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viennakarma · 3 months

Text

Satisfaction [Part 2]

PART 2 OF SATISFACTION

Summary: Four times Lewis tried to apologize, and one time he didn't need to.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: female!reader, apologetic!Lewis (finally), physiotherapist!reader, a little bit of romance, Lewis is trying, reader is more forgiving than the author would be, cursing, a bit angsty, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! I had a writer's block specifically with this one. For everyone who sent me asks about it, I read everything, sorry if I didn't reply to all! Luckily, one dramatic anon sent me an ask saying they would graduate college with a doctorate before this came out, and it made me laugh out loud BUT it actually sparked something in my brain and I managed to write, lol. So, thanks, Dramatic Anon, I owe you one :D

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes (haven't had the time to proofread).

Find me on Twitter!

“Hey, Lewis! How are you doing?” Angela said as soon as she picked up his call, and Lewis held his breath before answering.

“Yeah, uh, I’m alright-”, he scratched his face nervously.

“I hope you’re not giving Y/N a hard time anymore, yeah?” Angela joked a little, her voice light.

“Oh. You know about that?”

“Yeah, I called her a few days ago to check in how’s the work and she mentioned you were not very receptive,” Angela said and Lewis noticed that, even saying that, you didn’t call him what he was. A complete prick. “And since she didn’t call again, I assumed things got better between you two.”

“Well, about that-” Lewis sighed, not knowing.

“What?” Angela paused, her voice suddenly serious again.

“She resigned. And it was entirely my fault.” He ripped the band-aid off.

“Lewis, what the actual fuck?!”

“I was awful to her. Way worse than I assume she told you. And before you call me every name under the sun, I need to contact her and apologize. Unfortunately, she blocked my number now, so if you can kindly let me know her address, so I can apologize.”

“You better fix this mess, Lewis.” Angela said before ending the call, as less than a minute later, a text popped up on his screen, your address. Which was in London, not very far from his own neighborhood.

Lewis sent flowers to your place with a small note apologizing and asking you to unblock him. When you didn’t answer and didn’t unblock him, he called the florist he had ordered to double check if you had received the flowers. You did. So you just didn’t want to talk to him. He kept sending a bouquet every day for the next three days. On the fourth day, as he was back home, he decided to go to your place himself.

He brought another bouquet, ringing the bell in your house. He rose the bouquet to cover his face, and he heard your voice, opening.

“Hi there, buddy! If I give you a hundred pounds, would you not bother bringing these flowers here? Just- throw them on the bin or something-” You stopped abruptly as the flowers lowered revealing not the young delivery man who’s been bringing flowers to your place every single day, but Lewis Hamilton himself.

“So you’re not even receiving the flowers?” He asked, sounding hurt.

“I got the first one, and I have no interest in anything that comes from you,” you managed to say, looking him straight in the eyes.

You looked exhausted, your hair was messy and your face lacked any makeup. But worse of all, you looked hurt and angry.

“Wait, let me just- let me apologize, I can explain even if it’s not-” He dropped the bouquet, pleading.

“Just fuck off, ok? You have not a single reason to be here today.”

“I was an ass to you and-”

“And now we’re nothing. We are just strangers, nothing more, nothing less. Fuck off!” You said and didn’t even give him a second before slamming the door on his face.

II.

So the flowers were a no.

And he wasn’t sure where to go from that, since he couldn’t come up with any other way to make you at least give him a chance to talk.

He was still trying to think of something when he crossed paths with Oscar Piastri during media day. Lewis stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the rookie driver munching on a little protein bar, the package showing it was the same as you had offered him weeks earlier.

“Hey, there, Oscar!” Lewis greeted him, “if you don’t mind me asking. Where did you get this?” He pointed to the little package in his hand.

“Oh, Lando’s new PT! She’s covering for Jon as he’ll be a few weeks on paternity leave.”

“Oh, is she here?”

“At McLaren, yes.”

Lewis nodded, going straight there, not bothering with explaining why he was there just walking in. He found you in a small room with Lando. You were guiding him through a stretching session with a silicone stretching. Lando was telling you something and you were laughing, a hand on his shoulder as Lando pulled his arms in and out.

“-no way you said that! Poor thing, she must have been scared!” You said, then you two laughed.

You were looking healthier than the last few times he had seen you. You looked like you had been sleeping well, and your hair was pretty, and you were wearing make up.

As Lewis approached, and you noticed his presence, you stopped laughing, face getting serious and focused on Lando.

“Oh, hey man!” Lando greeted him, smiley and unaware of the thing between you two.

“Hi. Y/N, can I talk to you? I just need one minute then I’ll leave you alone.”

You scoffed but didn’t look at him, and Lando looked from your face to Lewis’ confused with the tension suddenly so thick he would be able to cut it with a knife.

“Y/N, can you just-”

“You’re all good, Lando. Tomorrow we do another session an hour before Free Practice, and then a stretching session between FP1 and FP2.”

Lando nodded, unsure of what to do so he just watched as you turned away and packed your bag, leaving with long strides through the door.

“Mate, I don’t know what the fuck you did, because I’ve never seen her be mean ever since I met her. Good luck, though, seems like you need it.” Lando said, leaving to the opposite side.

Lewis muttered “fuck” before going after you. He found you outside the motorhome, and ran up to block your path, but he miscalculated and you ended up running straight into him.

“What the fuck? Dude, just leave me alone!” You tried walking past him but he blocked you again.

“Please, I’m so sorry! Really, I am, I was such a dick to you and you didn’t deserve any of that.”

You didn’t look at his eyes, adjusting your bag as you sighed.

“I just- I don’t understand why you are doing this. I’m no one, I’m nothing. Just go on about your life.”

“No, no- You’re not nothing. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you when all you offered me was kindness.”

“Fine! Ok.” you muttered, seemingly exhausted, “Can I go now?”

He knew you didn’t actually forgive him, so he just let you go because he didn’t want to pressure you into something you were visibly not ready for. It didn’t mean he would give up, just that he needed a different approach.

III.

Lewis managed to find out that you’d stay a few more weeks working with Lando, so he arranged a well crafted plan to have you listen to him.

Desperate times asked for desperate measures.

So he managed to talk Lando into letting him drive you to the track that weekend, you two would have time to talk on the drive. He waited behind the wheel watching as you went to the backseat to leave your bags, then you opened the passenger door, smiling and chatting. But you stopped smiling as soon as you sat down and noticed him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, sounding more annoyed than angry.

“I’m your ride to the track today.”

“I’d rather not,” you muttered, removing the seat belt you had just put on.

“There’s no one else to take you there, please, just let us go,” he asked softly. You sighed, putting on the seat belt again and he smiled reaching the cup holder and offering you a cup of coffee, “got you a coffee.”

“Thanks,” you took it begrudgingly, but as you took a sip, you noticed it was your favorite, “how do you know I like this coffee?”

“You told me, during one of our sessions.”

“I thought you weren’t listening to a single word I said,” you scoffed, almost disdainful. He took it, because taking your anger was little compared to what he did to you.

“I listened to you.”

“Weird way of showing, then.”

You stared at the road he was softly driving. You didn’t like his company, that much was clear, but he was on a mission, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to properly apologize.

“I don’t even know why you treated me like trash,” you muttered suddenly, sniffling like you were trying to contain the tears, “just- I was so happy, you know? I’ve always been a fan of Formula 1, watched it growing up and everything. Then I get here all happy to achieve the greatest dream and I just get treated like shit from day one. I tried to be funny, I tried to be kind, I tried to be silent, and none of it worked. I don’t understand what you want from me now! I’m a person too, ok? I get sad and frustrated, and I have my own problems, but I don’t go around making everyone else’s lives shit just because I’m mad!”

“Yes, you are right. I treated you like shit when you never deserved it. I really regret it, for what it's worth,” He sighed, looking at you for a moment before focusing on the road, “my life was shit. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I was just coming out of a relationship that I thought meant a lot to me, and I just lost Angela, who is one of my closest friends, and I was on the verge of losing my seat. It felt like everything was going wrong for a few weeks.”

That made you pause, turning to stare at him.

“What do you mean, losing your seat?” You sounded genuinely curious, and even a little worried.

“The negotiations for a new contract weren’t going ahead, and I was really worried Mercedes was going to get rid of me.”

“But you’re like- one of the GOATs! Why would they lose you?” Now you sounded exasperated, like you couldn't believe that.

“Well, now everything is alright and signed, but it felt like I was really at risk back then.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, mulling over his words, trying to wrap your head around his excuses. You were thoughtful the rest of the drive, until Lewis pulled up in a parking lot at the track. Finally, you nodded to yourself.

“I forgive you, Lewis. Just- Don’t do that to anyone ever again, it’s not cool,” you said, unlocking the seat belt, “thank you for the ride and for the effort in apologizing. Goodbye, Lewis.”

You took your bags from the backseat and left after waving at him again. It felt like a closed chapter to you, and you could bury whatever resentment you felt towards him. It was freeing in a way.

IV.

Lewis didn’t see you for a couple more race weeks, despite casually walking in front of McLaren’s garage and hospitality. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you and he genuinely worried that your last goodbye was definitive.

Fortunately he saw you again late at night after a race. Almost everyone had left already, and Lewis had a long debriefing meeting with his team, so it was sheer luck to find you on the way to the parking lot, where you were standing against the wall, hugging yourself under a big coat and holding your bags. You seem worried and unwell.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t ecstatic to see you again, “are you ok?”

“Yeah, um- I missed my ride back to the hotel, so I’m trying for an uber or something,” you said, but Lewis unnoticed how you were pale and your lips looked dry.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look like you’re about to pass out.” He pointed, and you breathed in, slowly. You felt very, very cold, with shivers up your body that you miserably trying to contain.

“I’ve got a little fever,” you mentioned, finally. Lewis raised his hand and touched your forehead, feeling it way more warm than a little fever.

“Little fever? You’re burning!” He exclaimed, putting his own Mercedes coat over you, then taking your bags and putting them over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“You don’t have to, really-”

“I’m not leaving you here in the late hours of the night while having a fever! Now, come on!”

He held your forearm, worried you’d stumble and fall or something. With a big umbrella to face the rain, he guided you to his car, where a driver was waiting. The two of you sat on the backseat as Lewis instructed the driver to take you to the hotel.

“Should we take you to see a doctor or something?” Lewis asked.

“No, don’t worry, I already took an antipyretic. It should work soon.”

Back in the hotel, Lewis accompanied you up to your room even when you wanted to refuse, but he said he was worried, and it felt honest, so you let him take you up. He didn’t let you say anything as he pushed the door of your room and walked you inside.

“Are you still feeling cold?” He asked.

“Yes,” you put your bags away, but you watched as Lewis went into your luggage, “um- excuse me?” you crossed your arms, annoyed at him going through your things.

“Change into this, it will keep you warm,” he tossed you a sweater and matching pants, “I’ll ask room service for soup, so you can warm up.”

Huffing, you went into the bathroom and changed, glad because you were in fact a little bit warmer. You wore socks for the cold and got into bed, where Lewis helped tuck you in, pulling the duvet tight around you.

“Why are you doing all this? We’re just strangers, Lewis.” You shook your head, watching as he walked around the bed and sat beside you over the duvet.

“We’re not strangers, and I wanted to help,” he shrugged.

“We are strangers, we know nothing about each other,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m Lewis, my favorite color is purple and I have a dog named Roscoe,” he said which made you chuckle a little, “there, not strangers anymore.”

“Well, I’m Y/N, my favorite color is yellow and I don’t have a pet yet, but hopefully soon.”

Lewis eyed you carefully.

“I know you’re with McLaren on a temporary contract, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to come back to Mercedes after that,” he said, slowly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I won’t go back, Lewis.” You said softly, for him to know you weren’t angry anymore, but the world had spun, life went on…

“But- Ellie said you were such a big fan! It’s ok if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I’ll understand. But I don’t think it’s fair that you lose your chance in such a big dream because of an asshole like me!”

“There are always other dreams to have, Lewis. When a door closes, others may open,” you untucked your arm so you could hold his arm in comfort. He held your hand, and when he felt your cold hand, he rubbed it softly, to warm you up.

“It’s not fair-”

“Lewis, I’m moving to Madrid in a few weeks.”

He stopped, visibly deflated hearing your words.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve never-”

“Lewis, it’s not because of you,” you pushed the duvet, freeing yourself so you could sit up beside him, backs to the headboard, “I got an amazing offer from Real Madrid. I’m gonna join their PT team.”

“Oh.”

His stomach dropped once again, thinking that life would lead you two different paths, new future, new plans, and Lewis won’t even be able to make it up to you through time as he was hoping for. Lewis expected that, with you coming back to Mercedes, he would have time to apologize with actions, more than just words.

“They’re my favorite football team, and I’ve always dreamed of getting there,” when you noticed how down he was with the news of your departure, you pressed his hand a bit more, “I told you there are many dreams to achieve.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if I hadn’t been so-”

“That’s enough, Lewis, it has nothing to do with you. This is my choice, something that I also dreamed of. It’s not the end of the world. If anything, there are lessons in what we went through.”

He wanted to ask you to stay, to give him and the Mercedes dream one more chance, but he knew it would be selfish of him to ask that. And he wasn’t willing to be selfish with you anymore. He would only have maybe a few more weeks with you, that he intended to nurture a friendship with you.

When your soup arrived, he stayed and watched you eat, and you thanked him profusely as the meds started working and you felt the fever dissipating.

Lewis ended up going back to McLaren to find you all the time. Sometimes he brought a coffee for you, some other times he just wanted to invite you to lunch, or he wanted a protein bar, and after almost two weeks of that, his excuses ran dry and he only said he wanted to check on you. and he had been checking on you for a couple more weeks now.

“So…” Lando muttered with a knowing smirk, “you and Lewis, uh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, as you spotted Lando from behind, analyzing his squats.

“You went from hating him to becoming his friend pretty quickly,” Lando pointed.

“And…?”

“I don’t know but he’s here all the time to see you.”

“Nah, he’s just passing by.”

Lando let go of teasing you and switched topics to talk about something else for the remainder of your session. After you finished and Lando went for the post race debrief, you were getting ready to leave when Lewis found you again.

“What do you want?” You squinted your eyes at him. Lando’s teasing voice still in your head.

“Moody, are we?” Lewis joked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“Lewis.”

“Fine, fine! I’m taking you to dinner later today, ok?”

“Are you asking me out or demanding?” You frowned, pretending to be moody.

“I’m inviting you and implying I’m not taking no for an answer,” He winked.

“Lewis, I don’t think we-”

“Think of it as a farewell, celebratory dinner, yes? You’re leaving so soon to Madrid! Pretty please?” He joined both hands like he was begging.

“Fine. Stop pouting.” You rolled your eyes and he giggled, before leaving.

He texted you two hours later saying he was coming to pick you up. You dressed cozy and comfortable, since it was absolutely not a date. He texted you to let you know he was downstairs when you were finishing with your hair. As soon as you got in the car, you checked Lewis’ outfit.

“Is this ok?” You asked, pointing at yourself.

“It’s perfect.”

Lewis drove for forty minutes to the next town over. In the end, he took you to a cozy restaurant, small, a little cramped but so familial and cozy. You two sat in a corner booth, far from the windows. You went over the menu as Lewis explained that this place’s food tasted homemade and they also had vegan options, so he always went there whenever he was in that part of Italy.

You told Lewis everything about your move, how you had found a great apartment close to work, how you had enrolled in Spanish classes to start a month after your arrival, and everything.

After a hearty meal and chatting a lot, you two decided to go for a walk to eat some ice cream. The air was windy but not very cold, so you just walked side by side a little late at night.

“Are you sure nobody will see us?” You looked around to see if anyone had recognised him or had taken pictures.

“Yes, it’s very discreet in this part of town. Besides, it’s a little late, so not many people are around.”

“This is a very good gelato, Lewis! Thanks for taking me out today.” You muttered as the two of you walked around a big, dark park. You stood under a lamp post, finishing the last of your ice cream.

“How are you feeling about Madrid?” He asked you, looking interested.

“Nervous. Excited. I don’t know.” You whispered, smiling, you held the lamp post and let it take your weight as you flung around, all smiley because of the bit of wine you had at the restaurant, “It’s like a new adventure. You know when you’re about to do something that might be risky but gratifying? You’re scared but you have to-”

As you completed a full 360 around the lamp post, you were met with Lewis walking up to you and kissing you. He pressed his lips to yours, firm but tender, and it took you a while to assimilate what was happening. You held his coat and pushed him away only enough to break the kiss. The lime gelato kiss that had your stomach full of butterflies, and your heart beating almost out of its cage.

“Lewis-” you shook your head, still confused.

“Sorry, I- I just couldn’t pass on the opportunity,” he sighed and his breath fanned your cheek.

“We shouldn’t,”

“Why not?” He raised one hand to cradle your face, his thumb running your cheek.

“Because we started too messy. And- and I’m leaving soon. We don’t need to complicate things.”

You whispered, still not pulling away fully. You wanted it, so bad. But you knew you couldn’t get tangled in a messy situationship right before leaving. He was tempting, but you weren’t willing to risk whatever time was left of your silly little friendship.

So you took a step back. Still, you took his hand in yours, letting his warmth engulf you.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, but you just smiled at him, seeing how he was memorizing your face, and how your eyes were shining bright for him.

“It’s ok. Just, wrong place and wrong time, right?”

He gulped, nodding.

You didn’t kiss again, but Lewis held your hand the whole drive back to Monza.

Understandably, Lewis didn’t come back for your last week at McLaren. Despite being a little hurt about his absence, it didn’t really upset you, deep down you knew that it was better like this. The distance would make the goodbye easier for the man who wormed his way into your life. The whole team at McLaren gave you a farewell cake, which was sweet considering you were just a temporary hire.

You had tears in your eyes saying goodbye to the team and to the formula 1 track.

After that, you went back to London to finish packing, and shipping a few of your furniture and belongings. The dinner with your family and closest friends was filled with tears, and you finally caught up with Angela, explaining everything that had happened.

When the day came, your parents and siblings took you to the airport and you said goodbye with teary eyes and a heavy heart.

You were about to board when a sudden commotion caught your attention, and from between the crowd Lewis Hamilton emerged, running towards you as if he were in a marathon. Confused and shocked, you waited for him to get closer, and as soon as he stopped in front of you, he held your face with both hands and pulled you in a kiss. After two seconds, you returned the kiss, deepening it by opening your lips. He devoured you for a couple more seconds, before pulling away when you were both panting.

“Lewis? What the fuck?”

“This doesn’t have to be a goodbye, right? We can- I don’t know, we can figure it out,” He muttered, face close to you.

“Lewis,” you hesitated, “I’m moving away. We’ll spend most of out time in different time zones-”

“Wouldn’t you like to try? It’s better to try than spend our lives haunted by what ifs” His argument was convincing. And the fact that he was just centimeters from your face, and the fact that you had just kissed and his cologne was divine… Very tempting.

“Lewis, the next time you cause a scene in front of an entire airport, I’m killing you,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more as the crowd dissipated of people boarding the plane.

“I wanted it to be memorable, like a romcom.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are. You’re lucky you’re handsome” You rolled your eyes, but Lewis could still see the big smile on your face, eyes glinting.

“Is that a yes to my question?”

“One date, Hamilton. And we’ll see where it will go from that” You smiled, pushing his chest, taking a step back.

“I’m going to Madrid as soon as the triple header is over,” He promised, pulling you close again by the waist.

“You better! I don’t know, maybe I will meet a handsome Spaniard,” You joked, playing hard to get. You closed the distance so you could whisper in his ear, “You better work if you want any prize, pretty boy.”

He gasped at your seductive words, and you pushed him away. He smiled at you. Pulling one of his necklaces, he put it around your neck, a pearl one, very beautiful. The airport called all the passengers for the flight.

“A promise. Yeah?” He said, holding the necklace softly.

“Yeah. See you soon?” You nodded.

“See you soon.”

He watched as you walked away, and before boarding, you turned around and blew him a kiss. He laughed, pretending it hit him right over his heart.

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#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #fic talk #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #formula one #formula 1

616 notes · View notes

generalllimaginesss · 4 months

Note

Can you do a part 2 of the finsta one with Nico where the reader lets someone scroll through it as part of their Christmas gift?

Like the whole team knows it’s a thing and no one has been able to find it because she blocked them and everyone is dying to see it. Maybe it’s her contribution to a white elephant gift exchange and everyone fights over it. But it’s not Nico who ends up with it and he’s like “but I’m the love of your life” and she’s like “yes and?”

I’m just imagining this finsta has an insane amount of followers and no one knows it’s Mrs. Cap running it. Like all the followers just think it’s run by a diehard fan who understands the sport. And whoever on the team wins the scrolling privileges from her phone dies dead when he sees the amount of followers

I feel like this went so much better in my head, but I couldn’t quite do it justice when I actually wrote it. I’m slowing down writing some just because the holiday season is chaotic and I don’t have as much time. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you thought of, but I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! Also, Merry Christmas❤️

••

It was a last minute get together, a few of the members of the team lingered in Jersey, some not making it home at all this year. Nico, being the lovely captain that he is, decided to have the few stragglers over for some games and drinks, enjoying the time together without the pressure of hockey lingering over them.

The group currently consisted of Hughes squared, Dougie, Timo, Toffoli, Bratt, Nico, and you, all gathered around the living room. The smell of cookies had infiltrated the room, wafting from the kitchen as a result of your afternoon baking session. Nico was responsible for the decorations and drinks, leaving the sweets and games in the hands of you.

Earlier you had made a group chat with everybody that was planning on coming, explaining the concept of a white elephant gift (gag gifts only edition) and preparing everybody that there would be a game of Cards Against Humanity.

So far Jack had opened a puck from Dougie that was signed, Dougie claiming that it was "priceless." Luke opened the gift that Nico had found at the thrift store, a sequin pillow with Danny DeVito's face on it. Timo opened Bratt's gift, a $25 gift card to Victoria's Secret, a gift that you were going to fight for. Luke's gift was unable to be wrapped properly, a sheet thrown over it instead. Nico picked his and discovered that it was a young palm tree. Dougie opened Jack's gift, a gift card that was specifically for OnlyFans. Bratt opened Toffoli's gift which consisted of an assortment of chocolate in a ziplock bag, the kicker that they were all unwrapped and mixed together. You had opened Timo's gift, a small box that contained Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

The last box wrapped was small, but wrapped with care, a small bow decorating the top of it. It was Toffoli's turn to open a gift, expecting something good since the last gift was obviously one from you. He pull the bow off and tore into the box, confusion coming across his face as he discovered an envelope labeled TOP SECRET. He cut his eyes at you, you urging him to open the envelope.

"You can't show anybody, Tyler. I mean it," You warned as he opened the envelope and read what was inside. His brows furrowed at first, not sure why the word "finsta" was on the inside, that is until it clicked with him.

"NO WAY," He yelled, the other boys looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I can't show you until everybody has had an opportunity to steal gifts," You explained, the other guys becoming increasingly impatient as they tried to figure out what it could be.

"What the hell did she put together?" Luke asked, trying to peer over Toffoli's shoulder to see what he had.

"Whoever ends up with my gift gets to spend 5 minutes on my finsta," Revealing what the top secret was caused a brief moment of chaos. Luke tried to jump on top of Tyler, but he overshot the distance and ended up face planting on the couch.

"Hey! You have to win it fair and square," You scolded the youngest Hughes.

"Oh, I will. You can bet your ass on that," He gave a warning look to Tyler as he regained his composure and returned to his seat beside Jesper.

"Ok, remember, there's only 2 steals. After the second steal the gift is dead and whoever has it wins it," As you explained the rules, eyeing the Victoria's Secret gift card, the stealing began.

You started it off by handing Timo back his gift, stealing the gift card you wanted.

"Ooh, Cap, you might get lucky with a new nighttime outfit with that gift card," Dougie teased, a pillow chucked at him shortly after caused a wave of laughter from everybody.

Jack was up next, stealing the finsta envelope immediately. He knew he wouldn't end up keeping it, but he had to get his hands on it somehow, even if it wasn't the actual account.

The gift immediately died the next turn, Luke snatching the paper from his brother.

"Give me that," He threw the Danny DeVito pillow at Jack.

The game continued until everybody had either kept their gift, or stolen something. The entire time everybody complained that they didn't end up with your finsta. Nico pouting the most.

"Babe, come on...I'm your boyfriend...the love of your life...your future husband. I think I deserve to see the account," He was trying to pull at your heart strings, but nothing would work. Not his puppy eyes, his pleads, or his hand that was dangerously high on your thigh, covered by a blanket, of course.

"Mhm...and?" Your eyes were filled with a playful banter, but your face was emotionless.

He rolled his eyes, tickling your sides to erupt laughter from you.

"Alright, I've waited long enough. Let me see it," Luke pointed to your phone, his hand motioning for you to hand it over.

You did as he said, but not before starting the timer.

He immediately took note of the username: @/hotforhischier causing his eyes to go wide and his laugh to rock his whole body. The shock didn't stop there, though.

"Holy shit, you have over 25,000 followers? What the hell? You've posted over 3,000 times, like do you even have a life?" He commented on everything he saw while all of the guys were inching closer and closer to him, trying to get a glance of the infamous account. Luke feigned a faint when he realized that you had a viral hockey account.

Nico stared at you the whole time, darkness clouding his eyes as he thought about ways he would get you to show him the account later.

Luke's laugh caught his attention, interrupting his eye contact with you.

"This post says 'The Devil's need to get their head out of their butt and realize that showing off doesn't win games. Somebody relay that message to Jack Hughes." Jack narrowed his eyes at you, not mad, but ready to get his revenge on you.

