lips. y/n looks down with a blush on her cheeks and then back up at minji again as she laughs. "oh it's fine, i grew kind of tired of the noise and how boring the city could be." y/n answers, minji blinks twice before turning to the road again.

as they walk, they see kids frolic around the area, to the park and around some corners of the village. seeing that makes y/n reminisce about the past again, how fun and simple it was, what did change? she wonders.

"wasn't it your dream? you told me before." minji remembers that, but remembering it reminded you that you wanted that dream for your parents, because it's a big thing.

"my parents' actually, but then again, their dreams are mine." y/n sees minji nod, her back turned to y/n again as they walk and finally reach the inn. surprisingly, your parents weren't that upset, very understanding too. "thank god minji was there earlier, we knew she'd pick you up right away." y/n's father walks over to minji and pats her shoulder.

"so happy to see you again kid! i'm sure my daughter is too." minji smiles at y/n's father, nodding her head before looking at y/n, who cannot find a way to avoid the other girl. "that's great to know. have you brought your things up inside your inn already, sir?" she asks, and y/n's parents nod.

"we did! don't worry, by the way we should get going for now. we haven't gotten dinner." y/n's mother waves her hand towards minji and leaves with her husband, y/n stops walking in front of minji and looks at her parents before back at minji.

"thanks... i hope i didn't bother you." she smiles apologetically and fixes her hair, minji feels her heart beating as she looks at the girl. minji shrugs and shakes her palms that are starting to get wet. "nope, it's okay. you should get some rest now."

"okay, see you tomorrow." they stare at each other for a good 3 minutes before y/n looks away and starts walking unusually faster to their inn.

"you left the construction site?" minji asks the girl, who looks up from where she was sitting and stands up, fixing her skirt. minji's eyes went to look at y/n's skirt and immediately, like nothing happened up at y/n's eyes.

"uh huh." she says, nodding her head before laughing sheepishly. "i got bored and yeah, i want to do something else." y/n says, minji nods and puts her hands on the pocket of her pants.

"you haven't changed a bit." minji says, letting out a small chuckle. y/n look up back at her, raising an eyebrow at the tall girl. "what?" she whispers, minji walks behind a bit. "i mean, i don't think you changed at all. you're still the same girl from before." y/n feels her cheeks blaze as she nods, humming.

the playground is empty in the middle of the day, when kids are at school, just like it was before. it's almost as if it was the same place, and yes it was but... it also feels like the same time, y/n doesn't feel like she's grown any older.

yes, minji looked more mature, looked prettier, taller and her hair grew longer and more silky.

"really? i always thought i've changed a lot." y/n tells minji, she receives a smile from the other girl. "well, you looked prettier now. but other than that, you wear the same type of clothes." y/n blinks when minji says that she turned prettier... y/n blinks again and laughs sheepishly, looking down on her skirt.

"ah yeah, i feel more like myself in these." truth to be told, it's more on projection. thinking about how much she's changed mentally is tiring, it's like the life in city left her caged with nothing to do but the same thing. the only way she can relived her past self is by wearing the same clothes she used to wear.

minji looks at y/n's clothes and back the the girl's face. "it's nice. living in the city, i'm surprised you're still hesitant about your looks." minji chuckles and scratches the back of her head, y/n blinks her eyes twice and then away. "i just feel like sometimes i don't feel right in my own clothes."

"you look right, amazing even." minji shrugs before offering her hand to y/n. "it's been so long since i last saw you." minji adds, y/n stretches her arm and opens her hand to hold minji's, the texture of minji's palm never changes, despite all the work she does in their house it's still soft.

"i'm sorry if i couldn't even message you..." y/n says, recalling the times she couldn't make any time to reply or even hit minji up. minji shrugs and caress y/n's hand. "i understand, it's not easy being in college. i hope you're fine though..." y/n smiles at minji and puts another hand on their hands.

"i'm so glad to see you again, it feels so weird..." y/n purses her lips before sighing and speaking again. "it's like i'm going around chasing a bunny, then again i'm lost." minji nods, tilting her head to get a better look of your face.

"some people really don't understand the secret this world has." there's so much to do, so much to eat, so much to say, so many to love and care for. there's not enough time to do everything but the most. y/n looks up at minji as the tall girl speaks. "you told me before right? that happiness are those small things."

at the end of the day, y/n is just a crybaby.

in this bright world full of fantastic things, there's no time to feel bored.

"yeah... and we used to eat cookies, and almost i don't know what i was doing before." y/n laughs, minji looks away. there's a blooming, ticklish, funny feeling inside minji when she's here holding your hands, it's the same giddy feeling while playing stupid games before, the same feeling looking at your face but this feeling was never there for anyone else.

"you used to never think twice, no matter how crucial it is. you also used to get lost a lot too, then i'd look for you." minji says, y/n giggles and brings their hands closer to her chest. "thinking about those stuff, feels like looking at a picture book right?" y/n says, minji nods.

the skies are turning orange, and kids are running towards the playground. maybe the reason the little kid y/n was before didn't get lost because she had minji.

"you used to always get in trouble..." minji laughs and y/n shakes her head, whining. "i was just really annoying!"

it's such a ridiculous story, feels like no one will believe. seeing minji's face again, the patch of mud on the sidewalk and the kids frolicking around in their own world.

"i missed you a lot." minji speaks again, this time her voice sounded more delicate as if she meant every one of her word. it's been so long, days, weeks, months and years have passed but minji still remembers y/n.

the girl looks at minji as if she's about to cry, because those words mean a lot to her. y/n nods, letting go of minji's hand before she steps and wraps her arms around minji. "i missed you too!" y/n sobs, causing minji to laugh.

"come on, are you really just gonna weep like that?" minji teases, y/n buries her head on minji's shoulder, wiping her tears on the taller girl's shirt. "seriously..." y/n whispers.

minji pats y/n's back, an arm around the girl's waist. "ah, it's getting darker." minji mutters, y/n ignores her and sobs again. "i really think of you a lot, when i look at my last message to you... i wish i can do something about it." y/n whispers, her voice cracking every syllable.

