All I Want For Christmas Is Matt Dillon Oiled Up In My Bed 😔

The Time Before - Wayne's Time in 'Nam

part 1 here

Photos not mine

997 words

an: hey! I'm so happy that people are enjoying this writing! Originally I was thinking about just making this a drabble/blurb, but with the addition of this, it will hopefully be a series! Thank you so much for your support, it means the world to me!

I had to actually do considerable research for this one, so I hope it's accurate. If there are any war buffs reading this fic (I doubt it, but if you by chance are) please let me know if I got anything wrong!

warnings: mentions of war, mentions of death, PTSD, Vietnam War

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Wayne never planned on fighting in Vietnam. He himself never liked fighting and once he was back in the US he wasn't a fan of the war.

But back when he was freshly 18, starry-eyed, and eager to impress his Pop, he enlisted.

The year was 1958, the war was only three years old, and it seemed so interesting. Fascinating, if you will. A young Wayne packed his things in a gray duffel bag that he then slung over his shoulder. He can still remember what he was wearing when he left home; a red and black plaid button-down that he still wears today, a pair of blue jeans, a pair of cargo boots, and a jacket that was draped over his arm. By the time he returned to the United States, this fashion would be so far out-of-date it made his head spin.

Most of his buddies went with him, wearing practically the same clothes as him, the same combed-back hair, the same hopeful look plastered on all their faces. That look would not be there when they returned (if they returned at all). But none of this was a worry to either Wayne or any of the five guys that went with him; Joey, Billy, Tucker, Jack, and Arthur. Tucker and Wayne had known each other the longest out of any pair in the group: they were next-door neighbors for their entire lives. Growing up in Redmont, Georgia, a town of under 1,000, everyone was practically your neighbor.

Tucker and Wayne were inseparable. Both of their mothers used to say, 'You'd think those boys were sown together at the hip, with all the time they spend together.' It was true; their entire lives were spent with each other. As kids, that meant skipping rocks in the creek and climbing trees. As teenagers, they shotgunned beers that they had stolen from Al, Wayne's older brother (he had a friend who made fake IDs, and good ones at that), jumped fences to irritate the chickens in their coop, stole cigarettes from their fathers' pockets and coats, and generally spent their days causing as much trouble as they could think up.

They all were shipped out to basic training in California first. Some of the guys were split up between different platoons, but they all saw each other often enough. These seemed minor inconveniences to them; they were ready, excited, and filled with energy.

The strictness of the rules and regulations was nothing new to Wayne, either. The high school had the strictest administration, it was said, in the entire state of Georgia and possibly the surrounding states. Their football was compared to basic training, and most of the guys had been on that team in high school, so they were not phased by anything that the Army decided to throw at them.

But once they were shipped out to Vietnam, the excitement quickly subsided. Over time, each man came to learn the price of war. The price that they each had to individually pay.

Wayne spent five years in 'Nam, fighting alongside Tucker. They were rumored to be the most indestructible duo on Vietnamese soil. But five years seemed to be Wayne's unlucky number.

He still has nightmares about the war. He used to say, 'You don't realize the price you have to pay when you're going to war. It's all fine and dandy when you enlist, and even through basic training. You don't think about the fact that in five years' time, you're going to be holding your dead best friend, his head in your lap, eyes wide open and staring right at you, somewhere in the Vietnamese wilderness with shots still coming at you.' Of course, that was when he still talked about the war at all.

After Tucker passed away, Wayne left Vietnam. He was twenty-three by that point and was sick of fighting. The effect of the excitement had worn off long ago, but once Tucker was gone, it felt hopeless. He was homesick, endlessly tired, and was done with combat.

