#not to sound insane but this album feels like home :’) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 11 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?�� Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

3K notes · View notes

pilotispunk · 4 months

Text

All Access, Chapter 1

All Access Masterlist | Ko-Fi | A03 Link

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Word Count: 6.4K

Summary: It's 1975 and you're one of the rare women given the opportunity to write for Rolling Stone. When you get the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with the hottest band in the US, Triple Frontier, you're welcomed into their den of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. But what happens when you fall for their bass player and it becomes more than just a story?

Content: explicit drug use, heavy partying, triple frontier as rockstars, eventual smut, 1975 au

A/N: Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @heythere-mel, @proxima-writes, @nostalxgic, and @pedropascal-whore I am so insanely, eternally grateful you have no idea! Thank you to anyone who has been waiting for this story since it was just a random idea in 2022. I hope you all enjoy it and it makes you sing as loudly as Santiago.

TRIPLE FRONTIER: FROM BATTLEFIELDS TO CENTER STAGE

As the dust of the Vietnam War settles, a new sound emerges from its ashes. Four war veterans—Santiago, Benny, Will, and Frankie—unite under a new banner, Triple Frontier, capturing the soul of a generation seeking peace, love, and rock 'n' roll.

Triple Frontier's latest self-titled album strikes a chord with raw passion and unflinching honesty of their previous work. We can trace their meteoric rise in the music world back to their time serving together in the Vietnam War, an experience that has left an indelible mark on each member and seeps into every note they play.

At the forefront is Santiago Garcia, the charismatic lead singer with vocals matched only by his charm and stage presence; Behind Santiago, Benny Miller lets loose on the drums, laying down the heartbeat of their sound. Will, Benny's older brother on lead guitar, is the soul of the band. He's intuitive and artistic with the guitar akin to Robbie Robertson.

And then there's Francisco Morales on bass. The stoic backbone of the group, his basslines are more than just musical notes—they're lifelines. His bass weaves the music together like a thread that ties each member of the band.

Tom Davis, their manager, has been instrumental in their rise. A fellow vet, he understands their shared history and has transformed their raw, visceral tales into a finely-tuned musical odyssey. Speaking about their journey, Tom says, "These boys have stories that the world needs to hear. I'm just helping amplify their voices."

The band's name, Triple Frontier, references the tri-border area in Southeast Asia—a location many veterans from the Vietnam War will recognize.

Despite the weight of their past, or perhaps because of it, Triple Frontier brings a refreshing authenticity to the rock scene. Their music isn't just entertainment; it's a balm, a therapy, a reminder of the indomitable human spirit.

As they gear up for their nationwide tour, one thing's for certain: Triple Frontier is here to stay, and they're just getting started.

Despite your boss stating he just needed a simple puff piece about Triple Frontier, whenever you reread that review you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when you saw your name in print in Rolling Stone. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You were on the fast track to doing something big at Rolling Stone by the time you were thirty, you could just feel it. After freelance writing post graduation from college, you landed an entry-level job at the magazine. You knew what you were getting into, the long hours and the male-dominated office could be a lot at times, but you were living the dream as far as you were concerned. To write about music and make it your living was a gift you never wanted to take for granted.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were done at work surprisingly early. You lugged your 1969 Dodge home and immediately went to the back patio to light a joint. You slunk back in your chair, inhaling deeply from the joint, and watched the sun dip lower behind the tree line; the warm glow of the Los Angeles sunset never got old. As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt the day slowly dissipate.

The sound of your phone ringing jolted you out of your high-induced stupor but you heard your roommate Jenna flit across the house and yell "I'll get it!" before answering. You took another deep pull off the joint and exhaled, watching the smoke dance around the sky as it faded out.

You heard Jenna call your name from inside. You walked into the kitchen and saw her standing with the phone receiver in her hand, she was looking at you with an expectant expression.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"Some guy named Tom Davis? Sounds foxy." She grinned at you and wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and swatted her away before taking the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I hope you don't mind me calling you at home. Your work number was listed in the phone book, but I didn't know if you'd want to take this call in the office or not. Figured home was probably better."

You had talked to Tom a month back for the Triple Frontier article. You remembered him as a no-nonsense type of guy who didn't beat around the bush, so you knew even though he was calling you at home it wasn't for a dinner party.

"No, that's okay. What can I do for you? I hope the article came out okay?"

"That's actually why I'm calling, I wanted to thank you again for doing such a great job. The guys really loved it and the boss did too. And we've had some new interest in the band and they think an interview series might be a good way to build some buzz during the tour."

You felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. You didn't want to be presumptuous and assume this was an offer, but you also didn't want to say no.

"I'd love to write more about them! I'm not sure if you just want a song by song review or..."

Tom chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, nothing like that. I know this is actually last minute but we're playing a show at the Troubadour on Friday night and we'd love for you to come. I've already cleared it with your editor at Rolling Stone if you're game."

You tried not to sound too eager. Of course you knew about the Troubadour show, it had been sold out for months. You knew this wasn't an easy ticket to score or an opportunity that just falls into your lap like this.

"I would be an idiot to say no."

"That's what I like to hear! I'll be in touch with more details, but I'll have your ticket and backstage pass ready for you on Friday night."

"Awesome, thank you so much."

"Thank you, we'll talk soon!"

He hung up the phone. You stood in the kitchen with the receiver in your hand. You felt like someone had just punched you in the gut, you couldn't believe it. The Troubadour, backstage passes, exclusive interviews... it was the break you'd been waiting for.

This was real rock journalism, the rock journalism your mom cried over when you said you wanted to move out west and pursue this as a career.

Will Mom still think you're dabbling with the devil if your name is under the biggest story for Rolling Stone with the hottest band in the country?

-------------------------

By the time Friday night rolled around, you felt like you had a permanent case of butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't often you had the opportunity to attend a show and not write about it, so the fact that you had no other reason for going besides seeing the band was enough to set your nerves on fire. But meeting them?

You'd spent the whole week building scenarios in your head - Would these guys even take you seriously? Would they see you as just another fan? Were they even that interesting to interview, or were their music and looks all there was to them?

You shook the thoughts from your head as you walked up to the Troubadour. The line outside was already around the block and you could feel the energy from the crowd. You saw women with long hair down their backs in tight jeans and crochet tops, some men with hair even longer than theirs and dressed in flared pants and vibrant shirts. You could already smell the weed wafting off some people.

As you approached the bouncer at the back door, he glared at you, intimidating and unwavering.

"I'm here to pick up a press pass from Tom Davis." You tried to exude confidence, even though you felt the opposite. He arched his brow at you before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a paper.

"Name."

You gave him your name and also added what you thought would cement your legitimacy. "I'm with Rolling Stone."

He looked over the paper before his eyes settled on your face.

"Right. This way."

The man turned and opened the door behind him, beckoning for you to follow.

Once inside, he led you through the dimly lit back corridors of the club. You were immediately welcomed into a heavy musk of smoke and sweat. You passed other roadies carrying guitars, amps, and microphones. You felt the excitement rising up again and you had to remind yourself to act cool.

He led you into a dressing room with a large group of people. Everyone had drinks in their hands and seemed to be chatting amongst themselves. The walls were covered in posters and various band members from over the years had scrawled their names on the walls where Tom was seated, reading over a sheet of paper.

"There she is! Good to see you." Tom immediately spotted you from the crowd, his tall and imposing figure stood up and made his way over to you. He was wearing a black leather jacket and his hair was pushed back with gel. He looked every bit the rocker, and you couldn't help but wonder if he always dressed like that. With the band but not in the band.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out a laminated press pass. "Here you go, this should get you access to whatever you need."

You took the press pass and held it up, smiling. You were still in shock.

"I can't thank you enough, Tom. This really is an honor."

Tom chuckled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Honor's ours. We're looking forward to the piece."

"Speaking of pieces, If you're gonna write about the band you might as well meet them. Come with me."

He started making his way toward the back of the room. As he passed, the people parted to let him through. You followed closely behind, trying to not lose him.

He led you towards a cluster of men in the corner. They were talking amongst themselves, beers in hand and laughing. You recognized Benny–the drummer–from the album cover, by his shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He was bouncing off the soles of his feet, drumsticks tucked in his belt loop, and was the center of the circle.

Will was leaning against the wall, his long blonde hair tucked in a bun. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips and a guitar pick in his hand, fiddling with it.

Next to Will, Santiago was sitting on a couch, his arm draped over the back with a glass tumbler in his other hand. His eyes shined as he was talking to the other boys, taking his hand to smooth out his jet-black hair.

It was true what every girl said - his pants were as tight as his voice.

And then there was Frankie.

He was standing next to Santiago, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. He was leaning on his elbow on the wall behind Santiago, listening to Benny.

He was handsome. His brown hair was covered in his signature baseball cap, and the stubble along his jaw along with his mustache gave him a rugged look. You couldn't help but notice the muscles underneath his thin shirt. You could see his arms flexing underneath the material, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer.

He was the first one to notice you, looking at you before he did Tom. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but you could tell he was assessing the situation.

"Boys," Tom boomed, "I want you to meet the writer from Rolling Stone."

Santiago and Will turned their heads in unison, but Frankie's eyes stayed fixed on you.

Santiago's smile broadened, and Will raised his eyebrow and nodded. Frankie's expression didn't change.

"Well, hey, welcome to the party." Santiago stood up and extended his hand. You reached out and took his, shaking it. His hand was soft and his grip was firm.

"Nice to meet you." You tried to sound confident.

"You've already met Tom, obviously," he gestured towards Tom, who smiled at you, "and this is Will and Benny, and that's Frankie."

Benny smiled at you, and Frankie's eyes flickered over to Santiago as he said his name, but he didn't speak. You had a feeling this was his way of letting everyone else talk.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm a huge fan." You offered them a friendly smile.

Benny spoke up, "Well then, I like you already. You'll make us look good!"

Tom looked down at his watch and then snapped up at the guys. "Shit–we have ten minutes before showtime, you guys need to get down to the stage."

They started moving and shuffling: Will stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, Benny put down his beer, and Santiago tossed back his drink. Frankie had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to watch them all go by.

Tom turned back to you, "What are you doing? You're going down with us. ‘Can't write about the show if you aren't there."

You felt the rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your face broke out into a huge grin.

"Yeah, right. Okay."

Tom smiled and turned, heading for the door. You followed him, trying to keep up with his strides. Backstage was a flurry of activity and you felt like you were on a hamster wheel trying to stay out of the way. You couldn't help but stare at the scene before you, the lights and the sounds, the smell.

After navigating through the throng of people and equipment, you found yourself on the side of the stage, the lights dim and the sound of the audience humming through the floorboards. While Tom had stopped to talk with one of the lighting guys, you could see the boys getting into their instruments and tuning up.

You looked over and saw Frankie. He had taken off his hat and was carding his hand through his thick hair. His mouth was turned down into a frown, but you could see the glimmer of his eyes.

He looked up at you. Your breath hitched and you could feel your cheeks start to burn. He held your gaze for a moment before turning away and putting his hat back on.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the audience erupted in cheers. The guys, including Tom, went into a huddle and you slowly inched yourself closer, not wanting to miss this moment.

You heard Benny shout, "Let's get it done tonight, boys! Let's give the fans what they came for."

You could see Santiago's grin spread across his face, "This is our mission. Our job. Our purpose."

Tom placed his hand into the middle, "I'm proud of you, boys. Now, let's go fucking rock this shit."

They put their hands together and Santiago began to sing "Stop, hey, what's that sound..."

Like a ritual, the rest of the men in the circle sang "Everybody look what's going down."

With that, the boys dispersed and you felt so lucky to be in that moment. You feel their connection, their comradery, their love.

You saw Tom pat Benny on the back. "Showtime!" he boomed. Benny ran onto the stage and the crowd roared. You could hear the clatter of sticks in the air as Benny hit the cymbal to start playing their song "Echoes".

The rest of the guys filed onto the stage and you were immediately struck by the sheer energy radiating off the crowd. They were cheering, clapping, dancing. There was so much movement and excitement and you felt the hairs on your arms stand up.

The band started their set with a bang. You watched as Santiago worked the crowd, his voice smooth and strong. He walked slowly, confidently, swaying with every step. The crowd was eating out of the palm of his hand.

You'd never experienced a concert like this, being able to watch from the sidelines and take in everything. The lights, the sound, the way the crowd responded.

Your eyes drifted to Frankie. He was focused and precise with his guitar, his hands moving effortlessly across the strings. You watched the muscles in his arms flex and strain as he played along with the concentration in his eyes.

The rest of the concert flew by. Before you knew it, the band was finishing up their final song, and the crowd was going crazy. You watched as Santiago, Frankie, Benny, and Will took their final bows.

The audience screamed. Santiago leaned over and spoke into the microphone, "Los Angeles, thank you. We love you! Goodnight!"

And with that, the lights dimmed and the guys filed off stage. Tom turned and motioned for you to follow as he led you to a different area where the guys were drinking bottles of water and catching their breath.

Benny was sweating, his face flushed red. "Man, we really fucking killed it."

Santiago grinned, wiping his brow. "You bet your ass we did. That was one of the best shows we've done."

Frankie was leaning against the wall, a bottle of water in his hand. He was drinking it slowly, his eyes looking up and meeting yours.

Will looked over at you and gave you a wink. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh my god, yes. That was incredible." You were trying to be professional, but your excitement was starting to show through, an excitement that Santiago could start to see through.

Santiago clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Now that we've broken your legs, I think it's time for the afterparty. Are you coming with us?"

"The afterparty?"

"Of course," Tom chimed in, "you don't have to go, but it might give you some time to chat with the guys more and get some quotes. These things tend to be a good time so I can also book you a room, on us. It's at the Chateau Marmont."

"Holy shit."

"That's the spirit." Santiago winked.

You hesitated, knowing how big a decision this was. The idea of the afterparty excited you, but it was also a chance to spend more time with these guys. To talk to them one-on-one and maybe get some insights that would really sell the article.

You took a deep breath and looked around the room, at the guys waiting expectantly.

"Alright, count me in."

You could have sworn you saw Frankie's lip twitch up into a smile.

-------------------------

The afterparty was at a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont and it was a mess of people, noise, and debauchery. You tried to take it all in but you just couldn't. There was too much happening at once.

You found a bar top to sit at, watching the scene unfold. Santiago was at the piano playing some old jazz tunes and laughing with gorgeous women surrounding him. Tom was chatting up some record exec, a scotch in his hand. You even saw Benny and Will having an impromptu arm wrestling match in the corner. Frankie so far wasn't anywhere to be found.

The music, the lights, the alcohol. All of it was almost overwhelming and you were starting to wonder why you decided to come.

This world of excess and debauchery was so foreign to you, a far cry from the quiet solitude of your apartment where you usually did your writing. You've been to parties but nothing like this. You thought about your male coworkers at Rolling Stone, who seemed to fit seamlessly into the rock and roll lifestyle, effortlessly bonding with their subjects over shared experiences and unspoken understandings.

You focused on scribbling notes in your notebook, trying to make sense of the chaos around you and organize your thoughts about the concert. The more you wrote, the more your head cleared, and you found yourself able to better compartmentalize everything you'd experienced.

As you were finishing up your notes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You turned and saw Santiago standing behind you. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Hey." You replied.

He moved to stand beside you, looking at the party in front of you.

"What are you doing over here by yourself? Having fun?" He asked, taking a swig of the whiskey.

You shrugged, "I guess I just wanted to take everything in, get a feel of the scene. "

"Through your notepad?" He asked, gesturing towards your notes.

"Yeah, uh, it's easier for me to write things down."

"Ah," he took another swig, "can I ask you a question?"

You looked up at him. He was staring down at you, a smirk on his face.

"Sure."

"Why do you wanna write a story about us?"

It wasn't the question you were expecting. You had prepared for a list of generic questions like how you got into writing and your favorite bands, but this one caught you off guard.

"Because..." You hesitated, not sure how to answer, "...because I think you guys are cool."

Santiago smirked, leaning in.

"Cool? That's it?"

"Yeah," you said, feeling slightly defensive. "I think you guys have something special."

He chuckled to himself, taking a joint from a walking passerby, and taking a hit. "That's what they all say."

"All who?"

"People, the press. They all want to write a story about the cool, rebellious, rock and roll band, but the thing is, no one ever actually gets it."

"Maybe because the people who write about you are only interested in the glamorous lifestyle and not the reality of it."

He cocked his eyebrow.

"The reality?"

"Yeah," you said, closing your notebook. "I don't want to write a story about what I see here. This is a party, a show. It's not what's real."

Santiago studied you for a moment, and you felt the tension in the air between you. It was as if he was trying to read you, to figure out what made you tick.

"I'm here to witness the magic, the brotherhood. You can feel the bond between you guys: it's real, it's tangible, it's magnetic. People come to see your shows to see it. Shit, people come to the Chateau Marmont at 1 AM to see it. People want more."

You met his gaze, unwavering. You weren't going to back down.

He laughed, taking a step back. "Okay, okay. I believe you."

You smiled, relieved.