"you know i'm not going anywhere, right?" minji whispers back, putting her hand on top of y/n's head. y/n nods, it's not about that. the girl hates the idea of being away from minji again, she's hated that idea but seeing minji again, like this... makes her hate it even more.

minji isn't leaving but minji is also not going to be there always, it's not about whether she's going to leave or not... after all those years, her little silly feelings for minji, turned into something bigger and more serious, when she yearns for minji's warmth that space inside her heart turns more shallow.

maybe, y/n is scared minji might find someone else...

"don't look for anyone else other than me..." y/n whispers, minji widens her eyes as she hears what was said. minji turns her head to take a peek of y/n's face, but all the girl did was bury her face deeper on minji's neck.

"what do you mean?" this is it. this must be really it.

y/n may feel guilty for sounding selfish admitting that she hates the idea that minji will find someone who'll love her too.

"i... i want to be honest, ever since i left i started to miss you more everyday, it feels like it was never gonna end." y/n takes a sharp breath. feeling the way her heart squeezes as if pouring out all the feelings she's harbored for minji on those years they were away from each other.

it feels like she's inside a woods, lost inside the forest with nowhere to go except the only path she can see.

"it was so long... everything feels like it's the same everyday. people around me moved on, went past and never looked back. i couldn't because i feel it too deeply, and i love too much..." y/n pulls away from minji, letting go of the tall girl... that also forced minji to let her hands off of y/n.

"i didn't want to be left alone, i didn't want to think of you with someone else!" y/n sees the way minji looks at her, the tall girl looks at the playground, the kids are all going home.

y/n puts her hand on her face, wiping her stupid tears away.

"i never looked for anyone else but you... i see you on and off on your account, it gives me hope that you're still there. we're stuck on the same memory, i think of you too a lot." minji shrugs as she speaks and reaches for y/n's hand, minji hears y/n trying to suppress her tears.

"y/n? are you serious?" minji chuckles and holds y/n's hand tighter. the girl looked confused, she tucks in strands of stray hair behind her ear. minji sighs. "i take my time to let you know i'm just here for you to lean on to, stupid messages, so short but it's alright because i know you're okay." minji continues, her other hand reaches for y/n's shoulder.

y/n was silent, she looks like she's hesitating but in reality, there's nothing but minji inside her head.

"it's because i like you!" y/n opens her mouth and stares at minji, surprised about what she had said. minji leans her head closer, seeing y/n blink her eyes and lifting her hands to cover her face.

minji hears y/n whine and she holds the girl's shoulders. "hey..."

"i don't why? we only talk through messages and they're not even that long! i've tried to hard to get rid of these feelings but it's not working! you're really the only one i want..." y/n grumbles, her voice is muffled but still audible that it makes minji smile to see how intense the girl's feelings are for her.

"i understand." minji states as she moves her hand to hold y/n's nape, pulling her closer and making the girl take her hands off of her face until their foreheads touch. minji holds y/n's waist with her other hand. "don't ever change, okay? you and your feelings, don't change." minji whispers.

y/n hears the crickets and then maybe her own heartbeat, distracted by the way minji looks at her eyes... it could be the street lamps but minji's eyes looks like she has the whole milky way galaxy in them.

minji laughs as she feels how warm y/n has gotten.

out of nowhere, the tall girl leans to kiss y/n on the lips, not that long but enough for y/n to feel it linger all over her.

the wind blows, but suddenly it's not so cold here anymore.

minji doesn't give y/n any time to react and immediately pulls her in a hug. "dummy. i love you too, okay? you're not alone." minji mutters.

y/n lowers her head, leaning on minji's shoulder and she finds herself diving in deeper in their hug. "gosh, this feels like it's not real..." y/n mutters, minji laughs again and places a kiss on y/n's cheek.

"but it is real, wanna go back to the inn?" minji asks, gently lifting y/n from the ground, causing the girl to shriek and laugh.

and it's fun like that, exploring new feelings and diving in it without thinking much. it's fun basking on its wonderful effects, how amazing love can be or just how unpredictable circumstances are sometimes.

it's another day, y/n feels like she dreams a lot now. she doesn't want to forget her dreams.

when the girl sits up, she opens her eyes and sees how blurry her vision was. the girl rubs her eyes for a few seconds, before opening them again.

she was greeted by the pink walls of her room, exactly the same copy of her childhood room but without the stains of time.

was she dreaming? y/n peeks on her window, a very sunny day with bright skies and clouds all over the blue horizon.

just an ordinary day.

y/n looks on the floor of her room, her shoes with a patch of mud on it.

thankfully, she wasn't dreaming at all.

the door of her room opens, from the shoes, y/n looks up to see minji smiling at her. "hey, it's 11am already." the girl says, y/n smiles and jumps off of her bed, running towards minji and embracing the tall girl in a hug.

"ah! thank you!" y/n rubs her cheek on minji's shoulder, humming. the tall girl looks at her girlfriend, confused. "what happened?" she asks.

y/n shakes her head and laughs. thinking that what if everything was a dream? y/n was scared that once she opens her eyes, minji will be out of reach again. but she's wrong, minji is here.

"nothing, i'm so happy you're here again! and that you wake me up before it gets late." y/n says, minji nods and pats y/n's head, sighing. "ah yeah, come on we have somewhere to go." minji pulls y/n out of her room, their laughter is heard across the corridor as they walk to the dining room.

y/n might have been lost on her way home, maybe it took her too long to find her way back... but she's back! that's all that matters, minji is with her to guide her wherever she goes, just like when they were younger.

#newjeans #kpop #female reader #kpop imagines #newjeans imagines #girl group #girlgroup imagines #kim minji #newjeans minji #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #kpop x female reader #fluff #newjeans fanfic #fanficiton #kpop gg #girlgroup #Spotify

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riality-check · 11 months

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daisy jones-adjacent au. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. tw substance abuse, ptsd, references to past torture (canon, the russians.) part 7.

ao3

Writing the album is, somehow, the easy part, even after Steve put his foot in his mouth.

He had his suspicions, but he shouldn't have asked that. It was a dick move, and he's been trying not to be a dick for the past few years. So, he apologized and didn't bring it up again.

Eddie softened after that. Like he wasn't expecting Steve to apologize. He accepted it, and things have been good since.

Well, more than good, if Steve's being honest. Things have gotten a lot better since.

He's noticed a few things, even after their permanently discontinued game of "truth or truth." Mostly, the things Steve has noticed have been about Eddie, like:

He laughs at the dumbest things.