"There's a ton of thirst trap edits of Nico...a happy birthday post for Coach...SHE MADE A THIRST TRAP VIDEO OF ARBER XHEKAJ," He squealed as he flashed a smirk at Nico, "Damn, that is one good looking man."

Your cheeks were bloodshot. You didn't think he would take the time to watch the videos, but focus on the trash talk that you had posted.

“She calls Mercer ‘Raw Dawg,’” he chuckled.

“Luke, did you just say she made a thirst trap for Arber Xhekaj?” Nico asked, jealousy beginning to boil under his skin.

“Wanna see it?”

“NO! Your 5 minutes is up,” You tried to snatch your phone from him, but he stood up, holding it over his head as if playing a game of keep away.

“Luke Hughes, give me my phone,” You sent warning signs through your gaze, but he didn’t listen, tossing the device across the coffee table to Nico.

It was as if a magnet connected you to the phone, your body flinging itself wherever it went. You tried to climb onto Nico’s back, but he just shook you off.

“Hmm, ‘I’m no doctor, but I have this feeling that Nico feels good enough to come back. Should he really be missing this many games?’” You looked away as his eyebrows created wrinkles in his forehead as they raised.

“Thank God you’re not a doctor because I wasn’t good to go back sooner,” he pinched your side as he continued to scroll through.

“Jack she shits on you, Vanacek, and Schmid a lot,” he chuckled, still pushing you away, keeping you at an arms distance.

“Geez, what did I ever do to you?” A smile rose from Jack, one that was ready to tease you to no end.

“You keep up with the comments too….do these people have any idea who you are? Like you have a few fan accounts that you talk to almost every day!” Nico laughed.

“That’s enough,” You force yourself close enough to snatch it back.

“So what we all can gather from the finsta is that Y/N is the biggest supporter of the Devils and the biggest hater of Jack. I like her,” Luke leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back to sip the beer in the bottle that he was holding.

“I’m not a hater,” Trying to defend yourself was useless, all of the guys looking at you as if to point that out.

“She’s like Jekyll and Hyde,” Bratt pointed out, “To Mrs. Cap, also known as Jekyll and Hyde,” he raised his Old Fashioned to you, the others following with their drink.

“I hate you all,” You blushed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to expose your lie.

The night was long, most of the guys deciding to stay the night because of the amount of alcohol that coursed through their systems. You didn’t mind though, covering each of the sleeping bodies that littered the living room with a blanket before joining Nico in bed.

“You’re nicer than me…I was going to let them freeze,” he said as he snaked his arm around your waist. He pulled you back to lay down, getting in position to spoon you.

“They’re family, Neeks,” you hummed as he placed a kiss right under your ear.

“Mm, so what are you going to buy with that Victoria’s Secret gift card?”

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #i’m doing this because i have really bad writers block right now and can’t finish anything i start #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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queerofthedagger · 1 year

Text

you can leave (don't go far)

[Steddie; no warnings; ao3]

---

At the one-month mark of dating Steve, Eddie starts a list.

To the One Who Loves Him Next:

— 1. If you hurt him, I will find you and make you regret the day you were born this side of the dimension. Yes, this is a threat; no, you don’t need to understand it beyond: be good to him.

It isn’t a serious, sentimental reason that makes him start writing, is merely something born out of a little too much whiskey, band practice, and contemplation of Steve’s—everything, really.

It grows, though. For reasons that Eddie is aware of but tries not to think too much about, he does not tear the page out of his notebook the next morning, doesn’t cross out the words or burn them in the kitchen sink.

So this is how it starts; a threat of bodily harm because Eddie does not think he could bear ever seeing Steve hurt again. A message to a stranger because Eddie does not entirely trust himself to be the one who will make Steve happy for the rest of their days, no matter how badly he wants to.

---

— 2. He will always love Robin more than you (although in a different way). Accept this; it is a good thing.

The summer of ‘86 is dwindling, fall stretching its spindly fingers across the golden Indiana fields, and if anyone were to ask Eddie, he would say that things between him and Steve are good. Great, even, better than he had dared to hope for, back in summer when he had kissed Steve for the first time, half-certain that whatever Vecna and his bats had failed to accomplish, Steve would finish any second now.

He hadn’t; instead, he had kissed Eddie back as if it was the first breath of fresh air in years, and somehow, Eddie had been allowed to keep him. They don’t go shouting it from the rooftops, but their friends know. Wayne knows. The people who matter know, are happy for them if, perhaps, sometimes a little exasperated with their utter inability to keep their hands to themselves.

So when Robin appears on Eddie’s doorstep on one early September evening, the sky a riot of pink and orange behind her, he isn’t remotely prepared for anything but a friendly visit.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, and waits just about long enough for Eddie to sit down at the rickety kitchen table before she adds, “It’s about Steve. About both of you.”

“Did something happen, is he alright? I thought—“

“He’s fine,” Robin cuts in, an apology flashing in her sharp eyes before it’s all unyielding resolution again. “It’s getting serious between you two, right?”

Even with the reassurance, the dread settles in Eddie’s stomach, his fingers fiddling with his rings.

It is, though, the initial infatuation giving way to something solid. Something a little terrifying, if Eddie is honest, but worth it. So, so worth it.

“Yes,” he says, holds her eyes, still not sure what the purpose of this is. As much as he likes her, he doesn’t have whatever freaky intrinsic understanding she and Steve share. He’s fine with this, most days, but right now it feels like she knows something he does not, and he has never handled that feeling particularly well, so— “I don’t see how that is any of your business, though.”

He knows it’s a stupid thing to say the moment he does, not that it is of any use by then.

She smiles, somehow both mirthless and understanding. “Look, Eddie, I like you. You know that I like you, right?”

She actually waits until he offers her a jerky nod in response. He kind of wants to crawl out of his skin.

Finally sitting down across from him, she leans her elbows on the table; he has the distinct impression of being an insect pinned to a board.

“See, Steve is… He is serious about this, has been from the start. And while I wasn’t around when the entire thing with Nancy blew up, I still picked up a great many of the pieces. It’s taken some considerable time and effort, and as much as I love Steve, as much as I am willing to pick up his pieces, over and over, until the end of our days, I would prefer if he didn’t have to shatter in the first place.”

It isn’t exactly what Eddie expected, but now that the words lie on the table between them, he isn’t actually surprised.

He smiles, can’t help it. “Are you giving me a shovel talk, Buckley?”

Her posture doesn’t change, and neither does her expression. “Yes. I like you, as does everyone else, but I’m not above bribing El into making you disappear, no matter what baby Wheeler or Dusty-bun have to say about it. If you’re not serious about this, now is the time to get out with your pretty face intact. Last chance.”

Eddie thinks of the start of a list, still at the back of his notebook. Thinks of Steve’s tired eyes and the walls he builds, and how Eddie has been taking them down slowly, carefully, brick by brick. How Steve lets him. Thinks of how Steve touches him, fingertips dancing across skin with a gentleness that Eddie still isn’t sure he deserves, and how even among lingering suspicion and Hawkins’ cage and the suffocating need to get out, every single day with Steve is like finding true north.

He thinks of his fear and his uncertainty, of how a part of him still expects Steve to wake up one day and finally realize that Eddie isn’t worth all this, that he still wants the Winnebago and the six kids and the sticky-sweet picket-fence-life more than he wants Eddie’s chaos and Eddie’s music and all of Eddie’s stupid, annoying idiosyncrasies.

Thinks of fear and jumping and outrunning the past, of the fierce protectiveness in his heart that is also shining back at him from Robin’s eyes.

He smiles. “I can’t promise to never hurt him, Buckley, we both know that. But if I ever do it on purpose, you have full permission to get El to snap my neck and dump me in the quarry.”

He means it, too, is the thing. She keeps looking at him, the old kitchen clock ticking in the background, steady. Eventually, she gives him a sharp nod before her features soften back into familiarity.

“Good,” she says, and she’s already getting back up again while rummaging through the pockets of her jacket. “Here, you’ll need these even if Steve is too proud or stubborn or—well. You know.”

Moments later, he is alone again, with a list crammed onto a single sheet of paper in Robin’s looping hand. It is a careful, organized collection of: what triggers Steve’s migraines. What helps against Steve’s migraines. What helps after nightmares. Random things to avoid due to assorted trauma. What to do when he ties himself up in knots over the kids or his parents or any of the things he worries about too much.

It goes on, is, Eddie realizes, a complete run-down of every little piece of knowledge Robin has on how to take care of Steve.

Eddie has no doubt that she herself does not need it written down, that she has accumulated all these little pieces of information naturally because she is the one person that Steve has no hope of fooling.

Whatever misplaced strands of prickling jealousy had still been tangled around Eddie’s heart finally dissolve. He takes the list and adds it to the page in his notebook that has another one already started; just in case Robin ever has to make good on her promise.

---

— 3. He is the most self-sacrificing person you will ever meet, but he is also still a bitch at heart; don’t take it personally (in fact, sometimes it’s fun to encourage him, but don’t tell anyone).

See, the thing is, Eddie has never been particularly great at following instructions—probably would have had fewer troubles finishing school if rules came easily to him.

So when Steve goes down with a bad migraine, Eddie does not, in fact, do as Robin’s list tells him and leaves him alone.

Yes, sure, at this point, he can gracefully take his second place, can easily admit that she would know best, especially after those post-Starcourt days where migraines had been a far more regular occurrence, but—

But. Failure to deal with instructions aside, it also simply feels wrong; to heed the signs, stock up the kitchen, and leave Steve to his silent suffering.

So he pushes. He knows he shouldn’t but he does, asks, “Are you sure you’re alright, I can move the DnD session—“

He should know better even without Robin’s list, really, but then, Eddie has never claimed to be a smart man. Especially not when it comes to Steve.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Just a long shift and—“

“Oh come on, that’s bullshit,” Eddie snaps, stepping closer. He freezes when Steve steps back.

“It’s not bullshit, I’m fine. I don’t need you to hang around here whining that you missed nerd night—“

“—that’s not—“

“Not to mention that it’s not as if there is anything you could do. Last I checked, you had neither superpowers nor sudden mind-reading skills, so how about you let me decide whether I’m fine or not? I’m not one of your made-up damsels in distress, you do know that, right?”

Eddie watches as regret washes across Steve’s face instantly, but it only marginally lessens the sting of it. He grits his teeth and grabs his jacket from the kitchen chair.

“Fine, deal with it on your own then.”

“Fine,” Steve bites back; pain always makes him more bitchy, not that he lacks the skill on the best of days.

Eddie isn’t pissed enough to slam the door when he leaves, but it’s a close thing.

---

The little anger Eddie could muster up has drained away once he drops the kids back home that night. He is itching to check on Steve, to apologize, to convince him to let Eddie take care of him, damn his stubborn pride, but he doesn’t.

It takes almost two days until there is a knock on the door of the trailer, Steve looking washed-out and tired and, most of all, sheepish.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped—“

Eddie pulls him inside, kisses him lightly as soon as the door is closed. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “I should have known better.”

Steve’s brows furrow, even as he keeps leaning into Eddie, as if the mere prospect of stepping out of his space physically pains him. “You couldn’t have known that I turn into an asshole who snaps at his boyfriend when he wants to take care of me.”

Shrugging, Eddie kisses him again, stays close, nose brushing along Steve’s. “Call it an inkling; now come on, you can make it up to me by listening to the retelling of the absolute disaster that the session was.”

There is a moment where Steve keeps looking at him, eyes dark and serious and fingers digging a little more firmly into Eddie’s sides—as if he isn��t entirely sure that it can be this easy.

In the end, though, he nods, smiles a little. Follows Eddie into his room, already asking all the right questions, and Eddie vows right then and there that it will always, always be exactly that easy.

---

— 4. His parents are absent more often than not and his father is a bastard, but he will still miss his mother on her birthday. Don't try to distract him; if he trusts you with this, simply be grateful (muffins help; so does whiskey).

It isn’t on Robin’s list, so when early February rolls around and Eddie wakes to an empty bed, he doesn’t think anything of it, at first. Later, when he finds Steve staring into space in the kitchen, when the smile once Steve notices him is brittle around the edges, when Steve’s coffee goes cold and the house stays silent and the space between them seems to twist and grow, he thinks it’s another migraine.

He runs a careful hand down Steve’s arm, presses his mouth to his temple. “Want me to leave?”

Steve frowns, turning to look at Eddie. He seems as if he is about to say something but clothes his mouth again, fingers tangling in the front pocket of Eddie’s hoodie. “No, I just—stay?”

Perhaps the most devastating part of it is that he sounds uncertain about it, the hesitation in his voice settling like pins and needles beneath Eddie’s skin.

He steps closer, watches Steve’s face for the dismissal that never comes, and loosely wraps his arms around him. “Of course,” he finally says, exhaling carefully when Steve’s forehead comes to rest against his collarbone.

It’s a gamble, to ask, but Eddie’s always been willing to risk too much when it came to Steve. “Want to talk about it?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t answer, long enough that Eddie accepts that he won’t actually get one.

The light shifts in the kitchen, the February days still short and tentative. Eventually, Steve huffs, though, as if he is annoyed with himself. “It’s my mom’s birthday. She’s… Back when I was a kid, we used to spend the day baking and watching stupid movies and—I mean we haven’t done this in ages, it’s not like it matters but—“

“Of course, it matters,” Eddie says, with more vehemence than he means to. “Sorry but—if it matters to you, it matters. There’s no use in beating yourself up over it.”

Steve grimaces, toying with the loose threads on Eddie’s hoodie. “Yes well, I’d like it to not matter, though.”

Humming, Eddie looks through the dimly lit kitchen, this quiet sanctuary that isn’t really theirs, at the end of the day. “Let’s override it, then.”

“Literally what are you—“

“We’re going to bake something. Or well, you tell me what to do and do most of the work while I look pretty and snack on the dough. We’ll make something simple, and then we’ll watch a bunch of stupid movies you can pick and—“

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I want to, though. If you do, anyway—we can do something else if you’d like. Anything but go hiking, that is, you’re not getting me to—“

He’s cut off when Steve kisses him, hard enough that Eddie staggers a little with the force of it.

It’s good, though; they make muffins that Eddie drowns in frosting and sprinkles, watch enough Monty Python to make Eddie’s brain leak out of his ears, and fall asleep on the couch once the sugar high fades, afternoon melting into evening.

If Eddie opens Robin’s list back up the next day to make sure he doesn’t forget to make a tradition out of it, if it ends up on two lists because for all the love threatening to crack his ribcage open, Eddie still does not trust himself regardless, not fully, not enough, well—

Then that is no one’s business but his own, is it?

---

— 5. Always, always put him first; he deserves someone to do that, for once. I am too selfish to give him up and too selfish to not ask for more than everything, so if I do have to let him go one day, you'll better make it worth it.

“Are you really sure about this?”

It is the umpteenth time that Eddie asks this, and Steve merely rolls his eyes. Leans over the open door of the Beemer to kiss him once, still not bothering to answer.

It’s sweet, the way it all has been sweet; the pipe dreams of getting out of Hawkins, the even bigger pipe dreams of large cities and small gigs for the band. Eddie’s future has always been one big pipe dream, and then came Steve Harrington, determined to spin them into something real and solid.

Because of course, he does; he is the most self-sacrificing person Eddie knows, and no matter how often he asks—what about you, your six kids and the Winnebago and all those sugary dreams that should be far more attainable than whatever Eddie dares to hope for—Steve always smiles. Always kisses him, easy, and says that it’s fine. That he’s happy wherever Eddie and Robin go, and isn’t it lucky, how they seem to agree, for once in their lives, that San Francisco is a good choice.

Perhaps the worst thing, Eddie thinks as he drops into the car stuffed with what little they own, is that he believes him, too.

He presses his fingers to the warm skin of Steve’s neck when they drive past Hawkins’ exit sign for the final time, and he prays and prays and prays that one day, he can make it up to him.

---

The plan was never for Steve to come across the list, at any point.

More than once, Eddie had been this close to throwing it away, to scoffing at himself and his sentimentality, his fear, the way he sometimes still looks at Steve, sun-kissed and happy, and cannot believe that he is allowed to keep this. That he won’t fuck this up.

He never does, though, always stares at the points, the few there are, and thinks that if one day he does have to let Steve go, he wants—

Well, it’s complicated. No one will ever see that list, least of all whoever Steve will love that isn’t Eddie.

Eddie will know that it exists, though, that he wrote it and what it says. He’ll remember the time that he wished Steve happiness even if it wasn’t with him. He cannot allow himself to forget this, even if—if—despite his trying and holding on and all this overwhelming, aching, solid love, the most important thing in his life does implode, one day.

Which is, of course, why Steve has to find the list eventually. He has a knack for it, Eddie likes to joke, to always get into the places he should stay far away from, find the things he is not supposed to see, without any fault of his own.

It’s particularly stupid because it’s Eddie who throws him the notebook, meaning to show him some notes for a campaign for when the kids visit.

In his defense, he does have a lot of notebooks. He really should have thought of it anyway, though.

He doesn’t notice that anything is off for at least five minutes either, still thumbing through the Monster Manual and keeping up a steady stream of commentary.

It’s only when Steve fails to laugh at one of those really dumb jokes that he never fails to laugh at that Eddie finally looks up.

There is nothing particularly obvious about the sight; Steve sitting on their couch, brows furrowed, random black notebook lying on the coffee table in front of him. Somehow, Eddie knows, though.

He has the dumbest urge to snatch the notebook away. To claim that it isn’t like that, tear out the page and burn it in the ashtray, pretend it never existed in the first place.

Instead, he keeps very, very still. It is the first time in a long time that he has no idea how Steve is going to react to something, isn’t sure at all whether he will get a stupid joke and teasing for being a sap, or hurt for thinking that they won’t last, or—

He doesn’t know, is the thing, and it makes him itch with the urge to do something. Anything.

In the end, though, Steve merely closes the notebook carefully and looks up. His expression is soft, a little exasperated, and anything Eddie might have wanted to say tangles and sticks and stays in his throat.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, voice quiet. He gets up and walks over to where Eddie is sitting at their desk, wrapping his arms around him from behind.

“But you love me?” Eddie can’t help but ask, leaning his head back until he can look at Steve, upside down and still obnoxiously pretty.

Steve huffs, and presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s mouth, his nose, his forehead. “But I love you and, for what it’s worth, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie says, and he thinks all the love and the warmth and the tenderness must show on his face because Steve kisses him again, again and again until Eddie’s neck hurts and his lips are bruised.

Which, really, if he had known that this was the reaction he’d get, he would have shoved the list at Steve ages ago.

---

Eddie thinks that is the end of it, the gentle teasing Steve levels at him about his attempt to be threatening notwithstanding.

He isn’t even sure when Steve does it, but one day Eddie opens the godforsaken notebook again and finds a loose scrap of paper tucked between his and Robin’s list.

To the One Who Loves Him Next (Steve ’s Version):

Learn to love his music and the campaigns he writes; you don’t have to become either metalhead or nerd, but if you do not love his enthusiasm, I know someone with a wicked aim.

He gets nightmares, and he will not tell you what they are about. Even if you knew why he had them, it wouldn’t change anything; just be there, make sure there is always a small light on somewhere, and if all else fails, reading from the Lord of the Rings helps.

He is a package deal; even if I have to lose him, he has a family that loves and needs him, and neither you nor I will be the reason that he has to go without them. We also share joint custody of a bunch of really annoying kids; be nice to them or see the point about someone with a mean aim.

Defend him; he will pretend that the vitriol doesn't get to him, but he deserves better, anyway.

If you hurt him—run. I'm probably just waiting for an excuse to try and win a fight against you.

“I think if we asked Robin about it, she would tell us that threatening bodily harm to possible future partners falls into the more concerning areas of codependency,” Steve says from the doorway. “But to be honest, I really don’t care; I think it’s sweet of us, actually.”

Eddie laughs, the sound a little wet. He skims the list again, then a third and a fourth time, before carefully setting it back into the notebook, and the notebook aside.

“Come here?” he asks, watching as Steve walks over to where Eddie is still sitting on the sofa, his heart like a war drum inside his chest.

He pulls Steve down to him as soon as he can reach him, and pours all the things he wants to say but doesn’t have the words for into the following kiss.

“For what it’s worth,” he says when they break apart, just far enough to lean their foreheads together, “I think it’s very sweet, too. Very poetic of us, even.”

Steve laughs, the low sound wrapping around Eddie’s bones. “Right? There's a very simple way to avoid that, after all.”

Eddie smiles, presses the curve of it against Steve’s jaw, and breathes him in. “Is there, now?”

“I simply have to make sure you’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

If anyone were to ask Eddie, that is an absolutely perfect solution; he bites his agreement into Steve’s soft mouth, makes a vow out of it, and marvels at the way Steve answers as if he understands it, too.

He’s simply not going to let go; after all, Eddie is exceptionally good at holding on.

#st #stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #mona's writing

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wardenparker · 8 months

Text

The King's Queen - chapter 4

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness/cancer, not the world's best father/son relationship, character death, parent death, hospital Summary: There is sad news to be delivered to the people and decisions to be made, but the one thing you can promise Javi is that you will be beside him while he makes them. Notes: Guys this is just...this is a really hard chapter, so we tried to keep it short and push through the topic respectfully. And, of course, gif choice has no reflection on the reader's physical appearance.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

You are a godsend and Javi is happy you are with him, unable to think of what might have happened if you had not been there for him as chaos and confusion swirls around you both. His brow furrows and he shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

"The doctors will tell us what happened." Javi had told you that his father did not have much time, but from his reaction you doubt this is what he meant. "Can you tell me what happened?"

“I do not really know.” It seems almost like a blur. “My father had a meeting, and I was walking beside him when he suddenly froze and started to gurgle before he fell out of his chair.”

"And you had not been doing anything strenuous this morning?" You don't believe that anything he could have been doing would have caused that reaction from his father, but the doctors will surely ask and you want to be able to tell them in case Javi is too upset. "Did he seem upset or not himself while you were looking at rings?"

Javier’s eyes close guiltily. “No— but….” He sighs heavily and opens watery eyes to find yours. “The ring is…special.”

"Special...to him?" Trying to figure out if the king may have been upset or under some kind of stress isn't simple – not when you would hazard to guess that he rarely shows any real emotions whatsoever.

“It was…the ring my mother wore.” Javier admits. “My father was pleased with the idea. But urged that you should pick your own band.”

"It doesn't sound like he was upset about the choice, or that it caused any tension." Although you do squeeze his hand a little tighter. "You...you really want me to wear your mother's ring?" Your own mother's engagement ring is in a safe somewhere meant to be passed to your brother's future wife, so the idea isn't strange to you at all. In fact, it's reassuring. It shows just how sure about the idea of the two of you together that he has become. He would never even think of giving you something of his mother's if he thought badly of you in any way.

“I would love it. It is special and I think that you would wear it well. Treasure it as I do.”

"I will." You can promise him that without hesitation, and you bring his hand up reflexively to leave a kiss on his knuckles. "It does not sound to me like he was upset by anything that happened this morning. The doctors will tell us what has happened, and we'll go from there."

“I’m not ready.” Javi admits quietly. “I thought I had more time. I need more time. I need to tell him things.” There had been a time where he had imagined his father would always be there.

The unfortunate reality is that he may not have time. There is a chance that today is the day the king dies, and you hate to be the one who is detached from the situation enough to actually have that thought clearly. “Think of what you want to say to him,” you encourage him instead, trying for optimism. “When he has had some rest, I’ll leave you and your father to talk.”

“Please stay.” His eyes turn towards you, soft and begging. “He— he approves of you. Never would have allowed my mother’s ring if he didn’t. Please.” His fingers tighten against yours. “I feel so alone.”

“Okay.” Your free hand comes up to him, cupping his cheek gently, and you nod. It seems like that feeling of childlike fear when a parent is sick doesn’t change even as you get older and it breaks your heart to see him so sad. “I’ll stay. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Javi. I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Javi sighs, shaking his head. “I know it seems ridiculous, but he has always been there. I had hoped the doctors were wrong. There could be some kind of miracle.”

“It isn’t ridiculous to have hope, or to love your father.” In fact, it’s fairly refreshing as political parent-and-child relationships go. “We’ll do this together. Whatever this ends up being.”

“It’s good you are here.” Javi had dreaded your appearance, but it seems like his mother had chosen perfectly when she had insisted that her friend’s daughter was perfect for him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." It's obvious to you, even after a day, that things have been difficult for him for a while now. It feels like a failing on your part, somehow, that you weren't here to be by his side much earlier.

“I do not know that you could have been.” Javi admits, looking down at your joined hands. “I don’t know if I would have been as accepting. But I am glad that I am.”

"I am glad, too. I wouldn't want to make your life more difficult than it already can be." There is quiet between you in the car for a moment as it speeds down the city streets. The hospital cannot be too far – the island simply isn't that large. "Your cousin is...forceful." You murmur, hating to break the silence with it but wanting to at least breach the topic in private.

“Hm?” Javi looks away from the road, his eyes fixed on the ambulance where his father is being transported.

"Lucas." You prompt quietly. "He seemed...very ready to take charge."

“He is always very eager to help.” Javier frowns slightly, the unease whenever he is brought up starting to make his stomach roll. He bites his lip and wonders what you thought of the man who had been deemed more worthy than he had been to marry Gabriela.

"Does he help you often?" It did not seem as though help had been first on his mind, but rather entirely railroading over Javi to take over the situation.

“He is more than willing to help, although my father normally assigns him tasks that take him away from the palace.” He tells you.

"I see." That seems like a deliberate choice, but you don't have enough information on the situation yet to determine more. Instead you squeeze Javi's hand gently. "Is it alright with you that I have chosen Gabriela to be one of my ladies? If it will make you uncomfortable, I fully understand. She just seems a very kind woman to me."