"But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret…Tom? He's over the moon, hunky fuckin' dory that you're writing this piece, but the truth is? We're a little skeptical, a little worried. We wanna look good but we also don't want this to be a puff piece. You've convinced me though, I believe you when you say you wanna do something different. So here's the deal - if you want the real story, the one that matters, you need to prove it."

You swallowed.

"And how do I do that?"

He smirked, gesturing to the crowd. "Come hang with us, chill out, see how we are when it's just us. If you can do that, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. If you wanna get to know the real us, you gotta dive in."

Santiago offered you the joint, and you took it from him, putting it to your lips and inhaling.

He grinned. "Welcome to the team."

You hesitated for a moment. You wanted to get the real story, the one that mattered, but you were afraid. What if you didn't fit in? What if the guys didn't like you?

But Santiago had a point. You needed to prove yourself, and what better way than by actually hanging out with the band?

So you sucked it up, took a long drag off the joint, and threw caution to the wind.

----------------------------------

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the party was still in full swing. The doubts and fears that plagued you had floated away along with your sobriety. Santiago had been a great host, introducing you to people, making sure you had a drink in your hand, and keeping the conversation going. You'd lost track of how many drinks you'd had, but you were feeling good.

He'd also gotten you better acquainted with Will and Benny. Will was reserved but he was incredibly knowledgeable about music, and you spent most of your conversation talking about some of the more obscure bands you both liked in common. With Benny, he was the life of the party. He had an infectious smile and was quick to laugh.

Frankie was another story entirely.

Frankie had eventually been found at the party but he'd stayed off to the side, talking quietly with a group of people, occasionally smoking a cigarette or sipping from a glass. You watched him throughout the night.

He'd glance at you from time to time, his eyes dark and unreadable. His gaze would linger, sending shivers down your spine. You would try to catch his eye, but he'd look away before you could make contact.

A model that you recognized from a cover of Cosmopolitan pulled out a baggie of coke and offered some to everyone at the table. You politely declined and headed for the bathroom.

You walked around the hallway and saw a few sets of doors. You opened a door to see Tom sitting on the bed, the phone cord stretched across the room.

"Of course I'm thinking about this damn offer, it's all I can think about. Fuck, I just don't know if this is the right move. If I had another band under my roster the boys would kill me, but the money they're offering? It's the kind of money we can't turn down."

You tried to back out of the room quietly, but sobriety be damned, the heel of your shoe clicked loudly on the hardwood floor as you tripped. Tom turned, his eyebrows raised and his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

You mouthed an apology and quickly made your way out of the room. Humiliation and embarrassment flooding through you, you decided you needed some air.

You made your way outside, the cool air hitting your face. You inhaled deeply, trying to clear your mind and slow your racing heart. You only had a bit of context but you knew that wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.

You sat down on the ground, resting your head against the wall. You could feel your body relax, the tension easing from your shoulders.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the evening replayed in your head. The music, the energy, the excitement.

Suddenly, you felt someone sit next to you. You looked over and saw Frankie, his expression still unreadable.

"Hey."

"Hi." You tried to sound casual, hoping the high pitch in your voice didn't sell you out.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled in the air, dancing in the breeze.

You sat in silence for a moment, watching the smoke drift away, trying to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"Having fun?" Frankie's voice was low and husky, his question caught you off guard. "What do you think of all of this so far?"

"It's definitely not what I'm used to."

He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile. He took another cigarette from the carton, offering one to you.

You took the cigarette from him and he lit it, the flame flickering in the darkness. You felt the smoke fill your lungs.

"What are you used to then?" He asked, his eyes locked on yours.

"Lighting a joint at the end of a long day, writing a draft for an article, and throwing it in the trash. Sitting at home alone and wondering if I'm ever gonna break out."

Frankie smiled. "We're not what you expected, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

You took another drag of the cigarette. The combination of weed, whiskey, and nicotine was making your head spin, and you couldn't stop the giggle that escaped your lips.

Frankie smirked.

"Lightweight."

You nodded, leaning your head against the wall. You looked over at Frankie, his profile illuminated by the moonlight. He was handsome, his jawline sharp and his lips full. His hair was tousled under his hat and his stubble was perfectly trimmed. You could see the muscles in his arms flex as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, and you felt your breath hitch.

You looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, the drugs, or his presence that was making you feel so flustered.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" You asked, trying to distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach.

Frankie shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I could ask you the same question."

You laughed, the alcohol and weed finally settling in.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, I needed some fresh air."

Frankie nodded, understanding. "I'm not really one for big parties."

"Is that why you weren't around earlier?"

He gave you a curious look. "You really are quite the observant reporter."

You grinned. "I'm a professional."

He smirked, your gaze turning back to the sky. You couldn't help but feel his eyes linger on your skin, you felt like you were burning up.

"I'm just not a huge fan of the crowds. I like the music, the shows, but the parties are sometimes too much."

"I can understand that."

"Can you?"

You looked at him, surprised by his question. "Of course."

He raised his eyebrow. "How so?"

You shrugged. "I've had my share of experiences. Not quite like this, but enough that I get it. Sometimes I'd rather just sit back with a joint and observe it all."

Frankie's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me too."

You couldn't help but smile back. He seemed much less guarded now.

You took another drag of your cigarette; the smoke swirling around the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Frankie glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching again.

"Sure."

"What brought you into music? How'd you end up here?"

He considered your question for a moment, tapping the ashes of his cigarette.

"Well, I just always loved music. I was a quiet kid and my parents weren't around a lot. Santi moved to Miami when we were eight and we just immediately hit it off. Whatever he did, I did. If he joined the baseball team, I joined the baseball team. And then he started playing guitar. We'd sit in his garage for hours and play. I never knew I wanted to be a musician until then. It just felt right."

He paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"How'd you get into journalism?"

You froze. The truth was, you had no idea. You just always felt drawn to writing. You had a knack for it and it came easily to you. You never had any grand plan or vision, it was more like a calling.

"I guess I just felt called to it. I was always writing stories as a kid and then I wanted to write about real people and real stories."

He studied you, his eyes searching yours.

"So far, do you like my story?"

You grinned, "I don't know your story yet."

He smiled, exposing a dimple as you felt your heart skip a beat.

"It's been a long time since I've actually talked to someone like this."

"Me too."

There was a moment of comfortable silence. You could hear the sounds of the city around you, the cars honking, the music and laughter drifting from inside. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Tom stepped out.

"Some chick from Apple Records just threw up on my Italian boots. This is a disaster."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "You've had worse, Tom."

Tom groaned. "I'm gonna call it a night. You guys have that radio station interview tomorrow and I need to get ready for it in the morning."

"I should probably get some sleep too." Frankie stretched out and yawned, his shirt riding up and exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans.

You felt your mouth go dry and quickly looked away.

"Did you get the room key I left for you?" Tom asked you. "We rented out the whole second floor, so you've got your pick of rooms."

"Yeah, thanks." You dug into your back pocket, pulling out the key.

"I gotta clean this shit up so I'll see you guys in the morning."

He retreated away from the cottage, leaving you and Frankie alone once more.

You stood, dusting off the back of your pants. "I guess I should get some sleep, I'm pretty wasted."

"I'm heading up myself, so I can walk you to your hotel room."

"Oh, okay." You said in a high-pitched tone.

"Unless you don't want me to."

"No! No, I want you to, I just wasn't sure if you wanted to say goodnight to the guys?"

"They're honestly too fucked up to remember anything right now. Besides, I'd rather make sure you get there safe."

You blushed, the alcohol and weed still affecting you. "Thanks."

You and Frankie made your way back into the main building, the party still raging on from the cottage nearby. While you walked through the halls and into the elevator, you marveled at the luxury of the famous chateau. You'd heard so many stories but to say you'd gone to a party there, even for a couple of hours, was something you’d never forget.

The two of you got into the elevator, and you were acutely aware of Frankie's presence. He was tall–at least a foot taller than you–and his shoulders were broad and muscular. You could smell his scent, a mixture of spice, nicotine, and citrus.

The both of you got off on the second floor, walking silently down the hallway. The hotel was dark and quiet; it was as if the rest of the world had faded away.

You reached your room, fumbling with the key and unlocking the door.

"This is me."

Frankie nodded. "Good night."

You stepped into the room and turned around, watching as he walked away.

"Good night."

You watched him disappear around the corner, the butterflies in your stomach erupting again.

Once the door had shut behind you, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You were still buzzing from the alcohol and the pot but there was something else, an energy that you hadn't felt before.

You stripped off your clothes, letting them pool on the floor, and crawled into the bed. As you drifted off, you felt yourself smile.

-------------------------

You were jolted awake by the shrill ring of the hotel telephone. Before you could even think, your head was already pounding from last night and its excess. You squinted at the clock next to you, the bold white words focusing on 9:30 AM.

"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and still heavy with sleep.

"Morning! It's Tom." Tom sounded surprisingly chipper given last night's circumstances with his Italian shoes. Not one to beat around the bush, he started, "I have a proposition for you."

You were instantly alert, sitting up straight in the bed. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I had a long talk with Santiago this morning. About you."

You swallowed nervously. You knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Okay.."

"He told me that you really want to tell the real story of the band, that you want to get to the bottom of who we are."

You paused, considering your words carefully.

"That's correct. I think there's more to your story, more than meets the eye."

"That's exactly what I thought, which is why I have an offer for you."

You held your breath. You didn't want to seem eager but you couldn't help the excitement building inside of you.

"I'm listening."

"Rolling Stone wants an in-depth piece, right? Well, what better way to get that than by joining us on tour?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in.

"You mean..go on tour with you guys? Be a part of the band?"

"It's the only way to really understand us, right? Get into our world, our culture, and experience it for yourself. I already pitched it to your editor and he said as long as the label pays for expenses and you're game, he's game."

You were astounded at the things that Tom Davis could get done before noon.

"But..how would that work? Where would I stay? I don't have any experience touring or writing on the road."

You took a deep breath, processing everything Tom had just told you. "I'd be lying if I said that this wasn't an incredible offer."

"An incredible offer you can't refuse?"

You couldn't help but smile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "An incredible offer I can't refuse."

Tom let out a hearty laugh, "That's what I like to hear! Look, we've already discussed it amongst ourselves, and as for accommodations, we're a tight-knit group, we always look out for one another. You'll have a place to crash every night, always a nice hotel to stay in."

Your mind was racing with possibilities. The chance to immerse yourself in their world, to witness their artistry up close and personal—it was an opportunity unlike any other. "What about interviews? Will I have unrestricted access?"

Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. We want this to be as authentic as possible. You'll have full access to everyone in the band, backstage, on the bus, wherever we go. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you won't hold back. We want the real story, the gritty details, the highs and lows of life on the road. Don't sugarcoat anything."

You nodded with determination. "I promise, Tom. I'll give it my all."

"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. "I have a feeling you're going to fit right in."

As you pressed down on the end call button, a surge of adrenaline shot through your veins. This was it - the opportunity to delve deep into the core of the band and capture their raw energy in words for all to experience. Just thinking about it made your heart race, and as you thought of Frankie, you felt an unfamiliar warmth in your belly.

You'd have a new adventure ahead of you, one that would change your life forever.

157 notes · View notes

bit-odd-innit · 1 year

Text

[A lil thing based on my list of bands Steve and Eddie would both like, specifically ELO]

Robin must recognize the near-imperceptible click his jaw makes when he yawns, the one that allegedly "drives her insane,” because when she picks the phone up the phone she barks, “WHEN are you coming home?”

Eddie chuckles. “Hello to you, my closest compatriot! You flatter me! I had no idea my absence would be so acutely felt.”

“I welcomed your absence!”

“Ouch.”

“Fool that I am, I believed your absence would grant me respite! Four blissful days without your utterly barf-inducing honeymoon phase, blech. ”

“It saddens me that you have allowed so much hate into your heart.

“Instead I’m subjected to—“

Eddie can HEAR her exaggerated pout through the phone.

“Where’s Eddie? What do you think Eddie’s doing right now? If I go outside and look up at the moon do you think Eddie is looking at the same moon? Put a bullet in my head.”

In the background he hears a faint “is that him?” And his heart flips over and bares it’s belly.

There’s a scuffle on the other end of the line, smacks of flesh on flesh interspersed with hushes of, “Fuck you.” “Fuck YOU.” Then there’s a thump, a squawk of defiance, and a breathy, flirtatious, “Hey,” and Eddie has to lean his full weight onto the shoulder as his knees give out. “Hey.” The bank of payphones in Jeff’s dorm’s lobby don’t offer a lot of privacy so he pivots to press his face into the cool, white-painted cinderblock. “Whatcha doin’?” “There’s been a development.” A shuffle, a hiss of a needle hitting a record, a giggle. “My raise came through,” Steve says, “And I made a purchase.”

“Oh?” Eddie asks as the distant rumble of music mounts. “I got the cordless. And now I can do this.” There’s a slight feedback screech and then, “🎵 In myyyyy blue world...🎵” and Eddie’s glad Steve can’t see him claw his hair across his face. “🎵 I turn to stone when you are gone I turn to stone I turn to stone, when you comin' home I can't go on...🎵 ” Steve’s voice is shaky and teasing and warm as he sings along. Eddie swoons against the cement wall, thinks, oh, okay, you’re It for me. “Not hearing a lot of feedback...?” “Baby.” And he punches the word with as much feeling as he can, pummels it with the word he wants to say but can’t, the word that’s sat dense and heavy in his chest since the moment he opened his eyes in a hospital room, felt his hand squeezed in reassurance. “Baby,” he says, again. “Mm,” Steve says, and it sounds like come home. “I’m on the first bus out.” “Okay,” he hears the same time Robin says, “Fucking WHIPPED.” “I’m going to kick Robin’s ass.” “No you’re not NO HE’S NOT” “No I’m not.” He beams. “I can’t wait to see you again.” “Of course you can’t,” he says as through Eddie can’t hear him climbing through the phone to get to him. “You bought the ELO album for me?” he asks, and melts as Steve replies, “Honey I bought it for us.” Later he flops onto the air mattress in Jeff’s dorm, screams into the pillow. He looks up at Jeff, smiling like he still hasn’t adjusted to moving his mouth without braces. Wide, loose lipped, gummy. “You love him, don’t you?” He grumbles. He does.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #still figuring out how to write robin i'm TRYING also jeff&eddie bff agenda

435 notes · View notes

sanspuppet · 8 months

Text

Was thinking about how hard San would fuck you, cuz, shit he's an ass man kaspdiwjwbd 🫠

Think:

He had a hard day of work, stressed about the incoming new album, and tired after hours of dance practice. When he got home he finds you in bed, wearing his favorite lingerie he brought for you, last Saturday. You wore it because you perfectly knew, he would immediately turn on at the sight, and you wanted to help him "relaxing".

"Hi Sannie..." you chuckled seeing his surprised face, with a mist of enjoyment and sudden needyness. He looked at you, smirking, his dimples popping out of his cheeks. San headed towards you, making his bag fall on the floor, you were now his only priority. He layed on the bed, next to you, his eyes staring perversely at your ass. He couldn't help but dragging one of his hands down your hips, palming your tights. You looked at his focused expression, sparkles in his eyes, making your heart melt by the true love he felt for you.

"Baby... can i take those off of you?" he asked you, looking intensely at your sexy panties. Once you nodded, with a smirk in your face, he sat on top of you, and dragged them down. The sight of your already wet pussy, made his crotch even more hard, that you could now see perfectly his erection through his pants. He bent down, reaching your mouth, and placed soft kisses on your juicy lips.

"I can take no more..." he whispered at you, and licked your earlobe. His hands dragging down sweetly through your neck, till your bra. San massaged your clothed tits, leaving a whine escape from your mouth.

"Thought you would be rougher." you said, teasing him by palming his toned chest.

"I'll be soon. If you let me."

You nodded, and dragged down his pants unexpectedly, making him gasp at the feeling of his exposed legs.

"Ruin me." you said lastly, before he turned you on your hands and knees, admiring your beautiful shapes from behind. He took off his boxers, letting his hard cock free, red and pulsing rhythmically from the excitement. He didn't wait a second before pushing himself inside of you, which made you instantly moan by the sudden pleasure. He slipped in and out of you a few times, adjusting his position. After that he started to pound you insanely fast and deeply, you just loved to feel his dick filling you completely and hitting your g-spot continuously. His right hand holding your hair back, while the other one was placed on your ass, trying to make you stay still while he pushed himself into you so hard. Your choked moans, the only thing he could think about, as a certainty he was making you feel so fucking good. The sound of his hips slapping against yours, was echoing inside the room. Your neighbors probably (perfectly) knowing what was going on, because of your loud moans and whines:

"San! Fuck! Ah-!"

"Yeah fuck-" his low groans were so fucking hot. "Gonna ruin that pretty pussy of yours. So tight- fuck!"

You arched your back, as you finally reached your climax, your legs and arms started shaking, you couldn't take more of that. Your walls clenching hardly around his dick, and your pussy extremely wet.