He quotes books and movies constantly.

He has an accent that he masks unless he's tired.

He hates strong smells.

He deflects by becoming bigger.

There's more. A lot more that Steve has noticed, but listing everything about Eddie's brilliance and stubbornness, his courage and obnoxiousness, his gorgeous face and sharp tongue would take all day. Steve has noticed a lot over these few weeks spent hunched over instruments and notebooks at his house, and he thinks Eddie has noticed him in return.

He hopes so.

It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be noticed beyond the superficial adoration of fans. It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be known.

There are a plethora of reasons for why that's a bad idea. Steve is able to forget them momentarily when he sees Eddie smile.

All too soon, after far too long, they're done writing. They start recording, and that is the hard part.

It always is. There's always something wrong with the levels or slightly out of tune, or someone sneezes right into the mic on the first good take. There's things that work and things that don't, and, always, songs on paper that have to get fixed before they can be songs on the radio.

The album has good bones, though. It's angry and hopeful and scared and sad and triumphant. It's music, it's art, it's life.

And once they can make it work, it's going to be great.

That's what Steve is doing now. Making it work. He's awake at 4 AM on a Tuesday, sitting at a piano and trying to rework the bass line to stop it from clashing so much with the melody.

The only good thing about this situation is that he's made it to seventy three hours awake for the first time, courtesy of a well-timed line right before he got to work.

If it keeps working, he might trash the pills entirely.

He plays the introduction to the song again on his right hand and starts adding low notes on his left. As it is, it sounds empty. To much distance. But if he raises it a fourth-

"Steve?"

He freezes, fighting back against the instinct to jump away from the piano like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He forgot that the band has been crashing at his house - it's close to the studio and he has the rooms to spare - and because he forgot that he wasn't alone, he failed to remember that most people aren't awake at this hour, nevermind working.

So, he calmly turns around to see Eddie, in pajamas, standing in the doorway, blinking sleep out of his tired eyes.

Steve swallows and hopes that Eddie is too tired to catch him openly staring.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers.

"Reworking something," Steve says. "Trying out something different for the bass line in Envy, the one that's giving us trouble."

Eddie covers his mouth to yawn. "Couldn't sleep?"

Steve wonders when the last time he thought that was a bad thing was.

"I can be quieter," he says. "I was just trying to fix this. But that can wait until morning."

"Steve," Eddie says, and he's got that look on his face.

Steve hates that look.

Eddie looks at him like he can see inside his skull, inside his heart, and read his DNA letter by letter. He looks at him like he can see everything about Steve: past, present, and future.

And there's pity in every second of it.

Steve can't stand pity.

"I just- I gotta see the whole picture, you know?" he continues so Eddie doesn't get to voice that pity. "And you guys all have your instruments, but piano gives me everything. I can play the bass and the guitar and sing and- I'm just able to get it better that way. Where are you going?"

Eddie is almost out the door again. "I- I can't be here, Steve."

"Why? Are you tired? You can go-"

"You're high, and I know that if you offer me something, I won't say no."

Oh.

"Eddie, I wouldn't-"

"And even if you don't, if you take something in front of me, I know I'll ask for some," he says, like it's a fact, the same way the sky is blue.

"I'm not- I wouldn't do that to you," Steve says. No point in denying that he's high, not when they both know it. "I wasn't- I'll get off the piano. I'll read, or, well, reread something instead."

He gestures aimlessly at the bookshelf on the wall near the door. It's crammed full of recommendations from Dustin and Robin and Erica and Nancy. All of them have been read at least once, most of them twice.

"You like to read?" Eddie asks.

"No, I hate it," Steve says, completely genuinely.

Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh. "I will never understand you."

"I know."

Because that's the thing. No one can understand it, can understand him, unless they were in Hawkins, Indiana, too. Unless they saw what he did. Unless they signed the same NDAs. Unless they fought the same monsters and went to the same other world and endured the same things.

Eddie, like most other people, will never be able to understand.

So, his smile fades as he stands there in the doorway, confused.

"I like stories, but I hate reading," Steve explains. "I just do it to fill-"

"I can read to you."

Steve stops mid-word. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story without reading," Eddie says. "I like reading. I can read to you."

Steve has spent seventy four hours, at this point, awake. He is sitting at a piano bench at 4 AM on a Tuesday, high on cocaine, and is staring at a hot guy his age who, over the past few weeks, has alternated between seemingly hating him and smiling that smile.

Forgive him for making the stupid decision to say-

"Okay."

Eddie smiles, though it's tired. He takes a book from the shelf at random and walks out the door. Steve has no choice but to follow, back to the guest room Eddie has taken as his own.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and lays down underneath the rumpled sheets.

"Come on," he says, patting the space next to him. "I don't bite."

"You sure?" Steve jokes, but he climbs on alongside him, careful not to touch.

He really wants to touch.

He's not thinking straight.

Eddie cracks the book open and starts reading in a low whisper.

Steve can barely understand what he's saying, but that doesn't matter. What matters is Eddie's voice, quiet and rough and breathy. What matters is Eddie's voice, steady and soothing.

It's nice. It's really nice.

Steve finds himself curling up, closer and closer, until his head is on Eddie's chest.

His eyes slip closed at hour seventy-five.

And the next thing he knows, he's standing with his back to a corner, holding a metal, foldable music stand in front of him, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

Clearly, he fell asleep.

Fantastic.

Sometimes, he's able to tell what the nightmare was before he actually remembers it. It's all in the little habits he's developed.

When he finds himself checking to see if all his fingernails are still attached to his hands, blinking nonexistent blood out of his left eye, and still murmuring Robin's name, he knows that this one had to be about the Russians.

And then the memory of the bone saw, of the screaming, of taking hit after hit after hit crashes into him so hard he almost doubles over.

He reminds himself he's safe. That he's unharmed. That Robin is safe in her dorm at UCLA. That they never got Dustin or Erica.

That all of this is fucking useless.

He's gotten it all out. He's written song after song about all of it, all of the monsters and the fighting and the fear and the good in spite of it all. He writes and plays and sings close enough to all of it to almost break the NDAs.

And none of it is of any use at all because, years later, Steve still can't fucking sleep.

