Never change, Dustin Henderson . @tvserie-s-world - Tumblr Blog

the longest goodbye

chapter seven from the little mess you made.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x singlemom!reader (modern au) word count: 4.8k

summary: the days leading up to eddie's departure are filled with a familiarity the rockstar has never allowed himself to experience. now, he wants nothing more than to live this life forever, with wayne, with his kid, with you. but how can he, when (as egotistical as this may sound) the world won't let him?

chapter cw: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, forced proximity, mutual pining / yearning, fluffy angst, emotional hurt / comfort, navigating family dynamics, adult language, mentions of cyber bullying, mentions of food / eating — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

Quite The Family Man: Mini Munson Uncovered

Hollywood’s Best Kept Secret: Who Is Eddie Munson’s Baby Mama?

Hidden From The Limelight: The Real Story of Eddie Munson’s Secret Love Child

T-minus FOUR DAYS

With Messer still under the weather, Julie offers to cover your sessions at the studio today. It’s not a problem for her, she says, Steve is away on a business trip and she could do with being out of the house, instead of waiting for him like a love-sick housewife.

“Are you sure?” You double check. “It’s gonna be a madhouse out there, with the news cycle being what it currently is.”

“Steve hired security. Don’t worry about me and stay home, honestly.”

Although, as she proposes this over the phone, you can sense an unspoken motivation. An ulterior motive, of sorts, and you can’t help but love the girl a little bit more for urging you to stay home.

“Spend time with him,” Julie practically orders, tone as light as ever. And by him, she doesn’t mean your sick toddler.

Eddie is leaving in four days.

Sad eyes fight off a pout as he relays this information to you. The breakfast he’s just cooked for you softens the blow, but you still have to force yourself to seem unaffected by this news because Eddie doesn’t need another person in his life willing him in a separate direction. What the rockstar needs is someone who’ll support his decisions and no matter how much it bruises your heart, you aim to be that person for him.

You tell him that he’d better make the most of his time here and that he’s always welcome back. Things you’ve told him before, but this time around, they unintentionally hold a lot more weight. Blocks on a weighing scale. The number flickers up, up, and up, and you have to redirect the conversation before tears swell in your eyes under the load.

Yesterday afternoon, the two of you organised Messer’s clothes. Not the most entertaining activity, but Eddie’s the one who put this idea forward, so who were you to decline? You’ve been meaning to get around to this task anyway. An item on your never ending to-do list and you’re glad to have the help, while it’s still available. If sorting through jumpers, socks, and trousers, creating piles of keep or donate, is how Eddie wants to spend one of his last few days in Hawkins, let it be.

This morning, you catch the rockstar sorting through his own suitcase.

The office door is open. You don’t mean to peek, really. Hanging up Julie’s call, you want to make Messer some light breakfast and thought to also ask his dad. Eddie’s hands are on his hips as he analyses the clothes he’s brought, but he looks up almost immediately when he senses your presence lingering by the door.

“Packing already?” The question scrapes your throat, difficult to ask because you know his answer already — an inevitable yes.

“Trying to organise what I’ll need and what can stay,” he elaborates. “You know, for when I come back.”

You nod and even though your heart patters against your ribcage at the thought of Eddie returning to Hawkins more often than before, a lever pulls the notion through your insides, sinking the happy feeling since in order for him to come back, he first has to leave.

“How about something to eat?” You propose, hand on your hip. “Now, I’ll not be presenting you with some gourmet shit like a Croque Madame, but I can whip up scrambled eggs.”

Eddie laughs lightly. “Thanks, sugar. I’ll be right there.”

And so you cook, and the rockstar joins (as promised). He helps without being asked to, while the two of you talk about everything other than his impending departure.

Wayne brings in Messer after you call for breakfast and the four of you sit at the table, the toddler opting for Eddie’s lap as if he knows more than he’s been told. You look at the young boy, then your gaze traces upwards, settling on the rockstar’s content expression, as he instinctively pulls Messer closer.

It feels light, airy. Exactly like the last thirty days.

Taking a sip of your coffee, a feeling of a profound sense of rightness settles over you. This quiet morning, this family you’ve found (and created).

Eddie’s got the same thing on his mind.

