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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

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Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir."

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit."

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair.

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-"

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?"

"What, now you care?"

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs.

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?"

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like-

"Watch out!"

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him.

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph.

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-"

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time."

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way.

For a second, nobody says anything.

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful."

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!"

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …"

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide.

"I, erm … Dustin."

"I'll stay here with Dustin."

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick.

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids."

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light.

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though."

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee.

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs.

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-"

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-"

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon."

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly.

Dustin sighs and stands.

"Coming, Hop."

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-"

And then it clicks.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says.

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise."

The door clicks shut.

The car glides away.

Eddie buries his face in his palms.

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit."

Eddie groans.

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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madd-nix · 1 year

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Reuniting, Better Late Than Never

Chapter 3

Finally got done with chapter 3! I've just been busy lately, plus I found that Sabi was a challenging character for me to write. Anyway, we finally get to see Sabi!

Links: Whole work on AO3, Chapter 1 on tumblr, Chapter 2 on tumblr

Words: 2,333

Rating: PG (ask to tag)

Sabi was heading down to Oreburgh City. She already knew that Dawn and Ingo had returned to their proper time, but it wasn't until that morning when she got a vision that she knew they would be stopping to visit Lian. This meant they must know he's alive, as well as Rei and herself. So, she began to pack a small travel bag, put her wife in charge of her psychic shop, then left to go catch a bus to travel down south.

When she arrived in Oreburgh City, she immediately headed for Lian's house. She then knocked on his door and could hear him quickly shout out to her from inside.

"Who is it?" the old miner called.

"Take a guess! My clairvoyance told me you'd have some special guests. Are they still there?" she called back.

"Yup. Come on in! Door's unlocked," Lian ordered.

Sabi opened the door and walked in. As she expected, Dawn and Ingo were sitting on the couch next to Lian in his wheelchair, with a woman beside them - Dawn's mother, she assumed. Lian's Archen was on Ingo's lap, while his Scizor sat beside Dawn's mother, and Geodude floated by Lian. Dawn was holding what looked like a photo album, but no one was paying any attention to that now. They were all looking at Sabi as she closed the front door behind herself.

"Sabi?" Dawn asked as her eyes widened slightly.

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Who can say?" Sabi rambled with a slight smirk. "Who do you think I am?"

"Heh, Sabi, that's definitely you!" Dawn chuckled. She then carefully set aside the photo album and rushed over to hug the old woman. Sabi smiled and hugged her back while still holding on to her cane.

"Dawn, it's so good to see you again. I knew almighty Arceus would bring you home safely."

"Thank you! And it's so good to see you're still alive!" Dawn's voice was slightly muffled as she buried her face in Sabi's shoulder. Sabi just smiled and patted her back. She then looked up at Ingo who was now starting to make his way over to them.

"Sabi, it's great to see you once again," he said with a soft smile and a tip of his hat.

"It's great to see you too, Ingo," she said as Dawn stepped away and rubbed at her eyes. "And I take it that you talked to Lian about your family?"

"I did. How did you know that Lian knew my family?" Ingo asked.

"Did you forget my clairvoyance? I can see things before they happen. Or can I?" Sabi asked with a smile.

"Lian did say your clairvoyance got stronger," Dawn added with a slight sniffle.

"That's true. I can see more, I can see things sooner, and I have a few other tricks up my sleeve," Sabi explained. She then moved to finally sit down on the couch with a sigh.

"I'm guessing you already knew when they came back, right?" Lian asked.

"Maybe. But based on the fact that I'm here without needing to be told should give you some sort of clue."

Lian rolled his eyes. "Why can you never give just a straight answer?"

"Because that's no fun," Sabi replied with a smirk.

Dawn chuckled, then turned to her mother. "Oh, and Sabi! This here is my mom, Johanna! Mom, this is Sabi of the Diamond Clan."

Johanna reached out and smiled as Sabi shook her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Johanna said politely. "All the way here, I got to hear stories about you and Lian from my daughter and Ingo."

"It's nice to meet you too," Sabi said with a smile and a nod. "And thank you for raising such a strong young girl. She did tell you how she saved Hisui, right?"

"Heh, she did. I'm so proud of her, but I just wish she didn't have to have the world on her shoulders again," Johanna said as she wrapped an arm around her daughter.