"Yeah baby, cum around my cock, be a good slut for your boyfriend"

----------------------------------------------------------------

also wanted to thank you all for reaching 50 followers in just... like a week? 💕

261 notes · View notes

hardt4rein · 11 months

Text

Hantengu Clones Music Taste Headcanons

Just what I personally feel they would listen too + how they would sing along/react to you catching them singing

🔞 Some suggestive stuff mentioned on Karaku’s part (minors dni). Also vulgar language throughout and in the songs

Please enjoy.

✘ ⚡️🍁🫧🪶✘

Sekido

Music Taste

Definitely angry breakup songs

Like for instance “Take what you want” and “Enemies” both by Post Malone

Also songs about people betraying or using others

Literally just any song with a meaning that he could relate to

He likes to listen to other people experiencing the same kind of emotions but in a more calm way compared to how he expresses them

If he listened to angry music that matched his unjust energy he would go blind in rage

So sticking to these “calm” sounds with opposite lyrics is the best for him

How He Would Sing Along

If he honestly even tried to remember the words that is

Would start off simply humming it at first

He would only start “singing” along if he’s alone

And by “singing” it’s more of a monotone speaking

It almost sounds as though he’s annoyed by the fact the song has him wasting his breath to it

Reaction To Being Caught

If it was during the time he was just humming to it he won’t make a big deal out of it

He’ll just turn up the music to purposely ignore you

But if you caught him during his attempt at “singing”

Be prepared for him to yell at you for sneaking around

💀 like Sekido, it’s your fault for not noticing them come into the room

He’s turning the music off entirely

Do not mention it to him. You’re getting an earful of him saying he wasn’t singing

Like ok Mister Gaslight 💀

Honorable Song Mentions

The album “Elsewhere” by Set it Off

“Slow Bloom” “Fomo” “Watching All Your Friends Get Rich” by The Home Team

“In My Room” Insane Clown Posse

“Punching Bag” Set It Off (a little less calm than the other ones mentioned)

Karaku

Imo bro is a whole ass whore

Like he listened to music he would refer to himself with

Like for instance “Naked” by Doja Cat

But literally any song by the Weekend

Like bro is a sex fiend/tease and his music taste would whole reflect that entirely

1000% RnB enjoyer 😫

Even though he has his tastes he really doesn’t mind so he’ll even listen to his brothers music or other genres entirely

How He Would Sing Along

Just mindlessly vibing along most times

But when he’s actively paying attention he is singing like he’s the one performing it

Even going as far to put emphasis into certain lyrics as well or playfully smirking/rolling his eyes to some lyrics

Keep in mind he can’t sing for shit 💀

Reaction To Being Caught

Would be a little caught off guard at first but gets over it quickly

He is now singing the song directly to you 🫵

As previously mentioned most of these songs have sexual undertones

You’re more than likely about to get eaten out to whatever song is playing 🤭

Honorable Song Mentions

“Kiss You More” and “Wine Pon You”Doja Cat

“Don’t Go” Justin Bieber, Don Toliver

“Cry Baby” Megan thee Stallion, Da Baby

“Awkward” Sza

“One Right Now” Weekend, Post Malone

“Scoop” Lil Nas X

Aizetsu

Just like with Sekido I believe he would listen to music with meanings that match his emotion but not entirely

Of course he wants music that matches his energy but not enough to make him start full on bawling his eyes out

“Ghost in Machine” by Sza would be a great example

This songs explains boredom, loneliness and wanting something more

All things I truly believe he relates to

The discography from the band Arctic Monkeys also gives him the greatest of ear worms

How He Would Sing Along

He has the best singing voice out of his brothers

Tries to keep his tone low enough so that no one can hear him

I’d imagine he would always have one earbud out of his ear just to make sure no one walks in on him

Reaction To Being Caught

He would make a little noise out of being startled

Immediately embarrassed

Tell him you enjoyed his singing and he will immediately brighten up

But then again would still be self conscious you heard him in the first place 😅

He shares his earbuds and enjoys the music with you 🤗

Honorable Song Mentions

“Soap” Melanie Martines

“Fireside” “505” “Do I Wanna Know” by Arctic Monkeys (Just to name a few)

“Shinunoga E-Wa” Kujii Kaze

“Okay” “Friends” “Empty” Chase Atlantic

“Lonely Boy” “Ghosting” “Farewell Neverland” and “0x1= Lovesong” all by Txt

Urogi

He 1000% wants music that matches his energy

Bro loves hyper pop and no one can tell me otherwise for instance “Spy” Whokilleddxix

LOUD LOUD LOUD MUSIC

It’s almost like he wants his ears to bleed like he does to others

I’m not kidding if he’s listening to music it has to be on full blast

How He Would Sing Along

He’s screaming his lungs out

Doesn’t even matter if he knows the words or not bros just screaming along

His voice will make your ears bleed (literally 🗿)

Reaction To Being Caught

Just going to ask you if you like the song being played

If not then he’s putting on something you both can enjoy

Loves jamming along with you

Please match his energy he will love you forever

Honorable Song Mentions

“So Bitter” Stxlkin

“Narcissistic Personality Disorder” Odetari

“Where’s My Juul” Full Tac

“Go (Xtayalive 2)” Kanii

“BrooklynBloodPop” SyKo

“Sex Obsession” Cade Clair

“Love Taste” Moe Shop

✘ ⚡️🍁🫧🪶✘

A/N: Anyways lemme know what songs you think they would like or you associate with them. Sorry if this was ass, k bye

380 notes · View notes

outro-jo · 10 months

Text

new moon, new vibes

pairing: bang chan x gn reader

type: one shot

warnings: practicing witchcraft, mentions of deities, use of florida water, kinda spicy alluded at the end but nothing at all in detail… i can’t think of anything else 😂

notes: this is how i would practice but this is not a tutorial nor am i teaching you how to do things. if you want to practice witchcraft, please do your own research! this is just a self indulgent piece of writing and it is fiction 🫰🏻don’t come to me for questions lmao i’m sorry but i’m not a teacher. i just study for myself and incorporate things as i see fit. there are practitioners who teach, i am not one of them for my own idk… safety isn’t the right word bc like i’m protected but like mental health… i’m in and out of my practice sm it feels hypocritical to teach so just don’t ask 😂 i can give resources tho and google is ✨free✨ 🤍 also, i wouldn’t really request another one of these. the new moon in virgo said, “bitch, do something” 😂 sorry for the long disclaimer

please read info before requesting!

masterlist | info

—————————————————

chris tracks the moon better than you do sometimes. never for any reason in particular other than sheer curiosity but this time it all just worked out. yes, he’s like three albums ahead in recording with bonus 3racha songs that will never see the light of day, but he was feeling the need to start working on a new album too. the boys creativity was spiking as well and they were getting restless. in other words, it was time to get to work, but chris needed a refreshing in his work space. normally he loved his studio, it was all you could do some days to get him out of it. sucked into his kaleidoscope hole of creativity until it finally set him free once the album was done. but the vibes were stale. he felt trapped lately, like his mind was racing with ideas of lyrics and melodies but none of them were clicking.

that’s where you come in.

nothing felt better to christopher after he just helped clean the house and then you banish the negative energy and cleanse the space. he knew it was time for some of that in his studio or he was gonna go insane.

your spirituality was nothing you hid especially from him. he grew up in the church so he kept his distance but was quietly observing. he still remembers the first night he watched you work.

the living room was dimly lit, windows open with the moon cascading light into the living room on your makeshift work station on the coffee table. the air swirled with smells of incense, oils, and herbs and you sit quietly as you worked. your playlist of music softly played in the background. chris didn’t say a word but he was enthralled with everything you did, almost attempting to ask what each thing was and how it worked but you seemed to be in a zone.

“ask, christopher.” you spoke up, not bothering to glance his way.

he awkwardly shifted in his seat on the floor as he cleared his throat, “what’s that do?”

he cringed at himself a little for sounding like a child but you couldn’t help but smirk at how adorable and clueless he was.

“well, this is a pretty basic banishing spell.” you continued into detail of your work and the reasoning, which worked out well for you because then you could further set your intentions into the spell. eventually that’s just how you would do your spell work, explaining things to him in detail and why you were doing things.

also, it always blew his mind how you always seemed to know things before they happened but you were never super obvious about it. one time you had warned him about a presence at work. his questions at the time went unanswered but then he came home in shock.

“how the hell did you know about Beomseok?” he was in utter disbelief.

you simply shrugged, “you have family on the other side wanting to protect you.”

ever since he thought there might be something to what you do and after some time of thought he came to you and said that however you wanted to use him in your practice, he was willing. you started out slow and decided that apollo would be a good fit to work with for him and his music. it started with regular cleansing and a sun charm you enchanted for him, but now chris was feeling the pull for more to be done.

“i need your help.”

you glanced up at him from your spot on the couch to give him your full attention as he moved to take a seat next to you. he seemed nervous as he shifted a bit.

“so, the moon is moving into pisces tonight and the guys and i are feeling a shift in our creativity and it’s a new moon but the energy in my studio is awful. so i was wondering…” chris stopped looking for you to finish the sentence as he wasn’t quite sure what he was even asking for.

you mimicked his head motions, trying to pick up what he was putting down. “you want me to cleanse your space?”

“i think so…” he breathed out a chuckle. “something, i dunno. whatever you do in here when we clean the house.”

you let out a laugh, finally understanding what he was trying to ask. “ok, yeah, so some incense, crystals?”

“yes! i like crystals.”

fuck, he was cute.

“yeah! let me get some stuff. oh! and by the window over there, grab a water bottle.” you pointed as you walked down the hall.

“one of these?”

“yep! it’s moon water. it’ll cleanse you too.” quickly you rushed out, stopping in front of him as he drank and showed the spray bottle in your hand. “florida water. gets rid of bad vibes. if we’re gonna do this we should cleanse ourselves.”

“oh! uh-ok.” he stood up straighter and squared off his shoulders in preparation.

“close your eyes and take a deep breath in…” you paused as he complied. “and out. good! now imagine a bright, warm, golden light surrounding you.”

after a minute, he nodded, “ok.”

“keep your eyes closed, and i’ll spray this now, ok?”

he nodded.

“perfect. keep drinking your water. do you remember what incense you liked best?” you rushed off again to gather supplies.

“ummm… oh! the dragon one!”

you giggled to yourself, “dragon’s blood?”

“yeah! it sounds cool.”

god, his intuition is insane.

you finished packing up your essentials and as the sun was setting you were able to head down to his studio. immediately when you walked in, you could tell exactly what he meant by the energy being off. the room, while not having any physical changes, felt stagnant and almost moldy without having the physical smell, but nothing you couldn’t fix.

“ok, top to bottom clean. dusting, clearing out trash, everything.” you told him.

chris nodded and immediately got to work. he was thankful to start with something he understood. while jype had regular cleaners, chris usually told them not to bother cleaning in here since he has things a certain way and he always intended to clean himself… he never did. the room already started to feel better with just a deep cleaning.

“what next?” chris asked eagerly.

“cleanse with some florida water and incense.” you explained, pulling it out of your bag.

this time when you used the florida water, you explained the history of the perfume to him and explained the use of herbs and ingredients, since you usually made it yourself. next was the incense and the properties of dragon’s blood, saying that it’s good for courage in pursuing creative projects that might be out of his comfort zone and that how there’s even science to back how the essential oils have increased activity in the left hemisphere of the brain.

“next, crystals. we charge them in the moon or sunlight.” you told him, raising the first one too him. “citrine, it’s heat treated amethyst that changes the color. it banishes negative energy and keeps you focused. also brings in abundance.” you finished him with a wink. each crystal you pulled out of your bag you gave an explanation and finally set everything up. finally you pulled out a golden stick candle with some herbs. “final thing, we’re gonna ask apollo for some help.”

“oh! the music guy! that’s a good idea!” chris exclaimed as he took the seat next to you at the desk.

everything felt different from the first time he saw you practicing your craft. before he was quiet and timid, afraid to ask questions and even participate. now, he was getting fully involved by helping make sigils with his intentions, carving them into the candle then applying herbs and oils. the two of you watched the candle burn down and chris already felt the energy in the room shift dramatically with new ideas for music pouring into his head. he couldn’t wait to get started but it was still a new moon and you two had other rituals to attend to.

114 notes · View notes

nhl-stories · 7 months

Text

Rue – Clayton Keller

Summary: Ines has a bit of a dilemma, marry her ex-boyfriend or get deported

Author’s Note: I don't even go here but an anon suggested Clayton and I ran with it and loved every moment. This is obviously a dramatized version of immigration in America, while I tried to keep aspects as authentic as possible, I also took creative liberties to fit the story.

Also his mom's name is Kelley Keller and that is just so insane to me

Word Count: 9.2k

Album Series Masterlist

Don't wanna make it worse I'm gonna make it work

“What if you married Clayton?”

“You think marrying my ex-boyfriend for a green card is the answer?”

Ines doesn’t mean to raise her voice; Kat is just trying to help. But it’s been a long 24 hours and she can’t really control her emotions anymore.

“I think there should be reformed paths to citizenship. But that’s not going to happen in the immediate future, so I’m spit balling here.”

Ines flops face down on couch cushion and screams.

“I don’t hear you coming up with any better solutions,” Kat adds.

She lifts her head in shock, “You’re being serious?”

“Kat’s serious about what?” Nick comes back with drinks, his solution for comforting Ines.

“Nez should marry Kells for a green card,” Kat keeps saying it like it’s realistic.

Nick ponders the idea for a moment and shrugs, “It’s not the worst idea.”

“I’m just in a hellish nightmare, I’ll wake up and everything will be normal and everyone will be sane,” Ines rubs her temples.

Kat rubs her shoulder and nudges the drink closer to her.

Ines downs the drink and Schmaltzy passes his own drink before retreating for refills.

“I know it just happened, but have you thought at all what you’re going to do?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my whole life thinking about what I would need to do, it’s just never been so real.”

Ines feels a fresh batch of tears coming, she takes another drink to push them back. Nick comes back with a pitcher of drinks this time, clearly sensing where this night is headed.

“Didn’t one of your sisters have immigration problems?” Nick asks as he pours her a refill.

“Sort of, but it only came up because she was getting married and applying for a green card.”

Kat opens her mouth and Ines shoot hers a glare, “to the man she loves who happened to be an American citizen.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of still love Clayton,” Kat mumbles, “I mean you guys still have pretty regular sex right, Nick?”

Ines turns her boiling anger towards Schmaltzy, “Oh my god, he told you we were having sex?!”

“No, you told her,” he points towards Kat, “and she told me, Kells hasn’t said anything.”

“We don’t do it that often.”

She huffs defensively before squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to return from whatever alternative universe she stumbled into.

“I know the idea sounds insane but think about it, you have all these pictures of you two together, you never made some big breakup announcement or anything, and you still live with him.”

“I mean it would be pretty hard to prove that you aren’t together,” Nick adds.

“From what you’ve told me about this babe, marrying someone is the easiest way for you to get on the right track for citizenship without having to go back to Mexico, where you might not be allowed back.”

She knows Kat is right, that she’s making an excellent case, but that doesn’t make the idea any easier to swallow.

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”

Ines spends the next couple hours putting that theory to the test; she doesn’t process much, too busy preserving her brain in alcohol. She loses track of time, of what she should be feeling.

The alcohol makes her feel warm and giddy, but her brain is screaming at her to feels anxious and alert. The mix of the emotion just leaves her a sobbing mess, curled up in Kat’s arms.

Then she hears a shuffle at the door followed by Clayton’s voice.

“You told him?! Oh my god,” she buries herself further into Kat.

“We called him to take you home, we thought you’d prefer to wake up in your own bed.”

Nick is speaking to him in hushed tones and Ines is immediately suspicious.

“I don’t need you to marry me, arcilla, I’ll be fine in Mexico,” her filter is non-existent at this point but somehow, she can still talk this much through her tears and inebriation.

“What is she talking about?” Schmaltzy clearly didn’t spill the beans.

Kat sits up, cradling Ines off to the side, like she’s a child who’s not supposed to hear an adult conversation. Even one this pertinent to her.

“Someone found out she doesn’t have legal citizenship and he’s probably going to report her.”

“What the fuck,” Clayton feels every muscle in his body tense.

“And these two idiots think you should marry me so I can get a green card.”

“Oh.”

Clayton’s never been great with big emotions, and Ines’ tears mixed with her words has his brain frazzled. He came thinking he was just being the DD for Ines, not DD for Ines in distress.

“Nez, babe, why don’t we table this for tonight. Let Kells take you back to your own bed and sleep it off. We’ll start fresh tomorrow,” Kat gently moves some hair behind Ines’ hear.

Ines doesn’t respond, just stands up and follows Clayton to his car on wobbly legs.

The drive isn’t far, but Clayton still feels like he has to say something, anything. He can’t find the words; they aren’t his strong suit. So instead, he wordlessly reaches across the console and grabs Ines’ hand.