Experiencing this feeling of belonging is a kind of happiness he hadn't known he's been missing. Knowing this won’t last, well, it fucking sucks.

The eldest Munson glances between the other adults sitting at the table, then his gaze settles on the young boy currently comfortable in his nephew’s lap. His dinosaur pyjamas, the ruffles in his brown hair. He’s got boogers leaking out of his button nose, which Eddie wipes with a precision one could only describe as overly fatherly and Wayne’s heart aches a little too. Now that you all finally have each other… Well, let’s just say that no one here should be exiled from this family, even if it’s only temporary.

“What are you gonna do about your team, son?” Wayne asks Eddie, a forkful of scrambled eggs making way between his moustache.

Eddie sighs. “I’m not sure yet. I gotta confront them first, I think. Confirm if my suspicions are correct, you know? I don’t wanna act too harshly in case I’m wrong.”

“Your gut hasn’t failed you before,” Wayne points out, glancing in your direction, a sly smirk circling his mouth.

The rockstar follows his uncle’s gaze and his cheeks burn instantly at the wordless insinuation. Wayne’s grin grows, then the eldest Munson shakes his head, smiling into the mug of coffee in his grasp. Luckily, you’re oblivious of their silent exchange, buttering a piece of toast for your toddler.

“Small bites, please.” Messer requests and you nod, obliging.

Later that evening, after you put the snotty toddler to bed, you find Eddie on the sofa, scribbling in his notebook. He looks up when you walk in and slides to the side, making space.

“Wayne’s gone to the bar,” the rockstar informs as you make yourself comfortable, throwing a fleece blanket over your legs.

Eddie shuffles closer, one hand reaching for the material and lifting it over his own limbs. His socked feet brush against yours, accidentally on purpose, although he pretends it’s not the latter and focuses on the paper in front of him

“He should be back before midnight.”

“We should go out too,” you suggest, reaching for the television remote. “Not tonight, obviously. Before you have to leave.”

The screen flickers on. Mindlessly, you scroll through the channels as he continues to write something in secret.

“Yeah, that'd be nice.”

“Jeez.” You scoff lightheartedly, and shove into his shoulder. “Don’t sound too excited, B-lister. Are you scared to be seen with me now that I’ve been ousted as your baby mama?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and once again, looks up from his notebook to meet your happy expression.

“No,” he deadpans. “Aren’t you scared though? Of being blasted in the press for being seen with me? Your name is already being mentioned more than I’d like it to be. Have you seen what people are saying? Sugar, it’s not all roses out there. People are quite brutal.”

You shrug, even though you’re scared shitless.

Luckily, your socials are private, but that’s not stopped the crazy fans from trying to get to you. An influx of follower requests, comments under Julie’s public account because they have somehow figured out how the blonde fits into your life, along with increased activity on the yoga studio site.

‘Why her and not me’, seems to be the general trend. Followed by, of course, some depressing thoughts people have about your appearance. ‘You can do so much better, Eddie!’

Overall, even though it hurts to witness, you’ll take all the trash talk if it means Messer’s name is being kept out of it. Which — aside from the first round of stories — no one seems to care about the toddler. People are far more invested in the rockstar’s relationship with you.

Heck, if only you held the answers.

“I know leaving out of the blue is shit, but I’ll be back. I do plan to be back sooner, rather than later, and we can go out to the bar then. The noise of all this will have died down and no one will care.”

“Are you embarrassed by me?” You ask, sitting straighter and facing him fully. The thought has never crossed your mind before, but it’s not out of the ordinary to wonder.

“What? Fuck, no!” Eddie sits up too, dropping the writing items in his grasp.

He shakes his head wildly and because his hair has grown over the last month, brown locks bounce around his face.

“I’d proudly parade you on my arm every damn day of the week,” he says with much conviction, then adds, “If you’d let me.”

And you want to believe him. You do believe him.

“I just don’t want your life to change too much because people are fucking nuts when it comes to me.”

You take his hand and squeeze earnestly, briefly looking at your interlocked fingers before your eyes catch his again.

This whole thing is so fucked. Back then, in New York, the two of you were riding a high of possibilities because you could afford to drop everything, fit into his crazy life. Now, there’s a kid you share, a life you’ve set up for yourself that’s far removed from his reality, and these facts alone prove he’s right. Being seen with Eddie Munson, even if only in a friendly setting, would do more harm than good.