"Mom..." Dawn sighed, embarrassed.

"Again?" Ingo asked.

"Ah, that's right. You were the one that stopped Team Galactic a few years ago," Lian mused. "You kept them from using the Creation Trio to recreate the world."

Ingo looked from Lian to Dawn in surprise.

"Yeah, Team Galactic was a criminal organization that was around a few years ago," Dawn explained. "I had just gone on my journey through Sinnoh when they kept showing up and trying to either get in my way or hurt others. So I did what I had to and battled my way through them. Then their leader, Cyrus, tried to use Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina to reshape the world to his image. I battled him and stopped him on the summit of Mount Coronet."

"Bravo! That's incredible, Dawn!" Ingo applauded.

"But it was still dangerous. I hope this is the last time you have to go out and endanger yourself like that," Johanna said.

"Hmm... I don't see any other dangerous events occurring for Dawn," Sabi hummed as she closed her eyes and placed a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "Yes, I see a more relaxing life as she heals and grows from these experiences."

Johanna sighed in relief.

"Wait, you can really see that?" Dawn asked excitedly.

"Yes, at least the general future for you," Sabi explained. "Not too many specific things, not unless I really focus."

"Well, as long as I know my daughter's safe, that's all that matters to me." Johanna held Dawn close.

"Sabi, if you don't mind, I did want to ask you something. Although, it's not about the future," Ingo said, changing the subject. "Did Melli ever remove the torches again from the caves after I left?"

"No, he actually kept them up and maintained them in your absence," she explained. "He always said that he was only doing it because the Great Melli was so kind and generous, but we all knew that he really just wanted to honor your request of him. He would never say it, but he did care about you and respect you, Warden."

"Good, I'm glad. I had a feeling there was always something more to Melli. A softer side to him," Ingo said with a slight smile. "I just wish I could thank him."

"I could thank him for you later, once I get back home." At this, everyone except Lian turned to Sabi in shock.

"Wait, what?" Dawn asked.

"As long as I have an item that belonged to the deceased individual to connect with them, I can talk with their spirit," Sabi explained. "I don't currently have it with me, but I kept one of his old hats. It's back at my house in Snowpoint, along with a few other items from our old friends. If you'd like to come up sometime, I can let you speak to a few of them."

"That would wonderful! Thank you, Sabi!" Ingo exclaimed.

"Yeah, thank you!" Dawn added.

"You're quite welcome. I'm happy to help out my friends," Sabi said with a smile.

"Okay... now! If we'll get to hear from our other friends later, I wanna hear about what you guys have been up to for the past 90 years!" Dawn said suddenly, pointing to Lian and Sabi. "I already knew Rei 'cause he's my great-grandpa, but now I want to know about you guys. Families, jobs, friends, pokemon?"

"Well, there's not much about me," Lian said with a shrug. "I grew up, met a girl in the Pearl Clan, we got married, had a son, I worked as a miner, and helped set up this city after Kleavors went extinct. My son grew up and married and had Clay, my grandson, who then moved to Unova when he was a young adult. My wife and I lived together and we kept in touch with our family, I continued mining until I retired in my 70s, and it was just my wife and I until just about ten years ago when she passed away. Her urn is on the mantle in my room."

"I'm sorry to hear that about your wife," Ingo acknowledged with a somber tip of his hat. "But it's nice to know you've lived such a full life."

"Ah, it's alright. My wife loved me and I loved her, and we lived great lives together. I'll join her sooner or later and be in the same space as her again," Lian said with a small smile.

"Time marches on for all of us," Sabi added. "Death is inevitable for all of us. But it doesn't have to be sad as long as you remember those that have passed on."

"Yeah, you're right," Dawn agreed. "It is still a bit of a shock sometimes to remember that almost everyone we knew in Hisui is gone now."

"Not gone completely. Just gone from this space," Lian pointed out. "I believe they're all out there somewhere in some other space beyond us."

"That's a nice way to think about it," Johanna said.

"So, what about you, Sabi?" Ingo asked. "What has your life been like?"

"Oh, nothing special, really," she said modestly. "I continued training and working on strengthening my clairvoyance, which led to me eventually opening a spiritual consultant shop up north in Snowpoint City. I also met a woman named Miyuki back in my late teens and eventually married her. My wife is actually back home right now watching over my shop. I'd love for you all to meet her."