⁄⁄⁄

The sun pours through her curtains with a vengeance; telling her it’s pretty late in the morning without even needing to open her eyes. Normally, she would hate wasting most of her day away in bed, but sleeping is a nice escape; not just from reality but from the pounding headache she feels behind her eyes.

Ines flips onto her back and throws an arm over her eyes, debating whether getting up and eating something is better than sleeping more.

Clayton makes the decision for her with a knock on the door, he sheepishly pokes his head in before coming to sit at the end of the bed. Offering up a bag of food, which Ines greedily takes knowing it contains her favorite breakfast sandwich.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she moans after taking a bite, digging into the bag to grab the extra hot sauce she knows Clayton didn’t forget.

She looks up and chokes on her sandwich.

Clayton is holding open a ring box with a diamond ring.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I talked to Schmaltzy and Kat this morning and you know, I think they’re right. Getting married to me is gonna be the easiest way for you stay in the country.”

“And ruin your life.”

“How will being married to you be that much different than it is now?”

He makes a good point. They broke up before the last off-season and he had offered to let her stay in his house since he would be traveling for a big chunk of the summer. Not worry about finding a new place while she got back on her feet. That was months ago and she’s still here, cooking him meals, cleaning up around the house, having sex with him.

The only real difference is she has her own room now.

“I don’t know, legal paperwork, maybe me being detained by ICE, you being shackled to me for god knows how long, probably two years at least. What if you meet someone?”

“I’m a professional athlete, I don’t think people would be to shocked if I cheated on you.”

Ines isn’t impressed by his attempt at a joke.

“This isn’t fair to you.”

“And it’s fair that you have to move back to a country you barely remember living in?”

He has a single-mindedness that no amount argument will sway. Especially while Ines is in this hungover state.

“Okay, Mr. Machismo, where’d you get the ring?”

“I– um– got it this morning, Kat helped pick it out. You know, need some proof this is real. And before you freak, I bought it with cash so there’s no paper trail or whatever.”

“Christ, you really thought this through?”

“You always told me it could be a possibility, so you know, I thought about what I’d do, especially when we were actually together.”

The look on his face makes her want to cry. He’s so sure; certain that she’s worth the effort, was worth having an escape plan for her.

“I know it’s crazy, but I’d hate to just sit by and watch you get torn away from your life when I could do something.”

“Okay,” Ines’ voice cracks, wet through the tears she can’t hold in anymore, “If you’re sure.”

Clayton nods, plucks the ring out of the box and holds it out on his palm for her; it seems too intimate or too sacrilegious for him to slip it on for her.

“I’ll call my immigration lawyer,” she twists the ring on her finger.

⁄⁄⁄

“Hola Ines!” Sierra, her immigration lawyer squeezes her tightly.

“And this must be the famous tonelada de arcilla,” Sierra grins at Clayton and shakes his hand.

“I can’t believe she told you that,” Ines grumbles as she takes a seat.

“Soledad couldn’t keep her big mouth shut if she tried,” Sierra moves to the other side of her desk, “besides I love your mom’s inability to understand American names, like Ashton.”

“Oh yeah, tonelada de ceniza,” Ines giggles.

“You’re saying I’m not special?” Clayton smirks.

“You’re very special mi arcilla,” she bumps his knee with her own.

“So, we’re here to talk about a marriage green card?” Sierra gets to business.

“We got engaged right before this, but now some asshole is threatening to report Nez’ status to immigration. So it sounds fishy, but we just want to start the process before anything happens.”

Ines nods with a tight smile. She was expecting Clayton to be here for moral support, not for him to take the lead.

“Okay, so we don’t know if he’s reported anything or if ICE will even investigate you. But since you work for a political organization that isn’t exactly beloved in Arizona, we’ll prepare for the worst.”

Instinctively, Clayton reaches out to hold Ines’ hand, stop her from fidgeting before she even starts.

Sierra looks at her watch, “we probably don’t have time to get you married today, but definitely can get your license today. It’s probably for the best, since this is kind of rush job you’ll probably want to dress up, have some friends as witnesses, make it clear this is above the board.”

Ines squeezes Clayton’s hand. Sierra is too busy shuffling through papers to notice any nerves, or maybe she’s just used to it.

“How’s that sound? Married by tomorrow, try to finish the paperwork in the next couple weeks?”

“Um- what about signing a pre-nup?” Clayton snaps his head towards Ines, “I mean I know it’s best if we have like joint accounts to show it’s legit or that I won’t end up on welfare immediately, but most people aren’t marrying millionaires.”

“You don’t need to sign a pre-nup,” Clayton sounds almost hurt at her suggestion.

Ines slips her hand out of his, “Don’t be stupid, we’re only moving this fast because of me, I don’t want you to be at any legal risk just because I need a green card.”

“I haven’t worked with a case quite like this, but a pre-nup might help your case that this is for the right reasons and not just for a green card.”

Ines starts chewing on her thumbnail, Clayton grabs her hand to stop her.

“I’m not your agent, but we can probably draft a quick contract of sorts that will say she will sign a post-nuptial and you can sort that out after with your people.”

Sierra then goes on a spiel about what to expect, what documents they’ll need, forms they need to fill out, the medical exam Ines will need. Clayton is trying to pay attention, but his eyes are glazing over. She hooks her foot around his ankle and tries to give him her most grateful smile, she hopes it doesn’t look too much like a grimace.

They find themselves at the courthouse the next day. Kat had insists they don’t see each other before the wedding, so they go in separate cars. It makes no sense since the foursome all knows this isn’t real, it’s all an act.

Kat stops her on the steps of the courthouse,

“You have your something old with the dress,” she gestures to the huipil her abuela had made for her mother, it was the only mostly white thing she owned, though it was mostly covered in bright colored flowers.

“And your something new with that rock on your finger, so here’s your something borrowed and blue,” she digs through her purse for a box with a pair of simple sapphire earring.

“You know it’s not–“

“This may not be your dream wedding, but let’s no fuck around with good luck.”

Kat looks like she wants to say more, but that’s not something Ines wants to dissect at the moment. She pulls her into a tight embrace instead.

Clayton and Nick are already waiting inside. Ines makes a silly scrunched up face that Clayton returns.

“Don’t be gross,” Kat nudges her, it’s when Ines realizes she’s filming.

“I honestly thought you were gonna wear a Gucci t-shirt,” Ines grins when they stop in front of the guys.

“I made him put on something with a collar,” Nick gives Clayton a playful shove.

“Aww he could have been your something blue,” Kat coos as Ines fixes the collar of Clayton’s steel blue shirt.

“But I still would have needed something borrowed,” she laughs until she remembers she’s borrowing Clayton, she drops her hands to her sides like they caught on fire.

Thankfully, the clerk calls their names, saving them from dwelling too long on that truth.

The ceremony takes all of 15 minutes. Ines all too aware of her hands sweating in Clayton’s as they hold hands in front of the judge. Picture perfect.

“By the power vested in my by the state of Arizona, I know pronounce you married!”

When neither react right away the judge speaks up again and winks, “now would be a lovely time to kiss.”

An awkward giggle bubbles out of Ines, but then Clayton is cupping her face and kissing her. She kisses back, and what should probably be a more chaste kiss gets a little heated. Ines likes kissing Clayton, sue her.

They’re broken a part by the obnoxious cheers from Kat and Schmaltzy. Both are flushed when they pull away, neither quite sure if it’s from lust or embarrassment.

“Now that’s how you start off a marriage, congratulations,” the judge smiles.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines is fidgeting with everything. She’s moved a vase of flower about twenty times, though it’s only moved about 1 inch away from its original place.

Clayton grabs her arms and pins them to her sides, “relax, it’s just your family.”

“Oh yeah, my totally calm, quiet, chill family. Nothing to worry about.”

“Your family loves me, we’ll be fine,” he lets her arms go and she immediately moves the vase again.

“Where’s your ring?”

She reaches into the pocket of her dress, “My mom will notice it immediately, I’ll put it on after we tell them,” she starts to turn before wheeling back around, “that we’re engaged they don’t need to know we’re actually married, I don’t want them worrying about immigration.”

Clayton nods.

“And where’s your ring?” she instinctively grabs his hand to look.

“You just said they shouldn’t know we got married,” he laughs at her pinballing thoughts.

Ines opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off by pulling out one of his chains, the silver ring hanging off of it.

“Okay,” she lets out a sigh, “keep it in your shirt, arcilla.”

Ines moves over to straighten an already pristine tablecloth; all the deception is making her ill. She doesn’t want to tell anyone, but she knows the news will get out somehow, and her mother will never forgive her. She might not forgive her if she learned she’s already married.

“When are we gonna tell your family? We can’t just be ‘engaged’ for two years or so without them knowing.

“We can call them after probably,” he shrugs, his confidence over this decision clearly wavering a bit. Ines feels secretly happy about that, they’re on a level playing field.

The doorbell rings, the commotion of her immediate family barely muffled through the door.

“Showtime,” Ines plasters on a big smile.

The family stumbles in, a cacophony of Spanish follows as they all speak over each other to greet Ines and pass off food.

“Clayton, mi amor,” Ines’ mom cups his face and kisses him all over before pulling him into a tight embrace, “I knew you two would figure it out.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we did.”

He takes some food and follows Ines to the kitchen as she gives directions to her family in Spanish. They’ve been together long enough he recognizes some of it, but he feels bad for never trying to learn Spanish in earnest.

One of her sisters, Teresa, is pouring shots of tequila. Ines smirks at him and is about to comment when a small body rams into him.

“Clayton! Look I lost a tooth at hockey,” Ines’ niece, Marisol smiles to show off the gap.

“She didn’t lose it during a game, she lost it shooting in our driveway,” her twin brother Mateo sneers.

“You’re just mad you have all your teeth still,” she sticks her tongue out.

“You know when you get adult teeth you want to keep them all, even as a hockey player,” Ines butts in.

“Whatever tia,” the little girl rolls her eyes and gets a scoff back from her aunt.

“The new season just started, how’s the new gear?” Clayton changes the subject.

“I don’t have to wear three pairs of socks in my skates anymore, and the sticks are so nice.” Mateo’s eyes gleam with excitement.

“Maybe later we can shoot around a bit,” Clayton smiles back.

The twins cheer at the idea before running off to tell their mom.

“You bought them gear for their new season?” Ines furrows her brows.

“Yeah, I have my connections,” he tries to play it off.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but last season they had all that hand-me-down gear, it was literally the least I could do for getting them into the sport in the first place.

Ines nods.

“Lovebirds, we’re taking shots in your honor,” Teresa calls them over to the rest of the adults and hands them cups.

“¡Arriba, abajo, al centro y pa’dentro!”

The tequila goes down smooth, relaxing her enough to rip off the band aid.

“Well, we have something else for you to cheers,” Ines leans into Clayton’s side before reaching into her pocket and putting on the ring, “we’re engaged.”

There are screams, hugs, kisses, and even some tears. Ines feels the alcohol going to her head far faster than it should. Another glass being thrust into hand and another toast.

“Felicidades mija,” Ines’ dad brings her in close.

He’s a man of few words, partially because he never really learned the language of his new country. Those two simple words and the joy in his eyes makes Ines want to weep. He turns to Clayton, placing a strong hand on his shoulder and holding his other hand out.

“Bienvenido a nuestro familia.”

“Uh, gracias Hector, soy muy um–“ he leans over to Ines “how do I say I’m very excited?”

“Está muy emocionado, papi.”

“¡Más tequila!” He shouts and the family cheers.

“He’s happy for us, right? Not trying to kill me?” Clayton ribs Ines.

“I think this might be a test, if you die you wouldn’t have fit in anyway,” she smiles back.

“So, when are you going to get pregnant, mija?”

“Jesucristo mamí,” Ines furiously blushes, “couldn’t you have at least asked that in Spanish?”

“It takes both of you, I thought he should understand too.”

Her family is a little less embarrassing the rest of the party, they genuinely seem excited for Clayton to join the family. Her niece and nephew ask if Clayton is finally their real tio while she watches them pass around a ball on the sport court in the backyard.

Her heart aches with the truth.

It’s keeping her up in her bed. Usually, after that much tequila she’d be asleep within minutes, but there’s too much going on in her brain.

Her door creaks open and Clayton creeps into the room.

“How drunk are you still?” Ines tries to suppress the smile in her voice as Clayton clumsily crawls into the bed.

He merely grunts in response and moves around to get comfy.

“And you’re in here why?”

“I think the air conditioner isn’t getting into my room,” he mumbles and drapes an arm over Ines, burrowing his head into neck.

He can’t see her epic eye roll; she knows the air conditioner is probably fine and there are two other guest rooms he could use.

“You don’t have to lie, I know you like to cuddle when you’re drunk, babe.”

She winces at her casual use of a pet name, feels Clayton freeze for a second too.

She runs a hand through his hair until he relaxes again, “since my family tried to poison you, I’ll make you a hangover-approved breakfast before practice tomorrow.”

He hums in response, breath evening out until he’s asleep.

Ines is quick to follow, the weight of his arm a grounding comfort.

⁄⁄⁄

A month into the regular season and Ines still hasn’t been to a game. Kat warned her some of the significant others were starting to talk. Rumors of her breaking up with Clayton before the off-season had been swirling around. Sure, those rumors were true, but there was no concrete reason to believe them until her recent absence.

From what Ines heard about other teams, this group wasn’t particularly cliquey or gossipy. But sometimes that meant when there was something to talk about, they were hyper-focused. And that seems to be the situation now.

So being the girlfriend/fiancée/wife/whatever the hell she is to a member of team leadership, she invited the group over for dinner and drinks to watch an away game.

In actuality, it comes at the perfect time. Ines likes planning and organizing and it’s the perfect way to keep her mind off everything else. The most pressing being that Clayton is in St. Louis and made her promise to Facetime with him and his parents after the game. Keeping up appearances when she didn’t travel for the first game with her future in-laws.

Coming in at a close second is the fact the Blues are playing in town the day before Thanksgiving, so his mom thought it was a great time to visit for the holiday. Especially since Ines couldn’t make it out to Missouri this trip.

She’s already nauseous at the thought of moving her stuff back into the master bedroom, hiding all evidence of the truth. For now, the door is locked, so no nosy and/or drunk women pop in tonight.

“Pour yourself a drink and sit the fuck down Nez, the game is about to start,” Kat warns from her spot on the couch.

Ines stops organizing the growing pile of mail and rolls her shoulders back. She grabs a new bottle wine, knowing this group has already emptied the ones on the table before the anthem is even finished. She settles in the middle of the couch and cuddles into Kat’s side.

It’s nice to be back with a group of friends. Ines always gets lonely in the summer when most of them go back home and she’s stuck here, but this summer had been especially brutal.

“Ines, what the hell is that?” Claire shouts moments after puck drop.

Ines’ eyes dart around the room, looking for a scorpion or something that made it into the house.

“The ring on your finger!” Claire is grabbing her hand; the game is quickly forgotten in favor of this.

“Clayton proposed,” she feels her mouth attempt to smile, but it feels all wrong.

“Finally!” Someone cheers from behind her and the rest of the group seems to concur.

She didn’t mean to leave the ring on, it still feels so bulky and foreign. But she’s trying to at least wear it to work, so it doesn’t seem like some secret green card relationship. Though maybe keeping it from the WAGs makes it seem like a dirty secret.

In her mind it’s easier to cut and run from work acquaintances if this all blows up in her face. Clayton is stuck with most of these people, and Ines can’t imagine hurting him when he’s being so kind.

“Look how red she’s turning, no wonder she was staying away from us, Nez hates the spotlight,” Claire laughs.

“How did it happen?”

Ines wants to melt into the couch.

“Nothing special, he just brought me my favorite hangover breakfast and proposed while I was still in bed,” she shrugs, not wanting to lie more than necessary.

“Makes it convenient if you’re already in bed,” Kat waggles her eyebrows and Ines punches her arm.

“He knows I wouldn’t have accepted anything that wasn’t lowkey.”

“Yeah, except that gorgeous diamond, good work Kells,” Claire adds, giving the ring one last look before the action onscreen grabs back their attention.

Ines is a little wine drunk by the time the ladies clear out. Her face feels flushed and warm as she tries to clean up wine glasses and plates.

There’s one bottle with a little wine left and she pours herself another glass while she waits for Clayton to call. She starts to go through the mail she tossed aside before the game. A reminder for a dentist appointment, a credit card statement, a letter asking to go paperless for billing.

Her phone starts to buzz against the kitchen island, she answers the Facetime wishing it were a phone call instead.

“Hi arcilla, you played well tonight,” she’s actually not positive he played well, she mostly drank and caught up with her friends.

She looks down to the mail again, an official looking envelope addressed to her stares back at her.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m a little tipsy,” she holds up her glass of wine for him to see.

“You had fun then?”

His dimple is on full display when he smiles and it reminds her of when they used to do this all the time; a call before either went to bed just to say hello or see each other’s faces. Ines knows what every hotel wall and headboard looks like in the NHL.

She plays with the corners of the envelope, “This is great and all, but I thought this was so I could say hi to your parents.”