“She is a wonderful woman.” The bittersweet ache that normally occurs when he sees her or hears about her doesn’t come this time. “As long as you know our history and are okay with it, I do not see why you should deprive yourself of her company.”

"It's one of the reasons I chose her," you admit. "Because I know that she has been important to you and sometimes people like that are hard to find." There are plenty of women who would be worried that Javi might begin an affair or make her his mistress, but somehow you just can't see that as a possibility. He doesn't strike you as that kind of man to begin with – and if he is? Then he would find a way to take a mistress regardless of the situation. You would rather it happened with your knowledge and someone you know rather than as a trussed up little secret to end up in the papers.

He stares at you for a moment, unable to believe that you are so incredibly gracious. You will make an excellent queen, one that will be kind to his people and help him bring his country into a new era of health and prosperity. “Thank you.”

"I care about you very much," you tell him softly, already feeling the deep impulse to say more but knowing that this is not the time or place for such a confession. The car turns abruptly, following the ambulance around a curve and then tips downward as though it is going down into a tunnel. You have to assume that the emergency vehicle and your car are allowed under the hospital for security reasons and you're grateful that at least there will not be onlookers or cameras down here. "Whatever happens, I am right here," you remind him as the pulls to a stop.

Javi takes a deep breath and nods before he steps out of the car. His hand still in yours, he turns to help you out of the car and immediately turns to watch his father being rushed out of the ambulance.

"This way, your Highness." The guard that had been riding in the car with you is already following after the gurney and has a hand out to guide Javi alongside him. The look he spares you is polite but noncommittal, having seen the way you handled Prince Lucas at the palace. "His Majesty will be seen to immediately, but you will be able to wait in his room for news."

“Thank you.” Javier nods. “I want a media blackout in the hospital.” He tells the guard. “No news of my father’s condition is to get out until we know more.”

“Yes, your Highness.” The man immediately taps his watch to check a message, and you realize you have been wrong about this person’s job title. He wears a uniform, but a less elaborate one than the other guards and that seems to be for a reason. “I am ordering a blackout at the palace as well, until you are ready to deliver an official statement.” This must be the king’s personal assistant.

“Yes.” Javier nods, his jaw flexing slightly and his face suddenly a lot wearier than it had been. Weathered by the sudden onslaught of responsibility. “That would be best. Nothing is to come out until we have determined what our course is going forward.”

“Very good.” The man nods, continuing through the halls at the prince’s side until he glances again toward you as board an elevator together. “Your Highness, at the risk of being impertinent?”

“What is it, Julius?” Javier asks, frowning slightly. His father’s man has never been one to mince words and he knows that his father probably is more candid with him than Javier.

“The hospital officials will be reticent to speak in front of your guest,” he is doing his best to be polite, but this situation is slightly more important than basic manners would usual cover. “Do I have your permission to assure them she is to be treated as family?”

“Absolutely.” Javier turns towards you and asks permission silently. “Are you comfortable with that? I had— my plan was to formally propose tonight.” He admits quietly.

“I am perfectly okay with that. Formal proposal or otherwise, I’m not leaving your side.” You assure Javi, and nod to the man he has called Julius. “Whatever today holds, we will respond accordingly.”

“I was planning on making it special.” Javi murmurs sadly. “Having your favorite meal prepared and served out by the cliffs. Moonlight and fairy light proposal.” He chuckles. “One of my ancestors had a good sense of humor and there is a glass slipper in the royal collection. I was going to put the ring in the toe of the shoe.”

It sounds perfect, if you’re honest with yourself. Like a real life fairy tale. And you hate how defeated Javi looks over something so romantic. “It sounds utterly romantic. And we can still do all of that,” you promise him, voice soft and gentle to be reassuring. “A worrying day does not have to rule all of our decisions. And we can even decide to wait if you prefer.”

“I don’t know if that would be prudent.” Javi sighs, wishing that the king had not collapsed. “I am the next in line for the throne. My people need to see that I am strong enough to carry them.”

“You are strong enough, but I am here with you. And you know my answer.” It isn’t meant to be cruel or cold, and you squeeze his hand in yours as the elevator starts to slow. “If you had the ring with you, I would wear it immediately and we can have our romantic dinner as soon as timing allows.” It isn’t ideal. Not to either of you. But right now idealism matters much less than the reality of the situation.

His brow furrows a moment and it’s going against everything in his entire body to do it, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a surprisingly nondescript box. “I do have it.” He offers quietly. “Are you sure?”

“It may surprise you to hear it.” A glance to your left and you see Julius dedicatedly studying the elevator wall facing away from you. You turn a smile back to Javi and nod. “But I have no hesitations. Whatever hardships you face, I face them with you. Whatever joys we have, we have them together.” Years have come and gone where you had questioned if you had any ambition to be a princess. To be a queen. But the moment he smiled at you, the truth washed over you like a wave — your ambition is him. To be what he needs. And tonight or tomorrow or whenever he decides to formally ask the question, you’ll tell him then that you’ve started falling in love with him.

“I have had no question where my life was directed.” Javi admits. “Since my first breath, my path was determined and shaped for me. And even though you were also selected for me, I am surprised by how earnestly I look forward to our adventure together.” He smiles, not as brightly as the night before, but it is sincere. “That is what it will be. Our adventure.”

“I have always known it was an honour to be chosen,” you tell him honestly as he lifts the brilliant diamond ring from the small leather box. “But now that I have met you? I am excited for it.”

“I hope that you stay excited.” He hopes as he takes your left hand and starts to slide the ring onto your finger. “It will be difficult at times.”

"There are things worth fighting for." The heavy meaning of the ring isn't lost on you, but you watch him slide it into place with a feeling of deep, true pride. "I will always fight for you and at your side." The elevator stops almost as soon as you finish speaking, and Julius turns after softly clearing his throat. "God save the Princess of Mallorca," he intones seriously, though the smile on his lips belies him. He was listening to every word and he is glad to hear such honesty from you. "After you, your Highnesses."

It's nearly surreal, hearing 'the Princess of Mallorca' and for the first time, feeling as if this is his decision. He decided that the despite the personal termoil that is going on, he would go through with the plan that had been laid down. Modified of course, but the there was no hesitation on his part when he had time the think about it. "Get used to that." He warns you.

"For your father's sake, I hope to remain princess for a good long while." You promise him, but even in spite of that you can't help smiling slightly. Deliberately tangling your right hand in Javi's left means the ring on your left will be on display for anyone who catches sight of you ask the three of you walk swiftly down the corridor and maybe it's a little bit of that American 'image is everything' mentality that makes you think of it but that might not be a bad thing. Some things are symbols for a reason, and engagement rings are a very important symbol all on their own.

Javi smiles and applies the tiniest bit of pressure to your hand, although he doesn't think that will be the case. The very serious expression on the medical staff's faces was telling him more than anything else. They are all very concerned about the King. "You will be a beautiful princess." He promises.

"Your Highness." A tall man with shock-silver hair and a deliberately calm demeanor despite his solemn face approaches you and Javier with his arm outstretched. He is wearing a white coat with his name embroidered on it and a laminated badge that marks him as the head of the hospital's oncology team. "Your father is being examined. This way, please." There is medical staff and security everywhere, but no one speaks as you, Javi, and Julius are ushered into a room on the left side of the hallway. Once the older man shuts the door behind the four of you, a pinched if polite smile is the most he can manage. "I need to know everything you can remember about this morning and what happened when the king collapsed." The doctor asks, although it is urgent enough that it could almost be perceived as a demand. "Even the smallest clue may help us determine the course of his treatment."

Javier nods, frowning as he sits down. Starting to go through the entire morning slowly, mentioning every wince and shift of pain in the King's seated position in his chair. "He took his medication right before we left the royal safe." His frown deepens. "He does not like when anyone sees him take it. Even me, normally."

"He has the medication on his person?" The doctor has been listening attentively, nodding along with the prince's recounting of the morning activities. "We will put it safely with his things," he assures Javi when the younger man nods. "His physician is with the examination team. For now all I can tell you is that we are working to stabilize him."

"Does it— does it look dire?" Javi asks, almost afraid of the answer, but he also needs to know. "Do you think it was a heart attack? A stroke?"

"It does not appear to have been a stroke." The doctor pauses, clearly not wanting to deliver the news that the prince has asked for. "But it is very likely that it was a heart attack. A severe one."

Javier's eyes close and he sways slightly on his feet, absorbing the news and nodding after a moment. "If it was a heart attack, what are his chances?"

"We do not know yet." It would be impossible to guess, and this man is certainly not going to be the one to choose statistics out of thin air. Not when it is the king's life at stake. "We will do everything in our power to help him. But...it is probably best to be ready for unfortunate news."

As much as he doesn't want to hear it, Javier appreciates the candor of the comment. He reaches out and takes the doctor's hand and shakes it firmly. "Please." He asks, keeping his voice low so it doesn't break. "I know you will, but please do everything in your power."

"We will, your Highness." As solemn as the moment is, it is honest. And the doctor excuses himself from the room with a polite nod.

"Shit, shit, shit." Javi's head drops the moment the door closes and the three of you are alone. "It's— he's going to die."

"We don't know that." Immediately putting your arms around him, it's all you can do to rub his back gently and offer him a safe place to exist with however it is that he's feeling. "Heart attacks are not always fatal."

“The doctor did not seem very optimistic.” Javi sighs and looks towards Julius. “Did he?”

"I would say that he was cautious." Julius answers, not inclined to be very optimistic himself. "Your Highness, there are certain...protocols that should be observed. In the event of an emergency." While it is obvious that the prince does not wish to hear any of this, it is the man's job. "With your permission, I will have black clothing brought from the palace and retrieve the draft of the palace's formal statement that your father last signed off on, for you to make adjustments to as you see fit."

“Yes.” Javier nods solemnly and then looks to you. “Include a black outfit for the princess as well.” He instructs Julius. “If a statement will need to be made, I want it to be done from the palace. If the king is dying, I want him transported back. He should pass in his own bed.”

"Yes, your Highness." Julius nods in much the same way the doctor did before excusing himself from the room, already extracting a cell phone from the pocket of his suit.

“This is really happening.” Javi sags under the weight of it all and collapses down into a chair in the room. “He—” he can’t say the words and shakes his head, eyes closed and face pinched in pain.

"We're alone," you urge him quietly, glancing up at the door to make sure no one can see in and only seeing the back of Julius's suit guarding the entrance to the room. You immediately pull the second nearby chair up beside Javi and take up the soft circles you were rubbing on his back just a second ago. "Let it out. Now is the time." As far as you can tell, the next time the two of you leave this room, there is a chance that you may be bringing the king home to die. And if that is the case, you want Javi to have had a chance to vent his fears and frustrations in private.

The tears don’t come like he had thought they would, but he holds his head in his hands. “I should have more time.” He chokes out. “I need more time with him.”

"The doctors will find out what has made him worse." Certainly he looked ill last night at dinner, but not on the verge of collapsing. It is beyond you to know exactly what to say, but you hold on to him with everything you have and let him breathe as best he can.

“Sí.” Javier nods and is eternally grateful that you are here with him. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t, probably collapse into a pile of worry and fear. “They must. Few know of his condition as it is, but his doctor is here.”

You are used to waiting hours for news from medical staff even in the case of an emergency. This is not, apparently, how it works when you are royalty. Or perhaps when it is just this specific situation. When the door to the room where you are sitting with Javi reopens some half an hour later, Julius and the silver haired-doctor are accompanied by another man – a physician in scrubs who looks like he has just aged a decade in the last hour. “Your Highness.” The man bows his head deeply, regret and respect lying heavily on his shoulders.

Javi knows that his father is either gone, or there is no hope, just from the tone of the man’s voice. He stands and takes a moment to roll his shoulders back, taking a deep breath as he walks towards the trio. “Sí?”

“It was a blood clot that caused the heart attack.” Despite being almost twice the prince’s age, the man seems reticent to make eye contact, and it is no wonder. No physician ever relishes delivering news like this to a family. Least of all when your patient is the king. “We detected a second very near to his lungs.” He swallows, hands already wrung out with worry. “But the king’s heart is already failing. I—I am afraid I cannot even guarantee that he will make it back to the palace before he passes.”

“I see.” It’s a miracle that Javi didn’t fall to the floor at the news, perhaps he has already accepted the fact that his father was going to die today. “If the king cannot be transported, he should stay and be made as comfortable as possible.” Javi tells the doctor. “Is he awake? In pain? Does he know?”

“He is awake.” The royal physician nods solemnly. “And mostly aware. Though he has been given an appropriate dose of medication to manage his pain.” With a nod to the door, all three men bow their heads. “He has asked for you, your Highness.”

“Take me to him.” Javi turns back towards you and reaches out his hand for you to join him. He knows you will come, and that you will make the king happy when he sees the ring on your finger.

The group of you is formidable as it moves down the hallways, turning together down a long passage and coming to a stop at a doorway blocked by two uniformed palace guards. They instantly move out of the way for Javi and the door is opened, allowing your party inside. The king in a hospital bed is not a sight anyone relishes. He is pale and visibly weak but seems to be aware as he turns his head slightly to see his son walk into the room.

“Papa.” Javi rushes forward with you, not caring about royal protocol. He cares about spending the last moments with his dying father.

“Mijo.” The pain of breathing has been eased by medicine, but it lurks somewhere in the background like a knowing predator. “Let Julius help you. Papers in,” He breathes deeply and it is obvious how much effort it takes. “My desk.”

Javier nods, reaching out and taking his hand. “I will.” He promises him. “I will make sure everything is exactly how you would wish it.” He knows that he has long disappointed his father, but he won’t let him down now. He wants him to have peace in his last moments.

“Be careful—” Miguel coughs, the inelegant force of it shaking his body. “With trust.” It is not precisely what he means but the medicine makes out frustratingly difficult to think of the right word to use and he frowns slightly. “Choose one person to tell your secrets.”

Javier frowns slightly and nods. He’s already decided to trust you and motions behind him to beckon you closer. “Mamá was your confidant.” He knows that because she had told him so as a little boy. “I will choose my wife, my queen as well.” He takes your hand when you stand beside him and pulls it forward gently. “It is done, papá.” It doesn’t matter that he still needs to formally propose, he wants his father to know that he is taking his future role seriously.

“You.” The king looks up into your face with such utter seriousness that you stand stock still in the face of it. “You will not fail my son.” It is clear it is an order, but somehow there is an edge of fear in the thought, as if he simply has forgotten – or maybe never knew – how to plead.

“No.” Shaking your head, your other hand goes directly to Javi’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She has chosen her ladies-in-waiting.” Javi assures him. “She had chosen well, and will be well served for the crown and our people.” He smiles. “You have done well for me, father.”

“Stay.” Again the order seems like it might have once been a request, but the king has long forgotten how to make them. Instead he holds his son’s hand with what strength he has left and shakes with the effort of a breath. “Stay.”

“I am not leaving you, Papa.” Javier chokes out, tears swimming in his eyes. He’s not a doctor but he can tell that his father is about to draw his last breath. In just the last few moments his breath has become rattled and his skin taking on a waxy appearance. “Never. I am here.”

It will be recorded in King Miguel’s story that his last thoughts on this Earth were of his wife – the way he gasped her name before exhaling deeply one last time making you so utterly sure that he must have seen here there in front of him in the room even as he held Javi’s hand. Long silence in the space seems to have swallowed the hearts of every witness: the doctors present alongside Julius, yourself, and Javi all sharing a moment of contemplative grief in the room with the now deceased monarch.

Until Julius’s deep voice vibrates softly through the space. “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

Javier’s eyes close and he swims in his grief for a moment. Allowing himself to grieve his father, despite the monumental moment that is the beginning of his reign. “King Miguel rests. His reign is over.” He murmurs quietly, leaning in and kissing his father’s hand.

“God save the King.” Is a mighty sentence to be heard spoken by the men surrounding you, and you find yourself murmuring the words along with them like you have been swept up in the tide of the moment. It is as heartbreaking as it is groundbreaking, but you stand back and let Javi absorb it for himself for now.

Javi stands and lays his father’s hand over his chest. His shoulders roll back, and he straightens before he turns around. His eyes are still grief stricken, but his face is composed. “Handle his body with care.” He instructs the doctors, “thank you for your efforts in making him comfortable.” He tells the doctors before he steps closer to shake their hands.

The transformation is, sadly, one you think that his father would have been proud of. To see gentle, hopeful Javi feel the burden of the world on his shoulders only solidifies your resolve to be by his side. You listen as Javi gives his thanks and instructs again that the late king’s body be delivered to the palace with care.

“We will, your Majesty.” The doctor who had worked on the king nods and he slips out of the room to inform the discreet staff of the procedures.

Javi turns towards Julius. “My father’s statement, have someone bring it to me immediately. I wish to release the announcement within the hour.”

"If you would prefer to make the address from the palace, I will have your valet meet you with your change of clothes in your office." It is his now, as the office that once belonged to King Miguel has instantly become his son's. "I have an electronic version of the statement for you to read in the car, your Majesty." A few strokes of his fingers on his smartphone and the file is instantly sent to Javi's phone. That is all it takes these days. Julius had always had electronic copies of things kept at the ready even though the late king preferred paper.

“I believe that it would be fitting to have the address be from the office,” he agrees. “Have the mirrors covered with black drapes and find the official photograph from my father’s sapphire jubilee.” He orders Julius. “I will read the speech in the car and make any adjustments I see fit.”

"Yes, your Majesty." This transition may have come sooner than Julius had expected, but he is grateful to see that the prince's first steps as a king are outwardly smooth and confident – even if he does not feel it in himself yet. After a few keystrokes on his phone, no doubt sending directions to the staff at the palace to have things ready for the new king's arrival – the older man turns his head to you. "Flores has things ready for you on our arrival, your Highness. It would be prudent to report to your suite immediately, change, and be on hand for the king's address."

"Perfectly right." It is the thing that will benefit Javi the most, and that is what you're here for.

“Julius.” Javier turns towards the man who has advised his father for years in an unofficial capacity as his personal secretary. “I would like you to stay on in my staff.”

If he was expecting it or not, the small and nearly pleased small that graces the man's face temporarily is full of gratitude. Some new monarchs replace an entire palace staff in order to have things their own way. It seems the new king will not follow that path, and Julius nods deeply as you walk together. "It will be my honour, your Majesty."

Javi turns towards you, and takes your hand. “I do not want the joy of our announcement to detract from the nation’s mourning.” He explains quietly. “However, I want you there with me.”

"Perhaps having a new beginning to look forward to will ease the pain that comes with mourning." You hold onto his hand tightly, offering him the supportive smile that no one else around you can muster at the moment. "I'll be right beside you. I'm sure whatever Flores has picked out will be appropriate and I can be shown to your office immediately." Having promised him that he wouldn't have to do any of this alone, you intend to keep your word.

“Thank you.” His hand squeezes yours and he sends you a grateful smile. “This is not how I wished today to go, but I am grateful you are here with me.”

“Nothing is ever exactly as we plan it.” He is holding the hand is adorned with his mother’s ring, and the metal bites into both of your hands ever so slightly. Like the physical representation of the promise that binds you together. “But I would not be anywhere else.”

“I appreciate that.” Javi murmurs seriously, reaching up to cup your cheek gently. “Let us go prepare the country for bad news.”

******

The drive back to the palace is not quite as efficient as it was to the hospital, but when you return there is an air of questioning about nearly everything. Of course no one has been told much of anything beyond Flores and Javi’s valet having prepared mourning clothing, but you give his hand a squeeze in the hallway before you leave him to change your clothes. “I’ll be with you soon,” you promise, the look of solemn seriousness on both of your faces sure to alert some eagle-eyed staff to what is to come. “As quickly as I can be.”

“Take your time.” He insists. “Take a moment, I know it’s hard to deal with.”

“I’ll take a moment later, when we can take one together.” Your hand is on his cheek like his was on yours earlier, and you would kiss him if things were less public or less strained. But for now you swipe a bit of moisture away from his eye. “I will meet you in your office, and we will do this together.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly, showing his uneasy emotions to you for the first time since he has immediately become king. Unsure of why he has someone so amazing in his corner, it bolsters his confidence.

“You’re going to be wonderful, querido.” Something instinctive tells you that. A certainty you can’t name. “Go with Julius and change your clothes. Fix your speech. I’ll be back to you before you even remember I’ve gone.”

He nods once and turns on his heel to follow the man who is now his personal assistant through the wing to get to his rooms. Although he will be moved into the king’s chambers after the funeral.

As quickly as you can move down the hall to your suite without drawing attention to yourself, you’re eternally grateful to find Flores in your sitting room with your jewelry box when you come through the door. “We need to be quick,” you tell her, already unpinning the hat you had been wearing all day before now.

“Yes, your Highness.” She quickly takes the hat from your hand and moves to your dress and unzips it. There can be no modesty between you and your lady’s maid. “I have a Dutti black sheath dress laid out for you.” She explains. “They are a Spanish designer but have a design branch here in Mallorca.”

“I should not be surprised that things have already been acquired for me, should I?” No doubt the late king had your sizes on file and things ordered as soon as he sent for you. He was an efficient man and that was a virtue for him in his position. “Is it appropriate to work out of my own jewelry box for now? It’s not unlikely that the king will want me beside him when he makes his address, and I don’t know if having me in borrowed jewels right away would be seen as the appropriate choice or like an American is barging into the palace head first.”

“The piece from the royal family you are wearing will be very visible, but there is also a selection of jewelry that King Miguel, may he rest, had pulled to round out your welcome wardrobe.” She explains. “He had known you would pick your own style, but he had ordered that this be made available to you as a working example.”

“Flores, you’re invaluable.” As soon as your bright, floral sundress can be whisked away, her capable hands are directing you into a sleek black sheath dress that will hit just below your knees and make you look suitably official for your first appearance as the Princess of Mallorca.

Unlike other kingdoms, who might only have given you the title once you were married to Javi, here it is bestowed on the woman who is to be married to heir to the throne. There will be a small ceremony at some point – you have no idea when – where Javi sets a tiara on your head for the first time. And then you will be the Crowned Princess of Mallorca – the future wife of the king. It’s all based in medieval traditions and regulations, but since you have spent most of your lifetime making yourself aware of the traditions, at least you know what is coming.

“I think…before we get into the crowned jewels…there is something in my jewelry box I would prefer to wear.” Looking up at her in the mirror, the dress is immaculate but your eyes land on your maid’s face. “There is a little silver box that has a pair of pearl earrings and a matching bracelet. They were a birthday gift from the late king. It…would be nice to honor him that way.”

That would be perfect and the way Flores smiles and nods shows you that. “It would be most fitting, your Highness.” She agrees and moves towards the box that had been unpacked that contains your jewelry. “Shall we reset your hair or just your makeup?”

“Just makeup, I think.” The hat you had been wearing had the virtue of being small and not making much of an impact on the way she had styled your hair this morning. “I have no idea what the rest of the day will hold but it would be best to do something neutral, I think. Soft.”

“Yes.” She nods and gives you a small smile. “We will make you look both strong and soft. A welcomed haven for our King Javier.”

“He’s doing well so far.” For as few orders as he has had to give so far, he has been level-headed, reasonable, and gracious. “One of the most difficult days of his life and he has been nothing but kind to everyone around him.”

“He is a good man. A kind one.” Flores nods in approval. “Unlike some, he does not take the staff for granted or abuse them.”

"As long as we are on the topic." You have a feeling that you know precisely who she is talking about, and glance up at her again as you sit in the vanity chair for her to touch up your make up. "I know there hasn't been much time, but have the Countess and Dama Maisie been able to settle in?"

“They have, your highness.” She informs you with a small smile. “Unfortunately, the suite where the Count normally stays has been taken so he had decided to go back to his estate.”

"Oh, how unfortunate." But the knowing sparkle in each of your eyes when they meet in the mirror says otherwise. "I do hope the countess can be persuaded to find comfort and some relaxation without his presence."

“She seemed positively sublime when she was finished settling in and had a tea service sitting in front of her.” Flores giggles quietly.

"I am extremely glad to hear it." And really, you are. Whatever is happening with Gabriela and her husband, it cannot be allowed to get worse. A small shake of your head accompanies the thought and you reach for the earrings on the vanity in front of you while Flores attaches the bracelet to your wrist and hands you a soft, dusty rose shade of lipstick. "Shoes, and then I will be ready. Unless you see something out of place?"

“You look perfect, your Highness.” She tells you with a smile. “It is not the introduction I would wish for you to the country, but you will win their hearts with your respectful honor and kind heart.”

“I don’t think this is the introduction anyone wished for, but it’s the one we have so we must make the best of it.” That’s your mother talking, but you don’t mind it. Sometimes her voice comes through at the best of times.

There are a few extra touches, just to make sure that everything is perfect and then Flores steps back. “You are ready.” She announces with a nod of her head. “I shall walk you back towards the king’s office, unless you wish to go alone?”

"Between you and I?" You shake your head at yourself before smoothing your hand over the dress nervously. "I may get lost if you don't. It's a miracle I managed to find my own rooms on my own."

“It is confusing as first,” she agrees, quickly putting away the cosmetics and ushering you towards the door. “You will soon know it better than anywhere else you’ve lived.”

Setting off down the hall in all black does draw a bit of attention from those people who know who you are – but that number is still so slim that most of the palace staff still seems to considering you invisible. The five minute walk from the residential wing to the king's office is brisk, though, and the footman at the door is taking his job incredibly seriously today.

"The Princess of Mallorca." He announces in a somber and low tone, just as you walk past him.

Javier looks up from the speech and for a moment, he is breathless. You are dressed impeccably, not that he had any doubts that you would be. The dress is respectable and looks lovely on you. Standing, he motions you closer. “Come. I would like your opinion on the speech.”