"That'd be great!" Dawn exclaimed. "We could meet her when we come visit later to talk with our old friends from Hisui!"

"Yes, that would be wonderful!" Ingo added.

"Then I look forward to introducing you all to her," Sabi smiled. "Miyuki actually knows quite a bit about you both already since I've told her stories about you and your time in Hisui."

"Heh, we're famous!" Dawn giggled.

"Funny that you say that because you both are in some history books," Lian said.

"Wait. Really?" Ingo asked, curiously.

"Oh yeah, I remember learning a little about the wardens and the hero of Hisui in school," Johanna added. "It was a short unit in our history classes in school when I was younger. I never thought that my daughter would turn out to be the brave young girl I learned about as a child."

"Hey yeah, now that you mention it, I kinda remember learning about that stuff in school too!" Dawn said. "Heh, I was learning about myself!"

"Here, I think I might have an old history textbook on my bookshelf." Lian pointed to the shelf across the room.

"I'll get it." Johanna stood up and looked around until she grabbed the old, worn textbook and returned to her seat on the couch. She opened it up as everyone - pokemon included - all scooted closer to see.

Johanna flipped through the book until she got to the section on Hisui. There was a description of the time period, the clans, the Galaxy Team, and some information about the pokemon of the time. The chapter then went on into the various clan leaders and wardens, with a few photos included. There was a photo of Ingo posing with Lady Sneasler beside a short blurb of text about him and his mysterious appearance in Hisui. Ingo smiled bittersweetly at the photo as his heart ached to see his beloved noble again.

Towards the end of the chapter was a section on the hero of Hisui. It detailed how she fell from the rift, joined the Galaxy Team, and all about her various accomplishments from quelling the nobles, to fixing the red sky and taming the legendaries, to stopping Giratina from rampaging, and finally to how she helped complete the region's first PokeDex. There were no photos of her, but there was a drawing of her next to the text. The caption beneath the drawing read, "The hero of Hisui. Drawn by Professor Rei Futaba."

"Hey, Rei drew me! That's so cool!" Dawn exclaimed.

"He did always have such artistic talent," Johanna added. "I remember looking through his original PokeDex as a kid and being amazed at his illustrations of every pokemon."

"Yeah, I remember that too! Wow, no wonder his drawings seemed so familiar to me in Hisui," Dawn said.

"You know, before he passed, Professor Laventon was the one that helped in writing some of this section of the textbook," Lian explained. "Here, look back here at the author notes."

Lian took the book and flipped through to the end with the authors notes. There were a few different authors that took part in writing the textbook, but among them is Professor Laventon's name. And along with some of the authors' personal notes, there was a brief message.

"As I write my part for this book, I can't help but think of the young hero of Hisui and Pearl Clan warden. I hope you have both been able to return to your homes, and should you see this, I wish you both the best of luck wherever and whenever you may be. Signed, Professor Laventon of the Galaxy Team."

Dawn smiled and wiped at her eyes a little. Ingo respectfully took off his hat. There was a moment of silence in the room as Dawn tried to compose herself.

"...It's really nice to know he was always thinking of us," she said finally. "Sabi, if I bring you the professor's hat, can I speak with him?"

"Of course. I'd be happy to let you talk with him again," Sabi said with a smile.

Dawn smiled and sniffled a bit as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Lian reached into a small bag on the side of his wheelchair and handed her a pack of tissues, which she gratefully took.

Suddenly, to disrupt the somber moment, Lian's phone started to ring. On the caller ID was Clay's name. Lian quickly answered it.

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endlesstwanted · 1 year

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Winter Records | Moodboard

Moodboard and ficlet created for the June-iverse event by @buckybarnesevents prompt C1 — Record Store and the @bingowinteriron adopted prompt 1990's.

Rating: General Audiences Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Tags: 1990, No Powers AU, Meet-Cute, Record Store, Music Summary: Bucky needs assistance choosing a present for Nat, but lucky him ends up in Tony’s records store. Wordcount: 516

Ficlet under the cut. Images from Unsplash and Google Images. Soon posted on Ao3.

It is almost Christmas, and Bucky has most of his presents wrapped up. In his head, at least. Today, he is looking for the perfect gift for Natasha.