Clayton starts to move, “they wanted to give us some privacy first.”

“Did they think we were gonna have quick phone se-ehh,” Ines peters off when his parents appear on screen.

Clayton is trying to hold back a laugh while Ines feels her flush grow brighter, “Hi Kelley, hi Bryan.”

“Hi honey, when are we gonna get you out here?” His mom asks.

“Sorry ,work never seems to be in my favor.”

She lies, it’s easier than saying she hasn’t been on a plane in 20 years because she’s afraid she’ll get deported. She’s never seen Clayton’s family outside of Arizona or somewhere within driving distance. They haven’t seemed too bothered, but she’s always worried they’re just good at hiding their true thoughts.

“One day,” she smiles, “we’re excited to see you in a couple weeks, is there anything you want us to make special for Thanksgiving?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re coming to our house.”

“Let me be a mom and take care of it” she scoffs, “you are my first daughter.”

Ines just nods because her voice might crack if she speaks.

“We’re getting a late dinner, so we’ll let you go. But can’t wait to see you, Ines,” Bryan says and gives a wave.

“Yeah, should be fun, enjoy dinner,” she waves back.

“Bye babe, love you,” Clayton waves, his eyes go wide before the call ends.

She’d give the moment more thought if she wasn’t itching to rip open the envelope in her hands.

Notice to Appear.

December 11th.

Suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in.

⁄⁄⁄

When Clayton gets home from the road trip Ines is in the hot tub. Her muscles having felt wound tight for the last week.

“Saw you’re all moved in,” he says as he dangles his legs into the tub.

Ines doesn’t open her eyes to look at him, just nods.

“And you have your immigration hearing in December.”

She nods again, she left the letter out by the table where they put their keys. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to tell him.

“I’ll be in Buffalo that day, but I–“

Ines opens her eyes, gives him an exasperated look, “You’ll play a hockey game and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“It’s not–“

She moves closer, almost to the space between his legs, “you’re doing so much for me, please don’t fight me on this. Just go play hockey.”

“Okay,” he nearly whispers.

Ines thinks about how easy it would be to give him a blow job right now, let her mind go blank for a bit. Shut up Clayton for a bit.

Before she can actually act on those thoughts, he places a hand on her cheek, running his thumb across her cheek bone.

“And you’re doing, okay?”

She honestly doesn’t know, but she does know she doesn’t want to talk about it.

So, she grabs Clayton’s wrist and pulls him in closer. She doesn’t wait for him to catch up, smashing their lips together and pushing her tongue into his mouth before he even starts kissing back.

He’s quick to catch up to her. Pulling her flush against him, filling the space between his legs. It’s the first time they’ve done this since they got married, it feels like all the building tension is finally exploding. Ines feels molten.

Clayton unties the back her bikini top and tosses it somewhere behind him with a wet splat. His hands cover her chest and she can’t help but shiver, maybe from the cold air but probably not.

She grabs his hair and pulls him away from her, “we should take this inside.”

Without second thought he pulls her out of the hot tub and towards the house, the strings of her bottoms undone and left outside as well. Ines paws at his shirt, trying to get her own fill of skin.

He pulls it over his head in one fluid motion as he maneuvers Ines towards the bedroom. Her back hits the mattress before she realizes they’re in the master bedroom.

They haven’t done this here since the break up six months ago, like it’s too intimate, too full of the past.

Clayton is hovering over her, the chain with the wedding ring dangling. The room is filled with her belongings again and she feels like she’s in some alternate universe. A world where they never broke up, where marriage was a logical step in the future.

She tries to clear her mind again, pulling Clayton down for a kiss because she wants this.

⁄⁄⁄

An alarm starts to blare and she feels the other side of the bed move.

“Sorry, that’s mine,” Ines apologizes and turns it off.

She lays back and stares at the ceiling for a bit. It feels too familiar to wake up in here, naked in the softest sheets she’s ever felt. But nothing has actually shifted, she’ll get out of bed and everything will be as it was.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and gets out of bed to take a shower. Clayton is getting ready for practice when she gets out of the bathroom.

“I forgot how nice that shower is, you should redo the one guest bathroom, it could have better water pressure,” she jokes, though it doesn’t really land.

She wanders into the walk-in closet where she’s haphazardly put away some of her clothes, she feels Clayton follow her in, even though he’s mostly dressed.

“My parents get in today; do you want to go to the game with them tonight?” He sounds like he’s asking out a girl for the first time.

“The twins have a music recital or play or something I said I’d go to, but they can take my car to the arena so you don’t have to worry about that.”

She drops the towel on the floor and starts getting dressed for work, stopping before she zips up her dress, reading between the lines of Clayton’s question.

“But I’ll be at the game with them on Wednesday, I mean if you can get me a ticket,” she turns to flash a smile at Clayton to find that’s he’s only a step away.

“I think I can manage that,” he turns Ines around, moving her hair out of the way and zipping up the dress for her, fingers lingering at her neck for a second too long.

Ines stops herself from shivering and turns around, “I have to leave, but see you after the game.”

She gives him a quick peck against her better judgement, “good luck.”

The casual touches don’t disappear in the following days. Ines can’t tell if they’re putting a show on for his parents or not. The touches seem too instinctive to just be a spectacle, but maybe that’s because they’re sharing a bed again and can’t seem to keep their hands off each other behind closed doors.

Though that seems to be seeping outside of the bedroom, too.

The morning after his parents arrive, Kelley is in the kitchen making coffee and gives them a knowing look when they come out of the bedroom, as if to tell them they were too loud even from the other side of the house. Ines decides to pick up breakfast on her way to work rather than sit through breakfast at home.

That night Ines is laid out on the couch not paying attention to the football game playing on TV. Clayton lifts her head up and then places her back down on his lap when he sits.

She groans as she tries to get more comfortable, “You make a terrible pillow, you’re too bony.”

“I think it’s the titanium rod in my leg,” he says back, squirming underneath her to make her more frustrated.

“You were bony before then too,” she rolls her eyes and pretends to focus on the game and ignore Clayton’s fingers brushing under her shirt.

Wednesday is a half day for Ines, she gets home to a surprisingly empty house and enjoys drinking a beer and mindlessly watching Tiktoks in peace.

“Hey, wasn’t expecting you home,” Ines jumps when Clayton comes up behind her.

“Wasn’t expecting to find an empty house,” she shrugs.

“My parents are picking up Jake from the airport,” he wraps his arms around Ines’ waist, “I was about to take my pre-game nap, but I wouldn’t say no to some company.”

He presses a couple kisses into her neck, “an afternoon nap sounds nice.”

She barely finishes the sentence before he’s walking her to the bedroom. Clayton is a little handsy as Ines crawls into the bed.

“I’m serious about an actual nap, I won’t be held responsible if you have a bad game.”

Clayton rolls away, hands up in surrender.

Ines rolls towards him wrapping an arm around his middle, “For all your suffering, I’ll give you a blow job if you win tonight.”

“A victory blow job? You didn’t even do that when we were dating,” he chuckles, the sound amplified with her ear on his chest.

“What can I say, I’m in a giving mood,” she kisses his pec and closes her eyes.

Clayton’s alarm goes off and Ines groans.

“You can sleep longer,” he runs a hand through her hair before slipping out from under her.

“Nah, I’ll just be more tired later,” she rolls over but doesn’t get out of the bed, watches Clayton go into the closet.

“You should wear the green suit from the awards, it’s a special request from Marisol.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She thinks I have a say over what you wear and she told me it’s her favorite,” she watches Clayton start to get undressed, “you did look hot in it,” she smirks when he fumbles with a hanger in response.

When he comes out dressed, he still has bedhead. Ines gets up to fix it, he jokingly bats her hands away as they leave the room.

“Just let me fix this one piece arcilla, you look like we just fucked,” she stops in her tracks at the sight of Clayton’s family, “Hi Jake, good to see you.”

Jake nods in her direction, not particularly friendly, but she can pretend it’s because of the awkward conversation they just heard.

Ines knows Clayton told his brother everything, or more than Ines would like. She’s not sure exactly what he told his parents about the break up, but they seem to have forgiven anything pretty quickly. She knows Jake is a little weary of her now, and maybe her motives.

Clayton is either oblivious or just trying to play it off and gives him a bro-hug before he heads off to the game

The awkward air between Jake and Ines remains, not that they were ever specifically close, but this feels extra icy. She tries to avoid sitting next to him, but the two get caught between the parents. And she’s not even in her usual seats near Kat to have a buffer.

The game is a bit messy, passes aren’t connecting, the power play might as well be missing, but the crowd is into it. Mullett is small enough to feel like you’re always in the game, which helps Ines because before Clayton she knew next to nothing about hockey. Being this up close means she’s 99% sure she understands the rules, except goalie interference.

The second period ends with the Blues up by one, which isn’t too bad considering how the game is looking.

“Have you two talked about any wedding plans?” Kelley turns to Ines,

On her other side she hears Jake snort on his drink, she makes a mental note to double check how much Clayton has told his brother.

“Not really, I had a quinceañera so I already had my big party and fancy-dress moment,” it’s the truth, her 15th birthday fulfilled a lot of princess dreams she may have had.

“You’re both still young, you can have long engagement to figure it out if you want.”

Ines feels the anxiety seep out of her bones.

“You two could even get married at a courthouse if that’s that you wanted.”

The tension comes back so quickly it almost gives her whiplash.

Jake shoots up and mumbles something about food. Ines would follow him, but she’s not sure a public confrontation is the best idea.

Thankfully there’s some more hockey to distract her, the Coyotes end up clawing back but lose in OT on a poorly timed line change.

There’s not a great place to wait for the boys at Mullett, so they sit in their seats for a while before meandering down.

Kat jumps on Ines the moment she sees her.

“Look who’s gracing us with her presence,” Kat kisses her cheek and slides off her back before she can accidentally knock them to the ground.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, bad WAG alert,” Ines swats her away.

She hears Jake mumble something, but can’t quite make it out. That’s when Kat actually seems to comprehend that Clayton’s family is here.

“The two lovebirds have been busy being cooped up, we haven’t seen them both in the flesh for a while,” she gives a cheeky smile and winks at the Kellers.

“We’re in the same house and they’re having a hard time keeping it in the bedroom, so consider yourself lucky,” Bryan laughs with Kat while Ines cheeks burn.

“Oooh la la Nez, loving this pre-honeymoon phase for you,” she gives Ines a meaningful pinch on the side, a warning they will be talking about this later.

“Speak of the devil,” Kelley laughs and pulls her son into hug.

“Kells show me some of this PDA everyone is talking about,” Kat is clearly not above egging this on despite the sharp look Ines gives.

Clayton pulls her in tight, ducking his head so he can whisper to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t live up to our end of the bargain. No prize for me,” he fake pouts.

“Cause I’m still in a giving mood, here’s a consolation prize for a one-point night,” Ines pulls Clayton in for a kiss, ignoring the catcall from Kat.

“That’s it?” Clayton her pulls her in tightly to his side.

“Don’t push it,” she elbows him in the side, ignores the knowing look Kat is directing her way.

Ines manages to convince everyone the brothers should ride home together, since they don’t see each other enough. Partially, to prove to Kat that there’s nothing going on; partially hoping that Clayton and Jake will talk through whatever weirdness is going on.

⁄⁄⁄

“Do you have to go golfing and leave me alone with your mom?” Ines complains before stuffing her face in the pillow

“You like my mom,” Clayton rolls back onto the bed and rubs her back.

“Yeah, but preparing Thanksgiving is like serious mother-daughter shit, I’d love some backup.”

“You could come golfing.”

“Cause I’d love to get made fun of instead.”

“Those are kind of your two options,” he kisses her shoulder.

“Fine, staying home it is,” she flips over onto her back, “can you at least make sure Jake won’t be weird when you guys come back.”

“He’s just looking out for me, doesn’t want you taking advantage of me,” Clayton absentmindedly traces up and down her arm.

“Did you tell him this was your suggestion? And that I signed a pre-nup? I won’t take advantage and steal your money if that’s what he’s worried about.”

His hand stills for a moment, “I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry about it.”

He stands up again, “have fun cooking.”

“I hope you lose!” Ines calls back.

Ines wanders into the kitchen an hour later, Kelley already deep in prep.

“Sorry, I went back to sleep. Though I’ve never cooked Thanksgiving so I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“You’re a great cook, I think you’ll be fine,” Kelley laughs before instructing her on how to finish prepping the stuffing.

Ines takes off the engagement ring and places it in the middle of the island, out of reach. She rubs the naked finger and notices there’s already a faint tan line. She flexes the fingers, like that will give her some answers. Like why taking it off doesn’t feel like unhooking an anchor that’s pulling her under anymore.

She looks up to see she’s been caught by Kelley. If she has some thoughts, she doesn’t share them with Ines.

They work mostly in quiet, the Thanksgiving Parade playing on the TV in the other room. Kelley stopping every once in a while, to watch or tell Ines about watching the parade growing up. How Clayton used to worry the balloons were going to eat the people holding them when he was a toddler.

“This is your first turkey?” Kelley says as Ines puts the bird in the oven

“Yeah, I spent most of my Thanksgivings helping my mom with housekeeping, so can’t do this but ask me to make a bed, I got you,” Ines laughs.

“This calls for a toast then,” Kelley finds some Bailey’s and pours it into their coffees, “To sharing my secrets with my new daughter.”

She clinks her mug against Ines, the sound scrambles something in Ines’ heart, “You know Clay and I broke up right?”

Kelley takes a long sip of her coffee and hums.

“He told us you needed some time apart. Because of all the uncertainty around the team and some things he didn’t really get into,” Kelley trails off.

“It’s understandable you’re both so young and had to go through some really intense things together. I think it was really mature what you two decided, but I’m really glad you worked it out, you make Clayton so happy. I think happier than hockey, if that’s possible.”

Ines lip starts to wobble, she tries to stop the tears. But how can she when even Clayton’s mom believes their lie? How can she break her heart down the line?

“Oh darling,” Kelley pulls her into a tight embrace that only a mom can give, “love is never easy, and if down the road it’s not right anymore, that will be okay too. It’s privilege to find love at all.”

That sends Ines into another wave of sobs. She buries her face into Kelley’s shoulder as she gently rubs Ines’ back and sways them side to side.

Once her cries seem to calmed down to sniffles, Kelley moves away enough to see Ines’ face. She wipes away the few stray tears, “I see the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching, I think you’ll happy together for a very long time.”

Kelley smiles, her eyes a little glossy like she might cry too. And with a shaky breath Ines tries to give her a smile back.

They hear the door open and the boys start to come into the house.

“Who won?” Kelley calls out as they come around the corner.

Ines tries to busy herself by rolling out the pie crust they had forgotten.

“Jake squeaked one out,” Bryan comes around the island and kisses Kelley, “smells great ladies, you need any help?”

“Not right now, we were gonna take a break soon,” Kelley winks at Ines.

Clayton comes and leans into Ines from behind, his hands boxing Ines in. He kisses her cheek before he notices her eyes rimmed red.

“You, okay?” He whispers, kissing below her ear.

“Yeah, whatever onions we bought were like tear gas,” she cracks a smile and leans back into him.

“We had to evacuate for a while, I think we just got it under control before you guys came home,” Kelley smiles and pulls Bryan out of the kitchen, following the sounds of a football game Jake put on.

Ines turns around, still boxed in by Clayton. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and hangs her weight on him, feeling a bit tired. He moves his hands to her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Was it rough morning alone with my mom?”

“No, it was really nice, actually.”

She pulls back to give him a genuine smile, plays with the ends of his hair, “And did you talk to Jake?”

“Yeah, and I let him win so I think he’ll be in a good mood.”

“Wow, you did that for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smirks before dipping down to kiss her.

“Why can’t you let me win?” Ines pouts when the pull a part.

“I can’t act that well,” he’s biting back a mischievous grin, “but if you ask nicely, I can help you improve your back swing.”

He’s gently moving her hips side to side when Ines gives him a playful shove, “Keep it in your pants Keller, your family is in the other room.”

“Hasn’t stopped you much this week,” he pulls her flush against his chest, his hands wandering to her ass.

“Oh my god, there’s not gonna be that kind of giving today.”

Clayton’s about to respond, “Is it safe to come into the kitchen or are you two fondling each other?”

Ines moves Clayton’s hands off her butt and to his sides, “All clear Jake, your brother was just leaving to take a shower, a cold one,” she whispers the last part.

Jake makes a gagging sound, “you two are gross.”

“One day you’ll have someone to fondle other than yourself,” Clayton punches his brother in the arm on the way out of the kitchen.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines and Kat are sitting on the steps of the courthouse, finishing their coffees. The coffee was probably a mistake, it’s sitting acidic and heavy in her stomach.

At least the universe wasn’t cruel enough to have her hearing at the same courthouse as she got married. She doesn’t think her heart could take the irony.

Kat is jittery, her knee bouncing erratically. Caffeine doesn’t have that kind of effect on her, so Ines knows it must be something else.

“I think I’m supposed to be the nervous one.”