"Of course." He has changed as well, as you knew he would. Gone are the linen shirt and loose pants that he had been wearing just twenty minutes ago and now he looks every inch a royal in a bespoke black suit. Even the square in his pocket is immaculate. Despite the tragic circumstances, he looks stunning.

He pulls out the seat for you, sitting you behind his father’s — his desk. “Please, give me your honest opinion.”

The page and a half long speech is eloquent, as you knew it would be, and concise. It addresses the handing over of power with clear love for the people. It assures of stability and continued progress. It even has a line deliberately mentioning the new king's intended which Javi has scratched at and edited in his own scribbling handwriting to include your name. It is very...official. And while that is not a bad thing, the bit of it with the most emotion seems to be the part that Javi has added in by himself. "You might make sure to mention that he passed peacefully," you suggest, indicating the paragraph where the late king's illness is mentioned. "It will give people comfort to know that he was not in pain or afraid at the end."

Javi nods seriously. “Yes, I will include that in the speech. Thank you.” Biting his lip, he looks around the office nervously. “Other than that, it sounds good?”

“Yes.” Your hand finds his on top of the desk and you repeat that gentle squeezing motion you’ve both become accustomed to so quickly. “It sounds very kingly. And comforting. The country may be shocked to learn of the loss but they should also feel like you have things under control, which is as close to perfect as we can hope for under the circumstances.”

As long as you believe in him, Javi feels like this might actually be possible. He’s not sure when you became such an important figure in his life, but it is clear that you are vital to his reign as king. “Then that is what we will go with.”

“Short and sweet, as we say in America.” You smile warmly, hoping to give him another moment of reassurance before Julius clears his throat politely.

“This will be an interruption of regular programming, sire, and it will be live. It will take only a few minutes to contact the news channels.”

“Okay.” Javier nods. “Make the calls. I want to be on the air in ten minutes.” He decides.

“Is there anything I can do besides be here?” Whatever he could ask, you already know you’ll do it. The deep initial connection between the two of you has been cemented in a way that no one could have guessed at but has so far made you nearly inseparable.

“Not that I am aware of.” Javi is grateful that you are so willing to jump in and do whatever is necessary. “Are you ready to become known as the Princess of Mallorca, officially?”

“I’ll do my very best to live up to the title.” Given that the last Princess of Mallorca was his mother, you don’t take the title or the responsibility lightly. “Perhaps tonight we can still enjoy a dinner together? Even if it isn’t as elaborate as what you had originally planned?” You know he’ll be exhausted emotionally and mentally after today, but the hope is to give him something to look forward to. A bright spot after a day that has held so much darkness.

“I think that would be nice.” Javi sighs softly. “It might be later than expected since I have to have a meeting with my cabinet and advisors.”

“You do what you need to do.” You promise him quietly. Julius is supervising the entrance of a woman with a television camera with the utmost seriousness and you wouldn’t want to distract him. “I still have an appointment to keep this afternoon and I have a few things to go over with Flores. When you’re ready for me, just call and I will be there.”

“Thank you.” Even though the woman is there, he’s leaning in to press a respectful kiss to your cheek, lingering slightly. “I hope you enjoy your appointment.”

"I think it will be significantly less nerve-wracking with Maisie and Gabriela there." Shifting away from his desk after you squeeze his hand tight in yours, you nod to the woman with the camera and Julius beckons you out of the way to stand by his side.

"If you would stay with me, your Highness," he murmurs quietly as the technician begins to set up the shot and speak to the king at his desk. "I believe it would do him well if he could see your face during the address. Sometimes the presence of the ones we love is all it takes to get through life's hardest trials."

Javi sits down behind the desk, fiddling slightly with his royal seal that is pinned to his suit jacket. He’s terrified that he will fail, but now the time has come that he cannot fail. The country is his to rule, the people his to care for.

A little fussing on the camera woman's part is all it takes, and the room is oddly full by the time the red light off to the right of Javi's desk begins blinking to signify the countdown to being on the air. A few members of the staff have filed in quietly behind where you and Julius are standing, silent as stagnant air but eager to witness this historic moment.

Once the light is solid, Javi begins to speak: “Today, I address you from the royal palace to bring you sober news.” He recites from the speech. “King Miguel has passed away peacefully this morning at eleven forty-three at the royal hospital following a medical event.”

The small group of people around you cross themselves or press their hands to their hearts. Even Julius nods his head. You never take your eyes off Javi, though, nodding to encourage him and breathing deliberately to remind him to do the same. The sort of things your mother used to do with your dad before campaign events.

“King Miguel led our country with compassion, wisdom and an infinite love for his people.” Javi praises. “His presence will be missed and our grief palpable as we move forward into a new time.”

He's doing so well. As far as you know it is the first televised speech Javi has ever made in his life and you give him a discreet thumbs up from behind the camera line.

“I understand that there will be worries about the future,” he personally shares those worries, but he can’t say that to the country. “Rest assured that the transfer of power had already been anticipated with the arrival of the Princess of Mallorca, future Queen.”

When he says your name you could not possibly stand any taller or feel any prouder. He had penned the words into the speech himself and the emotion behind them rings with intent, making your hand move to your chest with a very different feeling than everyone else in the room. Every end is also a beginning, and as devastating as that end may be for some, you cannot help but be excited for the beginning you and Javi face together.

“Tonight, we will remember King Miguel, celebrate his life and his reign over the people that he had dedicated his life in service to.” He looks into the camera solemnly and with a quiet pride. “He was a king, a leader, a diplomat, but he was also a man. A husband to his beloved wife and a father. The king took his last breathes with his wife on his mind.”

There is a shadow of a sniffle from behind you and one of the older members of the house staff crosses herself again. You can make out just the mouthing of a blessing from the corner of your eye. Queen Gloria was adored; you know that well.

“I will leave you with a message of hope and remembrance. Grief and joy. Mallorca is a strong nation and while we will remember King Miguel as one of the best monarchs of our illustrious history, the path forward will be forged on the service he has provided his people. Good day and God bless you all.” Javi signs off and holds the camera’s view until the red light goes dark.

You are the second to move, only stepping out from behind the camera when you see the woman operating it switch off the unit and look away from her monitor. "You did splendidly," you promise him, moving directly back to his side at the large mahogany desk.

His hand reaches for yours, for comfort and assurance. “Thank you. I was hoping that my voice was not wavering. I felt like I was about to cry.”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not wavering. You sounded moved, but not unsteady.” In fact, you smile at the honesty of the thought. “He would have been very proud.”

“You think?” He asks, his brows raised and his face nearly pleading with you to be serious. He still wants his father’s approval now, especially. He had left the care of an entire country in his hands. It was much more than a mere inheritance.

"I absolutely do." With no thought to the other people in the room, you bend down to leave a kiss on his cheek the way he did with you earlier. "That was a wonderful way to greet your people as their new king."

“I don’t feel like a king.” He admits with a rueful chuckle. “I thought there would be this moment where it just clicked, but there wasn’t.”

"Maybe there wasn't a time that you felt it." It is unexpectedly intimate, the way your fingers seems to develop a mind of their own and brush one tousled curl away from his forehead. "But the rest of us did." He had transformed almost instantly, and you had seen the different set of his shoulders and the way his head came up a little higher since then. "When you stood up from your father's bedside, every one of us in that room knew it had happened."

“My greatest fear is to let him…them—” he motions to the staff behind you and the rest of the kingdom. “Down.”

"That is not a bad fear to have, querido." You've settled into it. You like the little pet name for him and it seems as though he doesn't mind it either. "But we cannot let it make you too afraid to act. Be afraid, but do things anyway."

“You are very wise, margarita.” He murmurs, leaning into you for a moment and pressing his head to yours. “Very wise.”

“We both have things to do.” If you don’t remind yourself – and him – of that it would be all too easy to get wrapped up in each other. Instead you smile softly and let your hands linger on his arms for a second more. “But call for me and I’ll be there. Especially for our meal.”

“Sí.” He nods and would like to linger but Julius is giving him a discreet look. He needs to convene the council immediately. “I will see you later, Princess.”

Javi's day will be absorbed in policy and in ritual, but yours will be dizzying in a different way. Walking back to your suite, there is no mistaking the reaction that people have to you now. That broadcast went out to the entire country and as such the entire palace has been informed. King Javier I has stepped up to his responsibility and has announced the arrival of a new princess. You're met with bows and curtsies instead of disinterested looks, and the doors to your suite are opened for you a whole six feet before you could reach it yourself.

"Your Highness." Flores is beaming as she rushes towards you, her own station elevated by the news that you are the next queen of Mallorca, although she is more interested in your reaction. "How has the change been?" She asks. "Nearly instantaneous, sí?"

"Very much so." And as dizzying as that is, you are glad to see that Flores is only excited and nothing has changed here. Not in this room, at least. "How long do we have until the dressmaker arrives?"

"They will be here in ten minutes." She checks her watch. "Would you like to change into something else, or greet the dressmaker in your current outfit?"

"This will be fine." There is no need to change a third time only to have to essentially undress to be measured and fitted for new clothing. "Perhaps it would be prudent to have the Contessa and Dama Maisie brought in before her arrival?" You glance at the clock on the mantle across the sitting room and bite your lip when you look back to Flores. "And maybe a tray? I know teatime isn't exactly Spanish but we have all missed lunch due to the commotion."

"I can have a light fare brought in for you and your ladies, as well as the designer?" She asks. "Tapas?" She knows that today is a trying one for you and she wishes to make sure that you have everything you need.

"That would be wonderful." You have seen already how invaluable Flores is going to be to helping you navigate your way through things, but she seems to prove it continually. "I am..." You sigh, floundering as you look for the word, and ending up with just a shake of your head. "Scattered. I am scattered, I think." Without Javi to focus on, the threads of your concentration seem to just slip away like waves from the shore.

“You are not scattered.” She shakes her head and frowns at you. “You must select a personal assistant.” She reminds you. “Someone to keep your schedule for you and coordinate your needs.”

"I wish my brother was here," you admit quietly. "He would be able to manage everything beautifully." Despite your father's insistence that Sebastian would be a Senator just like him one day, you know your older brother. He is a far better hand behind the curtain than the man standing in front of it.

“The Princess can ask anyone to join her team.” Flores hums. “If your brother was willing, I know that there would be no reason to deny him. Although it is a very…personal position. Even keeping track of your menstrual cycle.”

For a second you almost ask why that would be necessary, but you swallow the question when you remember that royal heirs are a necessary part of the job. Because what you have isn't just a job. It is an entire life that is dedicated to an entire country. And just as Javi can't let them down, neither can you. "He has had to take care of worse," you acknowledge with a half-laugh. "I'm going to call him." The decision is instant, and you even feel a little lighter for it. "Would you be kind enough to see to a tray and have my ladies join me in a few minutes?"

“Sí, su alteza.” Flores nods and curtsies before she starts to hurry out of the room. She will make sure that the tapas will be enough to fuel you through the day and give you a selection of the chef’s specialties.

Taking a deep breath, you dig your cell phone out of the purse that you had left sitting on your vanity from this morning, and sit down in the beautifully crafted chair to select your brother's contact information and hit Send. As a staffer in your father's office you know he's busy, but hopefully not too busy to take a phone call. After all, two in the afternoon in Mallorca is 8 a.m. in New York City. He probably hasn't even left for the office yet.

“Hello?” He rattles off his name and title since he uses his cell phone for more business than anything else.

"Hey." You relax instantly at the sound of his voice. It's so easy to picture him standing in the living room of the apartment you shared until just two days ago, mixing his coffee. If you strain, you can even hear the spoon in his travel mug. "It's me."

“Hey!” His voice ticks up and he immediately stops to think about the time difference between him and you. “How is it going? The prince? Is he a jerk? Do you want to come home? I’ll hide you from dad and the whole Balearic Island kingdom.”

"Actually?" You sigh a little at the question. "He's a dream. Manners, romance, and insanely attractive to boot. I—" There's no use beating around the bush, and you don't really have time for it anyway. "Seb, his father died today. Barely two hours ago, actually."

“Oh god.” He’s not without compassion and he hums sympathetically. “I am so sorry. I— it hasn’t broken over here yet.”

"Javi just announced it on the air about twenty minutes ago." You're used to being close to a news cycle, but this is the first time you've ever been directly a part of a breaking story. "So, um...your sister is officially a princess... No doubt Dad will be annoyed that I told you first instead of him."

“What he doesn’t know.” Sebastian practically rolls his eyes through the phone.

Both of you laugh softly, knowing how true it is, and you nod against your phone. "I have a weird question for you, Seb."

“How weird could it possibly be?” He snorts. “You are in a modern day arranged marriage and it seems to be making you happy.”

"The thing is..." He's right, again, and you're glad for the little reprieve in what has been an otherwise stressful day. "There's a lot going on here. As I'm sure you can imagine. It's a lot to manage and my lady's maid is amazing but there are some things that are just...outside of her wheelhouse." For as composed as you have been with nearly everything else today, you are sitting at the vanity biting your lip as you tilt your head back and close your eyes. "I need to hire a personal assistant, Seb. And I honestly can't think of anybody who knows me better or can manage all the crazy stress better than you can. I mean hell, you've survived being Dad's assistant. There's no way literal royalty could be more demanding than that."

The pregnant pause on the other end of the line grows as Sebastian thinks. He knows the job would be stressful but rewarding. Plus, he would be able to see his sister, something he had missed in the short time you have been gone. Getting off dad’s staff would stop the comments about running for his seat when he’s ready to retire. “How soon would you need me?” He asks.

“As soon as you can get here.” The utter relief that runs through you has you sagging in your chair. “And if you decide you hate it or it’s too much, I will totally understand. But I—” You sigh down the line. “I really appreciate it, Seb.”

“Give me two days to settle my affairs here.” Already his mind is whirling and he’s making lists of things he needs to do. “I’m assuming the necessary visas will be available?”

“I’ll have Javi’s assistant make sure everything is in order, and we’ll send the jet for you.” The wheels in your mind start turning on other things, and you glance up at the clock again. “You’re the best brother in the world, you know that right?”

“Of course I am.” Sebastian chuckles, knowing you would say that regardless. “I’ll see you in three days, honey. Hold it together until I get there.”

"I'll get everything ready for you here." Whatever that will mean. But you'll find out from Julius everything that will be entailed. "I owe you, Seb. And I'll call Dad now so that you don't have to break it to him."

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He winces and figures that you are better off not dealing with the headache.

“How much yelling do you think there’s going to be?” You ask honestly, wondering if he might have a point. “I have an appointment in a few minutes.”

“Dad?” Sebastian snorts. “At least twenty minutes.” He rolls his eyes. “Plus a lecture and a tirade. You save yourself the trouble and I’ll tell him that I went to work for a Republican.” He jokes.

“You’ll be disinherited.” Huffing a laugh, you nod even though he can’t see you. “Thanks, Seb. And remind him before he decides to call and leave me a furious voicemail that I’m royalty now. So making me cry might be treason.”

He’s laughing as he says goodbye and hangs up, immediately calling his father to start the ball rolling on changing his entire life, just like you had. You calling him had been a godsend, he had been unhappy with his current direction and had no interest in running for office himself.

Your phone is barely down on the vanity when the doors to your suite open again, letting Maisie and Gabriela inside. They have changed into black clothing as well, in accordance with officially being a part of the royal household as of today, and you pull yourself up to standing when the door shuts again behind them. "How are you both doing?" You ask, not knowing how close either of them may ever have been to the late king.

“It is very sad.” Gabriela sighs and shakes her head. Even though she had been denied the pleasure of marrying Javier, she had tremendous respect for Miguel. “I think that the entire country will be mourning for a long time.”

"His reign was long and influential." Having taken the throne at just eighteen years old, being king was his entire life. And the people of the Balearic Islands would not soon forget him. "Although I am relieved to say that he was not in pain, at the end."

“Yes.” She agrees, nodding her head and folding her hands together in front of her body. “That is the most we can hope for.”

"Gabriella, if you need some time to yourself, I completely understand." Stepping closer to her, you don't want her to feel forced or invalidated in any kind of sadness she might be feeling. Especially when today has taken such a drastic turn.

“It is better to focus on the future than the past.” She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Keeping busy will be good for me.”

“If you ever feel overwhelmed or like you need to have time to yourself, will you please tell me?” It can’t be something many princesses have ever said to their ladies, but if anyone expected you to be a ‘normal’ princess they have another thing coming altogether. “That is for both of you,” you insist, looking to Maisie as well.

“Thank you, your Highness.” Maisie nods. “I must ask, is there something you would like us to call you in private? Or would you prefer to keep to formalities?”

"I like nicknames," you admit, thinking fondly of even the few times that Javi has used your new pet name. "My mother called me Daisy, and I was always very fond of that."

She tilts her head and nods, smiling softly. “I like that. If you wish, it is completely acceptable for your ladies to call you by that.” She assures you. “Although, only in informal situations and when we are alone.”

"I would like that very much." In fact it's oddly comforting, and you're smiling when the door to your suite opens once more.

“Your Highness. My ladies.” Flores nods respectfully as she wheels a silver service cart into the room. Laden down with fresh squeezed lemonade, a pot of tea and three tiered displays of tapas for you to snack on while you are consulting with the dressmaker. “Please let me know if there is something you wish to have in addition to this.”

“Flores, you are a wonder.” Maisie hums happily.

“She is.” There is nothing that could possibly make you disagree with that, and you lend your maid a smile. “I called my brother, after we spoke. He’ll be here in a few days. Thank you for encouraging me.”

“That is wonderful.” She smiles and starts to set up the food and drinks. “José, the butler, will be escorting the dressmaker here when they arrive.”

"Then let us snack while we can." Maisie grins conspiratorially, shooting you a playful wink. "Before we must have ladylike manners again."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

TKQ: @storiesofthefandomlovers @mimimarvelingmarvel

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi G #The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent #TUWOMT #royalty au #arranged marriage #parent death #heart attack #hospital

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tojisbbygworl · 10 months

Text

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader pt. 1

Summary: Two anarchists meet at a concert and decide that one night just isn't enough...but one night is all they have.

Characters: Mentioned - Gwen, Pavtir, Miguel. Featured - Miles, Hobie

Words: 3,694

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Mutual Pining, Suggestive Content (Smut in part 2), Hobie is Whipped, Aged-Up Characters (Miles/Gwen is 17), Reader and Hobie are 21+, Mention of Marijuana, Canon Divergence (Doesn't follow ATSV events/Miles is not an anomaly/Hobie's universe is present day instead of 1978), Hobie and Miles are like brothers, I tried my best with the British slang

author's note: The Hobie brainrot is real. I wasn't planning on writing for ATSV at all, but some of the fanfictions just weren't scratching the itch and you have to be the change you want to see in the world and all that other shit. I don't think that Miles would listen to Rico Nasty, but I definitely think Hobie would. I had to write something putting the two together like it just makes SENSE TO ME!

You don’t have to listen to the music at all I’m not even sure if I want to keep it in there. Anyway, here's the story. More notes abt me at the end.

AO3 version part 2 epilogue

"You tryna' go to this concert with me?"

Hobie stopped playing with his guitar pick to look Miles in the eyes. The day was over, for them at least. Miguel was satisfied with their work and they didn't have to deal with him until it was time to be called back into action. Gwen had already gone back home, something about her band, and Pav wasn't on the schedule for today. It was one of the only times where Miles and Hobie could really work as partners and they cherished it.

Miles was especially glad to have Hobie all to himself, as he felt this question would be a bit more awkward around the others. He waited until they were grabbing something to eat in the food court so he was sure anyone who would overhear his question couldn't. He had always been a fan of this artist, but never really embraced it in fear of embarrassment or rejection.

"Who's playin'?" Hobie asked him, already knowing he was going to say yes no matter what Miles said. He saw him as a little brother, and he was happy that he wanted to spend time together outside of work.

"Her name is Rico Nasty." Hobie raised a brow. Either this artist is only popular in America, or he didn't have her in his own universe. He had never heard of her before.

"Oh? Who's that?" Miles lit up like a fire, excited to show Hobie something new. He hoped to whoever was listening that he would enjoy her.

To say that seeing Hobie begin to head bop with his headphones in filled Miles with joy was an understatement. As the song continued, He began making a stank face and looked at him. He was enjoying himself, clearly, and Miles knew he had him hooked.

When the song ended, Hobie took out his headphones and gave Miles his phone back. "Yeah, I'll go with you."

Miles throws a small celebration. He pumps his fist and says "Yes!" dancing for a second before stopping and clearing his throat. He turns back around to see Hobie looking at him amused.

"Am I the only one going?" He asks him, biting into a burger.

Miles sits back down across him and sighs. He looks down at the table. "Yeah," he says, dejected. Hobie gives him a worried look, which Miles is quick to dismiss. "Oh, no! It's nothing bad. I just...I don't really know anyone else who would come with me and it seemed like music you would like..." He trails off for a minute. Hobie urges him on by gesturing his hand. "And I kind of wanted an actual adult with me because I'm really nervous and kind of scared and I needed someone I could trust completely. You fit all the criteria."

Hearing that made Hobie insanely happy. He gives Miles a sideways smile. "That warms me up inside, you know that?"

Miles lets out a small, breathy, laugh. "Yeah, yeah."

"So," Hobie wipes his hands with each other and takes a sip of his drink. "What's the scene gonna be like?"

"Well...you, really. Your whole aesthetic."

Hobie raises a brow. "Oh yeah?"

As a connoisseur of moshing, in Hobie's opinion, the venue was perfect. Big enough to fit scores of people, too small to have any personal space.

It was completely painted black with a black floor as well. Purple, green, and red stage lights shone over the thickening crowd. It was already so hot, a stark contrast from the chilly Brooklyn night air.

That day, Miles had visited Hobie's apartment to get dressed. Hobie gave him loads of clothes and accessories to choose from. Miles, unfortunately, had no sense of style, and everything he chose clashed with each other. Hobie had to completely dress him from head to toe. "You look like a proper rebel without a cause," Hobie had told him, which Miles took as a good thing.

Miles took one look at the bartending stand, gave Hobie a stupid smile, and as funny as it was, he shot him down immediately. "Uh-Uh. 'low it."

It was 7:30. The concert didn't officially start for another 30 minutes, and Rico wasn't going to come out for an hour after that. Miles was taking everything in. He had a look of wonder in his eyes. Hobie found it amusing. Him and Miles have been friends for some time now, but he’s never seen him this relaxed.

“You didn’t think about bringing Gwendy here?” Hobie asked him. Gwen should see this part of her boo thing. (They still haven’t made anything official).

Miles hisses and scratches the back of his head. “Eh…nah man. I’m still nervous about showing this side of me to people. You’re the only person I’m confident enough to show it off to.”

Miles’s sweet words brought a genuine smile to Hobie’s face, and he smiled back. Hobie wrapped his arm around him and rubbed his head. They continue talking as the venue fills more and more and people gather behind him. Soon, it’s hard to move around and the two boys finally notice how packed the floor has become. Miles begins to look a little nervous, but looks up at how chill Hobie is and adjusts himself accordingly.

When he’s done trying to look cool he taps Hobie on his arm. The man looks down at him in curiosity. “Hey, so…what’s your situation?”

“What do you mean?”

Miles makes a fist and punches his palm. “I mean, do you got a girl, bro?”

Hobie scoffs and laughs at his question. “Nah, man. My Gwen Stacy is a capitalist pig. And I don’t know a Mary Jane.”

“Maybe you can have the Gwen from my universe.” Mike’s jokes. Hobie laughs and punches his arm.

“Sorry mate, but if she’s anything like others, I don’t want her." He gets a far off look in his face, and Miles's grin straightens out. "It’s like in every universe, she’s a "good" girl.” Hobie explains his thought process. Miles is greatly interested in what he has to say. Hobie looks up and speaks as if this is something he’s put a lot of thought into. “My person needs to have my ideals. I want her to be loud and obnoxiously motivated. Like me.” He says the last part with a grin. Miles shook his head.

“So you want an anarchist?”

Hobie shrugs. “If she’s not a felon she’s not for me.” They laugh with each other until the opening DJ comes out. It was 8:00 and the concert was starting. He played some popular mainstream music that Hobie wouldn’t otherwise listen to. But Miles had started rapping 21 Savage with some other teenagers around him and he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Hobie easily towered over the crowd, so he took a moment to take it all in. In his opinion, he had the best spot on the floor. Right in the middle. He could see everything. Everyone had on some form of punk-like, gothic, or emo styling. He saw many spikes, chains, and buckles. So many creative hairstyles and outfit choices. He truthfully felt that he was in his element. It was nice.

Oh! Es-pecially the fine thing standing right in front of him.

Well, he assumed that she looked good. He was absolutely digging her hair. She had large Bantu Knots going across her head. It was was a nice Cajun Spice color. This hair definitely takes the cake for him.

His eyes trail down her body to look at her outfit. She had fishnets on her legs and torso. Over the fishnets, she had on an AC/DC crop top with jagged edges that she probably cut herself. Her bottoms were black ripped shorts. Extremely short, they wrapped around her ass so nicely, and some of the flesh hung out of them. He couldn’t see too much of her feet, but he could guess that she’s wearing Demonias. He really wanted to see the front of her choker.

She was moving to the music and shaking her hips to the beat of ‘The Boy’s a Liar.” It was a cute song in his opinion, and her dance was just as adorable. But it was dangerous how the plush of her ass moved in those shorts.

Her friend who was dancing beside her accidentally backed into him. She turned to apologize and Hobie gave her a nod and a “you’re good,” then went right back to staring at Bantu Knots. The girl peeped him, and she smiled and nudged her to get her attention. She whispers in her ear, then turns back around completely.

When Hobie makes eye contact with Bantu Knots, his heart feels like it’s slowing down. Then, immediately, it runs. She had big brown eyes and the cutest ring on her round nose. Her makeup wasn’t much, but she still looked stunning. She clearly had on foundation, concealer and some sort of powder. She had long false lashes on, sharp wings, and black glossy lips. On the flush of her cheek, there was a small black heart drawn with eyeliner. She was gorgeous.