He swallows. Swallows again. Tries to breathe, even if it's in the form of great, heaving gasps.

And that's when he realizes that Eddie is standing right in front of him. Clearly confused, clearly terrified.

This is why, though he can never understand Steve, he shouldn't know him, either. This is why Steve can't reach out and touch.

Because even if he could explain it to Eddie, even if he would lie and say he believed him and understood, no one wants someone who can't make it through a night without waking up at least three times. No one wants to have to calm someone down from weekly screaming fits brought on by the back of their eyelids.

"Get out," he says.

"Steve," Eddie says, and there's that pity again.

Steve can't stand pity.

"Get out!" he shouts, heedless of the fact that he's probably waking everyone else up, that this is the room Eddie is staying in.

He can go to Steve's room. Everything in there is hidden, so he can't break his sobriety unless he snoops.

Steve hopes he doesn't snoop. He doesn't want to drag Eddie down to where he's at.

Eddie nods and makes his way to the door. Before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

"I don't know what you're running from," he whispers. "But when it catches you-"

"What?" Steve snaps.

"Let someone know."

If Steve were in a better state of mind, he'd ask what the hell that meant. But he's shaking and tired, so goddamn tired, that he watches Eddie go.

He sits on the floor, in the corner, still holding the music stand. The sun is up. It streams through the windows along with the sounds of birds chirping.

And Steve wonders how he's supposed to live the rest of his life like this.

He makes it an hour before he falls asleep sitting up on the floor. He makes it two more before he wakes himself up again, checking his fingernails.

#ria writes #dja au #this part is long and also a doozy #apologies #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw torture #rockstar eddie munson

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tipsyleaf · 4 days

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I think I genuinely found the perfect song for Leon and his wife as like "their song".

(Yes ik it's the song from Twilight but it's fitting!!!)

Now, when I think about them getting married I don't think they did a big wedding. They got married on a whim because Leon had vacation time coming up. They got married by a justice of the peace at a courthouse in front of everyone they cared about and rented a party room at a nice restaurant they really love just to have a good meal and be with everyone who matters.

They didn't have a cake, no flower toss, no first dance. But you did get to dress up, everyone did. Just shared their happiness with everyone. You had a honeymoon for sure though. 2 blissful weeks in Italy together, the vacation they'd planned on taking together. Just to have a romantic get away.

You promised each other that you'd do something special for your first anniversary but you got pregnant and Violet was barely 3 months old on your wedding anniversary that the thought slipped both your minds.

But one afternoon Leon's heading home from a particularly grueling case. Everything that could have gone wrong almost did. And of course he's sitting in traffic when all he wants is to go home an see his wife and daughter. The only thing sounds are the engine and occasional honks from idiot drivers. So he turns on the radio to fill the silence. He catches the ending of some other song. The radio dj coming on and talking for a bit, he reaches for the dial when piano keys fill the car. He just goes back to waiting, sitting back in his seat as he does so.

And my God does he get emotional... He doesn't know if it's the stress he's under or if it's that he can't stop thinking about how relevant everything feels.

He knows his life is hard, It's been hard since that night in Raccoon City and everything that's happened to him. All the people he's seen suffer and the awful things he's seen. But once he met you he finally had something good. Something that gave him hope.

His life changed so much in the past 5 years of being together. You loved him. You married him. You gave him the family he's always wanted and his life is barely over a quarter of the way through. He gets to come home to you and the beautiful baby girl he loves so much.

How could he not finally be thankful for being alive?

Because he gets to live not to just be a weapon anymore. He's got something to look forward to.

Your anniversary rolls around. It's almost midnight and you're prepping your lunch for the next day at work. As Leon walks into the kitchen. Doing his usual schtick of wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. Giving you the usual kisses with a tight squeeze so you can't escape his love as you squeal for mercy. He eventually stops his torturing affection and looks at the stove clock as you zip you're lunchbox closed.

Soon you're lifted from the floor being carried by the waist out of the kitchen.

"Leon! I'm not done yet!"

"It's our anniversary now so I get to do what I please."

"That's not how this works!"

He sets you on the floor, standing as you playfully glare at him. He hustles over to the stereo, plugging his phone in and turning it up, not loud enough to wake the baby.

"What're you doing?" You question, hearing the piano fill the living room as he hustles around the couch.

"What we should of done last year. Our first dance. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Leon, we've danced since we got married."

"Yes, but we never picked a song! So just, dance with me and listen. Please? Pleeeease?" He bounces on place till you sigh and wrap your arms around him.

You just stare into each other's eyes while you slow dance. Swaying gently to the music as you listen. Both of you getting emotional by the end of the song. Tears streaming down both your faces. Still smiling as you hug him tight.

"Being with you was one of the best choices I've ever made. I love you so much."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy #Spotify

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djevilninja · 2 months

Video

youtube

Bruce Hornsby - The Way It Is (Radio 2 Piano Room)

*those strings...

#bruce hornsby #radio 2 piano room #music #rock #pop #soft rock #20s #performance #groove #the way it is #the way it is live

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constellationguy · 1 month

Text

That Radio Show

Summary: In the absence of the radio demon listeners of hell find a new broadcast to enjoy.

Chapters one and two

Chapter three: Let’s Chat

Once again a slow sultry sound of piano filled the streets of Pentagram City.

“Good afternoon, my dear listeners. It is 2:30pm and it is time to talk about today’s sponsor. I know we don’t normally have sponsors on a Wednesday but a darling girl reached out to me and I just couldn’t turn her down.” You said, starting the sponsor section of your broadcast. Not many brands reached out to you and you choose even less to actually advertise. Many just want a popular and influential demon to advertise their nonsense, but when a young girl asked you to advertise her new business you couldn’t turn down her charismatic charm.

“Last week I got a letter from a sweet girl who said she was a regular listener and asked me graciously to put a segment about her upcoming business. You know me, I couldn’t turn down a put charming listener of mine.” This letter praised your radio show, how it always had such a calming atmosphere and most callers were also kind people. She praised your kind and calming influence, and flattery gets you everywhere in show biz so, why not share her dream.

“Today’s sponsor is the Happy Hotel. It is a hotel marketed to sinners looking to better themselves in hopes of redemption. Now, I’m not sure if she wanted me to put in my two cents or not, but I will anyway.” You said almost nervous of how your audience would react.