Of the six that shipped out, only four returned; Wayne, Joey, Billy, and Jack. They finally reunited in 1965 after they had all returned to the US, deciding to indulge in the spoils of war. They traveled as a band, a crew, a group, a lineup. You didn't see one without seeing the other three close behind. They were like this for many years afterward until they scattered across the country; Wayne moved to Kansas and soon started to take care of Lisa, Jack married a young girl named Francine and they settled down together in New Hampshire (to have a whopping six children throughout their marriage), Joey stayed single, moved to Kentucky and still visits Wayne often, and Billy moved to Florida and started a family with a nice woman named Becky.

When the infamous 'make love, not war' protests started to pop up around America, Wayne found himself supporting the cause. He had never gone to war because he hated the other side or loved fighting; he had gone because everyone told him to go. Because it was all so new and shiny, and because he wanted to impress Pop. Because all of his friends were going, and because he wanted the glory. But in reality, he always felt bad when he was over there. There was always a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the destruction that people suffered at his hands. The main reason he stayed was because of Tucker. Tucker made it nostalgic. Fighting with Tucker reminded him of being a teenager and hopping Mr. Luschogi's fence to tip his cows in the middle of the night. It felt mischievous and a little dangerous, and it gave him a huge adrenaline rush. But without Tucker, he didn't get to keep those blinders on. He saw, plain and simple, that he was hurting people. And that was never what Wayne signed up for.

My heart is the Emerson fam <333

if ur requests are open rn will you write something abt gareth’s family and the reader? it can be like meeting them once you’ve started dating or later on or anything. loved ur last fic !! thank u !!!!

i want you to meet my family.

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 1,487

warnings: swearing, reader is anxious and a bit shy, meet-the-family jitters, tooth-rotting fluff, gare being sweet and lovey

a/n: hi!! thank you for your request my sweet!! i’m so happy that you liked my last fic! means the world. i kind of went for a shy and anxious reader, so i hope that’s okay!! for context, i’ve given him: mom, stepdad and two younger sisters. i tried to leave them unnamed so that you can call them whatever you’d like! i hope this turned out like you wanted! <333

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“I want you to meet my family.”

You practically choked on the hot chocolate he’d fixed you. That should’ve been your first clue anyhow. He was buttering you up.

Coughing, Gareth’s hand rubbed and patted your back, the other taking the mug from you and setting it down before you spilled.

His words caught you off guard—god forbid you sit with your boyfriend and not expect anything to happen. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Gare, I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. The waver in your voice gave you away.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet Gareth’s family, because you really, really did—what with all he’d told you—and you had this urge to get to know that part of him too. You found it comforting that he wanted you to meet them.

You were just nervous. You weren’t good with new people, and these were more than just people. They were Gareth’s people.

But meeting them only made sense, especially when you could feel yourself falling more and more for him every minute.

The both of you hadn’t been together officially for too long, and had definitely been relishing in the fact that it was just the two of you and there wasn’t any pressure. This, however, was pressure. Lots of it.

“Can you look at me, pretty please?” You shifted, the two of you now sitting cross legged and facing each other on the couch. He held out his hands, which you dramatically slapped, eliciting an ever more dramatic hiss from him, before he clasped your fingers in his.

You focused on the silver ring resting on his middle finger while he spoke to you. “You know I would never want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. But I-I want you to meet my family, because you’re my family too.”

His kind words were flustering you, so you continued to fidget with his ring and started chewing on your bottom lip, biting down in hopes that the sting of tears would go away.

“It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. I’ll bring you home like usual, there will just be other people there. I don’t want you to worry about whether they’ll like you, even though I know you’re going to, but—they wanna meet you too, sweetheart. You’re my whole world, you gotta know that.”

You did. Lifting your head, you met his gaze. His nose scrunched in greeting. You leaned in to kiss it. “Okay. I trust you, Gareth.”

————

“Breathe. Here, with me, okay?” Gareth stood with you in the driveway, holding onto you and trying to soothe your nerves.

You knew there was nothing to be scared of. You’d heard nothing but good things about them, about how much they meant to Gareth.

But you couldn’t help that your heart was beating so fast it hurt and your hands were shaking and you felt a little dizzy. There was so much going on in your head—always—and what if they could tell you were a mess? Maybe they’d think you weren’t right for their boy.