“Steve will protect me,” you tease softly, hoping to ease the sudden tension.

For a split second, Eddie grips your fingers tighter, chocolate buttons staring you down, before he lets go and pinches the inside of your arm. You squeal at first, then after swatting his hand away, you lean forward in retaliation. He’s faster, dodges your attempt, and pulls you into him by the wrists.

A strong arm lands around your shoulder, holding you close. You start to laugh against his chest. The rockstar joins, chuckles vibrating through the sofa.

When you eventually glance upwards, his eyes are already on you. They’re filled with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine, a light that makes your heart skip a beat.

Eventually, you realise this position you’re in, so close to his face, is less than ideal. At any given moment, he could close the gap, mouth on yours. At any given moment, you could do the same. Which is exactly the opposite of what your current situation needs.

So, you push yourself off the man, albeit reluctantly, and sit back, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your now shaky hands. Eddie clears his throat, also adjusting himself and facing the flickering TV. He runs a hand through his messy hair, shaking it slightly, and with the willpower of a man who knows better than to fuck with a good (fragile) thing, he reaches for the remote.

T-minus THREE DAYS

“I wanna show you something.”

The request is simple and Eddie nods, quickly glancing at Messer. The colourful magnetic strips in his little hands form a roof, which he places carefully on top of a tower — finishing off a rainbow castle that’s taken the two Munson boys all morning to build.

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” The rockstar says.

“Okay.”

Standing, he playfully ruffles the toddler’s hair before turning to look at you. There’s an adoring smile on your face and his heart swells, as it always does when you’re sporting the beautiful expression.

“Hurry!” Messer calls out without looking away from the blocks in front of him and you stifle a giggle while Eddie turns his head back, saying he promises.

Out of earshot, he jokes about the kid getting his bossy attitude from you. In return, he gets a gentle elbow to the ribcage before you lead him away and into… your bedroom?

The rockstar straightens. What could you possibly want to show him in the privacy of your own room? The only four walls he’s not seen within this house he bought, out of respect for your privacy, and now you’re willingly opening the door, allowing safe passage.

His eyes bounce around the space. Wallpaper covers the walls, beige in colour with a pattern of various sized trees and tigers. There is a four poster bed in the middle, dark wood and matching bedside tables on each side — although, only one of them holds a lamp. Eddie assumes that’s your preferred spot. There’s a built-in wardrobe to the side (painted white to blend with the wallpaper), a tall gold mirror resting next to it, and a set of drawers in a shade not dissimilar to the bed frame but Eddie can tell it’s not part of the set. Because it’s his. From the trailer.

E.M. carved into the top drawer.

He stares at his initials, on top of which used to lay a set of DND player handbooks, random CD’s, his weed box, and a framed picture of his mom. He took the drugs and the photo when he left, the rest he instructed Wayne to pack up when this house was bought. Never did Eddie think his uncle would also take the dresser.

His gaze floats up, analysing. There’s only a collection of different coloured frames and your beloved Pentax. The pictures are mainly of Messer, at different stages of his young life, but they’re not what catch the rockstar’s attention.

Among the cluster is a loose photo. A printed mirror selfie. You, phone covering your face, white robe around your body. Standing closely behind, with a tight grip on your waist, is the rockstar himself, bare chest and boxer briefs. He’s looking into the lens through the glass, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

Eddie remembers this captured moment. Frozen in time, his memory, and here before his eyes, in picture. He had just suggested taking a shower together. You agreed without hesitation. Eager, happy. The bathroom was perfectly lit, as you pointed out, and without thinking much of it, the rockstar suggested taking a photo.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll leak it?” You asked, although you’d never do such a thing.

His hands travelled to your face, gently cupping your cheeks, and he said something he’s perhaps never said to anyone before (aside from Wayne): “I trust you, sugar.”

Eddie wants to know how long you’ve had this picture printed. From the beginning, or only recently, after he’s come knocking. He doesn’t get to ask, however. With a quiet, “Look at this,” you’re pulling his attention away from the selfie.