“Now, I know the word redemption is an odd word especially in hell, and this idea is quite honestly outlandish, but, I believe that nothing is black and white. No one is only good or only bad, there is always redeeming qualities in a person, it’s just the people that surround us with that brings out good or bad things in us. Perhaps if good people gather in hopes of becoming better and put in the effort, maybe something can come of this. But I don’t know, I have only been here down here for about six years, there is still so much to see and experience down here.” You paused trying to gather your words.

“Anywho, the Happy Hotel is owned by Princess Morningstar and she is offering free rooms and support to the people willing to give this place a try, so if this strikes a chord with you I encourage you to reach out. Well, that’s the only sponsor we have today, let’s move on to song requests.” You tried to move the topic quickly to calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I got a dm froooom, who was it now. Ah! I got a dm from a darling named Velvet, and she requested “Lotta True Crime” by Penelope Scott so here’s “Lotta True Crime” coming up next.” You were quick to mute yourself ready to be done with that segment the moment it started. It’s not usually normal for you to get sentimental about something on air but of course sappy shit just had to slip, sure the Princess’s idea kinda struck a chord with you but the incoming opinion of our audience terrified you. After most sponsors your hellstagram filled with the extremely strong opinions of your listeners. You were terrified to see the comments flooding your page later that evening. However you spent the rest of your breaks monitoring your comment section and the rest of the day went relatively smooth, your listeners seemed to gloss over that segment and continued to argue in the comments of your latest pull on hellstagram about what genere of music you should cover this week. This did lessen the knot in your stomach a bit, but you know that the day isn’t over and things can still conspire. And conspire they did, but not in your life.

——————————————————————

On the other side of the pentagram a curious demon you’ve never met was listening to your broadcast. The segment on the Happy Hotel seemed to spark something in him, so after work he bolted out of the studio and picked up a cab to take him to the hotel. He could only knock once before the door flew open.

“HOLY SHIT-“ said the demon.

“Oh hello!! Are you are for the hotel?” A charismatic blond girl said jumping up and down.

“Uh, calm your tits toots.” The demon said while holding up a set of his arms to shush the girl in front of him.

“Ya, I hear you are supplying rooms for free and I need a place away from my boss,” he said in a hushed voice rapping his upper set of arms around his rib cage.

“Oh!!!!! Of course! Come in come in! Can’t believe we have our first guest. OOOO VAGGIE, WE HAVE A GUEST.” She squealed to the gray demon that sat on the hotel’s couch.

“Oh?- Oh shit- “ said Vaggie who started to get up off the couch and walk towards the blond.

“Charlie, that’s Angel Dust, the porn star”, Vaggie said trying to make a point that obviously flew over the blonds head.

“So?” Charlie asked, clearly not getting Vaggie’s point.

“Soooooo, Angel how did you hear about the hotel,” she said turning to the spider demon.

“Well, I was in Velvet’s office and she is obsessed with it that one radio show, it’s always running, no clue what it’s called. But, I managed to catch your add and figured I should stop by to see if I can get a room.” Angel said cautiously.

“Of course! We are open for all kinds of guests!” Charlie said excitedly.

“Wait wait wait, are you sure this is what you want, to have a porn star indorse the hotel?” Vaggie said while grabbing Charlie’s shoulders to turn and face her.

“Well of course Vaggie, he is in need and what kind of people would we be if we turned him down? This place is about good and redemption and this is the first step on the path of good! Isn’t that exciting?!” Charlie said enthusiastically.

“Well- fine,” Vaggie said harshly while letting out a sigh.

“If he is gonna stay we are gonna lay out some ground rules. One, you can’t bring your work to the hotel. Two, you need to be civil, three you can’t be spreading this stuff out, we don’t want this place getting damaged by people trying to find you or your reputation.” Vaggie said turning his attention to Angel while starting him down.

“Ouch toots, you really expect so little of me, of course I can do that much! I accept your terms sugar,” Angel said leaning down to shake the angry woman’s hand.

“Well it’s settled!” Charlie said jumping into the conversation.

“I’ll lead you to your room and over the next few days you can move in. Oh this is so exciting!” Charlie said jumping up and down again. Even though the night was still young everyone retired to their rooms with new hope for the hotel sparking in the air. Little did they know the excitement is far from over.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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rottapoika · 2 months

Text

psb in the bbc radio 2 piano room x

#these photos made me so happy i needed to post them #my favourite old men #pet shop boys

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rarilee33 · 11 months

Text

more Moral Orel headcanons

these are mostly Bloberta/Hymentacts related and were conceived in drafting the story that I'm working on. More info on that when I get further.

Eye colours: Clay has brown eyes, so does Orel but Orel's are more hazel; Bloberta's are blue, and Shapey's are grey-green

2. Bloberta is a few years (like 3) younger than Clay. Her sister Modella is three years older than her and her brother Lunchbox is six years younger. 3. Mrs Hymentact's name is Regina (proud of this one lol) because we know Bloberta's dad's name is Raymond. Clay's parents' names both start with A, Angela and Arthur. Regina makes sense, both R names and since it means 'queen' and she is clearly the matriarch.

4. That piano in the Hymentacts' living room- only Bloberta's mother, Regina, had jurisdiction over lifting the plastic cover on it.

4,5. One time Regina invited Bloberta to participate in the choir and she was ecstatic, but Regina just wanted her to play the piano for accompaniment and this made Bloberta feel invisible, to be sat behind the piano at church while her family sang in front of everyone. So that didn't last long.

5. In the first few years of her being married to Clay, Bloberta would meet with her father in town (usually at the pub), to just talk, but that fell off- mostly, Regina wasn't a big fan of the almost clandestine meetings and would rather Bloberta do things 'properly' and invite both her parents to the Puppington's house for dinner and to meet her husband and son.

6. Most of Bloberta's clothes are hand-me-downs from Modella.

7. While Bloberta likes rock and metal music, Modella is more into pop songs, as well as classical pieces. Bloberta was a teenager in the eighties and so listened to a lot of artists from that era, like the Cure, Judas Priest, Cinderella, etc, while Modella was into Madonna and Blondie and such, maybe Cyndi Lauper. They both had Walkmans. Bloberta had to mostly hide her music tastes from Regina who wouldn't approve. This is somewhat a plot point in my story but has more context there.