Stop, you told yourself. Breathe. Gareth’s gentle hand on your collarbones brought you back. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Will you hold my hand? Please? Please don’t leave me.” He held back a wince at seeing you this way.

“I’m never gonna leave you, my sweet.”

Gareth led you up the few steps to the door and inside, just like any other time you’d been over. Your stomach sunk when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. As if he was reading your thoughts, Gareth turned around and kissed your cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

You nodded, afraid your voice would fail you, and he took that as his queue to head off.

Entering the kitchen, you found his stepdad and youngest sister working on a puzzle, both settled at the table. His mother was preparing cookie dough, his other sister sat on the counter beside her, presumably licking cinnamon off of her fingers. From what you could smell, they were snickerdoodles. Those were your favorite.

Gareth tugged you into him, and you hid a little against his side. “Hey, guys,” his voice cut off all other noise in the kitchen, four heads snapping up at once.

Gareth’s mom smiled brilliantly at the sight of you, and she hurried to wipe her hands against the little waist apron she was wearing before tugging it off.

“Hi!” She exclaimed.

The youngest of his sisters leapt from her place on the counter, sprinting to her brother just after his mom made it to him. His mother kissed his cheek, giving him knowing and thrilled eyes. Gareth groaned exaggeratedly as a little body smacked into his legs, “Hi, bubba!”

“Hi, squirt.” He ruffled her hair and you watched in awe, your attention shifting as his mom turned to face you instead.

You let go of Gareth’s hand, trying to be brave because she looked so kind. He took that as a signal to let you. An I’m okay gesture.

This woman was not scary. Her eyes were that same sweet blue as her son’s, her curls just as unruly, though tied up at the base of her neck.

“Hello, my love! It’s so nice to meet you! Can I hug you? Would that be okay?” She raised her hands a little, hopeful.

“Sure you can,” you responded, smiling genuinely. My love, she’d called you. You were suddenly overwhelmed with how nice it felt to be welcomed and cared for so instantaneously.

Gareth’s mother pulled you in for a hug, warm and grateful, swaying you gently in her arms. She pulled back, still smiling, eyes shining with it. Turning her head, she checked that Gareth wasn’t looking—he wasn’t, head bent to look at the puzzle on the table. “You know he never shuts up about you?

“Really?” You grinned at her, feeling your cheeks heat up, but delighted nonetheless.

“Really!” The sound of your joint giggles made Gareth turn around, his stepdad and sisters following his return to you.

“I don’t like the sounds of this.” He said it with a smile anyhow.

“Hey, kiddo.” Gareth’s stepdad found you, and gave you a short, but kind hug. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, yet it was comforting. You caught a glimpse of a tattoo sleeve under the edge of his sweater, and hoped you’d remember to ask about it later.

You hadn’t expected this glasses-clad, teddy-bear-looking man to have tattoos. “It’s true, by the way, he really doesn’t shut up about you.”

Gareth ran a hand down his face and you laughed softly, albeit slightly worried about would he could’ve said.

Both of his sisters approached you at once, the younger with messily braided pigtails, the older with a head full of crazier and more tightly coiled curls than both Gareth and his mother combined.

“You’re very pretty,” the younger one said, holding her arms out for a hug. You obliged her. “He said you were pretty. You are.”

“Thank you. So are you.” She smiled gratefully and looked up at her older sister expectantly.

The latter grinned just as kindly as all of the rest of them, holding out her hand, hoping you’d trust her and take it. “Are you any good at puzzles? Gareth sucks.”

“Hey! I do not.” You chuckled at their banter.

“He does,” she told you, attempting to whisper, before settling on the bench and doling you out some pieces.

The rest of the day went perfectly fine. You’d never felt more at home than you did with Gareth’s family. They welcomed you and loved you immediately and wanted to get to know the person who was making their boy so happy.