He was mesmerized, it was like his body did the work for him when he nodded and smirked at her. She gave him a sideways smile back, looked him up and down, then turned back around. The whistle that Hobie let out was long and smooth. Miles nudges him in the arm having been witness to the whole thing. Hobie grins.

He takes another chance to enrapture her. He taps her shoulder than leans down next to her ear. He keeps his voice low, and mutters, “I love your hair.”

He guessed she really liked that compliment, because she immediately lights up and turns around fully to look at him. The girl puts her hand on his shoulder to pull his ear towards her. A shock courses through his body when her breath hits his skin.

“I love yours, too.”

Somehow, her voice was even more breathtaking than she was. Hobie shivers. He resists the urge to ask her if she wanted to use his wicks as handle bars. Then he blinks. He has no idea where that idea came from, but he liked it.

He also liked her voice. She didn’t sound like she was local. Most spidermen in the spider society were from New York or some variation of it. He had heard his fair share of Northern American accents. Hers was more southern. Not nearly as southern as Webslinger’s though. Or, a different kind of southern.

"You’re not from around here, are you?” He asks her.

“Neither are you, mate.”

Hobie chuckled at her joke. Even though she was mocking him, it was pretty good. He decided then that he likes her and he doesn’t want to stop talking to her. He looks to his side to see Miles caught up in his own conversation with his new buddies. Good, he’s occupied.

“I don’t entirely think it’s fair that you know where I’m from and I don’t know where you’re from.” He suggest.

“I’m from Atlanta,” she answers, her deep voice relaxing him. “I moved to Brooklyn not to long ago.”

That was interesting. “Oh, really?” He wondered what might have brought her all the way up here.

She nodded. “What about you?”

Hobie rubbed his chin and quickly thought of a small lie to tell you. “I’m just visiting my bro, he invited me to this concert. I’ve never heard her music before, but I like what he showed me.”

The girl gasped as if Hobie had just told her of a terrible crime. “You've never listened to Rico before?”

Hobie shook his head. “Don’t worry, love. That’s gonna change real soon. Especially when her fans look like this.” He looked her body over and smirked.

She returns his advance with a sensual smile of her own. “Like what?”

His face doesn’t fall. “Like, bare fit.”

“What that mean?”

“It’s UK for, ‘fine as hell.’”

She continued smiling at him. They stared at each other for a second, then she spoke. “My name is Y/N.”

“Hobie.”

Before she could continue talking to him, the music starts to pick up a bit more. The playlist becomes a little more raunchy. She turns back around to dance with her friends and Hobie begins rapping along with Miles. While the music played, Hobie would occasionally catch Y/N’s eyes look at him. She was dancing really cutely, which was absolutely not the vibe of the songs that were currently playing. He could tell she wanted to really move. But, she was most likely afraid of making him uncomfortable.

Hobie had to let her know that he wants it. With all the confidence and audacity he can muster, he rubs his hand on her lower back, wrapping his fingers and palm around her waist. She turns slightly to look at him, and her eyes are full of mischief. Hobie leans over to her ear once again. Her friends are watching the scene somewhat discreetly and giggling.

“You can throw it back on me, love. I don’t mind at all.”

Apparently, that was all she needed to get absolutely loose with it. She beamed at him, caught the beat, then started dancing on him while he held her waist. Hobie’s grip is firm, but he doesn’t force their hips together, no matter how much it would turn him on. This wasn’t the first time he’s been twerked on, but he hasn’t been this into it. He grabs the other side of her hips with his other hand.

She bounces herself on him a couple times, and Hobie had never been more happy that he was wearing jeans. He doesn’t know how she would react to feeling his boner on her. However, the thought excites him. How good would it feel to just start humping into her backside? Everyone is paying attention to themselves. Would anyone even notice if he slipped his finger in between her thick thighs and underneath her shorts?

As she continues to dance on him, his imagination begins to run wilder. He doesn’t even realize how much time had passed and that the opener had already came and gone. There was a new DJ who was to introduce Rico any second now, and all Hobie could do was watch her skin bounce on his pants. There’s only a slit going from the back of her shorts to the front to cover her pussy. He assumes that she has a thong on, or he would be able to see her panties. If she just bent over a little more and stuck her ass in the air, Hobie could play with her for a little bit. And if he just angled his hips down a bit, he could pull it to the side, unzip his jeans, and just…

That would be disgusting. Fucking this random girl in the middle of a mosh pit floor. It excites him. He wonders if she likes that idea too. He doesn’t even realize that she has moved his arms completely to the front of her torso. His hands were gripping her lower stomach. She was practically grinding on him. Hobie’s mouth opened only slightly. He licked his bottom lip then bit it, not noticing the way Miles’s eyebrows lifted in shock.

At one point she looked back at him without stopping with the same bright smile on her face. Just when Hobie was about to say ‘fuck it’, the DJ begins to hype everyone up. He lets go of Y/N and looks towards the stage. The lights are going crazy. So is the crowd.

Miles is shaking his arm back and forth. “That girl was going crazy!”

Hobie slapped their hands together and bumped his chest. “Hell yeah.” He takes one more look at her back. As if she feels his eyes on her, she looked back at him. They smile and she turns around. Hobie doesn’t stop.

Miles squints his eyes. “Wait a minute, big fella.” He holds his arms out. “Whatchu thinkin’?”

Hobie shrugs, but still doesn’t stop looking at her. “I’m not thinking anything, mate.”

The crowd gets louder as one of Rico’s songs finally start playing.

“You ready?” Miles yells at him.

“Ha!” Hobie laughs and grabs Miles’s arms. “Are you? Your first time moshing, big steppa,” He shouts back.

“I’m scared as hell!”

“Don’t be! I got you!”

With that, Rico finally comes out and the crowd screams. All at once, the entire venue starts jumping. Hobie’s eardrums feel like they’re about to explode. With the way he’s moving along with his height and his firm grip over Miles’s shoulders, he feels sorry for the people behind and next to him.

The crowd isn’t pushing so much as everyone is just too filled with adrenaline to stay still. Rico herself is having a lot of fun on the stage too. Jumping up and down with everyone, screaming into the mic, feeding off the crowds amazing energy. Hobie’s really feeling it too. He hadn’t been moshing for a while, it felt good to be in his element.

As the songs change, the crowd gets more and more hype, but it isn’t until STFU when they really start moving.

Hobie doesn’t let go of Miles and pushes people around, almost falling over himself. At the same time, he makes sure to push against Y/N’s back. Everyone is screaming, pushing and throwing themselves into each other. It’s wild, hot, and exciting. It’s the most fun Hobie has had for a minute.

Y/N kept up pretty well, as if she’s true to this too. The concert goes on, and Rico begins to play her more down tempo songs. Hobie and Miles are sweating , but Miles is heaving. Hobie nudges him.

“You alright, bro?” Miles doesn’t stop heaving, but gives him a thumbs up. Hobie groans and slaps his head.

“Bro, so sorry, I completely forgot to bring some water for you. Ay listen, we can go and get some, and I’ll push us back up here, that good?” He suggests.

Miles waved him off. “Nah man,” he says exasperated. “I’m chilling.”

His new group of friends hand him a hydro flask and tells him to waterfall. Hobie thinks it’s gross, but it gets the job done. Miles looks fine again. He sighs in relief and turns back to see Y/N just vibing.

He takes the liberty to tap her shoulder and lean down into her ear. “You doing okay?” She was sweating, so was he, but she was still the most gorgeous girl in the venue.

She smiled at him thankfully and nodded. Once again, placing her hand on his shoulder she talks into his ear. “Yeah, thank you. What about you? You look just as crazy as I do.”

Hobie laughs. “How bad do I look?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t say you look bad, baby. I said you look crazy. I like it.” Hobie’s heart flutters at the pet name, her southern drawl coming out a bit. He decides then that this can’t be the only time they talk.

“How much do you like it?” Pussy Poppin’ begins to play, Y/N turns around, grabs his hands to put them around her waist and begins to dance on him again. Hobie smiles again. This time, there’s no letting of each other. His hands remain on her waist for some time. She often looks back and stares at him. He knows this girl likes him just as much as he does and if he was only back in his universe, he would have grabbed her and swung her back to his place immediately. But, he can’t leave Miles-

Where is Miles?

Hobie lets go of her and begins looking around in a panic. She becomes worried. “Are you okay?” She yells while placing her hand on his chest. Hobie is too worried to revel in her touch, but one of the boys Miles was interacting with gets his attention.

“Hey, that boy, Miles?” He starts. “He said to tell you he was feeling lightheaded so he went to his dorm.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs in relief. But he was also upset that he had just left without a word. Then, the kid gets his attention once more. “Um, he also said good luck with your girl.”

Ah, so that’s why. That’s kind of awkward.

“Everything alright?” Y/N asks again.

Hobie’s reassuring smile relaxes her. “It’s fine. Was looking for my bro but he went home.”

That mischievous glint in her eye came back. "So you’re free?”

Hobie pauses. Was this really happening right now? Was he really this lucky? “Yeah.”

“Want to go to my place after this? I got a blunt.”

The night just keeps getting better. Hobie chased off a stupid smile and says a thankful prayer to whatever is listening. Then he realizes. It’s only gone 10:00. The concert can’t be ending for at least another hour.

“After?” Hobie debates his next move, then he grabbed her hand. Without looking away from her, he slowly brings her hand to feel his crotch. Her eyes widened. He was very turned on, he had been since she backed up on him. He rubbed her hand up and down a bit so she could feel his arousal even better. When she began squirming and rocking back and forth on her feet, Hobie's smirk grows. Her legs were clenched shut and she couldn’t take her eyes off his waist. He leans down again, his breath making her shudder. “You see what you did to me? You’re really gonna make me wait, love?”

He stares into her eyes. Hers flicker back and forth between his, and eventually to his studded lips. Hobie anticipates her answer, but from the way she began to grip his member he knows she’ll take him up on his offer.

She takes in a breath, turns to tell her friends that she’s leaving, the grabs Hobie’s arm and starts walking through the crowd.

ending a/n: That’s the end of part one to the story. How did you guys like it so far? I wanted to add a few Rico songs to get a gist of how the concert went, but I didn’t want to overload the story. I hope the suggestiveness is to y’all’s liking. I promise the nasty raunchy sex is coming next. I can’t help but to write lore for every story I write, so you, the reader, will have a little back ground story in the next part. Just a couple of heads up, it will be a little bit angsty towards the end, and involve having sex while under the influence. They’ll be smoking while they’re fucking, basically.

about the author: I do not write for this fandom, this will be my first and probably only story involving spiderverse. I write Jujutsu Kaisen fanfiction, pretty much exclusively Toji. I also don’t write on Tumblr. I will link my AO3 but please be warned that the stories I write have very dark content matter and are angst the whole way through.

#across the spiderverse #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk smut #hobie brown #hobie brown x you #miles morales #SoundCloud

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ladykailitha · 11 months

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Star Child Part 13

I told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging. In fact, I made sure I had the resolution to the cliffhanger WRITTEN before posting the last chapter. So here we go! Also a hint at future Buckingham...;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

***

Tears ran down Eddie’s face. “You think that killing him will bind me to you?”

Creel smiled and touched his cheek softly. “Because if you don’t, you’ll be arrested for the murder Steve Harrington. One word from me and they’ll plant evidence that you killed him.”

“You can take my body,” Eddie said. “But you can’t have my heart or my soul. Steve had both. The band, too. My uncle. That’s what real love looks like. Something you’ll never understand. Everyone is below you and you think you can own every little thing. But you can’t. You’ll never own me.”

“We’ll see,” Creel said leaning closer to kiss him.

Suddenly the all the doors in the hotel room burst open, revealing the FBI and Hellfire Security all with guns drawn. Max and Lucas stood in front of a very much alive Steve Harrington.

Creel whipped around and then looked back at Eddie. “How?!”

Eddie took a step back with a grin. He flipped up his leather jacket’s lapel to reveal a wireless mic. “We knew you’d sweep the room. We also thought that you would search us, but you didn’t do that.”

“We knew you liked brute force,” Steve said from behind his security. “So we knew that you would try to kill me. If you had tried in the bathroom, it might have actually worked because it was harder to get agents in there after you swept the hotel suite. But you went cliche. So thanks for that.”

“What was the gun shot?” Eddie asked, his voice cracking.

Max’s lip curled in distaste. “Pollock over here went for his gun and I had to shoot at his foot as warning.”

Eddie looked down and sure enough one of the goons had a bleeding foot. He looked back up at Steve. “I thought I had lost you, babe.”

Creel grunted from the handcuffs being put on him and said, “You think you’ve won, but this isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”

“Oh it certainly is,” Steve said. “We have you for conspiracy to commit murder, blackmail, and breaking and entering. And that’s just for this conversation. That’s not including the case these boys have been building for years.”

“How did someone like you beat me?” Creel snarled.

“Everyone thinks I’m just a pretty face,” Steve said with a smile. “It makes people underestimate me. A lot.”

Creel struggled to lunge at Steve in anger, but the two agents that held him, kept him in place.

The agents started listing off Creel’s Miranda rights as they led him away. More agents led Castor and Pollock away.

A beat.

Eddie launched himself at Steve and it took every ounce of strength to keep them both on their feet.

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” Steve murmured over and over as he rubbed circles into Eddie’s back. “I’m so sorry. But it worked, baby. We’re safe. We’ll never have to look over our shoulders ever again. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.”

Max turned to Lucas. “Fine. I’ll marry you.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

Max rolled her eyes. “Yes. I was watching them and was insanely jealous, wanting what they had for all of two seconds before I realized that I did. With you. So yes, I’ll marry you.”

Lucas let out a breathless laugh and the picked her up, spinning her around. He kiss her soundly and then let her down slowly.

Janice shook her head fondly. “All right, you lovebirds. Let’s get Eddie and Steve to his room. And we’ll reconvene with the band there.”

They all nodded.

Janice led the way with Eddie and Steve in the middle and Lucas and Max bringing up the rear. Eddie and Steve’s hands were clasped tightly together as they made their way through the halls of the hotel to Steve’s room. Janice keyed in her security badge and opened the door to a concerned Corroded Coffin.

“Everyone okay?” Jeff asked, leaping to his feet.

Gareth and Brian were on their feet in moments, too. Suddenly Eddie and Steve were getting dog piled by the band as they all sobbed in relief.

Janice called up her team in LA. “Marty, Vince how goes the lovely ladies?”

Vince, a rather large Pacific Islander who answered her video call, smiled. “They’re doing fine. Right now they’re painting each other’s nails.” He turned the screen so she could see the two women on Steve’s sofa painting each other’s nails.

“Miss Cunningham, Miss Buckley,” he called out behind him. “Janice is on the line, come on over.”

Both women were on their feet in an instant.

“Is Steve okay?”

“How about the boys, are they okay, too?” Chrissy asked as they both tried to crowd Vince out of the frame of the video.

“Everyone is fine,” Janice assured them. “Well, except one goon. He has a newly minted hole in his foot for pissing Max off. But other than that, not so much as a single scratch on the clients.”

Everyone in LA let out a sigh of relief.

“Can we see them?” Robin asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

Janice smiled and turned the phone to show all five men laughing and crying.

“Dingus!” Robin called.

Steve startled at her voice. “Robs?” He made his way over to Janice and peered into her phone. “Robin!”

Robin waved. “I made a new friend!” She waved her hands at Chrissy.

Steve waved back. “Don’t worry, Chrissy. I took good care of your boys. They’re safe and sound.”

Chrissy giggled. “Good job. You treat Eddie right, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Steve said. He took the phone from Janice, who squawked at its removal from her possession.

He ignored her as he brought the phone to where all four Corroded Coffin members were huddled together.

“See?” Steve said as leaned back into Eddie so Chrissy could see all five of them. “I kept them safe,” he whispered.

Chrissy teared up. “You did so good, Stevie. You did good.”

Janice walked over to them. “I have a private plane on standby. So tomorrow morning, we’ll swap Steve for Chrissy. Chrissy, you’ll meet them in Vegas for their next show. And Steve you have to be back for meeting with the record label. Erica called this morning excited about how well your coming out did for her case.”

Every murmured their agreements.

“Good,” Janice said. “I think the boys have a couple of hours before the sound check and will want to be left alone.”

Eddie and Steve blushed while everyone else gave confused noises.

Jeff rolled his eyes when he finally got it. “Don’t fuck too loud, I’m in the room next to yours.”

Eddie and Steve hid in each others shoulders from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

Robin’s mouth formed a soundless, “Oh.”

And suddenly everyone was finding places they had to be. Janice hung with the LA crew and turned to remaining four.

“Max and Lucas will still have to remain outside your door,” Janice reminded them. “So for their sake and Jeff’s, please keep it down.” She waggled her eyebrows at them suggestively.

Steve was mortified and Eddie was subdued. The three security guards exited the room, leaving the two men behind.

Eddie looked around the room to avoid having to look Steve in the eye after that embarrassing display.

“Not a bad room, Stevie,” Eddie said. “Not what I would have chosen, but it’s nice.”

Steve scratched his cheek ruefully. “I don’t usually go for this nice, if I’m honest. I’m too used to the label and my parents bugging it to make sure I didn’t step out of line. I would book a place like this and then go stay a Motel 6 or something.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, babe. But I’m sure Janice made sure the room was clean before she let you stay here.”

Steve nodded. He had even watched her, but there was still a part of his mind that worried.

“Come here, darlin’,” Eddie cooed, holding out his arms. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Because I don’t think I want to do anything right now but hold you until it’s time for the sound check.”

Steve slumped into his arms as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut.

They made it to the bed and tumbled into it. They lay there in each other’s arms until it was time for the concert.

Steve paused in front of his suitcase. He could wear his usual disguise that he wore to Corroded Coffin concerts, or he could go out and be himself for once.

He chewed his lip nervously before deciding on half of a “disguise”. He pulled out the skin-tight leather pants and chunky boots. He put on a band t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off and the sides hollowed out so that you could see his ribs when he lifted his arms.

He ditched the hat that hid his signature hair and the dark sunglasses. He stepped out of his room with a leather jacket in his hand. He smiled at a passing maid and hopped into the elevator, Max and Lucas trailing behind.

“Is this how you’ve been going their concerts dressed as?” Lucas asked as the elevator took them to the lobby.

Steve nodded. “I cover my hair and keep my head down, and no one has spotted me once.”

Max laughed. “I bet someone did but couldn’t believe pop star Steve Harrington would even like metal so it couldn’t be you.”

Steve grinned. “I’m about to blow my disguise though.”

Lucas laughed. “Yeah, but people think you’re dating Eddie Munson and expect you to be there tonight.”

“And I can’t wait,” Steve said with a wink.

***

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

@bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @localgaydisaster @bookbinderbitch

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

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artiststarme · 1 year

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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

So I was going to have this be the last part but I some new ideas came to mind. Probably a few more parts after this one! As always, I hope you enjoy this part and let me know what you guys think!

~*~*~*~

Eddie kept fidgeting as they made their way down the highway towards Hawkins. He drummed his fingers against his legs, flicked through metal tracks on the cassette, and cracked every joint in his body at least thrice. They’d only been driving for an hour.

When he switched the Dio cassette for one of Metallica’s, Steve knew he had to intervene in order to preserve what was left of his sanity. “Okay, what’s going on? You keep cracking things even though you know I hate it and we didn’t even get to listen to all of Sacred Heart. Why are you so nervous?”

Eddie sighed and pulled at his hair before dropping his hands back onto his lap, “I’m nervous to see the kids. The little shits were brutal the last time I saw them in my trailer. They thought I was gatekeeping you from them and they really tore into me. Caused me to have a panic attack bad enough that Wayne kicked ‘em out. I just… what if they yell at me? I don’t think I could take being called a coward again.”

Steve felt a flush of anger at his words. He knew the power that a word could hold. One whisper of ‘bullshit’ and he was thrown into a flashback of Nancy brutally dumping him at the Halloween Party and blaming him for getting her best friend killed. He got it and he loathed that Eddie had such strong connections to being called a ‘coward’.

“Hey, if any of those brats try to yell at you, I’ll take them out. I’ll ground them or some shit, I promise. I hope they’ll be too happy to see us to focus on yelling at us for leaving. But no one will ever call you a coward again, not where I can hear them. That I can promise,” Steve murmured, eyes flitting between the road and Eddie. He took his right hand off the wheel and laid it palm-up on the center console, an invitation for Eddie to grab hold and seek comfort.

He did so, taking the proffered hand and laying a gentle kiss on the knuckles, making sure not to distract Steve too much from driving. “Thanks, Stevie. Are you nervous? You’ve been gone a lot longer than I have.”

Steve thought for a moment. He was a bit nervous, being in Hawkins always made him a little uneasy even when he still lived there. He wasn’t too nervous to see the kids though. A part of him still doubted that they really cared about him leaving despite the vocal protests launched by both Eddie and Dustin. “A little bit but not really. I haven’t seen any of the kids in months and I’ve only spoken to Dustin a few times since I left. But I’m not really scared to see them, you know? I’ve got you and Robin and I don’t think me leaving really affected anyone besides you guys and Dustin.”

Eddie shook his head in Steve’s peripheral vision, “Steve, it baffles me that you don’t see how much we love you. You would be shocked at how many people actually care about you.”

Steve just blushed and tried to escape the emotional part of the conversation, “hehe, okay. Ooo, I love this song. The metal guys, right?”

Eddie let him escape this time but he would spend the rest of his life convincing Steve that people loved him if he had to. For now, he would enjoy the grimace on Steve’s face as he pretended to enjoy Metallica, his least favorite metal band, blasting through the speakers to keep up his blatant lie.

~*~*~*~

When they arrived in Hawkins, they headed directly for the trailer. Eddie had to pack all of his miscellaneous belongings such as DnD figurines, notebooks with song lyrics, cassette tapes, and his extensive collection of gaudy rings. He gave Steve the keys to his van and ordered him to pick up Robin while he went through the arduous task of deciding what could stay and what had to go back to Chicago with him.

With a kiss to his temple and a hair ruffle to boot, Steve was on his way to Robin’s. The situation at her house had become even more hostile between her and her parents. With the news reporting on the HIV/AIDS crisis and the anti-gay protests, her parents had become particularly vocal about their distaste for homosexuals. They had even turned their suspicious gazes on her and had started questioning her disinterest in dating local boys or wearing makeup. Yesterday, Robin had called Steve to report that her dad had told her ‘If she didn't start dating boys at her age, people were going to think that she’s a dyke. She didn’t want that, did she?’ And so, Steve had called off of work and dragged Eddie to Hawkins to get her out of that environment.

Both of her parents were at work which made the last minute packing and moving things into Eddie’s van easy. Steve could tell that Robin was sad at leaving her childhood home and cutting off contact with her parents with little more than a short note but, she had no reason to stay with people that would never be able to accept such a prominent part of her.

Little words were exchanged between the two during the entire process. When he saw a small tear drip from her eye, Steve pulled his best friend into his arms. “Hey, screw them. If they can’t accept you for liking boobies, then they can go to hell, okay?”

Robin just laughed as she wiped her eyes with a closed fist. “Oh my god, don’t say boobies.”

“What can’t I say? Boobies? If I want to say boobies, I’m going to say boobies. What’s so wrong with boobies?”

Robin shoved at his shoulder and moved to the passenger seat of the van, “I love you so much, Dingus. You always know what to say to make me feel better. Now let’s get out of here.”

Steve just nodded and with one last look towards her childhood home, they set off towards the trailer park to help Eddie finish packing.

They passed the Henderson’s house on the way and Steve decided to bite the bullet. He’d have to see the kid sometime eventually, right? No better time than the present. He pulled into the driveway and knocked on the door, hoping Dustin was home from school. He wrung his hands nervously as he waited for him to open the door.

However, it was Claudia that opened it. “Steve? Oh dear, you look like you’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly at your new place? I have lasagne in the fridge, I’ll give you some to take home with you. It should be enough for you and for that Munson boy.”

“Oh, um thanks Mrs. Henderson. Is Dustin here? I know he wanted to meet up while I was here-”

Steve heard him thundering down the stairs before he saw him. His dweeby little brother barreled past his mother and nearly tackled Steve to the ground. “STEVE!”

Steve laughed as all of the breath was knocked out of him upon impact, “Jesus Christ, Henderson! You’re going to break something! How’re you doing? I was wondering if you’d like to come back to Eddie’s with me while he packs up his shi-stuff.”

Dustin nodded exuberantly, “Yeah, of course! Let me get my walkie and then we can go! The others are going to lose their minds!”

So, Steve waited on the porch for Dustin to collect his things. Claudia brought him a takeaway container filled to the brim with homemade lasagne and left him with a promise for him to take care of himself. And then, they were off to the trailer park once again to go assist his boyfriend in sorting out his hoarder tendencies.

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

Updated Taglist: @nickavalens @conversesweetheart @themostunoriginalpersonever @swimmingbirdrunningrock @eddiethegreatteddybear @harrumphingtons @call-me-big-eyes @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove @thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt @luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era @newtstabber @bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd @ohlook-afrog @00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly @freddykicksasses @krimsonsimp @whatthefuccck @delta-piscium @anaibis @tinynebula

@darkwitchoferie @evix-syne666 @tawghasa @pyrohonk @lillys-weird-world @superduckmilkshake @paintsplatteredandimperfect @tiny-enthusiast @whalesharksart @krazyperson @username-i-guess @ilikechocolatemilkh @awkwardgravity1 @romanticdestruction

#This part was going to be 3000 words so I had to break it up lol #scheduled to work 36 hours over the weekend so I'm trying to get this posted now #I love the idea that Robin’s parents are supportive but they aren’t in this fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steddie #fanfic #mike wheeler #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #stanger things

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thefrontofmymind · 11 months

Text

Might As Well 2; Looking Straight At You

matty healy x videographer!reader

wc: 5843

masterlist

You saw Chris off to his car. He made sure you were alright to stay, right up until he was getting ready to pull onto the road.