8. When Bloberta was 15 the Hymentacts took a trip to Manhattan for some choir related excursion. They took Bloberta since it was such a big trip. It was her first time on an airplane and all; she felt in awe at seeing the city skyline and then all the buildings, all this life, around them, as they emerged from the Lincoln tunnel.

On the trip she either trailed behind or just interacted with Raymond- Regina was more occupied with Modella (18) and Lunchbox (9). She wondered if Regina would even notice if she suddenly got lost... still, Bloberta has some nice memories of being there, seeing the Radio City Music Hall and other iconic buildings and nothing like she'd seen before. Modella had a camera to document the trip, and Bloberta wished she did, too, but she couldn't afford one and didn't want to ask.

If you have any questions feel free to ask and I will elaborate!!

@medievalcat

#moral orel #bloberta puppington #clay puppington #orel puppington #shapey puppington #headcanons #moral orel headcanons #modella hymentact #lunchbox hymentact #raymond hymentact #mrs hymentact

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thegroovywitch · 1 year

Text

Jimmy Page and the Rolling Stones: 60 years of musical flirtations

Certainly, not all blues enthusiasts of the early 1960’s can claim to have become some of the most influential musical artists of all time. But that’s one thing that Jimmy Page and the members of the Rolling Stones have in common.

The first encounter between Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Jimmy Page occured in 1962, just a few months before the formation of the Stones. The three English boys travelled all the way from the South to attend UK’s first American Folk Blues Festival in the city of Manchester. They met at a blues collector’s house, and together they listened to Howlin’ Wolf’s masterpiece album commonly known as ‘Rocking Chair’—then newly released. For a blues fanatic back then, meeting someone with the same interest was something almost extraordinary. Most people weren’t interested in what was still a rather obscure music genre and preferred rocking and rolling to the songs on the radio. For this reason, if you liked the blues and met someone alike, you were going to remember them.

By the end of the same year, Jimmy was spotted during a gig at the Marquee Club in London and asked to play regularly on record sessions. This was the start of a short but prolific career as a session musician for the young man, who would soon encounter Mick and Keith again, this time with the rest of the Rolling Stones. He played on a number of demos for the band, three of which were officially released on Stones records:

These sessions were a great opportunity for Page to develop an understanding of how records were produced: he spent hours in the control room, and soon he was employed as house producer and arranger at Andrew Oldham’s Immediate Records. In 1968, the record company released Blues Anytime Vol 1-2-3, a series of records containing works by various British blues artists. Jimmy featured in two of these, producing a few songs on which Mick Jagger (harmonica), Bill Wyman (bass), Ian Stewart (piano) and Eric Clapton (guitar) were the musicians.

Around this time, Jimmy also gave a helping hand to Brian Jones on the soundtrack for the cult classic movie A Degree of Murder (recorded late 1966-early 1967), also using his now notorious trick of the violin bow. He recalls:

“Brian knew what he was doing. It was quite beautiful. Some of it was made up at the time; some of it was stuff I was augmenting with him. I was definitely playing with the violin bow. Brian had this guitar that had a volume pedal – he could get gunshots with it. There was a Mellotron there. He was moving forward with ideas.”

—Jimmy Page, from issue #1171 of Rolling Stone

Legend has it that the Stones had previously asked Page to join the band in order to throw Jones out, but he declined.

The group was again looking for a guitarist in late 1974, to fill the spot left by Mick Taylor’s sudden goodbye. Jimmy had recently jammed in the studio with them on a fun session which birthed the track Scarlet, but it was highly unlikely that he would leave the then biggest band in the world—even for the Rolling Stones. The track remained in the vaults for 46 years, and was finally released in 2020 as part of the expanded edition of Goats Heads Soup.

“I had completely forgotten about it. Someone told me it was Ginger Baker on drums. And I rang Jimmy Page up — I didn’t remember anything — and Jimmy Page remembered everything! This person played on it, it wasn’t Ginger Baker … he seemed so certain about it.”

— Mick Jagger on The Zoe Ball Breakfast Show, July 22, 2020

Jimmy Page and the Rolling Stones would cross paths again in September 1983 when both Jimmy and Bill Wyman played on the ARMS Charity Concert, later embarking on an American tour with the rest of the musicians involved.

As a result of this, several of said musicians were invited to take part of Wyman’s latest project, Willie and the Poor Boys. Inspired by the music of the early 1950’s, they congregated at Jimmy Page’s home studio, the Sol, and recorded numerous tracks, twelve of which were officially released on a 1985 self-titled album. Jimmy can be heard on two of them:

The Eighties were a time of turmoil for the Rolling Stones as its two principal songwriters, Richards and Jagger, had been feuding over the band’s direction for most of the decade. Nonetheless, right after the Willie and the Poor Boys sessions commenced the recording process for Dirty Work. Jimmy took part of another jam session with the band, immortalised on the hit single One Hit (To The Body).

In 1992, the 7th annual Rock and Roll Hall of Fame took place, and among the chosen legends to be honoured that year were the members of the Yardbirds. Keith Richards also attended the ceremony, being assigned the role to induct Leo Fender, one of his idols and legendary creator of the Fender Stratocaster. Later on, an All-Star Band was formed for a one-off performance and Keith and Jimmy found themselves merrily jamming together once again on classics such as ‘Green Onions’, ‘Soul Man’, ‘Big River’, ‘Dust My Broom’, ‘Shout’, ‘All Along the Watch Tower’, ‘Purple Haze’ and ‘Something Is Wrong With My Baby’.

After sharing much of their success over the past six decades, Jimmy Page and the members of the Stones remain close friends, now having earned a well deserved title as rock and roll legends.

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matttgirlies · 2 hours

Text

Matt & Me🎀

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

fem! reader x singer! matt

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

warnings - death of loved one,, age gap

Chapter 2

The fog was so thick on the Autobahn back to Wiesbaden that I didn’t get home until 2 a.m. My parents had waited up, wanting to know everything that had happened. I told them Matt was a gentleman, that he was funny and entertained his friends all night, and that I’d had a wonderful time.