“I still don’t understand why you broke up with Clayton in the first place.”

Ines whips her head around like there’s someone waiting around the corner to record this kind of damning evidence.

“You said you’d explain, but you never did. And it’s clear you still have feelings for him.”

Ines scoffs.

“Fine, you don’t love him, then tell me why you broke up and why you never moved out? You had plenty of time to find a new place, Nick and I would have let you move in.”

“I was tired of holding him back.”

Ines gulps down the cold remnants of her drink.

“It was so exhausting telling him no. No, I can’t go home with you to meet your parents. No, I can’t go to the All-Star Game in Florida cause it’s not in driving distance. I can’t be your date to a wedding because I can’t get on a plane. I can’t have bye week with all our friends in the fucking country I was born in because I may not get to come home!”

She tries to take even-keeled breaths; she doesn’t want to start crying before her hearing even starts.

“And he couldn’t tell people because what if someone slipped up and I got deported, or worse they found my parents or Soledad. She has kids!”

Kat puts a gentle hand on her knee.

“And he shouldn’t have to deal with that, he could find someone less complicated and someone who could actually be there for him.”

“Did he ever tell you those things were a problem?”

“No, but I could see how frustrating all those little things were becoming; how upset he’d get with every new thing I couldn’t do.”

“Yeah, he’s upset because you couldn’t live a full life without worry. Because he loves you, Ines! He’s still in love with you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just nice. He would have said something by now, not just married me and suffered in silence.”

“Oh, he should have said something? Like you’re saying something because you clearly still love him, too?”

Ines just blinks at Kat, like her brain can’t possibly comprehend what her friend is saying. She doesn’t even get the chance to argue because her alarm goes off.

“You have a court hearing, but don’t think justice will stop us from talking about this later,” Kat says sternly.

In the court room, Ines sits between her lawyer and Kat. Her brain feels too fried to keep up with the basics the judge opens up with.

“Now it says the couple was wed on September 14th of this year. Just a few days before the official report was filed about Ms. Ruiz’ status. You’ll understand why this seems a little convenient.”

“Yes, your honor,” Sierra stands up holding a file, “but the couple was engaged before any officially filings were made. And you can see in the documents we have a receipt from when Mr. Keller bought the engagement ring back in March of this year. If you need to see Ms. Ruiz’ ring for confirmation she can approach the bench.”

“That won’t be necessary. Seeing as all the applications are going through the appropriate channels, I see no reason to hold Ms. Ruiz in custody while she waits for her green card interview.”

The gavel bang echoes in Ines’ head, but the judge is already moving on to the next case. Sierra and Kat help lead her out of the courtroom. They’re excitedly chattering, and Ines knows she should join in, knows this is good news, but she hasn’t quite caught up.

She sends Clayton a text: Hearing went well, won’t be going to prison, then promptly turns off her phone.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines gets two days to stew before Clayton comes home.

He picks her up and spins her around in excitement the instant he sees her. His smile falters when he sets her down and sees the borderline grim look on Ines’ face.

“You bought the ring in March?”

Clayton doesn’t know what to say, shocked by the realization.

“They brought up the receipt during the hearing, to help prove that it wasn’t just a last-minute wedding.”

Ines bites at her thumb nail, the ring catching the light. Clayton feels some relief that she hasn’t taken it off.

“You wanted to marry me before we broke up?”

“You breaking up with me kind of ruined my plans,” Clayton shrugs, not sure the direction this conversation is taking.

Ines laughs in spite herself.

“There were all those weddings you couldn’t come to and I thought you needed a chance to think without any pressure from my life, I didn’t expect it to be permanent.”

Ines audibly swallows, they’re walking around the heart of the issue, both too scared to be the first to show all their cards.

“I still got to marry you, not in the way I wanted. But I don’t regret that, no matter what you think.”

Ines moves to take off the ring, Clayton holds his breath while his heart clenches painfully.

“Ask me again.”

“What?”

Ines hands him the ring, her voice wavers a bit, “ask me again.”

He fumbles with the ring for a second before dropping down to one knee.

“I- uh don’t have anything romantic to say. But I love you Ines and I want to be with you as long as you’ll have me. So will you marry me?”

Ines lets out a small sob before covering her face, “Oh my god I can’t believe I’m a girl who cries when she gets proposed to.”

“Is that a yes? Cause otherwise this is really fucking mean.”

“Shit, sorry, yes. That’s a yes,“ she clambers to get Clayton standing again and kisses him desperately.

“I love you arcilla, I’m sorry it took me a while to realize I never stopped,” she says between kisses, not wanting to stop now.

Clayton laughs and pulls away enough to put the ring back on, “it was worth the wait.”

This time Clayton pulls her into a kiss, savoring the moment he imagined for months and months.

#clayton keller #clayton keller fic #arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes fic #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #nhl stories #nhl fics

131 notes · View notes

stormblessed95 · 1 year

Note

who hugged me tightly

only you

who protected me

who only protected me

who held my hand

who held my hand tightly

who reached out to me

who held out his hand

To you who looked at me greatly

🔗 https://twitter.com/jaksal_5813/status/1639683901571620865?s=46&t=6h2FRfv41Qg9RyUk25oCZQ

Such a beautiful song. I hate that it's only on CD. JIMIN YOU SAID ITS FOR FANS, GIVE IT TO ME SO I CAN STREAM IT THEN PLEASE?!

youtube

Here is my original post over Letter too, that I'll stick by what I said there and just add onto it in this post for now too:

During his live stream for FACE, he breifly mentions Letter, which the trans for that is here

The way I'm side eyeing the heck out of the way JKs involvement in this song is being completely ignored by BOTH OF THEM. LOL don't gatekeep please. Share with us!

Honestly the fact that it's named letter because he sat down and wrote his feelings out into a letter and then roughly transformed that into lyrics for a song and it turned out so beautifully. It's because Jimin is a GENIUS and he emotes so sweetly and his EQ is insane and translates so well. And so him just pouring his emotions into paper would of course turn into such a softly stunning song like Letter. 😭 he repeated many times that he emphasized honesty in this album, including letter. And that comes off so sincerely every time you listen.

It's a fan song, yes. It's also... more in my opinion. Because things can be more than just one thing. It's also interesting that the majority of Letter lyric wise is written in a more formal tone/language and uses honorifics. But when the bridge hits, aka when JK joins in for the more heavy backing vocals, the lyrics drop the honorifics and use more informal language from what I've heard. And with the call and receive way the backing vocals answer Jimins main ones, it almost sounds like they are talking to each other there, rather than the fans. Jimin is always so formal and polite and kind when he speaks to us. And jikook often over do the formalities when they talk, or they drop them totally. Which is a consistent habit of theirs. So could the last part of the song be more for themselves? Maybe. Could it still just be for ARMY? Maybe. Could it be for both? Maybe. Regardless, Jimin said it's a song for the fans and JK made it very clear that everyone had always known that he is hyungs biggest fan

Letter IS a love letter. To multiple people I believe. JK being one of them. And I think it was a really really amazing and sweet way to end the album. Hidden in the ending of Like Crazy, after all the emotions and pain and hurt and confusion he went through over the last few years dealing with everything the world went through and they themselves adjusting to a new future.... things like having to quarantine alone for 2 weeks everytime they returned to Korea... getting covid and then having emergency surgery at the same time and having to recover in a quarantined hospital room alone. Facing the upcoming changes for the band in chapter 2 and the uncertainty that came with it. And more. Yet there is still this uplifting and positive emotion that we find ourselves in at the end. Letter feels like love and safety and that feeling of coming home after a really long hard day. It feels like peace. And I like to think that Jimin is expressing those emotions through that song. He finds peace, love and safety in the end. He feels the happiness of being home and embraced. He feels that love from ARMY. And with his choice to include JK in that song, it's like he is saying he feels that peace and love in Jungkook too. That's his home.

LMAO and I have to end with the way he scolded us for uploading Letter everywhere anyway lmfao so cutely. He literally wagged his finger at us!

But the way he said it he saw it ALL. Man if he typed letter in either English or Hangul into the search engine, half the videos that pop up are jikook edits to the song. I know he saw those! 🤣 HE KNOWS YALL, I KNOW HE KNOWS 😅

Anyways, amazing song. I shared it with my non army friends and they were also obsessed. Jimin sounds heavenly on it. I will never stop asking for an official streamable verison of this song. We waited so long for Promise. I'll wait for Letter too!

Editing super quickly to add this clip of Jimin singing a snippet of Letter live to an ARMY on the FaceTime fan meeting calls 😭😭😭

#jikook letter #JM letter #jikook #kookmin #Jimin FACE

172 notes · View notes

poptart-productions · 1 year

Text

his type

[part two of a series]

↳ ❝ [summary] ¡! ❞

after a bit of teasing about your apparent ‘crush’ on eren on your friend’s part, you and “the homegirls” finally make it to the paradis concert.

after the show, the six of you head backstage to receive your v.i.p treatment and instead you get eren’s attention, which—as you’ll find out, is more weight than you can bear

previous | series masterlist | next

——————————✩———————————

it was all fun and games until you actually got there

you felt out of place

to be fair, you came for the networking opportunity and that super attractive guitarist, so it’d be unfair to compare you to a fan.

but still, you felt wrong being there—like you took the spot from someone more deserving than yourself.

the pestering flavor of coffee sat heavy on the back of your tongue as you looked amongst the mingling fans—all the faces reduced to featureless paint smears in the darkness.

surprisingly, none of your friends were speaking, at least not too loud—even sasha, which was frightening.

and so, you were forced into what was, practically eavesdropping on fans; all of which were in varying degrees of fandom

“that album—oh my fucking god—they ate”

“—devoured!”

another conversation.

“i’m gonna fucking cry—“

“—jenna, if you cry—we’re going home”

and another.

“eren is so hot—one chance, please”

you chuckled a bit hearing that, because shit—this person is just like you for saying that

but you quirked a brow at what their friend said in response, “well, you know what they been saying about him, you might be—“

another voice, “—don’t even give her false hope—bitch, this isn’t wattpad”

the trio laughs but you’d already stopped paying attention at that point

what have they been saying about eren?

might be what?

from the undertone of the conversation, and the person begging for ‘one chance’ with him, you’d guess that the rumors were alluding to eren being something of a playboy

you sighed; you’re not surprised—he’s young, he’s pretty, and he’s in a band—of course he’s a fuckboy

“you okay—?“

“—oh! miki. . .” your shoulders tense as mikasa’s sultry voice funneled into your ears

you did eventually realize that it was her, and calmed down some; you blinked, finally answering her question, “yeah. . .yeah! i’m alright! i just—i don’t know, i’ve just never really been to a concert, i guess”

“oh, i know how you feel, but you’ll have fun. and if you need some—“ “—let’s fucking go!” before mikasa could finish, the stage lights flicked on, and the boys came on stage all at once

thankfully, you’d done some research on paradis while waiting for the girls in the parking lot—all that fussing, and you were still there first—so you recognized all of the guys and their respective positions

connie, the one coming with so much energy was the drummer—“are you ready, [h/t]?!” he continued, rousing all kinds of ‘yeahs’ from the audience

“then make some fucking noise” another screamed, an attractive fry to his voice

jean : bassist and sub-vocalist—he was pretty fucking popular, too. the sea of fans responded with screeches, some of which consisted of obscene ‘daddy’s’ and ‘fuck me’s’ shouted into the void

these motherfuckers are insane.

seriously, you’d think some kpop group was on the stage right now.

armin, the lead vocalist pouts, “you guys sound bored, c’mon”

you scan the stage, and that’s the moment that man appears, out of nowhere.

eren, the guitarist—though he needs no introduction; he’s the most popular member, for fuck’s sake

he saunters toward the front of the stage, single-handedly causing an uproar in the audience—and why would he not—let’s not kid ourselves here; this man looks fucking good.

waves of brown hair cascading freely down his shoulders, green eyes tinted through the shades he decided to wear inside—but he’s hot so it’s okay

he was shirtless, leading all the attention to his lean—i mean, neckless—of course, the key neckless which he always wore, according to the website you were staring at in your car twenty minutes ago

whether it had sentimental value or he just thought it looked cool, you might not ever know, but it was still eye catching nonetheless

draws attention to that abdomen of his. . .

fuck.

but wait, there’s more; the pants—those fucking leather pants, the light was doing a great job at making it known just how. . .excited he was before getting on stage

either that or, he was just that impressive

after all that time you spent utterly eye-fucking this man, he finally opens his mouth

shit

“if you want us to give it to you, you’re gonna fucking scream, alright?”

sultry, deep, husky—it brought you back to your old boy band days—you’re ashamed to admit that you already started imagining him whispering things to you, dirty things

“one more try” he continues, “make some motherfucking noise!”

he said ‘noise’, and the fans delivered.

all you could hear was noise.

your feelings of isolation only got worse when the music started—if you could even call it that—you could only hear the bass as it boomed from the super-sized speakers above; the only thing cutting through it all was armin’s voice, with occasional harmonies from eren and jean

they sounded nice, but god was everything so fucking loud

you looked over to find everyone having a good time, but you

sasha and historia were screaming the lyrics—regardless of the fact that sasha did not know a single one—and jumping up and down, with mikasa and ymir standing protectively behind them to ensure their safety

they were bobbing their heads to the beat, too. hell, even annie seemed to be enjoying herself; nodding her head and mouthing the words to the chorus

it wasn’t until mikasa hurriedly handed you the earplugs she had forgotten to give you that you saw what all the fuss was about.

there’s nothing for you to say except. . .

you get it, now

you felt like middle schooler, screaming in the audience—it was fun—they’d only performed a few songs, it felt like, before armin looked at the audience with a pitiful smile, “alright, so for this last song—“ the crowd, including you, responded with childish whines

“you guys always do this—“ armin shakes his head with a laugh, to which jean smiled, “yeah, shit’s gotta end eventually”

the whining subsided, and armin continued, “so for this last song, we wanted you guys to sing. . .” the chords to an unknown—to you at least—track began to play

there was a nervous tension in the air, “eren, start ‘em off!”

eren smirks, jade eyes focused on his instrument as he played the audience in, “there is nothing you can do that i have not already done to my self, there is nothing you could do that i have not already done to myself—“

you paused, you’ve heard this song before.

never wanted to dance—that’s it’s name—you’d heard it on historia’s playlist while sleeping over at her and ymir’s place.

“there is nothing you could do that i have not already done to myself—“

“—never wanted to dance with nobody—“ a few voices started to sing, but quickly died down upon realizing how alone they were

the guys of paradis are reduced to nothing but disappointed groans and looks,“oh come on! you were just screaming loud as fuck—could barely hear ourselves” connie chided, so upsets it seems, that he almost fell off his chair

“scream!” jean and armin encouraged, and eren continued with their sentiment, “we don’t give a fuck if you think you sound bad—just give us everything you got, alright?”

they start over, and at first it seems the result will be the same until a voice from the audience starts screaming the lyrics

“never wanted to dance with nobody but you—!”

you knew that voice anywhere.

historia.

“fuck yeah, go crazy!” connie praised, gearing up to play his part

historia’s shrill voice lands all eyes on her but she clearly didn’t give a fuck, she was screaming;

“never wanted to dance with nobody but you wouldn’t take no for an answer—you fucking bitch!” it was so strange hearing historia swear, but your ‘homegirls’ seemed cool with it and she was jamming so you smiled at her

“never wanted to dance, with nobody but you—!“ sasha joined, jumping up and down like a child.

gotta love the enthusiasm.

it wasn’t long before the entire venue was alive, all screaming the same lyrics to the same song

it was electric.

you forgot what you were originally there for, not remembering until the six of you were in the bathroom, freshening up

“did you have fun?” mikasa combed her fingers through her hair, glancing at all of you through the mirror,

“are you kidding?” historia laughed, “i’m ecstatic about it!”

“life-changing!” sasha giggled, almost as if she was loopy, and ymir nodded, “it was pretty fun”

“not bad” that’s annie for: i had fun

“that’s better. . .” you let out a sigh as you stared at yourself in the mirror

all the excitement left you with a youthful glow, but the screaming left you looking like you hadn’t slept in five years

if you’re gonna be meeting eren and agency representatives, you’re gonna need to look decent

it wasn’t long after you chugged a bunch of water, and fixed your appearance, that sasha was already dragging you towards the door

“okay! let’s go backstage—i can smell the food from here!”

“why are you always hungry?”

as soon as you walked into the room, reps were already flooding mikasa; it wasn’t long before they turned their attention to you

your friends left you alone to converse with them, and you’d scheduled a couple castings before skipping up to your friends—who was talking to the band—holy shit, they’re looking at you.

deadass, they all just stopped whatever they were doing and looked at you—maybe it was because you so hard to ignore when you were literally beaming

“hi! i’m [y/n]! i’m friends with them!”