“Just call me if you need me to pick you up, I’ll come straight away,” he assured you as you leaned against the window to say goodbye.

“I’ll be okay,” you answered. You stood on the driveway, waiting for him to drive up the road back to your house, your safety.

As you turned around to walk back to the shed, you got a shock. Matty was walking towards you, through the gate that separated the back and front gardens. He saw you jump a little.

“Sorry! Sorry..” He put his hands up in surrender. “I–you were taking a while so I wanted to make sure you were alright..”

You smiled a bit. You hoped with the dim light, he wouldn’t be able to see how touched you were by the gesture.

“So shall we?” He pointed over his back towards the shed in distant view. He held out his hand in front of him. “C’mon.”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to grab his hand as confidently as you did, but with a spring in your step and a firm grip on Matty’s hand, you two were strolling back to the shed. He let out a breathy chuckle as you walked. You tried your hardest to just seem happy, to mask your pure fear in doing or saying the wrong thing. But you held the philosophy of facing your fears, so you’d do just that.

“Just quickly,” Matty started in a hush tone as you were reaching the door of the shed. “I just wanted to say thanks for all of this. I can’t tell you how big of a favour this is…”

“Don’t worry about it…” You answered, trying to act as aloof as possible.

“No, I will!” He replied. “When we get all big and famous, you’ll be our number one, alright? And we’ll pay you how ever much you want.”

You laughed, with an involuntary shake of your head.

“If you want to!” He added.

“I want to.”

You were shocked at how welcoming the guys were once they’d all had a beer or two in them–as well as yourself. Soon you were laughing and chatting like you’d known them for years. You tried not to step in too much, you didn’t want to be the focus of the conversation, but each of the guys–in their own roundabout way–found a way to get to know you; your likes and dislikes, why you’re so passionate about filmmaking and how you got into it, your family life. Of course, you always ended every answer with an “and what about you?”. You didn’t want to seem too self centred. It soon got into the early hours of the morning, and one by one, the band got up to leave. You felt like you were in a tough place, you didn’t quite know what to do–you didn’t want to seem like a lightweight who was spoiling the fun by asking to be taken home, but you also didn’t want to seem like a clingy hang-er-on-er who didn’t know how to not overstay her welcome.

Unfortunately, you spent so much time worrying, that you were the last left standing with Matty in his shed. The small TV sat on a small side table opposite the sofa was left on some program advertising whatever crap geriatric insomniacs will buy with little a thought in their sleep deprived brains–background noise for your current conversation.

“Wait, you're kidding!” You laughed. “You’ve never seen Scarface?”

Matty shook his head, feigning embarrassment with a smirk on his face.

“We have to watch it! It’s so fucking good!” You continued. The more beer you drank, the looser you got. And the looser you got, the friendlier you became. Not that Matty was complaining, he actually thought you were a pretty cool girl, which wasn’t always the case with girls that liked to hang around him.

You collapsed from your stance above Matty–assumed from your shock–back to next to him on the sofa. You felt your knee touch his leg, you couldn’t think of something to say and you didn’t want to move it, for fear he’d see your reaction, so you stood your ground. And it didn’t seem to bother Matty, not in the slightest.

You kept chatting, and chatting, and chatting, and chatting, until you could see a sliver of sun peaking through the tiny window in the shed. It wasn’t until you knew what time it was, did all of your tiredness seem to fall down on top of you.

“Shit,” Matty chuckled, checking the small digital clock sitting next to him. “Should probably take you home.”

You yawned and nodded, before grabbing your bag and leaving–through the door held open by Matty. You both sluggishly strolled to his van.

“Look at you, eh?” He said, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him–almost pulling you off balance too. “One night of hanging with the cool kids and you’re already out til dawn.”

You just scoffed. “Cool kids…”

It was a pretty short drive to your house–especially given the hour, only early shift workers were on the road at this time. Though that didn’t mean you both couldn’t find a way to fill that short time. You’d think with the hours you’d just spent talking about any and everything, you’d have exhausted all avenues, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There was something about Matty that just made you want to tell him every little secret of your’s, and he felt the same. You’d talked about your dreams, your fears, your embarrassing moments, there wasn’t a stone unturned–or at least poked at, like your parents’ divorce, which you didn’t really want to get into.

When Matty pulled into your driveway, your heart sank. You finally had to leave the bubble that you and Matty had made, and be subjected to the real world–and worse than that, Chris asking you for every little detail of what happened, and why you were home so late.

“Well…” He said, you couldn’t help but think he looked a little disappointed too, but you dismissed it as your teenage romanticism getting to you. “Thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“And thank you…For tonight, just everything…Thanks,” you replied.

Matty leant towards you and you panicked for a split second, thinking he was going in for a kiss, until his arms spread and wrapped around your shoulders, you breathed again. You hugged him back, you aimed for a looser grip than his, you didn’t want to seem too eager.

Just as you were pulling away from him, he kissed your head, and thanked you again. You quickly made your way inside the house and to your room, successfully evading your divisive older brother.

You didn’t have high expectations, you’d edit the video and send it to the band, and maybe just once they’d invite you to a show of theirs and that would be the end of it. So you were a little shocked when Matty texted you the next morning, and after your polite reply–saying there was no need for him to thank you again–he seemingly wanted to continued the conversation.

Over the next couple days, you two spent almost every waking hour texting each other. You honestly didn’t think you’d have anything else left to talk about after your overnight tête-à-tête, yet he continued to surprise you.

And then again when he invited you to a party–”a friend of a friend’s, I won’t know a lot of people, so be my back-up?”.

Of course you said yes, you couldn’t turn him down, and thus began your descent into a week of stress; desperately searching for what to wear and figuring out how you were going to act. You’d never really gone to a proper party before, you didn’t know how you were supposed to act.

You were panicking as Matty drove to your house, and when you were sitting next to him on the way over–in a thoughtful choice of simple jeans and a vest, to not seem too overdone–and especially as you got out of the rickety van, looking at the looming house in front of you. It almost seemed to lean over you, preying on your fear with its pulsing bass from the soundsystem inside.

Matty didn’t say much to you, you couldn’t help but analyse him–he looked nervous, not as much as you, but you feared it wasn’t just run-of-the-mill social anxiety. You’d realised there was a lot riding on how this evening was going to go, this was the first time you’d done something together, as friends, in the vicinity of other people.

When you walked in, it was practically anarchy. You really felt for whomever owned the house, they had a hell of a mess to clean the next morning. Though you didn’t have much time to think about it before Matty grabbed your hand and dragged you to a kitchen stocked full of beer, as well as every liquor and mixer imaginable.

“Okay, I’m gonna make you my drink,” Matty started. He began pouring from a handful of different bottles into two clear plastic cups he’d gotten from the stack of them from the counter. “I came up with this…about three years ago, I think? And I promise you, it is hangover proof, and tastes like fruit juice.”

You smiled. He remembered when you told him you never liked the taste of liquor–the few times you’d manage to sneak a drink on New Years, or at the parties your mum and stepdad would throw. He finished off both drinks with a splash of cranberry juice and handed one of them to you to try. He was right, it tasted just like tropical fruit juice.

The night began to blur the more you drank of Matty’s magical concoction. You soon lost him in the crowd, he said he saw an old friend of his and he was just going over to say hello, but you supposed he got lost in all the shuffle in the living room. You didn’t know what to do, you were sitting alone in a room full of strangers. Your anxiety crept its way up your neck again, suffocating you. You needed air.

You burst onto the small patio. The first thing you noticed was it was cold–Matty convinced you that you didn’t need a jacket, boy, was he wrong. The second was how the air seemed even smokier outside than it did inside. Then you saw Adam, sitting, smoking and chatting with a girl you were sure Chris had brought home once as his girlfriend of the month, Rebecca was her name, if you recall right. He locked eyes with you and you didn’t know what to do. You were sure he could see your distress, but it was very glaringly obvious that he was not your biggest fan. He nodded his head at you, asking you to come to him, so you did, sitting next to him on the wicker ottoman that a good six people had already gotten comfortable on.

“Hi Adam.”

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, offering you a cigarette from the packet in his hand. You took it.

“Came here with Matty, but he wandered off…” He lit the cigarette in between your lips.

He chuckled. “Yeah, he does that. This is Bec–Rebecca, by the way.”

You exchanged a polite smile with her. “Yeah, I think we’ve met before? You know my brother, Chris?”

She gave a slow nod. “Right! You looked familiar!”

After some polite smalltalk, Rebecca left–claiming her curfew. The patio began to thin out as you and Adam continued to chainsmoke together, though you didn’t really say much.

“Sorry, by the way,” you said after a particularly long silence. “For bothering you here, and with Rebecca…Didn’t mean to cramp your style.”

“It’s okay…You looked…worried, I figured you needed some help.”

You laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of just my natural face. But thank you, I don’t know anyone here, and the person I came with was nowhere to be found…So just…thank you.”

Adam looked deep in thought, there was about a minute before he spoke again. “I just want you to know something,” he began. “With Matty…” Pause. “He’s not the kind of guy to stay with a girl like you…” Pause. “I just mean, he gets bored easily, and I hate it but he always hurts a girl’s feelings and just moves on to someone new…”

Your heart broke a little. Granted, you and Matty hadn’t been overly romantic or anything, but there was a part of you that hoped it would head that way–he was so nice to you, and you’d never really clicked with someone like that before.

“I won’t get hurt, it’s not like that with us,” you lied. “We’re just friends.”

Adam put out his cigarette in the kitschy glass ashtray placed on the patio table in front of you. You did the same.

“How about I take you home? Haven’t had a drink in a while, should be good to drive.”

You stood up, nodding. Though you paused before walking back into the house to get to the front garden. It was like you were possessed and you hugged him–wrapping your arms around his middle. He froze for a second, before putting his arms over your shoulders, giving your back a firm pat.

“Thanks,” You said as you pulled away. “For taking me home.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Adam said to you–not in disbelief but more like a sudden revelation. Of course Matty is the kind of guy who loves and leaves, and of course you’d fall for his act. You just hoped that Adam hadn’t cottoned on to your distress in his beaten up Honda Accord as he silently drove you home–not a single other car on the road, the only prevalent element on your trip was one broken streetlamp about 5 minutes away from your house.

He pulled into your drive, you thanked him for the ride–and apologised again for the intrusion, and he said it was alright again–and you quietly crept into your room and into bed, plugging in your now dead phone to charge. You didn’t even get changed or take off your makeup–specially done for the night–you just slipped off your boots and fell onto your mattress. You fell asleep as soon as possible, being lulled into a slumber by the spinning ceiling above you–.

Even with your newfound contempt with Matty, you still practically jumped out of your skin when you woke up and checked your phone to see a text from him–or really texts. And your heart sank when you read them, all time stamped to about an hour after you’d left-

where r u

hello????

r u still here??

answer me!!!

i guess you left

some friend u r…

You wanted to talk to him, explain yourself–you couldn’t deal with the idea of Matty being cross with you, after all the effort you’d gone to, you didn’t want to lose him so soon. You figured he wouldn’t answer you if you called–it was far too early in the morning for him to be awake on a good day, let alone after a night of partying.

So you waited. All day. It was eating you so much inside until you just couldn’t take it anymore, so at about three in the afternoon you finally bit the bullet and called him.

It only dawned on you as you could hear the rings begin that you really had no idea what you were going to say to him. You were mad at him for leaving you alone at a party, but you also knew you should’ve at least sent him a message saying that you were leaving. You quickly weighed it all out and came to the conclusion that you were the one more deserving of an apology in the whole situation, just as he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” He sounded groggy, his voice was a little raspy.

“Hi…It’s me…”

“Hey…”

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.” You spoke slowly, you wished you’d have rehearsed it all in your head a little, you didn’t quite know how to approach it all.

Matty stayed quiet, you were about to speak again before he interjected. “How about I come pick you up? We can go get chips or something?”

You were surprised he even wanted to talk to you on the phone, let alone in person–you were sure there was a version of your conversation in an alternate universe where he declined the call the second he knew who was calling, and that would be the end of it all.

He drove to your house soon after, and texted you to let you know he was in the drive–not like any other times when he’d gotten out of the van to come and knock on your door. You climbed in and you made your way to the chip shop in silence.

You tried not to be too obvious about it, but you could hardly take your eyes off of him. His jaw was clenched, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel as hard as he could, and his eyes were strictly glued to the road in front of him. You felt ill, he seemed so mad–you were just glad you were going to be talking in a public place. You were close to telling to pull over so you could hurl your guts up on the side of the road, but you made the journey just in time.

You sat without words, and individually ordered a meal each–silently. You wanted him to take the first step, he was the one that asked you to meet, he was the one who was truly angry–you were just dispirited by the whole thing at best, upset and fretful at worst.

After a few bites of your meals, Matty cleared his throat and began to speak. “I was worried about you…Didn’t know where you’d gone off to, I thought you got kidnapped or something.”

Was he really trying to spin this all as worry for you? “Well you left me alone at a party with a bunch of strangers. What were you doing, hey?”

Matty stayed quiet for a second, you could see the cogs turning. “That’s personal.” Anger was boiling up inside of you, his hypocrisy was astounding. “You should’ve at least told me you were leaving.”

“How, Matty? Was I supposed to go through the entire house and every room to find you?” You tried to keep your voice down, you were the only two in the shop and you knew Julie behind the counter was one hell of a gossip, but your patience was wearing thinner and thinner by the second.

“Well you could’ve at least texted me!”

“My phone was dead!”

“Well then why didn’t you just use Adam’s!” He roared. You sat in shock, you finally understood. Completely.

“I…” You were lost for words. “I didn’t know you’d be worried about me.”

“Well I was…” He was quieter now–he saw how you jumped when he yelled–now he was almost whispering. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t even know Adam was there…”

“He was talking to a girl, Rebecca, and he saw I was looking for you. He made sure I was okay and got home safe.”

“I’m sorry.” He was looking you directly in the eye, as sincere as he could possibly be, and you believed him in his anguish.

“It’s okay.”

After the day in the chip shop, you and Matty were much more distant. It hurt, you couldn’t lie, but everything you did, spoke about, just didn’t fit like before. Every conversation went nowhere, every hangout–alone or with the rest of the guys–was awkward. You finished editing the final version of the music video and emailed it to the email chain between you and the band, you got no reply other than a thumbs up from Ross.

Contact got fewer and further between, until it eventually stopped. It wasn’t that you were overly shocked or surprised by it–you figured this would be the deal from before you even met with them–you were just disappointed. Disappointed that all the time you’d spent talking to them, especially Matty, and once you’d done what they asked, they abandoned you.

Your plan of action was just to go back to your life before Drive Like I Do, albeit begrudgingly. You put your focus back on your school work, and trying your damnedest to get out of your dead end town. And you found a way to get there, at least temporarily.

It was late one night, you were working on a school project when Chris barged into your room, the house phone to his ear.

“Yeah, she’s right here…Okay…Yeah, bye…” He handed you the phone with wide eyes, mouthing ‘Dad’. It put you in a state of shock. He’d never once called you before, you were worried a grandparent died or something.

“Hello?” You asked tentatively.

“Darling! It’s me! How are you?” He sounded overly cheery, it unsettled you.

“I’m alright–busy–I’m in Sixth now so I’ve had a lot of work to do…”

“I’m sure you’ll ace it!” There was an air of false positivity in his voice. Like he was lying. “Now, what I called about–” Of course there had to be something. “–I already told Chris, I’ve been thinking recently, and I’ve been wondering if you two would want to come down for the summer?”

You stuttered through a nonsensical string of half-words before he cut you off.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, talk to your mum first and sort out what you’re doing for the summer. But I’d love to see you both…”

“Okay…well, bye then,” you didn’t know how to talk to him, everything in your mind seemed so out of place.

“Bye darling, hope I’ll see you.”

You hung up, looking at Chris who was standing over you with a panicked expression.

“What the fuck?” was all you could conjure.

“I know!” He answered. “Who does he fucking think he is?!”

You let out a sigh. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him, he hadn’t seen his children since they were small and they could barely remember him. He moved away because of his work–you weren’t quite sure what he did, all you knew was he was required to relocate almost a four hour drive away.

“I think we should go…” You said.

“Why? Because he asked? After all this time?” Chris was mad, very mad. And rightfully so.

“Well he’s making an effort now, maybe we should give him a chance?”

Chris sighed and after a moment of thought, he spoke. “Fine. But I’m only going for you, okay? I don’t give a shit about him, but I don’t want you to get hurt from it all.” You hugged him. This was really happening. You could hardly believe that your father–an elusive figure your entire life–was actually trying to cultivate a relationship with you. There was a part of you that was mad, asking why now, but for the most part you were just elated that he decided on now rather than later. Before it was too late.

It was a quick process, Chris was the one to ask your mum and stepdad for the both of you–they had no objection. In fact, they were more than just neutral for you to go; Vern’s reaction surprised you, especially, he encouraged it, saying he was “glad Bruce was finally stepping up to the plate.”

After a couple of weeks of logistics, you planned for a three week stay, and your tickets for the train there and the train back were sorted. The closer it got to the day you were leaving, the less you could contain your excitement. You were practically counting down the hours until your departure–though now that you were back to your antisocial shut-in ways again, you didn’t really have much else to think about. You considered messaging the band, telling them that you were leaving for the beginning of the summer, but you decided against it in the end, you figured they couldn’t care less about you, and if they so desperately needed to know your whereabouts, Chris would–and probably already had–fill them in.

You were walking on air as your mum drove you to Manchester Piccadilly that Friday afternoon and guided you both to the platform. It was your first time travelling without her and she was a little worried you both wouldn’t know what to do.

Once Chris had managed to convince her that you both were safe on the platform and you’d be able to get on the train with no problem, she left–but not without a request for a text as soon as you take off and then again when you get to Cardiff, and again when you’d found your dad. It suddenly dawned on you just how significant this all was. You got a feeling in your stomach, a feeling that your life was about to change.

It was all you could think about on your journey–the whole three hours. You tried to calm down with the breathing exercises you’d been taught by your school counsellor but they only made you more aware of how shallow your breathing actually was and the vice-like feeling around your throat. Chris hardly noticed, he was far too interested in texting whoever was the flavour of the month.

And then it was time to get off the train, to a new city you’ve never been to and to stay with a man you can’t remember meeting. It was busy on the platform, you had a vague idea of what your father looked like from the one photo you had of him with you and your brother the last Christmas your parents were together, but that was years ago.

Through the bustling crowd, you saw a man. He was standing in the middle of the walkway, unmoving, with a sign with yours and Chris’ names on it. That had to be it.

You grabbed your brother’s arm and dragged him in the direction of the stranger. His eyes lit up as he saw the both of you come towards him–you were correct.

Looking at his face, you almost got a shock at how strikingly similar he looked to Chris–or more so how similar Chris looked to him, you should say.

“Hi…” He beamed. “Look at you both! So grown up!”

You both didn’t know how to answer, because there wasn’t really an answer. What were you supposed to say, “yes, that happens when you don’t see someone for over a decade”?

“Well, we best be off, it’s a bit of a drive out–you’ve got your bags?” He was smiling, but you could see his eyes were misty. You couldn’t blame him, of course, if this was a big moment for you, you could only imagine how he felt.

You walked out to the carpark and followed your father to his car–a bright yellow monstrosity–Chris called shotgun and everything felt like how a normal family should be, the younger sister stuck in the backseat with the luggage while the older brother got all the room he wanted in the front passenger seat.

Your dad told you both all about the small town on the outskirts of Cardiff, it was small and mostly quiet, but he liked it. You watched out the window as the metropolitan city slowly devolved into suburbs, before finally seeing the sign stating ‘Welcome to Llandough (Llanddochau Fach)’.

He lived in a small house near the town centre–so small, in fact, that you and your brother would have to share a room for the three weeks you’d be staying–a thought that honestly frightened the both of you.

By the time you’d settled, it was late, the sun was beginning to go down. Your father suggested dinner, there was a chip shop not far that apparently had the best chicken nuggets in Wales. You laughed to yourself, the idea that even miles away from home, there was still a chip shop down the road.

You could see it was empty when you pulled into the carpark. It was bigger than the chippy back home, with red tile floors and yellow vinyl chairs surrounding each table.

“Hi Mary!” Bruce said to the plump hairnet-laden woman behind the counter.

“Bruce! This must be the kids, hey?” She answered with a bright smile. “My! They’ve grown a bit since the photo you showed me!”

You all chuckled politely and sat down. Your father asked Chris about his uni work, and he was more than happy to explain every intricate detail of it. You didn’t really have much to include in the conversation, so you stayed quiet. You thought the chicken nuggets were alright–nothing to rave about, but then again, this was Wales.

You were more enthralled with your phone, a particular text you got from the one, the only–Matty.

so chris told me ur in wales?

It perplexed you. That he would even text you at all after weeks of complete and utter silence, and it would carry such a passive aggressive tone. You’d assumed that Chris would’ve told him where he was going for his summer, and that you were going with him. But that would be it–you’d just become a background character in their lives, someone who’d they know about but certainly not someone so intrinsic to them.

yea we r seeing our dad

You weren’t sure how you were meant to answer, you were treading in uncharted waters and there wasn’t exactly a guidebook on how to proceed.

You put your phone back in your bag–a problem for another time.

The first week went quickly, you spent most of your time at the house, simply getting to know your father. It was nice. You’d found he was extremely kind, and putting two and two together, you realised the idea you had in your head of some deadbeat dad was just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t as simple as you thought, your parents’ divorce and him moving away. In any other context, your world would feel like it was crumbling around you–you knew yourself–but there was something comforting about the man you were getting to know.

Chris didn’t take a shine to him as much. He was friendly, and since your dad didn’t know him as well he couldn’t notice, but you could tell he wasn’t happy. He was short, and never actually spoke to him properly, just smalltalk.

On the second week, the bubble burst. Your dad had to spend the week at work so you and Chris were left alone to entertain yourselves. You tried to busy yourself with some passion projects you were working on just for fun, but it just wasn’t grabbing you. You needed a change of scenery, at least for a little while, and there was a park a few minutes walk away.

“I’m going for a walk,” you said to Chris, who was lounging on the sofa watching some random daytime program–a table talk with a bunch of middle-aged women. “I have my phone, won’t be long!”

You were halfway out the door before you got a ‘goodbye’ from your brother. It was a good day to be outside; sunny and bright, but not too hot, due to a slight breeze that just rattled the leaves in the trees along the street.

The park wasn’t busy by any means, only a young woman with a toddler–laughing a storm as she pushed him higher and higher on the swing. You laid down on a park bench, a shady spot underneath a tree. You closed your eyes and just breathed. It felt very therapeutic, you almost never had the time to do this at home, and if you did, you wouldn’t–there was a park close to your house, but it was generally known as ‘the place the local junkies hang out’, so it wasn’t exactly prime real estate for kids to hang out at on a day like today.

You just listened to the leaves rustling in the trees, the squeak of the chains of the swingset, the occasional passing car, until a voice broke your tranquil state.

“Are you okay?”

You cracked an eye open and saw a boy–about your age–with a shaggy haircut and a clunky set of headphones around his neck. He did look pretty worried, you could give him that.

“Yeah, fine…” You answered, sitting up–too quickly so you were dazed for a second.

“You’re…not Welsh?”

“No I’m not.” You probably shouldn’t have been as short as you were with him, but to be fair your head was still spinning a little. “I’m English.”

“So why are you here?” He sat down next to you. Very forward, the Welsh are.

“Why should I tell you?” You questioned.

He stuttered for a minute before finally getting out a coherent sentence. “No, I was just curious is all. We don’t get lots of English here.”

“I’m visiting my dad,” you answered. “If you must know.”

“Cool…” He said.

“Did you want something?”

“I was just wondering why there was a cute girl laying on my favourite bench.”

“Right,” you smiled.

“I’m Dylan, by the way,” he said. “In case you wanted to put a name to…the crazy guy who accosted you at a park.” You laughed.

You didn’t notice right away, but after the afternoon you spent with Dylan, just chatting and getting to know each other, you soon couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every afternoon you’d walk to the park where he’d be waiting at the park bench, and you’d spend hours talking about any and everything that came to your mind. It felt comfortable.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Dylan started. It was a cooler day, but the sunshine was warm so the both of you were laying on the grass out of the shade under your regular tree. “But I was wondering–” He sat up to look at you. “–do you have a boyfriend? Back in Manchester?”

You chuckled. “I couldn’t be more single even if I tried.”

“Good…That’s good…”

“What, my downfalls are good?”

“No, it’s just good because I was hoping I could kiss you.��

Your heart felt like it was in your chest. “Sounds very good to me.”

He swivelled towards you and leant towards you–you could hardly breathe. He put a soft hand on your jaw and kissed you gently.

Fireworks.

After a second he pulled away and your eyes opened again. You couldn’t stop the giggled that made its way up your throat and out your mouth.

“What’s funny?” He asked with a panicked tone.