The next day in school, I couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts were entirely on Matt. I tried to recall every word he’d said to me, every song he’d sung, every look in his eyes as he’d gazed at me. I went over and over our conversation. His charm was captivating. I told no one. Who would ever believe that just the night before, I’d been with Matt Sturniolo?

I never expected to hear from him again. Then, a few days later, the phone rang. It was Steven. He said he’d just got a call from Matt, who wondered if it was possible for Steven to bring me over that night. I was ecstatic. “Steven, you don’t mean it? He wants to see me? Why? When did he call?” Unable to answer all my questions, Steven said calmly, “You want me to ask your father?”

My parents were as surprised as I. They reluctantly acceded to Steven’s request.

The next visit was very much like the one before—small talk, singing, Matt playing the piano, and everyone eating Grandma’s favorite dishes. But later, when Matt had finished singing, he came up to me. “I want to be alone with you, y/n.”

We were standing face to face, staring into each other’s eyes. I looked around. The room was empty.

“We are alone,” I replied nervously.

He moved closer, backing me against the wall. “I mean really alone,” he whispered. “Will you come upstairs to my room?”

The question threw me into a panic. His room?

Until that moment, it hadn’t crossed my mind that Matt Sturniolo might be interested in me sexually. He could have any girl in the world. Why would he want me?

“There’s nothing to be frightened of, Honey.”

As he spoke, he was smoothing my hair. “I swear I’ll never do anything to harm you.” He sounded absolutely sincere. “I’ll treat you just like a sister.” Flustered and confused, I looked away.

“Please.”

Standing there looking into his eyes, I was drawn to him almost against my will. I believed him; it wasn’t a difficult thing to do. I had discovered by now his intentions were warm and sincere. Moments went by and I still couldn’t do anything. Then I nodded. “All right, I’ll go.”

He took my hand and led me toward the stairs, whispering which room was his, and said, “You go on ahead, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. It looks better.”

He headed toward the kitchen as I slowly climbed the stairs, wondering, What would he demand of me? Expect of me? I will be completely alone with him for the first time. Since meeting him I had dreamed of this moment, sure that it would never arrive, and now I was in the midst of a reality I’d never expected.

I reached the second floor and found his bedroom. It was as plain and impersonal as the other rooms of the house. I went in and sat down primly on a stiff-backed chair—and waited. When Matt didn’t show up after a few minutes, I began to look around. It was an ordinary room with nothing unusual, certainly nothing to imply that it belonged to a famous rock-and-roll singer. There were books, a collection of records, his uniforms, and his boots. There were several letters from girls in the States on his night table. Many were from someone named Nicole. Matt rarely mentioned Nicole, but everyone knew he had a girl back home. I wanted to read the letters but was afraid he’d catch me. It was another twenty minutes before he finally appeared. He came in, removed his jacket, turned on the radio, and then sat down on his bed. I hardly looked at him, petrified of what he might expect. I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down on the bed, and making love to me.

Instead he said, “Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me?” I was reluctant, but he assured me that I had nothing to be afraid of. “I really like you, y/n. You’re refreshing. It’s nice to talk to someone from back home. I miss that. It gets a little lonely here.”

I sat next to him, saying nothing, but I was touched by his vulnerable, boyish quality. He went on to say that our relationship was going to be important to him and that he needed me. It was October and he was scheduled to return to the States in six months. He knew lots of girls, he said, and many had come to visit as I had, but I was the first girl with whom he felt a real closeness.

I cuddled into his arms, certain he would not move too fast. He held me closely, saying, “I just wish Mom could have been here to meet you.” He sighed and a troubled look came over his face. “She would have liked you as much as I do.”

“I wish I could have met her,” I whispered, moved by his sincerity.

I was to learn that Matt’s mother, Mary Lou, was the love of his life. She had died on August 14, 1958, at age forty-two, of heart failure following a long siege of acute hepatitis.

He expressed how deeply he loved and missed her and how in many ways he dreaded returning to Graceland without her there. It had been his gift to her, a private estate that he’d purchased for $100,000 a year before she died.

Matt believed that his mother had eventually given up on life. Her health had begun to deteriorate when he was drafted. Her love for James and Matt was so great that she could never face the loss of either of them and often said she wanted to be the first to go. In Mary Lou’s naive, country way she assumed that Germany still represented war and danger. She could never comprehend that peacetime conditions now prevailed.

It was Matt’s habit to phone Mary Lou every day. I was surprised to learn that up until the time he began entertaining, he never spent a night away from home. He told me of the time his car caught on fire while on the road and he barely escaped with his life. Although she was miles away, Mary Lou sat straight up in her bed and screamed his name—the intuitive link between them was that strong. Her concern for his welfare while he was away from home was so great that she would spend sleepless nights until his call came, telling her he was safe.

When he was in basic training at Fort Hood, Texas, he rented a house off base for James, Mary Lou, and Grandma. I felt that her death affected him more than anyone could fully understand. He blamed himself for not being with her when she fell ill and had to be sent back home to Boston under a doctor’s care.

In time he realized that Mary Lou had resorted to drinking, and he was very concerned that this could become a problem. As much as he consoled her, assured her that he would return in eighteen months, and even begged her to join him, Mary Lou’s fear of losing her only son drove her to her grave.

Matt’s unrelieved depression over Mary Lou’s death was intensified by the conflict in Matt’s mind over Angela Stanley, who James had met in Germany. Angela and his father had become inseparable shortly after Mary Lou’s death, too soon to Matt’s liking. An attractive blonde in her thirties, Angela was in the process of divorcing her husband and was separated from him and her three children when she started dating James. The thought that his father could ever conceive of replacing Mary Lou upset Matt terribly. He also had doubts about Angela’s intentions and whether they were in his father’s best interest.

“What’s Angela trying to do?” Matt sometimes asked suspiciously. “Make him into some dude he’s not? Why can’t she just accept him the way he is? I’ve never seen him so lovesick. She meets him at some restaurant and exchanges love notes all day.”

My heart went out to Matt that night as he confided his problems and worries. He was a world-famous entertainer, a great star, and yet a terribly lonely man.

Again our visit seemed to end too soon. He kissed me goodbye, my first real kiss. I had never experienced such a mixture of affection and desire. I was speechless but closely tied to the reality of where I was—locked in his arms, my mouth against his. Aware of my response—and my youth—he broke away first, saying, “We have plenty of time, Little One.” He kissed my forehead and sent me home.