“oh, hey!” they all greeted, “nice to meet you”

all of you moved the ensuing conversation to a seating area in the corner.

seeing as there was no room left on the couch your friends decided to sit on, you plopped yourself down on the loveseat across from them

you started cursing yourself out the moment eren slid into the empty seat beside you—because of course he did

your heart was slamming against your rib cage, meanwhile, eren was chilling. your best effort to combat this was just pretending he didn’t exist

you looked around you.

it was crazy; they were just like the movies, so cool and laid back—or maybe it’s the drugs, you thought, cutting your eyes to eren, who was shamelessly rolling up on the glass table—already reminded of his existence

he glanced up at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips, “you smoke?”

“no—no, i don’t. but thank you” you clear your throat and force a chuckle.

“sure, princess” the nickname flowed from his lips so effortlessly; he already moved on, but you were still shocked about it.

your body was tense, but armin smiled at you sweetly as asked you a question, “you’re the same age as miki, right?”

you smiled upon hearing the nickname come from him

they must’ve been friends before, too

seemingly interested, connie asked follow-up questions, leaning his body towards you, “you in college? what’s your major?”

you nodded feverishly, telling them your major with a proud smile; they smiled back.

“got a partner?”

you could feel his burning gaze on you, and everyone who was once talking stopped to look at the brunette

his bandmates looked quite dissatisfied with him

mikasa’s weighty gaze burdened him, but eren didn’t seem to notice.

she sighed, and turned to you with a softer glance, “[n/n], you can come sit by me, if—“

“—no need to be like that” eren chuckled, lighting the blunt resting between his lips, “she’s hot, i’m not allowed to think that?”

jean crosses his arms, “yeah, but you don’t need to eye-fuck her, man”

“sorry,” he looked at you, “i’d say he’s not normally like this but. . .”

resting his arms behind you, eren leans back; you made the mistake of looking at him—of course, what you find is him staring back at you with those damn eyes of his

“. . .just returning the favor”

you tried to hide it, but you couldn’t deny how your body became rigid after he said that to you

did he really see that? that is so embarrassing—fuck

it was only worsened when you tried to explain yourself, only coming out as stammers

“i—i wasn’t—“

“—you never answered my question” you were humiliated, like a small girl underneath his gaze.

you cast your eyes down to your lap, “no. i don’t have one—a partner”

“good.” he leans towards you, shoulders touching yours; his breath was fanning against the shell of your ears

the leather beneath him made noise as he moved his hands; his calloused fingers graze the back of your neck and you shivered at this.

“so is it cool if i—“

“—pause.” ymir stood up, the sudden action gaining everyone’s attention

she walks toward you, and you seriously thought they were about to start boxing, “thanks for the hospitality.” thankfully, she just grabbed you—yanking you to your feet with a wild amount of force.

“but we’re leaving.”

tags!

@butterfly-skinnylegend

@y-yinyang

#black reader #anime #fanfic #attack on titan #attack on titan eren #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #eren x reader #aot smau #eren jaeger #aot x reader #text fic

309 notes · View notes

champagneglitteronthefloor · 1 year

Text

Glitch

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

Summary: reader is new at Nevermore university, another psychic like Wednesday. When a quick friendship with Xavier forms, reader agrees to help him make Wednesday jealous. Which essentially leads to more 🥰

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI. All the things are in this.

A/n: I’m definitely a reader before I’m a writer BUT I wanted to place this fantasy out there. My new obsession with the show Wednesday and Xavier Thorpe is insane. Credit to the creator of the gif. Also I did listen to Glitch by Taylor Swift while writhing, and would love to eventually do a mini series of Xavier to songs on the Midnights album. Send requests please I would love it!

“This is my secret place, too.” You heard a fairly deep voice behind you as well as footsteps through the grass. You were sitting on a a small dock you’d found looking out at the lake.

“Sorry about that.” You laughed.

“I’m Xavier. I already know who you are.” He held his hand out, which you shook while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Well I know I don’t come here to just sit. What’s on your mind?” He asked. As if he’d known you for years.

“Just thinking about my old school, my friends. About how I went from having all sorts of friends and hobbies, and I was happy. And then I had to come here.” You sighed with an honest answer.

It was not a good transition for you. You were a fencing champion at your last school, on the dance team. About as close to a normie an outcast could get. This put a huge target on your back at Nevermore.

“People haven’t exactly given you a fair chance here. And for that I’m sorry.” He replied.

“So what did you come here to think about?” You took Xavier off guard. “The girl with black braids and the guy at the coffee shop.” You replied. He had no idea you’d had a slight vision.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“It’s easy to see.” You simply replied.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening sharing your feelings, two strangers. It was more him than you, telling you about the last couple weeks, how Wednesday had chosen Tyler over him. You pieced together this was the girl and guy in your vision.

Xavier walked you home that evening, the campus already empty when you got back to your dorm building.

“See you next time Xavier!” You waved with a smile. Your first friend at Nevermore. As Xavier walked away you fell into a deep vision. You could see yourself with Xavier. Him looking into your eyes with, you were trying so hard to see, with love? He was looking at you in love. His hands were on your face, and he was looking into your eyes with deep passion. With love. You snapped out of it.

“Hey are you okay?” Xavier was now running back to you to check on you.

“I’m fine!” You scurried up the stairs, missing a step and falling down. “Definitely still fine.” You ran off, to the sound of Xavier laughing.

That’s funny. Your visions were never wrong. However, this time it had to be. Xavier was in love with Wednesday. You heard him talk about her. You tried to brush it off. Definitely just a glitch.

The days went by, then the weeks, and you spent some days practicing archery with Xavier, or fencing while listening to that days drama about Wednesday and Tyler. It hurt you that he hurt. He was such a passionate person. He loved with all of his heart. You started to wonder if Wednesday was enjoying all of this. You didn’t know her, not at all, but from your view, you didn’t like how she made Xavier feel. That’s when the idea hit you.

“I could try to help you make Wednesday jealous.” You said as Xavier looked at you letting the arrow go at his target, hitting his target right in the middle.”

“Bullseye, that means this is the perfect plan.” You rubbed your hands together.

“You really think it would work?” Xavier asked after you explained the plan to him.

“Of course I think this would work.” You said confidently, hoping the plan didn’t backfire, because you were the absolute opposite person of Wednesday.

You made your way to the coffee shop where, thanks to your vision, you knew Wednesday and Tyler were having a date. You were out of your Nevermore uniform (thank goodness) and had yourself dressed up, and you had spent quiet the amount of time getting ready, in order to try to make the plan work.

You saw Xavier waiting at a table for you, directly across from Wednesday and Tyler. The plan was in motion. When you opened the door to the coffee shop your eyes made contact with Xavier’s first. Your hair was flowing down your back, your dress fit just right, he was looking at you. The world seemed as if it stopped for a moment when he looked into your eyes. This wasn’t part of the plan.

You snapped out of it and looked at Wednesday and Tyler who were obviously looking at you too.

“If I were you I’d look a little harder.” Wednesday said dryly while snapping an iced coffee straw open aggressively. Tyler then looked down quickly. The plan was getting out of control quickly. You decided to jump back on track.

“Xav!” You said as you slid into the table chair and he continued to look at you, just as before.

“Hey, I think I need to tell you-“ he started.

“Tell me how glad you are to see me for our date?” You said just loud enough for Wednesday to hear. “Me too.” You reached up and pushed your hand through his hair. You felt the little sparks. Impossible. He loves her.

“No I think I have had something change-“ Xavier started when the girl from the counter came over to ask if you had drink orders.

After ordering, Xavier continued to act weird. You eyed him questionably.

You looked over and noticed Wednesday and Tyler slipping out the door.

“Our plan failed.” You sighed.

“Can we take these to go?” Xavier asked, nervous, weird tone intact.

“I’m really really sorry. I thought it would work. I’ll find something to work. I really will.” You said with regret. You could tell by his demeanor something was off.

He never answered you. As you arrived back to the dorms you decided to walk up to his dorm with him for one more apology, sneaking, knowing you weren’t supposed to be there. Xavier’s room was empty and you walked in, so you wouldn’t be seen. You recognized the room. You’d seen it before.

“Say something.” You said. Afraid you’d ruined your only friendship at Nevermore.

“I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THIS WHOLE TIME MY FEELINGS HAVE CHANGED AND I LOVE YOU AND NOT WEDNESDAY.” He said with raised voice. “I think that’s how it was always supposed to be.” He added on much more quietly.

Then he stepped over into a different light. This was it. This was your vision. He was looking at you with the deep passion he once looked at Wednesday Addams with. He put his hands onto your face just how he did in the vision.

“It’s you. Wednesday was always supposed to be with Tyler, because you were coming for me.” He was looking at you so deeply never breaking his gaze.

“And I thought my vision was a glitch.” You smiled wrapping your arms around him.

“Your what? I’m sorry I- we will address the fact that you didn’t tell me you’re a psychic later. I just want to take this moment in.” He looked at you with those big green eyes.

You knew you had loved him from the moment you laid eyes on him, you had been trying to block it out, knowing his infatuation with Wednesday.

This was when his lips crashed into yours, as if they were meant to be there. The kiss was deepened. You’d never been in a relationship where things started to move so quickly- physically. Were you even in a relationship with Xavier?

You were now sitting on his bed, under him, still kissing, your hands wrapped around his waist. He was so tall, so captivating, the kiss broke for only a moment for his green eyes to meet you’re again.

“We don’t have to go any further than this. I promise. We have nothing but time.” He said with great thought in his eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on it going this far, until it started too. Now I’m not sure if I can go back.” You admitted. You could feel his obvious indicator that he felt the same way.

“When will your roommate be home?” You asked him.

“I live by myself now.” He answered your question with the raise of his eyebrows.

“What about her?” You were starting to get in your own mind.

“Since the moment I met you, I knew the reason it didn’t work for myself and her.” He answered. Plus I know this is where I’m meant to be. You shot a questioning look.

“Well for one your vision led you here, for two, I drew this a couple of days ago.” He got up and pulled a paper off the desk, handing it to you.

You examined the paper. It was yourself, in the same outfit you were in, sitting in the same position you were just the moment before. You’d known the entire time Xavier was psychic too, obviously because of his famous father. You had no idea he drew his visions.

“This is amazing.” You said, somewhat speechless. Walking the paper back over to the desk you noticed many many pictures drawn of you, along with your headband you once left at school sitting at the top of the desk, and a photo you and Xavier took at fencing practice. Xavier turning red. Some other person might find this kind of borderline stalkerish, but you found it cute and intriguing.

“This has been going on a while hasn’t it?” You asked him.

“I drew you before you showed up.” He admitted.

“What about all the conversations we had about Wednesday and Tyler after you met me?” You asked.

“I think I still really dislike Tyler.” He chuckled. “But also you were trying so hard to help me with the issue that first brought us close, and I should’ve been honest about my feelings with you sooner.” He said with a slight look of worry on his face.

You decided not to say anything, bending down to kiss him still sitting on the bed, which you hardly had to bend because he was so much taller than you, even sitting.

You straddled him putting your forehead to his. Placing small kisses on his forehead and playing with his hair.

“You’re entering a point of no return here. Once you start this I won’t be able to go back.” He smiled.

“Like I said I have no desire to go back.” You winked.

Suddenly he was on top of you pulling at your jacket, getting it off. He popped your bra strap in one single motion. Yikes, this isn’t his first time here. Maybe you should’ve mentioned it was yours.

Somehow you still showed no nervousness, or fear, because this was right. Your dress was now over your head and in the floor, Xavier still fully dressed. You were unsure of what you were supposed to do. Were you supposed to take his clothes off? Nerves were striking a little. Your question was answered when his shirt hit the ground following the rest of his items.

He was now looking at you. All over up and down. You hoped more than anything he liked the picture in front of him.

“Did you draw this?” You asked him.

“No but I damn sure wish I would’ve.” He now crashed down onto you.

He placed kisses up and down your body finding the place he was initially looking for. As he was working his mouth, you tried not to squirm at the new sensation, as his tongue found the exact spot that made you arch. Your stomach dropped as he began to add a single finger, might you add a very long one, as his hands are huge. This drew an immediate moan out of you, which fueled him to add another, moving faster with his hands and his tongue.

You knew this was wrong, you weren’t supposed to be doing this right now. But it also felt so right. So right you felt like your body could burst up into flames. You could feel a burning in the bottom of your stomach. Uncontrollable sounds were coming out of you now. With no other experience to go by, you still knew what was about to happen.

With the scream of his name, you went over a cliff, an edge, that was such a new indescribable feeling to you. You could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he got into a new position, lining himself up with you.

“I cannot wait any longer.” He said breathlessly.

He had no idea in this moment he was about to take your last piece of innocence left. You had no intention to tell him, because you wanted it, and you were afraid you might mess it up.

You could taste an odd taste as he now was kissing you again, of yourself. But you were too ready for what was to come to think about that.

While deep in thought you could see Xavier now looking into your eyes, which made you a little nervous, how he never broke eye contact. This remained as he slowly pushed into you.

“My god, you are so tight, I can’t hardly even push in.” He groaned as you felt a pop. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you.

“You were a virgin?” He asked with a terrified tone. “And you didn’t tell me?” He continued to look at you in shock.

“I didn’t want to mess this up.” You admitted, him still inside you.

“Well I’m pulling out and we are going to discuss this.” He said, not very convincingly.

“Ummm Xavier, it’s already done.” You giggled a little.

“You have a point.” He giggled back with you, as he now was starting thrust a little, towering over top of you.

You looked at him, he looked like an angel to you. You knew everyone’s types were different, but this here, this was your type. Tall, lanky, pale, big green eyes. You looked at his long, long legs folded under him as he continued to thrust. Suddenly these thoughts escaped you, as all you could feel was him, hitting your g spot as hard as he could, letting the most attractive moans come from his mouth, which was bringing you closer to your edge as he said your name over and over.

“I can’t hold on much longer.” He warned you.

“Me either.” You responded, barely unable to respond.

“Are you on and form of..?” He started to ask.

You nodded your head as you remembered that you had indeed taken your pill this morning, that you had just started recently.

It all happened like a dream, you hadn’t really timed it, but it all timed out perfectly. Both of you reached your high at the same time, not realizing how noisy you were being. You were now coated inside with him, you were definitely marked by him, he was the holder of your virginity, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You didn’t even remember falling asleep on his chest, but you woke up the next morning in a frantic rush to get out of Xavier’s dorm, trying not to get in trouble.

“Babe, it’s okay.” Xavier said in his morning voice making you melt into a puddle. “The more spastic you act the more noticeable it’s going to be.” He laughed.

“Come here.” He said motioning told you. You walked over to him sitting up on the bed where he sat up and kissed you with a hug. You trusted Xavier, but the female in you couldn’t help wonder if you’d get up and leave and he’d never talk to you again.

“I promise I’m here for the long run.” He gave you that smile and bit at his bottom lip.

“Me too.” You gave him one last kiss and turned to the mirror.

You looked different. You could see the innocence lost in your eyes. You didn’t dislike it, you could just see it in yourself. Though you were very put together, you still could tell that you hadn’t gotten ready in your room as always. You turned to walk to the door, immediately face to face with Ajax who was about to knock on the door.

“I came to see if you two were ever coming out. What a surprise this is.” He said with a playful smirk.

“I was just-“ you started.

“Oh everyone in this building knows what you guys were “just” doing.” He laughed and patted you on the back. He looked at your neck at the huge spot left by Xavier, that you had honestly forgotten about.

“Wow.” He said wide eyes

You turned to Xavier, mortified.

“Meet me before class?” He asked.

“I’ll think about it.” You laughed as you passed Ajax going into the room.

While running to your room to get your makeup to cover your neck with, you couldn’t stop thinking of him. You were already counting the seconds until you saw him again. You were definitely in deep.

#wednesday #fanfic #wednsday addams #xavier x you #xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe #xavier thrope smut #Xavier #xavier thrope fanfic #xavier x reader #xavier thrope imagine #wednesday show

212 notes · View notes

vanfleeter · 1 year

Text

Out of Body // JTK

Paring(s): Jake x reader x Josh x Sam x Danny Warnings: angst, slight swearing, depictions of a car accident, mentions of death and pregnancy, out of body experience, (let me know if I missed anything). Author's note: I've been rewatching One Tree Hill for the millionth time and a storyline inspired me to write this. Spoiler alert (even though this show has been out for a long time, lol): Quinn and Clay have out of body experiences when recovering from being shot. I got inspired by the out of body to write one for Jake, so here you go.

Music pumps through the speakers into the sound room. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all sit around the room listening to it and giving their opinions on what should be changed or who needs to work on what. The album is scheduled to come out in six months and they’re so close to finishing.

Exhaustion.

Stress.

Arguments.

Jake is getting tired of it. He’s tired of working what feels like endless hours in the studio. He misses sleeping in his bed for more than four hours. He misses you. He misses waking up to you in the morning with a mug full of freshly brewed coffee in your hand as you wait for him to wake up. He misses cooking dinner with you in the evenings and eating it together on top of the kitchen counter with a bottle of wine shared between the two of you.

Deciding to call it for the night, Jake stands up from the couch. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m going home and getting sleep.”