Natasha, who has been leaving clear clues for him to choose what to get for her. Steve has been easy, he would be happy with a new pair of colorful socks. Sam, well, him not so much; but Bucky has sorted it out already. He only needs to find something for his best friend, following those clues she has been leaving around in her apartment when he visited, he guessed.

Music.

Well, it’s true that Bucky’s never been too much into anything, but he has always appreciated the music they friends played; the cassettes that filled a whole self in Sam's apartment and Steve’s Walkman he almost sat on once because his friend left it on the couch. But he trusts he can do this. He only needs to find a record store, and hopefully, someone to help him.

Tony sits behind the counter to write down the last purchase of his store. He has had to say for the third time today that he doesn’t have gift paper, but at least the couple got three LPs. He’s not going to complain. It’s being a good day.

He looks up when the door opens, and a man wearing a leather jacket and matching gloves walks in. This mysterious brunette greets him with a closed smile and stares at the wall behind him, with some pinned old-record’s covers, for a minute. Then, he keeps moving to the aisles.

Tony’s trying to read his mind, guess what he’s looking for or what he’s going to leave with. He looks like he is going to buy something, he can tell. So this man checks out ABBA first, and moves on to Bon Jovi. None of the vinyls catches his attention for more than two seconds, and Tony thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can be in the wrong with this one.

After a bit, an awkward, forced cough gets Tony to look up again, leaving December's sales stats apart. A pair of ocean blue eyes are staring at him.

“Uhm … I’m looking for a present for my friend,” mysterious-leather jacket says. “A vinyl?”

“Alright,” Tony shoots him a smile, trying and apparently getting him to relax. “What does your friend like?”

“Well that’s the thing,” he puts on a funny face, “she listens to a lot of different things, but I never ask for names.”

“Okay, let’s try this. Do you remember a cover, or a name you’ve seen written on any?”

He takes a moment to think for an answer. “Maybe someone called Springs … something?”

“Okay, I know where to start.” Tony gets out from behind the table. “By the way, I’m Tony.”

“Bucky,” not-mysterious-anymore introduces himself. “And if it wasn’t obvious, it’s my first time at a record store.”

“Hopefully it won’t be your last,” Tony winks at him and starts walking to the back of the place.

He’s getting that last Bruce Springsteen album from March.

#buckybarnesevents #bingowinteriron2023 #marvel fanfic #moodboard #tony stark #bucky barnes #Connect4AU

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pengychan · 4 years

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[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 19

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Kind of sucks when your brain tells you one thing and your heart another entirely, doesn't it.

***

“... And they chewed through all the cables!”

“They never do that at ho--”

“Say that one more time, and I’ll strangle you. With the cables.”

“Didn’t they chew--”

“I bought new ones. Which you’re going to pay for. Immediately.”

Ernesto opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get in another word Sofía slaps something against his chest - a full list of expenses that he supposes he will have to pay back. Dog food, of course, cables, some toys to keep them from destroying the cables, new leashes when they chewed through the leashes, a new cover for her couch when they destroyed it, a new pillow, dog shampoo, pet-safe nail polish-- wait a moment.

“Did you give them spa treatment or what?” Ernesto asks, glancing down at the chihuahuas. They're all on their hind legs, pawing at him and yapping for attention. Come to think of it, Clara looks particularly fluffy and the others have really shiny fur, and… she’s actually painted their nails. He blinks, and looks back at Sofía.

A shrug. “They’re good boys and girls. They deserved it.”

Well, Ernesto can agree with that assessment, of course, but he didn’t expect it to come after a long list of their supposed misdeeds. “Didn’t they wreak havoc--”

“Not their fault if their stupid master didn’t bother to train them properly.”

“They never did that before,” he protests despite the very real threat of strangulation. “They missed me!”

Sofía rolls her eyes. “Clearly,” she mutters, but smiles a bit. “So now take them back and don’t drop them on me like that ever again.”

“I won’t,” Ernesto promises, crouching down to let his dogs lick his hands and face. There is a chuckle above him.

“... Well, did it help, being off for a bit?”

Ernesto nods, still petting his dogs. “Yes. Guess it did.” He doesn’t feel like going over his visit to Santa Cecilia again - or explain yet again that yes, his father was indeed stone sober - so he keeps it vague. “I needed some time away.”