By our fourth date, Dad had laid down the law: “If you want to continue seeing Matt, we’re going to have to meet him.” My parents weren’t so enthralled with his celebrity status that they were willing to compromise their principles. In the beginning it was convenient for Steven to come for me and bring me home, but by now my parents were asking why Matt didn’t do this himself. One Saturday night I said to Matt, “My parents want to meet you. They want you to pick me up.”

He bristled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said nervously, “I can’t come see you anymore unless you come and meet my parents.”

He agreed—provided he could bring his father along.

That day I went through my usual routine except instead of being ready one hour in advance it was two. I waited by the window, looking for his car as I played his records“Old Shep,” “I Was the One,” and “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You”—nonstop until my father yelled from the kitchen, “Do you have to play those records now? My God, the man will be here in a few minutes and you see him practically every night. I’d think you’d want to take a breather from each other.”

I was nervous. I knew that Dad wanted Matt to both pick me up and bring me home himself—and he planned to tell Matt this.

I didn’t know how Dad was going to approach him—whether he planned to be friendly or stern—and I knew only too well how stern Dad could be. I sat there, anticipating the worst.

About an hour later, I spotted Matt’s BMW and saw Matt and his father emerge from the car. Matt had come totally prepared; he was wearing his uniform to impress Dad. He knew that the service was their connection, and he played on it. He looked great.

He took off his hat and kissed me on the cheek. I asked him and his father in and led them into our living room, where Matt fidgeted and seemed, for once, at a loss for words. “Are your parents here?” he ventured. I could manage only a nod and he continued, “I know we’re a little late, but I had to get cleaned up—and we had some trouble finding the place.” I was amused—imagine, Matt Sturniolo making up excuses. I was now sufficiently aware of his habits to know that it took him three hours to change, chat with the boys, enjoy one of Grandma’s huge meals, and sign a few autographs along the way. Except when he was working, he had a stricter attitude toward time.

While James settled on the couch, Matt pointed to our family portraits on the wall and said, “Look here, Dad—here’s y/n with her whole family. I think she looks like her mother. Can’t see too much resemblance with her brothers or sister—they’re still a little too young.” “Don’t cut your hair, Baby. I love it long like this. You’re one pretty girl. How’d I happen to run into you? Must be fate.” The last few observations were uttered in a whisper to me as my parents came in.

Instead of saying, “Hi,” as most young men would have done, Matt put out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Matt Sturniolo and this is my dad, James.”

It sounded silly to me, they knew who he was, as did the whole world. But Matt was the perfect gentleman. My father was visibly impressed, and from that moment on, Matt always addressed him as Captain y/ln or Sir. This was characteristic of Matt, whatever a person’s position in life—whether doctor or lawyer, professor or motion-picture director, unless someone were in Matt’s immediate circle, Matt rarely used first names, even in dealing with people he’d known for years. As he once explained to me, “It’s simple. They’ve worked hard to get where they are. Someone should respect them.”

The conversation with my parents that night was just small talk. Matt said that he’d spent a busy day at the Kaserne and this led to an exchange about the service.

“What did they assign you to over here?” Dad asked, implying that it had better be a solid job if Matt wanted to take out his daughter.

“Sir, right now I’m basically driving a jeep for the Fourth Armored Division in Bad Nauheim.”

“That can be tough this time of year.”

“You’re not kidding, sir. We’ve had some pretty cold nights out there already. I have to be especially careful. I battle tonsillitis when my resistance gets low, which isn’t good for my voice.”

“I guess you’re looking forward to going home.”

“Yes, sir. Only five more months.”

Then Matt asked my parents how they liked being stationed in Germany.

“Very much,” Dad said. “We plan on being here for three years.”

There was a sudden silence. Then Dad offered dinner, but Matt said they didn’t have time. I sat attentively, observing Matt’s uneasiness and remembering his relaxed manner in his own home. He was on his best behavior and it was endearing. Mother was reserving judgment about this rock-and-roll star she had professed to dislike so much. I could see that his Southern charm was winning her over.

Finally, my father got around to explaining to Matt the y/ln dating rules. If he wanted to see me, Matt had to pick me up and bring me home. Matt explained that by the time he got off duty, went home, cleaned up, came to Wiesbaden and back, the evening would be gone. Would it be all right if his father would collect me?

Dad mulled this over, then expressed his concern. “Just what is the intent here? Let’s face it: You’re Matt Sturniolo. You have women throwing themselves at you. Why my daughter?”

Both Matt and James were caught offguard. James shifted from one side of the chair to the other, probably thinking, Okay, Matt, how are you going to get out of this one?

Matt said, “Well, sir, I happen to be very fond of her. She’s a lot more mature than her age and I enjoy her company. It hasn’t been easy for me, being away from home and all. It gets kinda lonely. I guess you might say I need someone to talk to. You don’t have to worry about her, Captain. I’ll take good care of her.”

Matt’s honesty disarmed Dad, just as it did my mother. I joined Matt as he stood, picked up his hat, and added, “Well, sir, we’ve got a long drive.”

There was one stipulation: Matt himself had to bring me home. He agreed, reassuring them that I would be well taken care of, that there were a lot of family members at his house. He could have ridiculed Dad’s request, yet he agreed to take me home every night. I was thrilled but contained my excitement. He really wanted to be with me.

The next night, when Matt brought me home, we parked in front of the pension. He poured out his heart to me, as he would continue to do throughout our time in Germany. He was lonely. He was unsure of how he would be received by his fans when he returned to the States.

When he’d entered the Army, he had been at the pinnacle of his fame. He’d recorded seventeen straight million-selling singles and had starred in four films, all of which had become box-office hits. When Matt was drafted there had been talk of him possibly joining the Special Services, where he could have sung and retained some rapport with the public. But Colonel William, his manager, and RCA were convinced that he should serve his country as a regular soldier, claiming that the public would respect Matt as a man if he went in as a buck private. Now Matt was afraid he might have lost the support of his fans.

While we were parked, one of the Frauleins who lived in the pension passed the car. She greeted me and then, when she glanced at Matt, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

a/n - i know this is a slower paced story but its solely based off the book. there will be quite a lot of chapters and time skips so don’t worry too much! 🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

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