“Nothing’s funny, just…” You sighed. “I couldn’t think of a better first kiss.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction

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ankmankpank · 1 month

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Maybe it’s one of my issues and I’m not being real at all, but like, I can imagine all the 4*town members with a little sister. Explanations under the cut💋

Like, Robaire with a lil sis who’s around 15(in these scenarios I always make Tae 17 so they can have huge crushes on each other🤞) and she’s like completely ruined and broken☹️aaand a huge rebel. Like my girl tried to cut herself up n has piercings and when Robaire finds out bout this(he wasn’t home most of the time bc of the band) he goes home/girlie moves to him(or the boys if u imagine them living together) and he tries to fix her up. Slowly they rebuild their relationship and girlie cries a lot to him, Rob finds out about all her scars and stories. She actually gets along with T., Jesse aaaand Tae(they kissed when she did his makeup once and since that they’ve been GOING AT IT, LIKE TAE’S SUCH A FOOL 4 HER BUT THEY’RE SCARED TO MAKE IT OFFICIAL TOWARDS THE OTHERS?!). And Z. ofc, but they’re not much, get along but don’t talk much. Robaire succeeded, she got fixed up!

Jesse w a lil sis around 16, and she completely doesn’t pay attention to herself. Like, almost dies twice a day and almost got arrested multiple times. He can’t be with her much bc band plus his kids, but she’s not sad about it at all, she gets it. Then, on one Christmas family dinner(if u go w him being an orphan, which I do too, you can imagine girlie living w his big sis(im sure they have one) and that’s mostly the dinner, maybe his kids too but depends) she tells Jesse that let’s go outside. They go, and he actually has the night of his life. He didn’t understand at first why is his lil sis so reckless, but he gets it now. She feels free, and he did too. He’s still worried bout her tho, so he scolds her every time he hears about shit she did, but he talks with her a lot more now🫶

Aaron T. w a lil sis around 13-14, who has two boy besties and they’re living THE life. She has a good style, good friends, skilled in everything, a natural leader, everything she could need. Except a normal story. My girlie is fun to be around, but she has seen shit. Seen it all, and the reason she doesn’t like to be alone or in silence is because she thinks those times. So, she lives off on adrenaline and actually starts getting herself into trouble. As this era of her begins, she slowly starts talking less with T. too, who comes home once because they had a concert nearby to their home and when he’s dining with the parents, girlie comes home.. all bruised and bloody? That’s when he completely freaks out and wants to help, even after she shrugged him off. Slowly but surely though, she gets to open up and they build it all up.

Or with a lil sis around 2, being the most adorable fucking thing on earth and the absolute fan favorite! Jesse even claimed that he loves her more than he loves T., once.(which was obviously not true:3) She’s like the happiest, bubbliest little girl who only feels actually alive when T. holds her. T.’s soft to begin with, but his little sis is an absolute melt, he’d do anything for the kid.

Aaron Z. with the most loveable 4 year old little sis who I have already written about. But if not 4 year old, let’s make it 14. She’s.. something. He avoids their home because of his parents, and completely blames himself for not going back to be there for her, but he just simply can’t. So when their parents called him again and he finally picks up, they told him about the sudden piercing she did and how disappointed they are in her. It all clicked for him, she couldn’t keep it up as much as he did. Their parents never changed, and Z. knows they won’t, so that was his sign to take her for the summer. She didn’t care, she doesn’t care about anything at all. It started off bumpy and she gets along better with the other members than she does with him, but it all eventually leads to a deep conversation what ended in both of them breaking down n getting vulnerable for each other. That kind of cleared it up, and they’re developing.

Tae with a 13-14-15 year old sister, who never stopped talking to him. She didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want to stop, so they never stopped. They talk at least five times a week and text daily, talking pure shit. She has problems in life and as much as he can, Tae helps her with it, even though when it’s thru a phone. He taught her how to do her eyeliner, paint nails on the first try, bake muffins, he’s truly amazing. He was there when she cried about a guy, and he was there when she has a new crush on every second day, which she does. Tae only rolls eyes at this, but he’s actually really excited to get to know more about the new crushes. He’s excited to talk to her, and really happy that he has a sister.

#4town aaron t #turning red 4town #4town headcanons #4town #4townie #4town aaron z #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town taeyoung #4 town #4 town robaire #4 town aaron z #4 town tae young #4 town x reader #4 town jesse

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lil-melody-moon · 2 months

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Hello Mel! I hope you’re doing well 🥰 I’ve seen that you reblogged the album ask thingy. I’m not sure if I have to give you the name of the album and a number or just the album and you answer all of the questions. So, If it’s not too much to ask, can you answer all of the 10 questions about Quadrophenia? I know how much you love that album and I’d like to know your thoughts on that one❤️ Also, you know how much I love to see your posts talking about the music you love hehe. Love ya <3

Hello, I've been doing so so but thank you for asking <3

The thing for it is to give a name for the album and some numbers, but what you ask for is perfect! I was hoping for someone to asking about "Quadrophenia", thank you that it was you! So without further ado.

1. Favourite and least favourite track?

Oh Gosh this will be difficult.

"5:15" is my favorite track of the whole album because of a few things. First being the fact that this was the first song I heard from this album. Funny story, mom wrote down a Depeche Mode song called "Little 15" and she wrote that it is a The Who song so I typed it in and "5:15" came up so we've listened. Mom didn't like it very much, but I fucking vibed - you can imagine my sheer surprise when I've found the album where this song was. Also, The Who's compilation CD I have has three tracks from "Quadrophenia" and "5:15" is one of them. Those three are never played quietly on dad's stereo system, never.

Now to the least favorite I actually don't know if I have one like that. I literally love every track on this album, but maybe I'll go with "I Am The Sea" because it's only an ambient of waves - which is very nice as an opening, considering how the story on album opens with "The Real Me", but ya know. Almost no music.

2. Side A or B? (for later releases: first half or second half; for doubles: A, B, C or D?)

This is a double so I have to choose between C and D - A and B are good too, but the rest of the tracks after "5:15" my beloved <3

And I think I'll go with C so that would include: "5:15", "Sea and Sand", "Drowned" and "Bell Boy". There's just something in those tracks that makes me get lost in music each time I hear them. I'm always missing the point where "Sea and Sand" ends and "Drowned" starts. Either it's so smoothly going from one to the other or I'm just so lost between notes. Plus there's "Bell Boy" come on, how could I not pick this side? XD

3. Thoughts on the cover art/packaging?

Just look at this beauty! Washed from colors, depressing with only Jimmy on the cover while the rest of the band is seen in the side mirrors. The cover speaks for itself. The first time I saw it I just felt I was up to listen to something good and damn, I wasn't wrong. I love the cover so much that I would be glad to have it as a poster in my room. I'm not joking, I even saw a similar big flag to buy and if I had money and space in my room for it, I would buy it - this album is my religion <3

4. Are any of the tracks important/meaningful to you? Why?

Oh God, the whole album is important, but if I have to narrow it to a few songs... I will talk about very personal stuff here.

"Cut My Hair" Now this is like an opening track to the beginning of the story, to see how Jimmy feels emotionally, but the tone and the entire setting of how his life looked, now that is what brought my attention right from the beginning. The guy just doesn't fit in, feels like an outcast and this verse right there:

Why do I have to be different to them? Just to earn the respect of a dance hall friend Have the same old row again and again Why do I have to move with a crowd Of kids that hardly notice I'm around? I work myself to death just to fit in

It reminds me of my days when i tried to fit in the society I live in. Now, I literally don't care how other see me, but I can see that with my clothing, interests, way of thinking I just don't fit in and I probably never will. But I gave up on "moving with a crowd" long time ago. And from here, my dear friend, things started rolling.

"I'm One"

This one is a simple matter, first verse bringing this in:

Every year is the same And I feel it again I'm a loser - no chance to win Leaves start falling Come down is calling Loneliness starts sinking in

Describing the loneliness Jimmy feels is very personal. I might not show it, but I'm a really lonely person, not being able to find the second half, searching for some understanding on that matter. I have the luck to have my mom who understands me because she was going through the same, but ya know. It ain't the same as having a boyfriend. Plus I just love how the last three lines of lyrics in this verse creates that autumn vibe <3

"Drowned"

Just because of the general tone and a call for freedom. The only ones truly free in this world are birds, we as humans are not. This chorus:

Let me flow into the ocean Let me get back to the sea Let me be stormy, let me be calm Let the tide in and set me free

Speaks exactly about it. Just to be free as the ocean's waves, it just sounds so nice <3

"Love Reign O'er Me"

I see this song as a call/prayer for love, for some understanding and affection. On top of that, it's also the emotional conclusion of the whole story, chaotic one, but so good to listen to every time. I think the most beautiful verse in this song is this one:

Only love can bring the rain That makes you yearn to the sky Only love can bring the rain That falls like tears from on high

I had the luck to discover this album and get first stage obsessed with it after watching a documentary talking about Keith Moon's death. I had the luck to fall in love with this song at that time and this verse which I quote here is exactly how I felt back then about it. Doesn't mean I feel differently about this song now, oh no, actually this song is the most meaningful to me from the few I've mentioned. I will sound insane now, but lonely heart searches for replacements and mine found such a one in this lunatic. Yep, I'm in love with Keith Moon. Can't help it, just like I can't help it but connect this song somehow to this weird situation.

5. When did you first hear the album?

UMN... September last year, I'm sure of it. Second The Who album I've listened to, wait a bit. ...23rd of September actually (month after Keith's birthday, can my discovering of The Who and him somehow become even more weird?). I had this album wrote down to listen to later after discovering "5:15" by accident as I've described above. I remember this day clearly.

I was fresh after lunch, excited actually just by seeing the cover. Listened to it once and then it went on repeat. I had to listen to it three times to have enough for one day. And it played for the entire week without breaks. This was just the beginning of my obsession with it tho XD

6. Have your thoughts on the album changed since you first heard it?

Yep they did. From first: "This is great" to the now "Favorite album of the 70s" I had like three stages with this one.

First stage obsession was the first week that it played each day.

Then came the second stage at the beginning of this year, just after I've watched the movie.

To then come to the third stage when I'm playing this album whenever I feel bad or songs from it are stuck in my head. A religion, you should understand XD

7. Are you a fan of other works by the artist/in the genre?

Of course! I will not rank The Who's albums here, but every single one of them has something good in it. Every single one is somehow different. I don't know how did they pull this off, but they did and OH am I so glad for that!

Also, I can kind of call myself a fan of Pete Townshend, especially if it comes to lyrics, I fucking adore how he writes and honestly I can't wait to have free time to get to his solo albums <3

8. A lyric you like from the album

I actually talked about this one in The Who ask, but here, a fragment from "Bell Boy":

Some nights I still sleep on the beach Remember when stars were in reach Then I wander in early to work Spend my day licking boots for my perks

Love Keith's soft voice in this one, I adore it. There are no words that could describe what I feel when I hear him there.

9. How did you discover the album?

Like I've said, through my mom's mistake, but it was a day after I've listened to "Who's Next" that I went to see other songs by The Who and "5:15" started playing randomly. I recognized it immediately and I wrote down the name of the album, just to give it a listen a few days later.

10. Do you own/would you like to own a physical copy of the album?

I don't own a physical copy of it, but I want it, I really want it at home. It's as important to me as getting "Help!" and "Abbey Road" by The Beatles and those two were a must at home. Same with "Waiting for the Sun" by The Doors. All three mentioned are at home already, "Quadrophenia" has to be here as well.

But I will say this. I will feel sorry for my neighbors once I get it. I can't play the three tracks quietly, let alone the entire album XD

#thanks for asking!#this was a lot of fun!#ask corner

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btssunnyboy · 11 months

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Vermilion - Part 2

The fate of the band rests on the back of the two people who couldn’t hate each other more. What happens when they’re forced to pick between rivalry or fame? Part 1

Word count - 3.0k

Warning - Jungkook is a complete asshole, he makes a remark about acne, cuss words.

Bts , Nct , Ateez

————————————————————————The bright red numbers on the clock did nothing, but aggravate him more. At exactly three o’clock in the morning Jungkook could do nothing, but stare blankly at the wall in front of him. Being in this room was the last thing he ever wanted, actually being this close to you was the last thing he ever wanted. It was your stupid fault that he was even in this mess to begin with. Vermilion was doing just fine before you came along, and ruined everything. Just because you and the other two grew up together doesn’t mean you should just get a free ride into the band. There were much better looking and more talented people that had approached them. But for some stupid fucking reason they decided that friendship was worth more than a good reputation.

Watching you sleep so peacefully was pissing him off. He didn’t deserve this, three bedrooms would’ve been just fine with him. But no you had to be a raging bitch and get him stuck in this situation. Now you’re gonna have to pay, and he’ll make sure of it. As silently as he could he crept out of bed, the squeaky mattress not helping as it creaked under the slightest movement. But as quickly as he could he stood up, and rounded the corner of your bed. Your phone was laying in the nightstand and his perfect plan was in motion. With a quick hand he held it up to your face, but sadly for him the stupid Face ID wasn’t working. Multiple combinations went through his head. The first attempt was your birthday, and when the screen shook lightly to indicate it was wrong he tried to think on his feet.

What would someone like you have as a passcode to your phone? Then it hit him, 02-16-20, the date the band got its first big gig. He closed his eyes as he put in the last digit and he prayed that when he opened them back up your Home Screen would appear. By the grace of god the picture of you all, which has him ever so slightly cut out, appeared. So original, but he plans on getting your back. The clock app was ready and waiting to be clicked on. Your alarm for five o’clock sharp was turned on, but now it’s sadly deactivated. Maybe making you late to the interview tomorrow will show you jusy how much bad luck you truly are. After finishing his mission he quietly crept back over to his bed and grabbed a pillow and the small throw blanket that laid beside it. Using the flashlight on his phone he dug through his belongings for a quick outfit. Like hell if he was gonna come back and let you have any time to get ready.

The floor was surprisingly silent as he made his way to the door. With a quick hand he swiftly brought the door open and shut it as quietly as possible. His feet brought him right towards we’re he wanted to go, Namjoon and Yoongi's room. Three quick knocks sounded on the door, and now all that was left to do was wait. And wait he did, five minutes seemed like hours to him as he stood outside the door. Another round of knocks, that we’re sharper and harder this time, sounded off the door. Soon enough it swung open with force enough to blow his hair slightly.

“The fuck do you want?” A pissed off Yoongi stood at the door. His eye bags were heavily displayed as he rubbed them. An eyebrow cocked up as he stood impatiently waiting for the younger guys to respond. “Well, are you gonna tell me, or can I shut the door?”

“Please I’m begging you, y/n, it's so damn loud with her snoring I can’t get any sleep.” Jungkook faked a yawn as best as he could. His eyes started to droop as fatigue started to set in. Yoongi narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he examined what was in front of him. A pleading look took over Jungkook’s face as he started to lean against the door frame. “Please!”

Begrudgingly, Yoongi moved aside for him to enter the room. A quick smirk jerked at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. Part one of his plan had been completed, now he at least gets two and a half hours of sleep. He made his way towards Yoongi’s now empty bed, but before he could even lay his pillows down he was jerked back by the collar of his shirt. A confused expression began to cover his face.

“You get the floor, I get the bed. That’s what you get for waking me up at three in the morning.” Yoongi yawned as he crawled back into the warm spot. He turned his body away because he knew that Jungkook would put on his puppy dog eyes and beg him to share the bed. But before he could even protest, Yoongi spoke again. “It’s either the floor in here, or out of the hall.”

Jungkook made a face at the older man, but nonetheless he made himself a comfortable spot by the heater. The floor was way better than a bed next to you. Hell a dumpster was a better place to sleep, if it meant he could be away from you. He propped his arm underneath his pillow and adjusted his blanket. Phase one was done, now it was time to drift off to sleep with the thought of you being so unprepared for tomorrow. And as sick as it sounds he put him right to sleep.

——————————————————————

A sharp jab to his side woke up right up. A confused namjoon stood him. An eyebrow coked as a way of asking, why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?

“Couldn’t sleep with some loud bitch snoring in my ear.” An even harsher jab was delivered to his side as he abruptly sat up. “The hell?”

“Sorry, my foot slipped.” Namjoon shrugged his shoulders as he reached for the suitcase that was next to him. He ignored the guy on the floor and proceeded to toss his suitcase on the bed. Digging through it for an appropriate outfit for today's interview. “Do you think y/n is up yet.”

“I’d say so, normally she gets up an hour before we have to leave so she can get ready.” Yoongi yawned as he ran a hand through his hair. His outfit was already on, the only thing he needed now was shoes. “But do you think we should go check?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, he needed to think of a response quickly. If they went and woke you up now, then you would definitely look put together for an interview. “I wouldn’t, you know how girls are when you see them without their makeup.” A fake laugh passed through his lips. He silently prayed they we would believe that.

“For once the idiot is right, y/n, doesn’t really like to be bothered when she’s getting ready.” Namjoon stated as he stirred the sugar into his morning coffee. Thanks to Namjoon’s morning tiredness he wasn’t thinking as sharply as he normally does. And Jungkook thanked the gods for it. Because know you get to see what it’s like to be on the other end of sticking out like a sore thumb. After all the times you’ve made fun of him for being unprepared it’s payback time.

“It’s okay five thirty, I bet the breakfast bar is still open downstairs.” Yoongi piped up as he finished tying the laces in his sneakers. “It looks like we could all use an energy boost.”

This couldn’t be more perfect, they were gonna be all the way downstairs, even further away from you. Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from smiling just a little bit, you’re definitely not gonna be ready by the time six o’clock rolls around.

“Why the hell do you look so happy?” Namjoon questioned as he placed his cup in the sink. A questioning look across his features.

“Jsut excited to finally have a good meal for once is all.” Jungkook shrugged as he pulled the black t shirt over his body. He stopped in his tracks halfway from the door as he saw the other two weren’t moving. “Can we get going, I’m hungry.”

——————————————————————

The loud banging on the door made you shoot up in bed. Without thinking you raced towards the noise and swung the door open. There stood four confused men. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you waited for them to speak.

“Well you didn’t have to get so dolled up to answer the door, sweetheart.” Jungkook sarcastically stated he took a big bite from the treat in his hand. A small smirk played on his lips as he watched your eyes widen, you realized just by looking at them. They were ready to go, and yet you were still in your pajamas.

“Oh my god!” You panicked and shot away from the door. With a quick hand you grabbed your duffel bag and rummaged through it. Your hair isn’t done, your makeup isn’t done, nothing is done. “What time is it?”

“It’s five forty five, we were all getting worried when you didn’t text us back so we came to check on you.” Yoongi stated as he walked into the room and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You had multiple outfits to pick from, but he could tell your mind wasn’t thinking right.

“Is it that time of the month, because it looks like your acne is getting worse.” Jungkook asked as he sat himself down on his bed. The creaking of the mattress filled your ears as you tried to fight back tears. Did you really look that bad?

“Shut up, idiot.” Yoongi barked as he turned his attention back to you. He could tell just by your demeanor that the comment stung. He knew that you were always weary about your looks and Jungkook talking like that definitely wasn’t helping anything. “Here this is nice, put it on and we’ll all go wait outside for you.”

Without a second thought as Yoongi walked away he grabbed the back of Jungkook’s shirt. Tugging at him harshly to get him up from the bed. He stepped on the back of his heels purposefully as they walked out the door. “You just can’t stop being an asshole for one second can you?”

“It's not my fault that she looks like shit.” A harsh slap was delivered to the back of his head. A small gag came from the back of his throat as he coughed up his cinnamon roll. “Dude!”

“That’s enough! We have less than ten minutes to get on the road if we’re gonna make it in time, and I need you two to stop acting like brats and be civil for an hour!” Mr.Young tried to keep his composure as he stared at Jungkook. His eyes were about to pop out of his head. So much chaos was happening around him and was about to make his head implode. He asked one thing of you two, one thing, and it already seems like it was a mistake to give you all a second chance.

“We have five minutes to spare and I’ll just do my makeup in the car.” You painted lightly as you swung open the door. Relieve flashed over Mr.Young’s eyes as he ushered you all towards the elevator. You hugged your makeup bag close to your chest as you closed your eyes. Elevators were always something that made your blood pressure shoot through the roof. Namjoon stood behind you as he rubbed your arms to calm you down. He knew this wasn’t easy for you. Through the corner of your eye you could see Jungkook was stifling a laugh, but right now you couldn’t care less.

The moment the elevator doors opened your eyes were blinded by flashing lights. The poparazzi screaming incoherent words to you all as you raced through the crowd. How did they even know you guys were here? Before you could even think a strong hand grabbed yours and helped you push the crowd. The lights flashing from the cameras and all the scream fans made it hard to focus on whoever was in front of you. Bobbing and weaving every chance you had as you tried to avoid the cameras. Soon enough everyone was piled into the back of the car.

“God, can you let go of me now?” Jungkook shouted as he yanked his hand away from yours. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his jeans as his face distorted in disgust. He had you all over him now and he couldn’t stand it. Before anyone could yell at him he spoke once more. “What? You said it make it look like we can at least stand each other, now there’s paparazzi photos of us holding hands.”

“I know what I said, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t scream in y/n ears in the back seat.” Mr.Young huffed as he rubbed a hand down his face. As much as he hated to admit it Jungkook had a point. If there’s photo evidence of you two acting like that then maybe in no time the people will see that you two don’t actually want to kill each other.

Your mind couldn’t comprehend anything right now. Your brain was still fogged with sleep as you felt your eyes drifting closed. A small slip of your head woke you up. And your eyes found the purple bag that was sitting neatly in your lap.

“We have an hour ride, here I’ll hold your mirror and if you go fast enough maybe you’ll get a thirty minute nap.” Yoongi smiled softly as he angled himself good enough to prop your mirror up. You thank him quietly as you dig around in your bag looking for your certain products.

“Yeah, she’s gonna need all the beauty rest she can get.”

“Ya know I still find it so funny that you're up and ready to go, and yet I was still sleeping?” You questioned lightly as you patted the concealer under your eyes. Your eyes momentarily left the mirror as you side-eyed the man sitting beside you. His eyebrow raised as he waited for you to continue. When you didn’t he simply cleared his throat.

“You were snoring so I slept in the room with Namjoon and Yoongi.” Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, but inside he was dying. This was one topic he was hoping you wouldn’t bring up. He was praying that all you would worry about is how you looked, but by the grace of god you decided to act with your brain for once. And he could tell underneath all that tiredness you knew that something was fishy with this whole situation.

“Don’t pay him any attention, just keep getting ready so you have more time to sleep.” Mr .Young huffed once more from the passenger seat. But with that sentence you dropped the conversation at hand and paid close attention to the mirror. But there was still a nagging voice on the back of your mind, because when did you snore so loud it kept a person up?

——————————————————————

It was a short lived car ride as your body was gently shook awake. A blurry face Yoongi stared back tiredly as you. He gently pushed your head off of his shoulder and he gathered up all the makeup that spilled on the way there. A grateful smile hung on your sleepy features as you put everything he handed to you back into your bag. From the corner of your eye you saw your purple beauty blended on the floor boards, but before you could reach down a foot stomped right against it.

You watched in shock as Jungkook stretched his body and shoved his feet forwards. His boots left tread marks against the cushion as he scraped his feet off of it. As he sat up he noticed the purple sponge in the floor that now has dirty and grim caked all over it. He sucked his teeth as he picked it up from the floor and tossed it into your bag. All that left his mouth with a simple and insincere apology, as he opened his door to get out.

“I wish I knew what his fucking problem was.” You huffed as you pulled the dirty blender from your bag, and made sure none of your other makeup was contained with his filth.

“If I knew, I'd tell ya, but we have to go now. I’ll buy you a new one after we’re done today.” Namjoon sighed as opened his door and stepped out. You smiled softly at him as your zipped up your bag and waited for Yoongi to get out. He swiftly opened the door and held his hand inside for you to grab. A small gesture, but it still meant a lot coming from him. Since you know touch isn’t something it’s normally okay with.

Your smile beamed brightly as you saw the crowd that was lined up at the door. Their screams echoed in your ear as you stood beside Yoongi. Some had flowers, some had made cute posters, but even the ones who didn’t make anything still seemed so happy jusy to be there. And you were truly happy that each and everyone of them was there.

Yoongi leaned towards your ear every so slight, just to make sure you could hear him over all the yell. His warm hand was placed on the small of your back, as he gently nudged you forwards. “I’ll let you go first, but I promise I’ll be right behind you.”

You nodded your head softly as you made quick movements up the staircase where everyone else was waiting. You could only pray silently that this interview went well, you needed this to well. Because you know that if you two can’t put up a good front then vermilion may be at risk. And that was the absolute last thing you wanted. With a quick huff of breath you opened the stations doors.

You were ready to give this your all, and you could only hope that Jungkook was willing to do the same.

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softspaceboibrian · 2 years

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Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy || Chapter 4 || Eddie Munson

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Y/N Henderson || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: he is realising he is actually falling in love. and she's just her normal anxious self.

Warnings: talk of trauma, anxiety, nightmares, overthinking, and a car accident (not in detail). swear words; mutual pining; Steve being a douche, again, but then also Steve being the cutest, overprotective bff; fluff and bad writing.

WC: 6071 (and we're back to not being able to know where to stop while writing)

A/N: Once again, thank you everyone for the love and support! it really makes me feel special and appreciated! this story as become particularly important to me, and I really hope I can continue writing it for a long time! Another thing that I wrote in the post with the preview: Y/N's trauma is linked to her father. Since we know nothing about Mr Handerson from the series, I took the liberty to write my own version, and I always thought he had died, and that was why Mrs Henderson has kept her husband's last name. I hope this won't be a problem for anyone.

Taglist: @263adder @criminalyetminimal @christina-gg22 @beautyandthenovels @ssqra @yournan69 @lovesleepybearwriter @phantomxoxo @mushywutty @authorlovers @sxwyxr @jessyballet @carebearsofie @zanmorgan @quartz-queer [if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!!]

Disclaimer: this gif has nothing to do with the chapter, it just fit with the time frame and I love it so much, I wouldn't have known when to use it otherwise lol <3

“Darling, your friends are waiting for you.” Y/N’s mother said, peaking behind her bedroom door, as a car was honking insistently outside of her house.