“And, the situation with…?”

“We sorted it out.” Ernesto stands with an armful of dogs. “We’re okay. It’s over, but we’re okay.”

He ignores the dull ache in his chest as he says it’s over aloud. Of course it stings, and will keep stinging, but it will get better, eventually. They are the closest to okay they can be. It will get easier.

“That’s good.” Sofía looks relieved. “Back on the market, then?”

“Guess I am.” Ernesto smiles but ah, it feels fake to his own ears. He clears his throat and nods towards the table where he left his phone, still holding up his dogs. “Can you take a photo? For Instagram.” He smiles again and this time it comes easier. “My fans were getting worried.”

Sofía rolls her eyes. “Ay, all four of them?” she jokes, but picks up the phone. “All right, smile.”

Ernesto tries to smile, but the dogs do their best to lick his mouth and he has to pull back his head, laughing. The photo catches him mid-laugh and it’s… not bad. Not bad at all. He uploads it with a chuckle, pays Sofía for her trouble, and he’s off with his dogs in tow. It’s nice to have them back, to be back. Something still aches, but it was to be expected. It will get better, in time.

It must.

***

“Are you sure it won’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure.”

“What if it hurts the baby?”

“It won’t hurt the baby.”

“What if I hit her with my--”

Imelda groans, dropping her head on the pillow and shutting her eyes, with half a thought of biting it in frustration. Above her, Héctor is the very picture of parental anxiety. “Héctor,” she mutters, her voice tight. “We have been through this. Well-endowed as you are, you cannot hit the baby with your penis.”

“Ah. Right.” A nervous chuckle, a pause. “... So you think I’m well-endowed?” he asks, sounding just a touch coy now. Imelda looks up at him, unimpressed.

“You are, mi amor, and I would really appreciate you putting it to use,” she almost growls, pushing back against him. “Now would be a good time, considering it’s the last night we have the house all for ourselves,” she adds.

With her brothers coming over the next day to stay in the guest room, so that they can start learning how to make shoes and then help her set up the shop she has just rented, it may be… a good, it will be a while until they are able to enjoy a full night like this without any worry of being overheard. And Imelda has no intention whatsoever to let it go to waste.

“Right, right.” Héctor clears his throat. “And, uh, would love to-- I just--”

For fuck’s sake.

Imelda groans and sits up with more difficulty than she’d like, grasping his cheeks and bringing her face a scant inch away from her husband’s. “Héctor,” she spells out. “Do you want me or not?”

“What!” he sputters, like she just casually asked whether or not Earth is round. “Of course I want-- agh, this looks bad, I’m sorry, that’s not it at all! You look amazing-- even more amazing-- I just…” a pause, and he swallows. “Sorry. I know it can’t harm the baby. I just, well, I worry.” A sheepish grin. “You know.”

Imelda sighs. Of course she knows; Héctor is still half-expecting to mess up somehow, and Imelda supposes it is not a fear easy to look past. “Trust me,” he says, letting go of his jaw to cup his cheek. “There is no risk.”

A smile, and he turns his head to kiss her palm. “I trust you with my life,” he says, before leaning in to kiss her. “But let me try something else…”

“Something else?” Imelda tilts back her head when his lips trail lower, letting him kiss her throat. Her breathing grows a little faster, the aching need between her legs a little more urgent. Héctor’s mouth moves down her chest, over her breasts and oh, right, she’s more than willing to see where he’s going with this.

Plus, may as well let him enjoy her breasts until someone else claims them for the next few months.

His mouth trails down her stomach, over the bump - oh God please do not let him turn into mush at the thought of being a father again, it is very sweet and all but right now she is so horny - and then, thank God, lower down. With a long sigh, Imelda parts her legs, grasps the sheets, and lets Héctor go about it his way. She has no complaints, now.

Her husband has more good uses for his mouth and tongue than just singing.

It’s… not the most passionate of nights, but it is sweet. Imelda’s senses are still numbed by the ripples of her orgasm when she pulls Héctor down on her, kisses his mouth, reaches down blindly to grasp him and stroke, a thumb brushing the tip. She finds him hard, and he lasts little under her touch; he comes with a shudder and a soft moan he muffles against her lips before he sinks beside her, pulling her close.