Josh looks up at him. “But we have to-”

Jake shakes his head. “No.. I’ve been here in this damn studio for way too long these past few weeks and I’m over it. I want to go home and be with my girlfriend. We still have six months until this album releases and another two before tour starts and we’re near finished but I’m exhausted and I swear if I stay here another minute I’m going to go insane.” He reaches for his keys and his wallet on the coffee table. “I’ll be back on Monday but I’m taking the weekend.”

Leaving the sound room he heads out to his car and climbs inside. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings a couple times before you pick up.

“Hi baby.” He hears that smile in your voice. “How’s work going?”

He sighs. “Draining.. But I’m coming home. I’m done for the weekend.” He shoves the key into the ignition and turns it. “I will be home in thirty minutes. Please have some drinks ready when I get there, I beg.”

You giggle. “Rum or whiskey?”

“Both.” He says chuckling.

“Both it is.” You say retrieving the two bottles off of the drink cart. “I will see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Pulling out of the parking space he heads out onto the road to make his way home. Stopping at an intersection, he looks over to his left and spots a flower shop on the corner. A smile tugs on his lips. Looking behind him he sees no other cars parked behind him. Slowly backing up, he turns his car into the turn lane and waits for the light to turn green.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel he chews the inside of his cheek. “Come on, come on..” He sighs.

The light finally turns green and he presses his foot to the gas. Pulling out into the intersection he starts to turn left when headlights fill his peripheral view. He tries to get out of the way before the car slams into him.

Though he isn’t that lucky.

The vehicle slams into the side of his car, sending it tumbling over several times before coming to a stop in the middle of the road. In the midst of the ringing in his ears and numb feeling in his body, he hears his cell phone vibrating on the floor of the car before he slowly drifts into the darkness.

—

You pace back and forth by the front door, your phone clutched in one hand while the other is resting on your cheek. Worry fills your body.

Sure Jake has a tendency to be late but that’s nothing unusual. What’s unusual is for him not to call when he’s going to be late. He normally calls if he decides to stop off somewhere real quick. At this hour he would most likely stop to pick up food.

Ten more minutes slip by and still no Jake.

Headlights flash through the window as a car pulls into the driveway. You throw open the front door only to find Josh running up the sidewalk. His face is pale and his eyes red.

“Josh?”

“You need to come with me.” He says grabbing your hand and pulling you out to the car.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll explain on the way.” Josh says as he ushers her into the passenger seat and roughly closes the door.

“Josh, what’s going on?”

Josh takes in a deep breath, his hands tightening around the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. “It’s Jake.. He was in an accident.”

It feels as if your stomach drops to your feet. “Wh-What?”

“It’s bad, (Y/N). Really bad…”

Pulling up the hospital, the two of you head inside where you’re joined by Sam and Danny in the lobby.

“Where is he?” You ask.

“They took him back already.” Danny says. “They won’t tell us anything.”

“Which is stupid because I’m his brother.” Sam snaps as he glares at the tech behind the counter.

Josh lays a calming hand on his younger brother’s shoulder before approaching the counter. “Is there really nothing you can give us?” He says. “I’m his twin brother. We’re blood, practically the same person.”

The tech shakes her head. “Like I told your friends, I can’t release his information.”

Josh sighs. “We’re his family!” He shouts as he slams the palm of his hand on the counter. “My brother is back there somewhere dying! I need to know where he is dammit!”

“I’m sorry, without the proper authorization I cannot tell you. So I am going to need you to calm down and take a step back before I call security.”

Josh inhales and takes a step back. “Whose authorization do we need in order to get information? And better not be him because I swear-”

“His wife.” The tech says. “Only she can authorize it.”

Josh’s shoulders drop. His eyebrows crease. “Wife?”

The tech nods her head. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Only she can release it.”

All three boys turn towards you. “Did we miss something?” Danny says.

You look back at them with the same confused expression on your face. Josh grabs your hand and pushes you up to the counter.

“This is his…wife.” He shakes his head. “Just give her the information.”

The tech looks at you and you give her a faint smile. The tech huffs. “I need to see your ID please.” She says, holding out her hand.

You dig through your purse and retrieve your wallet. Pulling your ID, you hand it over to her and she looks at it. She glances back up at you and then back down at the ID. She sighs and hands the plastic card back to you.

“Jacob Kiszka is currently in surgery right now. I will notify the surgical team of your arrival and someone will be out soon to update you.”

Sam throws his hands in the air and hangs his head back. “Great.. Just great..” He mutters before walking away with Danny quickly trailing behind him.

You smile politely at the tech before giving her your thanks and dragging Josh away from the counter.

“So we just sit here and wait?” He says.

“Appears so..” You say. “Have you called your parents yet?”

Josh shakes his head as he sinks back into the chair. “No, I haven’t had the time. As soon as I got the call from the police, I immediately went to get you.”

You nod your head and stand up from your chair. “I’ll go call. You stay here and wait for any updates.”

Josh nods his head. “I’ll come find you if I do.”

—

Waking up again Jake finds himself in his bedroom sitting on the bed with his guitar in his lap. Looking up from it, he looks around the room to find it empty. You were nowhere to be found.

Putting his guitar off to the side he stands up from the bed and leaves the room; but when he does he finds himself in the hospital lobby. People milling around, all going about in different directions. Looking through the sea of people he spots his twin sitting in one of the chairs against the wall. He rushes over and sits down in the empty chair beside him.

“Josh..”

Josh continues to stare blankly ahead in front of him as he clenches his jaw.

“Josh, look at me… Josh?”

Josh turns his head towards Jake. “Are they coming?” He asks looking past Jake.

Jake follows his gaze to see you coming towards them both. You nod your head. “Your mom is a wreck… But uh, your dad–he’s calling the airlines now to find a flight down here from Detroit. They won’t be here until tomorrow..”

“And Ronnie?”

You shake your head. “I left her a voicemail but your dad said he’d call her too.”

Jake stands up from the chair. “(Y/N), can you hear me?”

“Sam and Danny haven’t come back?” You say. Josh shakes his head. “Okay uh we should go find them–maybe go grab some food while we wait.”

Josh nods his head and stands up from his chair. “Come on..”

“Guys, wait!” Jake calls after them. But to no avail, they don’t hear him. He tries to follow after them but as soon as he steps through the doors he finds himself looking down at himself from a overlook. His body lies there on the table as surgeons crowd over him to repair the damages that he sustained from the accident.

A series of beeps keeping track of his heart rate begin to erratic. “He’s crashing!”

“BP’s dropping!”

“We’re losing him!”

Jake pounds his fists on the glass panel. “No!” He shouts. “Don’t give up! Come on!” –

Sam paces back and forth in the courtyard with one hand dug into his hair and the other one resting on his hip. Danny sits on the bench leaning on his knees as he picks at his nails. “How am I supposed to just sit here and wait?”

“I don’t know..”

“I mean.. I-I have to do something.”

“Like what?” Danny questions. “You’re not a surgeon, you have no idea what the first thing is to do.”

Sam spins around to face Danny. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“Well..”

“He’s my brother.. It’s human instinct to want to do something.”

“Then go to the chapel and say a prayer…”

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Please.. Who the hell would I pray to that remotely cares that my brother is dying?!”

“Sam..”

Jake steps up to his brother. “Sam.. Sam, please hear me.” He pleads. “Sam, I need your help. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Sam continues his pacing back and forth. “If he dies…”

“He won’t die..” Danny says. “Stop talking like that.”

Jake runs over to Danny and sits beside him on the bench. “Danny, please. Help me!”

“Hey there you are.” Josh says as you and him step out into the courtyard. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Are there any updates?” Danny says as he stands from the bench. Josh shakes his head.

“We called Karen and Kelly, and told them what happened.” You say as you adjust your jacket on your shoulders. “They’ll be here tomorrow.. Still can’t get a hold of Ronnie though.”

“Are either of you hungry?” Josh asks. “We were gonna head to the cafeteria to get some food.”

“How can you eat right now?” Sam says.

Josh shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not really sure what else I’m supposed to do…”

“You two go ahead,” Danny says. “We’ll meet up with you guys soon.”

Jake follows quickly behind you and Josh. “(Y/N), baby please. Please hear me. O-Or see me. Please, I’m right here.”

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you sniffle. Josh hears you and stops in front of you.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m so scared, Josh.. What if–What if he doesn’t-”

Josh shakes his head as he places his hands on your shoulders. “No, don’t think like that. Jake will be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?”

A smile cracks on Josh’s face. “He’s my brother. My other half. Trust me when I say he’ll be fine.” He pulls you into his arms. “Besides, he’d be an idiot to leave you like this.”

You stifle a giggle as you pull away from him. “Shut up..”

Josh chuckles. “Come on, Mrs. Kiszka, let’s go eat something horrible from the cafeteria.”

“Geez.. Stop.”

Josh grins. “You have to admit, it does sound good. Mrs. Kiszka. I’m telling you what, if he doesn’t marry after this, he really is an idiot.” You roll your eyes, making him laugh. “Though you two already act like a married couple.. What would be the difference? A silly little diamond ring on your finger?”

You smile. “Maybe I want a ring.” –

Jake stands over his bed watching as his own chest rises and falls. He leans against the window sill and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. “So this is what it’s come to..” He says. “Tube down my throat, IVs stuck inside of me everywhere… Man, I look horrible…”

The door to his room opens and Karen steps inside. “Oh my baby..” She whimpers as she walks over to the bed.

Jake pushes off of the window sill and walks over to the bed. “Mama..”

“What happened to you Jacob?”

“I wish I knew myself..” He kneels down beside the bed and looks up at his mother who stands on the opposite side. His heart breaks as he watches her eyes fill with tears. “But I’m right here, Mom. I know you can’t see me but I’m here.” He tries to reach for her hand that rests on his chest but it only flows through her; as if he were running his hands through a cloud.

The door opens again and you walk in. You greet her with a sympathetic smile.

“What happened?” Karen asks.

“Car accident.” You say. “He was on his way home from the studio when he was hit.. Car is totaled..”

“Did he run a red light?”

You shake your head. “No.. He had a green light. Someone else ran the red light and hit his car.”

Karen takes a deep breath. “How are you?” She asks. “Are you doing okay?”

You nod your head. “I’m as good as one can be.” You say.

Karen smiles before wrapping her arms around you. “I have faith that he will pull through.” She says before pulling away. “Have you eaten yet today?” She asks. “Or even slept at all?”

“Josh forced me to go home last night to sleep.”

Karen laughs. “Good. You should sleep in your own bed and not the uncomfortable cot they offer you.” You giggle. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.”

Getting up from his knees, Jake follows closely behind them. As they round a corner they greet Kelly in front of the cafeteria.

“Dad..” Jake breathes. He walks over to Kelly. He watches his father plaster a smile on his face as he pretends that everything is going to be okay.

But Jake doesn’t believe it will be. He watched himself nearly die. For the five minutes that he was gone, not breathing, his body felt light. Free.

“Have you seen Josh?” Kelly asks.

Karen nods her head. “But it’s best if we leave him be.. He took it rough when we were told of the complications..”

Jake watches you now. The way you look away, your jaw clenching as you fight to keep yourself composed. Jake steps over you. He tries to wipe his hand across your cheek, to comfort you. But it only paces through you just as it had before. His heart breaks a little knowing he can’t comfort you. He hates how he has to stand by and watch as the people he loves grieve for him.

“Baby, I’m here.” He says, his voice cracking as he speaks each word.

You sniffle and wipe your face free of the tear that escaped down your cheek. You turn back to face his parents. “I’m gonna go find some coffee..” You say before slipping into the cafeteria. Jake looks back at his parents before slipping into the cafeteria too. But instead he’s sent somewhere else as he steps through the door.

“Oh what the hell..” He grumbles.

He looks around him. He’s at the beach. Looking down at his body he finds that he’s dressed in a white linen button down shirt and matching white linen pants and he’s barefoot. The complete opposite of what he was wearing the night of the accident.

“Hello?” He calls out. “Hellooo? If someone of a high power is up there,” He says, tilting his head to look up at the sky. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on? I want to go back, please.” He throws his arms out in the air beside him. “And if this some kind of test, it’s pretty fucked up because I feel this is where I’m supposed to be when I die and I’m not ready yet.”

He hears someone chuckling. “Oh be quiet, Jacob.”

He spins around, his hands dropping to his sides. He sees an older gentleman standing a few feet away and dressed similar to him. His eyebrows furrow.

“Who are you?”

The man smiles. “Let’s just say I’m a friend.”

Jake’s eyebrows raise. “A friend.. Okay?”

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

“If this leads up to you telling me that I’m dead, just say it now. Spare me the trouble of a sentimental walk down the beach.”

The man chuckles again. “Jacob, just walk with me.” He says before turning around and heading down the shore.

Jacob huffs but reluctantly follows after the man. “So who are you really? A spiritual form of Jesus?” He asks when he catches up to the man.

The man scoffs. “I wish. Wouldn’t that be something? No.. Like I said, I’m a friend.”

“Do I know you then, said friend?”

“You were pretty young when I passed, you and your siblings all were. I was an old friend of your parents. I came around a lot to the lake where we would all play music.” He explains. “I was the one with the fancy blue guitar that you seemed to be mesmerized by.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “I remember you.” He says. “I can’t remember your name but I remember you..and the guitar.”

The man smiles. “My name is Robert but everyone called me-”

“Uncle Robbie.” Jake interrupted.

Robert smiles. “You and Josh always called me that despite me not actually being your uncle.”

Jake smiles. “So why are you here? With me, I mean..”

“I saw what was going on.” He says. “I saw the accident, I even saw you for a brief moment when your soul left your body the first time.”

“The first time? But..”

“It occured right after the accident. You were technically dead for a couple minutes before medics arrived.” Robert says. “A bystander who saw the whole thing happen, he ran out to you, brought you back.”

“So I died, twice..”

Robert nods his head. “But the good news is, it won’t happen again.” He says. “How have you been feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you feel like? Do you feel like you just keel over and fall asleep at any given moment because you’re so tired? Or do you feel like you could run forever and never be exhausted?”

“I definitely feel like taking a nap.”

Robert smiles. “Then you won’t die.” He says. “You’re feeling tired and probably exhausted because your body is healing.”

“Already? That quick? It’s only been a couple days.”

Robert shakes his head. “Time is different here.” He says. “It feels like it’s only been a couple days here but truthfully it’s been almost a week back there.”

“But the news that Josh got.. That wasn’t from when I woke up?”

Robert shakes his head. “One of your kidneys is failing.”

“But you said my body is healing.”

“It is.”

“So if my body is healing, why am I in kidney failure?”

“It all happens so quickly, Jacob. I don’t know the specifics, I just know what’s happening.”

“Isn’t Josh a match? Can’t he donate?”

“He wanted to.” Robert says. “And he could have, however, another patient passed away and he was an organ donor and since you’re classified as an emergent case, you get his kidney.”

“So Josh-”

“Josh is fine. He was taking the news of the kidney failure a little more rougher than the others. He didn’t want to lose his best friend. But I think when you wake up, those tears you see won’t be sad ones but happy ones.”

“So I’m not dying?”

Robert shakes his head. “Nope. You’re gonna be just fine.” He stops walking and turns to face Jake. “You see that house over there?” He says pointing off into the distance.

“That’s mine and (Y/N)’s.”

“Go home, Jacob.”

“Thank you.” As Jake starts to head off, Robert calls after him. He turns back around to look at him.

“Don’t drown yourself in your work either. You’re missing out on some pretty big milestones, Jacob.”

“Milestones?”

“You’re gonna have a little boy of your own, Jacob. Focus on that.”

That’s when it all hit. Turning back around he takes off down the shore until he reaches the house. Pushing the door open, he steps inside. A bright white light fills his vision and he opens his eyes again to find that he’s in his own body again and lying in the hospital bed.

“Jake..” He hears you sigh. He feels your hand on his cheek and he turns his eyes to look at you. You stifle a sob as you cover your mouth. “You’re finally awake.”

He reaches up to hold your hand in his. He sighs in relief when he feels your solid and warm hand.

“I’m sorry..” He says.

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

“I’m sorry for missing so much.” He says. “I’ve been working so much on the album that I never realized that you’re pregnant.” You cast your eyes down to the bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there and that I didn’t notice. How the hell I never noticed…” He sighs. “I’m sorry.. I promise from now on, I’ll be there for you and our son.”

You shoot your eyes back up to Jake. “You know?” Jake smiles. “How did you know?”

“Let’s just say I had a gut feeling.”

You lean over and kiss him. “I’m so glad you’re awake.” You say. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Jake chuckles. “I promise to do my best. Now.. I am hungry.”

You giggle. “You just woke up.”

“Yeah and I haven’t eaten in a week. What’s your point?”

You laugh and stand up from your chair. “I’ll go find your doctor and figure out what you can have. I’ll be right back.”

Laying his head back down in the pillows, Jake stares at the ceiling. He makes a mental note in his head to order flowers for you when he gets released from the hospital and to start buying baby clothes.

O fim.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiska fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #angst

64 notes · View notes