She huffed. “I know, mom. I can hear them.” She finished tying her shoelaces and got up from the bed, picking up her backpack and making her way outside. “Oh, by the way, tonight I’m at the basketball final. Robin is playing with the band, so I’m going there as moral support.”

“No worries, I’ll see you when you get home.” Her mom gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, brushing a few rogue strands of hair out of her face. Y/N hated when her mom did it, but also found it endearing. Afterall, it was her way of taking care of her, and, well, she didn’t allow her to do much else for her, so she let her do that. “Say Robin ‘good luck’ from me, will you?”

“Sure, mom!” She yelled, already making her way out of the door, not before grabbing a slice of toasted bread from the table. She ran outside and into Steve’s car, the piece of bread hanging from her mouth as she put her bag on the seat next to hers. “Sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay, just…” Steve turned around and handed her a tissue. “Don’t get crumbs inside the car, I had it washed yesterday.”

With a confused look on her face, Y/N moved her eyes between Steve and Robin. “He has a date tonight.” Robin explained, looking at her through the vanity mirror, as she put on her mascara.

“What? I thought we were going to go cheer on Robin!”

“I am! I’m just going to take a someone with me. You know just in case you were taking your boyfriend…”

Y/N didn’t need to look at Steve in the face to know he was mad. He obviously still wasn’t over her date with Eddie from the day before. “He is not my boyfriend.” She sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Not yet!” Robin chuckled, winking at her. Thanks, dude, for the support, but you’re not helping right now.

“And he’s got Hellfire Club tonight, so he wouldn’t have been available nonetheless.” She raised her shoulders, leaning back on the seat. Steve’s car felt nothing like Eddie’s. Eddie’s van was tall, with dark leather seats that almost hugged her and begged her not to leave. Steve’s, on the other hand, was low, so low that she hit her head at least 40% of the times she tried to get in or out, and the polyester seats weren’t exactly the most inviting. A part of her, a big part of her almost wished she had accepted Eddie’s offer from the prior night.

“You know, my offer still stands” Eddie smiled, holding her hand in his and gently playing with her fingers.

“Which offer?” Y/N’s back was pressed against the leather of the back of the passenger seat. They had been parked in front of her house for almost 40 minutes at that point, neither of them really wanting to let the other go.

“I could drive you to school, if you wanted to.” He wouldn’t look up, but she could tell his cheeks were turning slightly red.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to keep a smile from exploding on her face. “You know I would love that, I have already told you, but…”

“It’s late and you have no way of telling Harrington not to come and pick you up without waking up his entire household or having him yell at you because he hates me and he thinks I would do things to you.” Eddie was disappointed. And she could hear her own heart breaking at that sight.

“But, on Saturday, we can spend the entire day together.” She squeezed his hand, trying to gain his attention. “We could stay in at my place, or at yours – we can decide tomorrow.” She smiled. “We can watch a movie, we can order pizzas, we can write the story for Hellfire.” She moved closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. And only then she realised how soft his skin was, despite the shy stubble making its way on his face. And warm. His skin was warm. “You could even teach me how to play D&D or guitar, if that’s something you’d like.”

He finally looked up. And when their eyes met, a bashful smile appeared on his lips. Y/N fought with all of her body and all of her will the urge to jump on him and kiss him. “I would love that.” Eddie’s voice came out almost like a whisper, as if he didn’t want to wake up an invisible person laying on the backseat.

“So, his stupid club is more important to him than to spend time with you? Wow, Y/N, you found yourself the perfect man.” Y/N hated Steve’s sarcasm, especially when it was directed towards her.

“Dustin and Mike are also part of the club.” Y/N raised her voice.

“And they’re 14! Munson is like 20! And he still plays that stupid game!”

Y/N was on the verge of exploding, but luckily, Robin stepped in right at the exact moment. “Guys, can we please talk about something else for a moment? It is 7 in the morning, we have this stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!”

“Oh, you’re worried about a basketball pep rally? You expect us to believe that?” Steve said, sarcastically.

“Yeah, so?” Robin acted as if the two sitting in the car with her weren’t her best friends.

“So, we all know what this is about, okay? We’re not going to buy that bullshit. This is about Vickie!” Y/N moved to the edge of the seat, trying to get as close to the other two as possible.

“Absolutely not!”

“Yes, it is!” Steve and Y/N exclaimed in unison.

“And you know what else I think?”

“I really don’t care what-” Robin tried to stop Steve from talking, but they all knew that when he started, he was like a train, and there was no way of stopping him.

“I think you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her. Okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

“You’re literally quoting me to me. You do realise that?”

“Well maybe you need to listen to yourself! You ever think about that, smarty pants? I listened to you, and now look at me. Boom, back in business!” Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that interaction. It was moments like that which reminded her why she loved Steve.

“It’s not the same thing. And you know that. You ask out a girl and she says no. Big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego’s a little bruised. But I ask out the wrong girl and, bam, I’m a town pariah.” Robin wasn’t wrong. Outside of the three of them, no one really knew about Robin’s sexuality, or hers, for that matter. When it was just the three of them, it came easy to talk about it, maybe to even joke about it. But they all knew that other people wouldn’t be so accepting if they found out. So, Robin had every right to not agree with Steve.

“Yeah, I’d buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“We just don’t know that; do we?”

“She returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds. Do you know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes, 5 seconds?” Steve moved his eyes between Robin, Y/N’s reflection in the rear-view mirror and the road. “People who likes boobies, Robin!”

“Ew, gross. Don’t say boobies!” Robin exclaimed, mimicking a disgusted face.

“Not a big deal, okay? I like boobies, you like boobies, Y/N also likes boobies sometimes, right?” Y/N chuckled, nodding. “Vickie likes boobies. Definitely!”

Robin continued shaking her head, constantly repeating that it wasn’t a good idea, that they weren’t sure about that. “I know, Roro.” Y/N put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. Roro was how she had started calling her for fun the first summer after they’d met. At first, Robin hated it. But then it started to grow on her, and it had eventually become her nickname. No one except for Y/N could use it. “But, as much as I understand your fear, Steve is not completely wrong.”

“Did you just say you agree with me?!” Steve put a hand on his chest, pretending to be completely surprised.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harrington.” Y/N stuck out her tongue, then immediately returning her attention to her best friend. “If you really like Vickie, you could try and hint to her that you may be interested.”

“And how would I do that? You know I’m not good at flirting!” She exclaimed.

“Nor am I.” She sat back on the seat. “But he is, apparently.”

They both turned their heads towards Steve, and he smiled. “I’m better at something than both of you!” He said triumphantly, and Y/N didn’t want to blow out his flame, so she just let him be himself and gloat for a moment.

The rest of the ride was spent with Steve trying to teach Robin “tactics” on how to flirt with someone without making it seem obvious, but Y/N couldn’t care less about learning how to flirt. She just wanted to get to school as soon as possible, hoping to see him before class. So, as soon as they stopped in front of the main entrance, Y/N quickly bid Steve goodbye, before grabbing Robin by the hand and pulling her inside the building.

“Do we have somewhere to be?” Robin asked cluelessly.

“No, I just… I want to get to class quickly. I didn’t have time to finish my homework yesterday.” That last part came out almost like a whisper, and Y/N hoped her friends didn’t catch that, but she hoped in vain.

“You didn’t do your homework!?” Robin stopped in the middle of the corridor, looking at her, unable to hide the smile creeping on her lips. “Is it because of Eddie?” She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows up and down, or at least trying. Yeah, she wasn’t exactly the most coordinate person ever.

“I did do them! I just didn’t finish them…” Y/N grabbed once again her friend’s hand, starting to walk again. “And yes, it’s because of Eddie…” She tried to hide her blushing cheeks, but nothing escaped Robin’s radar.

“I knew it!” She laughed, doing a little dance that caught a few people’s attention. “How did it go? Tell me everything. I need to know if I was a good matchmaker.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head, but told her about the date, nonetheless. She told her about the ride to his trailer, how he had tried making her feel as comfortable as possible; she told her about him holding her hand multiple times. She told her about him playing his guitar for her and him suggesting to learn how to play a song for her.

“Then it must be love!” Robin brought her hands together in front of her chest, as if she were a character out of one of those romantic comedies from the 50s or something.

“Shut up.” She laughed, giving her a gentle push with her shoulder. However, when their lockers finally came into view, Y/N froze on the spot, the hand that was holding onto her backpack’s strap tightening its grip.

“I’m just saying, I’m a great Cupid.” Robin chucked, and turned to look at her, but it was only then that she realise she had stopped walking a few meters back. “What are you doing?” She asked, trying to follow her gaze. But when she finally realise where she was looking, or rather who she was looking at, she smiled. “Prince Charming is waiting for you, dearie.” She linked their arms together and pulled her towards their lockers.

Eddie. She didn’t know why she had reacted like that, especially after spending a good part of her morning wishing to see him as soon as possible, or after having spent a good part of the night awake thinking back at the previous evening spent together, thinking about every word they had said to each other, his hand on her waists, him laying a few inches away from her, his hands, his fucking hands on that fucking guitar. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the reason she froze when she saw him. She had spent the night fantasising about him touching her – not sexually, just touching her – his warm, calloused hands with all those cold metal rings on her cheeks, on her arms, holding her own hands. And now that they were there, together again, she didn’t know what to expect, she couldn’t predict what he was going to do.

“Munson! Fancy seeing you here!” Robin said, making their presence known not only to Eddie but to half of the people in the corridor.

Eddie looked up from whatever he was holding in his hands and smiled as soon as he met her eyes. Was he reading a book? Fuck me. “Ladies.” He slightly bowed his head, moving to the side to let them get to their lockers.

“Thank you, sir.” Robin replied, immediately fiddling with her own padlock.

Y/N walked to her locker in silence, with a shy smile on her face, but still unable to look at him in the eyes. “Hey.” She said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey, princess.” He smiled; a smile so big and bright that made her heart dance. She couldn’t deny the fact that she loved when he called her that, princess. It made her feel special. However, her heart stopped beating altogether for a few moments when she felt his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered, so softly that only she could have heard him.

Needless to say, that not only her cheeks turned bright red, but so did her ears and neck, which luckily were hidden inside Eddie’s embrace. She raised her arms and wrapped them around his torso, burying her face in the space at the base of the neck, where it meets with the shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Fuck, she loved that mixture of smoke, aftershave and leather. “I’ve missed you too.” She whispered against his skin, and could feel shivers travel down the man’s body.

That hug, which felt like it lasted forever and nothing all at once, eventually ended, and they both took a step back. Y/N tried to play it cool, as if that was completely normal and she didn’t feel weak in the knees, but when she turned to look at her best friend, she found her smirking and, once again, trying to wiggle her eyebrows up and down. Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted to die right there or run away. But she didn’t do neither of them. She simply took a deep breath and opened her locker.

“So, Buckley, I hear you’re playing at tonight’s basketball game.” Eddie tried to make conversation with the other girl, as Y/N collected her stuff from the locker. However, when she briefly glanced at him, he was now leaning with a shoulder against the lockers, ankles crossed, arms crossed in front of his chest, and he was still holding a book in his hand. Fuck.

“Ehm, yeah. Being part of the band means cheering on the school’s teams at sport events.” She said. “I didn’t really realise that when I first signed up for band, though.”

“What did you think you would do?” Eddie looked at her, a mixture of confusion and amusement on his face.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to play an instrument.”

However, Y/N couldn’t help but keeping glancing at Eddie, trying to figure out what he was reading. It wasn’t King, because she knew he had already read every book he had published up until that moment, and she knew it wasn’t one of those she had suggested to him because she still had to take them to him. So, what was he reading?

“Princess?” Y/N was brought back to reality by his voice calling out for her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine.” She smiled, closing her locker, frustrated by the fact that she still wasn’t able to read the title of the book. She needed to know. For… research purposes…

“Want to eat together during lunch break?” He tilted his head slightly to the side, studying her figure. It didn’t take him long to realise she was curious about his new book. But he wasn’t going to just show it to her, not yet at least.

She looked up to meet his eyes. “I would love to, you know that. But, as I already told you yesterday, Fridays during lunch break I have my sessions with Ms. Kelly.”

“Right, sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed her eyes travelling back to the book. So, he took it as a game, and moved it under his arm, tilted just enough so that she could barely make out the name of the author on the spine. “This means that I won’t be seeing you until tomorrow then.”

Finally, she gave up, and moved her eyes to meet his. “Yeah… but we have big plans for tomorrow, right?”

“Oh yeah!” He smiled. “Buckley, did you know that tomorrow Y/N is starting her guitar lessons?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “What, really? With whom?”

“With me.” Eddie said proudly, and Robin couldn’t help but smirk. Again.

Sadly, that moment was interrupted by the ring of the bell echoing down the hallway, and warning everyone that the first period was about to start. Robin quickly bid goodbye to the two of them, running to her own first class, leaving them alone for a few last moments. Y/N looked at him in silence, with a soft smile on her lips. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to stay there and talk with him. She wanted to sit on the floor, backs against the cold lockers, maybe her head on his shoulders, and him playing with her fingers like he did the night before in the car, when neither of them wanted to leave to go to bed. But if the previous night they could stay there, together, past her curfew, now they had to go to class. Y/N opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something, but no word came out.

So, Eddie took a step towards her, leaned forward and left a soft, warm kiss on her cheeks. His lips lingered there, on the side of her face, for a few seconds, moving towards her ear. “The book I’m read, it’s Howl’s Moving Castle.” He whispered with a smirk. When he pulled away, he saw her surprised look and couldn’t help but be proud of himself. “You like it, and my uncle had brought it home last week for some reason, so I thought I would give it a try.” He knew she was trying to keep herself from smiling. “So far I’m really liking it.” He winked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck me. That was fucking hot. Just the idea of him reading in general was hot. But him reading a book just because she had told him she had liked it? That was too much for her. Definitely too much. Fuck. “I’m happy.” She smiled, forcing herself to keep calm and not just throw herself at him.

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll read a few pages to me.” He smiled. And that was it. That was the moment she realised there was no turning back. She was head over heels for him and there was nothing anyone could say or do to make her change her mind. “Now I have to run, tough.”

“Ye-yeah, sure.” She shook her head, trying to come back to reality completely. “Have a nice day.” She smiled, putting her books in the backpack and closing it, before placing it back on her shoulder. “Oh, and I hope you have a great final meeting tonight at Hellfire!” She exclaimed.

He knew Dustin had probably reminded her that tonight it was going to be the final chapter of their campaign, but the fact that she remembered that just made him go crazy. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to push her against her locker and kiss her. But he couldn’t. He wanted. But he couldn’t. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll call you when I get home and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Can’t wait.” She smiled. And he knew he had to go or else he would be late for biology, again. But he just wanted to stay there with her. “Okay, now we really have to go.” She laughed. He expected her to turn and walk away. Simple as that. But she didn’t. Instead, she pushed herself on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. “Bye.” She whispered, before actually turning around and walking to class.

Bye. The word never left Eddie’s lips, too lost in that warm sensation left behind by her lips pressed on his skin, to actually realise whether he had actually spoken the word or not. Fuck. He was falling in love with her.

When the bell that signalled the beginning of lunch break rang, everyone ran out into the corridors, jumping around, talking with their friends. And who could blame them? Not only it was Friday, but it was the last school day before spring break, which meant it was only a few hours left before an entire 10-day vacation. So, it was only right for them to be happy. However, Y/N wasn’t as happy as everyone else at the moment. She sighed, putting back her books in her backpack, then walked out of the classroom and made her way to Ms. Kelly’s office. She dreaded that moment. She hated going to sessions, especially there at school. She knew people were watching her every time she went into the office, and she knew people were also talking, because, as much as she had tried to keep it a secret, some people found out what had happened, nonetheless. But that’s the problem with living in a small town like Hawkins, right? Everyone eventually finds out. So, keeping her head low, Y/N reached the school’s councillor’s office and knocked, waiting for the signal to enter.

“Come in, Y/N” Ms. Kelly was kind as always, something she almost couldn’t stand anymore. “Take a seat.” The woman said as she took out her folder and a pen. “Tell me, how are you?”

Y/N let her backpack fall to the ground, before sinking into the chair right across from the woman. “’m good.” She wasn’t a fan of questions like this. What did she expect? That she would just blurt out everything that was on her mind? Did she actually remember why she was there?

“How have you been sleeping lately? Have you had any nightmare?” The woman asked as she took note of something on a paper. She hated when she took notes.

“Nope, no nightmares.” Her answers were cold.

Mr. Kelly looked up from what she was writing to look at her. “No nightmares because you’ve been sleeping well or no nightmares because you haven’t been sleeping at all?” Y/N sighed. It was obvious that the answer was that she hadn’t been sleeping, only taking power naps every now and then, but never really allowing herself to fully relax. “You know it’s not good for your health. You have to sleep.”

“If I sleep, I dream of that. Every time I fall asleep, I see the accident.” She started bouncing her leg. “Everyone blames me for the accident.” Her hands were now closed into tight fists. “It’s my fault if he’s dead. Everyone thinks that. And I can’t stand the memory.”

“No one blames you for your father’s death, and you know that.” Ms Kelly finally put down the pen she was holding in her hand. “That car came out of nowhere.”

“But I was there with him!” Y/N screamed, and she didn’t care if people in the hallway could hear. “I wanted to sing with him, and he got distracted.” Her eyes were now glossy, tears threatening to spill out. “He died. And I’m still here. Why?” Her voice broke.

“The car was hit on the driver’s side.”

“If I hadn’t insisted on singing that stupid song, he might still be here.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do. He would have had enough time to notice the other car and he could have hit the brakes in time.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but she immediately stopped it. “It’s my fault.”

“Y/N, we have talked about this. It’s not your fault. And no one is blaming you for it.” Ms. Kelly sighed, getting up from her chair to move closer to her. “You have a wonderful family that loves you, and that is doing everything in their power to help you overcome this trauma. And you have friends, friends who love you and care for you.”

“What if my friends stay with me only because they pity me?” That was probably one of her biggest fears: people not being real with her. She loved her friends and her family; they were her strength. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if they actually felt the same about her.

“Have you ever tried talking to them about it? Have you ever tried asking them?”

“I’m not going to ask them, it’s stupid. They would just realise how fragile I really am and will want to leave me.” She kept her eyes fixed on her own shoes, not sure she wanted to look at the woman in the eyes.

Ms Kelly returned to her seat on the other side of the desk. “That’s the thing with friends: if they really love you, you can be vulnerable in front of them, and they will never judge you.” Y/N’s leg kept bouncing uncontrollably. But she knew the woman was right. She had read about it, and she had wrote about it. Robin came out to her and told her about her family problems. Steve had done the same. And no one had judged them. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why couldn’t she just tell them everything that was on her mind? Tell them about her fears, about how she felt about the accident? It was stupid. They would obviously look at her differently afterwards.

“You said you feel good. Is that true?” Ms Kelly’s voice interrupted her stream of consciousness.

Y/N eventually looked up, meeting briefly the woman’s eyes, only to move them immediately on the picture on the wall behind her. “Yes, in the last couple of days I’ve felt good.”

“Any reason in particular?”

There were two options now: she could either stay quiet and say a simple ‘no’, or she could tell the truth. She took a deep breath. “I’ve made a new friend.”

“That’s good, Y/N. Very good.” She could see in the corner of her eye the woman opening once again her folder and picking the pen back up. “Are they from school?”

“Yes. But I’m not going to tell you who they are.”

Ms Kelly chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask you. I just wanted to know if they are friends that you hang out with only at school, or someone that you can spend time with outside of school.”

Images from the previous evening popped into her mind, and she could feel her entire body start relaxing. It was only then, with the image of Eddie in her mind to calm her down, that she realised she was still squeezing her fists, so tight actually that she could now feel her palms burning where her nails pressed into her skin. She let go and licked her dry lips, hoping to bring back some hydration. “We hang out.” She said quietly. “We have plans for tomorrow, actually.”

“That is wonderful, Y/N.” She could feel the woman smiling. “Maybe this new friend will help you take a step forward.”

“Yeah, maybe.” A shy smile appeared on her lips, and she was glad the woman was too busy writing away to notice it.

Thankfully, the session didn’t last much longer, and soon she was free to go back to being her own anxious self, without someone studying her and taking note of her every move or word. She glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping to have enough time to go to the cafeteria and maybe say hi to Eddie and Dustin. But she didn’t even manage to take a few steps to get closer to the clock that the infamous bell rang and the hallway was once again flooded with the river of students rushing to their next class.

The rest of the day went by quite calmly; the teachers gave them a bunch of homework, as if they expected everyone to not go out and have fun during spring break to do them. Soon enough, the last bell of the day rang and she met outside with Steve and some girl, whose name she couldn’t really care about because, if she knew one thing, it was that whoever that was, she wasn’t going to last, especially given the fact that Steve was obviously still in love with Nancy Wheeler. But that was a talk for another day. Now they were there for Robin and Robin only, to support her and cheer on her. Yes, people would normally go to a basketball game to support their school, but Y/N didn’t really care about that, or the school in general. Being academic didn’t mean she had to like her own school. However, she did care about her best friend, and that was what was important.

Once she had enough of Steve’s flirting, she was lucky enough to sneak away and get a seat next to Robin, where they could talk without having to hear some random girl asking stupid questions or laughing without reason. Why Steve enjoyed going on dates with such dull people she would never understand, but she was never going to be the one to bring it to his attention. Not for now, at least.

Luckily, the end of the game came sooner than she could have hoped for, and Steve drove her home immediately after. “I have a terrible headache, Steve!” She lied. She just wanted to go home.

“Well, that’s what you get for sitting among the band.” He sighed, keeping his eyes on the road.

Sitting there, in the car, just the two of them, she couldn’t believe he had actually left his date to take her home. “You know I don’t hate you, right?” The words came out of her mouth without any warning.

Steve stayed quiet for a moment, biting down on his lip. Things between them hadn’t been the best in the last couple of days, and the main reason was Eddie. “I just want to protect you.” His voice was calm, warm. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I care about you. But you’re so reserved. I wish you would just talk to me more.” Y/N’s muscles tensed up. It was exactly what Ms Kelly was telling her a few hours before. “I’m not going to judge you. And it was wrong to get mad at you for going on a date with Munson, I know.” What was happening? Did Robin put him up to this? “It’s just… You’re right, I don’t know him. I only know what people say about him, and it’s not good things.” Y/N turned to look at the man sitting in the driver seat. “So, if you say he’s a good guy, I trust you. And if, one day, you would like to actually introduce us, I will be glad to change my mind about him.”

Y/N stared at Steve for a few seconds, a smile forming on her lips. “Thank you.”

“Just one thing.” Steve added, stopping the car in front of her house. He turned off the vehicle and turned to face the girl. “Good guy or not, if he hurts you-”

“You’re going to kill him, I know.” She smiled, before throwing her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Yes, that was the reason Steve Harrington was her best friend.

Once she got inside the house, she checked on her mother, to see if she was already asleep, and then Dustin’s room, only to see if he was already back from Hellfire or not. However, his room was still empty, and so was the bathroom, so she assumed he was probably on his way home. She made her way into her bedroom, letting her backpack hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. She changed into some more comfortable clothes, a thrifted Sex Pistols t-shirt which looked way too big on her, and a pair of sport’s short. She then let herself fall on her bed, taking a deep breath. She was exhausted. And it wasn’t difficult to see or to understand why: she had been avoiding sleeping for quite a few nights at that point. She didn’t know if it was because the anniversary of the accident was coming up or if it was the stress of the upcoming exams, but the nightmares had started coming back. And she hated the feeling that was left there whenever she woke up in tears from one of them more than she hated the tiredness and exhaustion from the sleepless nights. So, she had deliberately chosen to not sleep, or at least try. However, that night it felt particularly difficult, she could feel her eyelids getting heavier and threatening to shut, she could feel her mind become absent like when you’re about to fall asleep. But she couldn’t let it happen. So, she got up from her bed and sat at the desk, pen and paper in front of her, ready to write something. But the inspiration wouldn’t come. She was too tired. She heard her brother come home, the floor creaking when he tried to be as quiet as possible, the soft thud of the door to his room closing. She looked around the room, looking for inspiration. Anything will do, she thought to herself. I’m up to writing a romantic story if that means I won’t be falling asleep. And she kept searching, looking for ideas. When, all of a sudden, she heard a car stop outside of her house. She didn’t think much of it at first, thinking it might have been the neighbours, or maybe Dustin had forgotten something in the Wheeler’s car, so she just brushed it off and went back to what she was doing. However, not more than two seconds later, she heard footsteps, someone running outside, through their lawn, getting closer and closer to the house, closer and closer to her room’s window. Fuck, what if it’s a burglar? Or worse, a murderer? Shit, is this how I’m going to go? With a t-shirt from a band I don’t even listen to? The sound got louder, and then it stopped. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That’s it, I’m going to die. She wanted to scream but she was too afraid. So, she grabbed the first thing she found, that being a copy of War and Piece by Lev Tolstoj she had recently gotten and left on the desk hoping to get to read it over the break. It’s not much, but if I aim right, I could knock him out for a few moments, she thought, as she took a few steps back from the window, which she was just realising she had left open. Good job, genius. That’s how you’re going to die, as someone so stupid to forget to close their own goddamn window. The door of the bedroom wasn’t that far behind her, so she could throw the book to distract the intruder and then run. Yes, that could work. Another sound came from right outside of the window, and she was ready to run, when a figure appeared and launched himself throw the opening. She was about to throw the book, when she recognised the bushy mane of the man lying on her bedroom floor. “Eddie?”

A/N: get ready for the next chapters, my dudes! it's going to be a rollercoaster! love you <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st4 #eddie munson #softspaceboibrian #softspaceboibrian writings #good old fashioned lover boy eddie

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