He quickly runs his fingers through his hair, trying to compose himself, before he turns fully and focuses on what you’re asking. There’s an A4 piece of paper in your grasp, a drawing of some sort. Eddie scans the stick figures, eyes widening, then looks up at you for confirmation.

“It’s you.”

Glancing back down at the scribbles, he’s even more overwhelmed than seconds prior. A finger lands in his field of vision and you begin to talk him through what he’s seeing.

“That’s you. That’s Messer. There’s our house and, what I can only assume, is a fire-breathing dragon from those stories you tell him.”

“When did he… How did you…”

Words fail the brunette, but lucky for him, you somehow seem to be able to read his mind because you flip the page to reveal a note. The date in the corner suggests it was drawn on his last day in preschool, before all hell broke loose, and in the centre, bringing tears to his eyes, is a simple sentence in adult handwriting: Me and My Dad.

“I found it this morning, after I rang the preschool to let them know Messer will be staying home for a little while. Naturally, they were sympathetic to our situation and just asked for us to do the daily activities in his workbook, so he doesn’t fall overly behind.”

Eddie re-reads the note over and over. Eventually, he looks up at you, a deep sigh of disbelief escaping his mouth.

“This was in the workbook,” you say. “I usually check his stuff daily, but since he came home sick and then the news broke, it skipped my mind.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie exhales, because it’s all he can do.

“Yeah,” you agree in an equally hushed tone.

“Did you tell him?” The rockstar wonders, but you shake your head, only asking him the same question. He didn’t either, and he says so. Although, the drawing indicates that Messer knows the truth. How?

The two of you ask the toddler minutes later.

Still engrossed in building, he doesn’t look away from the magnetic tiles in his little hands. He sticks, unsticks, attaches them to the castle. You sit on the floor next to him while Eddie takes the spot on the other side of the colourful construction, waiting patiently for Messer to answer the pending question.

“Sometimes, you cry.” Messer says. “Sad my dad isn’t here.”

“Lovey—” Instinctively, you want to protest.

He continues, “But now, you don’t cry. You’re happy.”

Tipping your head to the side, bringing your eyes to his level, you catch his youthful gaze and offer a kind smile. This fucking kid. Wise beyond his years and how lucky are you to get to be with him every damn day? Listen to his mind, his imagination. See him experience the world for the first time.

You remember the first time Messer asked where his dad was. The overwhelming grief that came after you did your best to explain around the situation. He’s working, he loves you. He’ll be back. You didn’t know if anything you told your kid would ring true, but you always had hope.

Gently, you reach out to cup his cheek. “That’s right, lovey. I am happy. I have a lot to be happy about,” you say, voice soft.

“Because my dad is here.”

The statement hangs in the air, simple and undoubtedly true. Exhaling slowly, a choked sound leaves your lips and you glance up from Messer to the man in question, his eyes already on you. There’s a thoughtful expression on the rockstar’s face and you feel your cheeks warm, even more when he averts his gaze, attention now on this whip-smart kid you share.

“That’s right, bud.” Eddie says, tone thick with emotion as he reaches over the castle to ruffle the toddler’s already messy curls. “I’m here.”

Messer giggles, leaning into his dad’s touch. He looks between the two of you, smile growing, as if he’d figured out the greatest secret in the world (which he kind of did), until his face glows with unadulterated joy.

“I knew it.”

And with that, the toddler returns to playing, like nothing’s happened. As if he didn’t just glue your family back together with pure faith. He instructs you to pass him a yellow triangle, then asks his dad to start on another tower. The two of you oblige, eyes locking over the build. There’s a grin on Eddie’s face that’s grander than any you’ve ever seen him present and for a few solid seconds, you stare at one another, smiling.

The life Eddie always thought wasn’t for him tastes better than he ever could have imagined and he’d be damned to let it slip away in exchange for glory.

Fuck glory. Fuck fame. There is no doubt in the rockstar’s mind that this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. With his little boy. With the woman who created this home, his home.

The woman he’s falling in love with.

T-minus TWO DAYS

Smith Lyne (dickhead): Edward. Call me back. What do you mean you’re not going? Eddie: exactly what you think, man Eddie: staying here Smith Lyne (dickhead): The rest of the band is counting on you. Eddie: the guys will understand Smith Lyne (dickhead): Edward. You have certain obligations to consider. Eddie: yeah, right here Eddie: the kid you didn’t tell me about Smith Lyne (dickhead): Is this really about the child, or about his mom?