————

Your car was in the driveway when Gareth pulled up. He wasn’t sure why—he hadn’t asked you over today—not that he was totally upset by it.

He made his way down the hall to the kitchen where your familiar voice rang out.

You looked up at his entrance.

“Hi?” He questioned, tossing his keys on the counter.

He found both of his sisters and you bent over the kitchen table, spreading puzzle glue on yet another puzzle that you’d finished together.

“I know. They called with an invitation and a puzzle completion notice.” You turned to the sister on your left. “Here. If you move around a bit, the light catches and you can check for any spots missing glue. Sound good?” She nodded enthusiastically and you moved away.

Gareth pulled you in for a hug, mumbling a “Sorry,” under his breath.

“‘S okay, really. Also, apparently I’m going to a ballet recital tonight.” Gareth tossed his head back, laughing brilliantly at your situation.

He’d told you they’d love you, and they did. He just thought it was funny that now you had to go through all the things that he did.

But you didn’t mind. Not really. Not when it was your family too.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

Um actually, its called art.

made by me and @groupieformckagan

the patrick verona to eddie munson pipeline is SO real

I wish my book boyfriends were real 😭

I know a lot of you feel like Eddie would be automatically attracted to a fellow metal head or even the overly gorgeous cheerleader type… but for some reason, in my mind, I see him drawn to a soft, warm smiled, ultimate girl next door hippie type. A Stevie Nicks type, if you will. Fashion stuck in the 70s, probably hand me downs from her mother and sometimes her father (let’s be honest, men’s fashion back then was amazing). Turquoise jewelry a stark contrast against the metal chains Eddie wears.

Of course, she’d have to be a music lover too. But maybe their taste is different, but still similar enough to have a connection over it. Like maybe her repertoire expanded from Bob Dylan, to Roberta Flack, to Carole King, to Eagles, to Simon & Garfunkel, to Aerosmith, to Skid Row. I see her as an admirer of all music, maybe even a fellow musician herself, wanting to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Stevie Nicks.

Like their entire relationship is a total personification of the song Leather and Lace.

It. Just. Makes. Sense. To. Me.

“The gang want the traumas of that world to die with them.”

UGGHH on the hecking floor

in rockstar!eddie-verse I know the CIA & shit was heavily involved in the coverup of hawkins & eddie’s past there but do you think eddie would ever open up to reader about everything that went down later in their relationship 👀

maybe it’s always been this guessing game between them about the scars on eddie’s torso where he always teasingly replies with an off the wall answer in which she always rolls her eyes in response to while waving him off

good question! i think i've maybe mentioned it and hinted at it throughout the fics but yes reader 100% knows!

**an added note: honestly i hope this doesn't spoil it but probably more than anything i'll ever write, reader's personality is v much shamelessly based on me so more or less her approach is my approach sorry

Y/N never asks about Eddie's scars because just looking at them she instinctively knows this isn't from a standard accident. As she gets to know the gang more and more, it's undeniable there is something huge that bonds them beyond friendship and she recognises not too dissimilar scars on Steve. By the time they move in together November 89, they've been together ten months and without having to discuss it particularly, they know they're going to spend the rest of their lives together. Eddie explains it all to her by December with the gangs permission.

Eddie can live with the scars since meeting y/n before she even knew their meaning she would delicately kiss them every night. Nowadays they've faded well and are mostly covered by tattoos. The biggest across his chest has yours and your daughters names covering it.

Their kids don't know and unless something happens again with the Upside Down, they'll never know. The gang want the traumas of that world to die with them. Never wanting anyone to continue to be haunted by what they know.

i am gonna close my requests for rockstar eddie x reader so i can launch my new series! it won't be forever but get your requests in now before i close em tomorrow!!

My Aesthetic is Napoleon riding a horse into the wedding

If you want more about Jonathan's Music taste, it's here

there’s a lotta unrealistic shit about stranger things but i think jonathan not knowing siouxsie sioux is the worst thing