The rockstar’s phone vibrates in his grasp, Smithie’s name gracing the screen once again. He lets out an exasperated sigh, trying to control the annoyance seething through his veins, and eventually slides the green tab.

“Edward,” his agent calls through the other line. “Even you’re not this guy. Selfish and stupid. What about the backstage staff, the venues? That's the jobs of average Americans you have to think about.”

“Smithie, man, I—”

“What about the fans, Edward?” Smithie interrupts. “They’ve been waiting long enough for the tour to pick back up. Your break was always going to be temporary. It’s time.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Eddie stands his ground, free hand rubbing into his temple. “And I’m also not taking any blame for this shit. You’re the one who kept me in the dark about the kid, then you’re the one who leaked the information.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Right, whatever.” Even though no one can see, the rockstar rolls his eyes. “You unleashed a fucking tornado on people that didn’t deserve it. My people. I won’t fuck off, leave them on their own to deal with shit they shouldn’t have to deal with.”

“Be serious for a minute. Nobody here sold the story to the press, okay?” Smithie’s tone is stern, but Eddie’s been working with the man long enough to detect the lie. “It’s unfortunate timing, but business is business and you, my friend, are needed in Los Angeles in two days. Where you should have been all along.”

Eddie freezes momentarily. “What are you sayin’?”

“I wouldn’t have ordered the break if I knew you’d go back to Slockens.”

“Hawkins,” the rockstar corrects (like he does every damn time his hometown is brought up).

“Yes, yes.” There’s shuffling on the other end of the line and Eddie can practically see his agent waving a hand around, dismissively. “I thought you’d stay in California.”

Eddie blinks, the realisation of what Smithie is admitting slowly settling in the air surrounding him.

“So, you knew he was here?”

“Who?”

“Fucking Bilbo Baggins,” the rockstar says, angry. “My fucking kid, Smithie! You knew, this entire time, that he’s been in Hawkins.”

Smithie sighs. “Well, it’s not like your uncle told you either.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Eddie is about to launch the phone across the room, then maybe yell at the top of his lungs to air out this frustration, when he hears a floorboard creak behind. Spinning on his heel, there you are. Half hidden by the office door, a tentative look on your face, and he can feel the calm wash over him in an instant.

“I’m gonna have to call you back, man.” Eddie says into the phone and before his agent can protest, the call ends.

Tentatively, you slide inside as he drops the device on top of the pull-out. You apologise for disturbing him, say you heard some yelling and wanted to make sure he was okay. That he didn’t feel alone.

His heart clenches in affection and pain, one as strong as the other. But he doesn’t want to talk about how he’s feeling, which he knows is the question playing on your lips. Frankly, he doesn’t want to talk at all.

So, Eddie crosses the small room with urgency.

His fingers land on your face with a gentle kind of force, and he makes you hold his darkening gaze, albeit only for a moment.

Words get caught in your throat because for a split-second, you think he’s going to kiss you. The notion passes when instead, Eddie’s hands adjust and he pulls you in for a hug.

The room is silent. His breathing, your breathing. No other sounds. You let your arms wander up his back, holding him close, as he holds your neck with one hand and grips your waist with the other. When your eyes flutter close, you feel suspended in an intense moment of calm. As does he.

“They’re not gonna let me stay,” Eddie mutters into your crown. “I-I don’t want to go, but I have no other choice.”

You nod against his chest. “Then you go.”

Pulling back, his thumb lands on your chin. He angles your face, catching your gaze, and does his best to smile. Although, the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What if you came with me?”

You balk and Eddie instantly sees the hesitation because he quickly continues, before you can officially deny.

“You and Messer, Wayne too if he wants. Travel and accommodation would be sorted, so you don’t have to worry financially. And, and, I’ll be close by in case the press gets out of hand, although we can put precautions in place with security. No one will have to know.”

Shaking your head, you free yourself from his grasp and take a few steps back.

“Eddie, I-I appreciate the gesture, but I have a job.”

“Yeah, one you can’t do now anyway because of me. Messer is home too since going to school is out of the question until this shit dies down. There’s nothing holding you here, for a little while, at least.”

You want to protest again, you really, really do, but he’s right. Everything the rockstar said rings true.

Earlier today, a difficult decision was made to temporarily close the yoga studio. Even with Steve’s hired henchman, the crowd is uncontrollable. Hoping to catch a glimpse of you, of Eddie. Julie doesn't feel safe.

Messer is being kept home, indefinitely, away from prying eyes because the preschool office called. There are concerns from other parents, fearing for their own kids being snapped in unwanted photos. Therefore, you spent the day trying to sort out a switch to home schooling.

Eddie is right, but that doesn’t mean taking him up on his sudden offer is a good idea.

“I can’t rip up Messer’s life anymore than it already is,” you say, and that’s also true. “He thought he’d get to go back to school, see his friends, whenever he fought off the flu. Now, God knows when he’ll be able to play with them again.”

Pausing, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to stop the quaver from starting, as Eddie saunters towards you once more. Slower this time, a tilt to his head and sympathy in the mahogany of his gaze.

“He needs to be here with whatever shroud of normality we have left, and I can’t go without him.”

“I understand,” Eddie says, placing his hands on your shoulders because he’s unable to stop himself. He needs to touch you. “Don’t worry your pretty head, sugar. It’s just an idea.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go and I’ll come back,” he states, trying to be reassuring. Trying to keep calm.

“You’ll go and you’ll come back,” you repeat. “And we’ll be here, waiting.”

Bopping his head slowly in agreement, his fingers move to hold you by the chin one more. The tip of his thumb barely touches your bottom lip, but it still sends a shockwave through your system. The sensation, the memory of what it’s like to be kissed by him.

And it’s such a bad idea to be thinking about this now. It is such a bad idea to want to give into those urges, if only for a little bit. Timing couldn’t be worse, for one. People are already speculating there’s something still here, between you and the rockstar, and it would be smarter to leave the game in a purely speculative space.

Although, there’s a nagging feeling inside of you. A truth that wants to escape by any means necessary, and what better time than when you’re on the verge of goodbye.

“Eddie,” you begin in a quiet voice, pupils bouncing between his own. “I have to be honest with you.”

“Should I be worried?” The rockstar asks, tone teasing. However, when your expression stays serious, his smile fades and his grip on you tightens.

“I don’t want to mess with your head, you know? Add more shit to your overflowing plate.”

“Okay…” He stretches the syllable. “Now, I’m definitely worried.”

You clear your throat.

“I like you.”

Three simple words, which frankly, you feel quite pathetic saying aloud. This isn’t middle school. You’re not a couple of kids, chasing each other around the playground. You’re grown adults who share a three-year-old, yet those three simple words perfectly describe how you feel about the man.

“I uh… I like you, Eddie, and that’s kinda scary.”

His eyes search yours and you think that you’ve completely fucked this up. You’re about to throw an apology in his face, tell him how, even though you mean it, he doesn’t have to say anything because there’s enough going on. You’re about to cry, actually. Overwhelmed with emotions.

However, you don’t get to do any of that because the rockstar dips his head, and with a sharp inhale of breath, his lips are on yours.

as always, thank you for reading! pls support your writers by commenting & reblogging <3

story masterlist

tagging some cool people that expressed interest (if you want to be removed, just let me know), and if anyone wants to be added- also let me know:

@tvserie-s-world @probablyin-bed @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @darknesseddiem @kellsck @althaiareads @streamafterlaughter @ali-r3n @ratsematary @alyisdead @kravitzwhore @aestheticsunflower19 @s1mp-4-ga11y @monstermunsonswife-blog @xingyuluvr @ari-joe @dearestro @spider-starry @vodkapetalz-blog @ilovetaquitosmmmm @angelbabyivy @cupidbloaterz @fishinsuits @thedoubleexposurephotography @thrashcam @kravitzwhore @maskofmirrors @taylorswiftsloverr @djodirt @reidsgubbler @wendyxox @obsessed-midwest-princess @mdurdenpitt @talknerdytome5391 @stitchlover324 @tigolebittiez @helsa3942 @lovehadlovelost @ggjhgg @scarlet-prey

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Never change, Dustin Henderson .