Imelda chuckles, leaning into the warmth. “Feeling better now?” she asks, resting her head on his chest. She feels him smile into her hair.

“What color is the sky? Ay mi amor, ay mi amor…” he hums, and settles down with a content sigh, an arm around her. The hand rests on the bump and Imelda smiles, covering it with her own. It’s cozy, warm, just right. Everything as it should be: the two of them and their baby on the way, Héctor’s first album about to launch, the lease for the shop she’s looking to open to expand her business signed, her brothers coming over to help and start learning a viable trade.

Everything is moving in the right direction. Everything is in place.

Or almost. Something about their bed feels out of place - like it’s too large.

Don’t. Don’t go there, you know why it is, don’t.

It would be the wise thing to do, keep her eyes shut and avoid looking at the empty space beside them, but she doesn’t. She opens her eyes, and looks at the spot where Ernesto would usually rest, leaning close to them. And ah, it stings.

It could never work. We are friends again. It is for the best.

Imelda briefly wonders if Héctor ever looks at the gap beside them, too, thinking the same, but she doesn’t ask. Some things are best left unspoken.

Imelda closes her eyes not to look, shifts a little in her husband’s warm embrace, and focuses on nothing else.

Ernesto keeps staring at the ceiling for a good while after his dogs have fallen asleep.

He knows it’s not a good idea. He should be trying to sleep, shouldn’t be thinking about Héctor and Imelda a couple of floors up, sharing the bed he will never be welcomed in again. Except that of course, that is exactly what he’s thinking about.

His bed is not empty because his dogs all climbed on it, of course, not about to let him out of their sight a second after he went seemingly missing for days, but it is… definitely not the same thing.

He could go out and find someone to spend the night with, call some of the numbers he still has on his phone - he never had trouble getting someone in bed, after all. It was the norm, up to just about a year ago; find someone to have a good time for the night, part ways in the morning, possibly stay in touch to meet up again for another pleasant night.

A few people met that way he’d become friends with - Sofía was one - but in most cases, he barely remembered their names, and mostly only recalled their bodies with clarity. It had been a simpler time, uncomplicated. No string but those of his guitar, he said. He would go back to that.

Only the thought didn’t appeal to him at all, now.

What’s the point?

A sigh, and Ernesto closes his eyes. He needs time, that is all, to get used to this new normal. Eventually, it will be just like the old normal. And he did enjoy the old normal, he tells himself.

He just needs to remember how to.

***

“Why does your cat hate me?”

“Huh?” Héctor looks up from the string he’s tuning to follow Ernesto’s gaze. The damn cat in question is looking down at them from the top of a bookcase or, rather, staring straight at Ernesto. Her eyes are narrowed, to slits of pure malevolence, tail whipping the air.

As though he sees none of that, Héctor chuckles.

“She doesn't hate you.”

“She’s glaring at me.”

“No, she’s not.

“That is a glare. ”

“Believe me, if she hated you I’d be calling an ambulance for you right now.” Héctor laughs, focusing on tuning the guitar again. “You just think all pets should behave like dogs.”

Ernesto grumbles, still keeping an eye on the beast - who, from her part, seemingly decides she’s had enough of making him uncomfortable for the afternoon. She stretches, yawns, and jumps off the bookcase onto the windowsill to lay down. The window is open, to allow her to jump on the tree right by in case she wants to--

Wait a minute.

“Héctor-- Imelda’s pregnant. ”

That causes him to blink, looking up at him. “... Well, we’ve known that for a while.”

“And you’re still letting her go out?”

Héctor blinks again, at a loss. “She’s just checking on the twins putting together furniture in the new shop and getting some groceries, it won’t be long and it’s good for her to stretch her leg--”

“What-- not Imelda , idiota! The cat!” Ernesto gestures towards Pepita, who seems on the verge of falling asleep. “She could be catching and eating mice or rats, and what if she catches toxoplasmosis?”

“Toxo-- what?” Héctor clearly has no idea what that is, but the name and Ernesto’s tone worry him enough to pull out his phone and search. He reads on, his gaze going from perplexed to mildly concerned - markedly more concerned once he reads it can be passed on to humans - and Ernesto knows he’s reading what happens if it’s caught during pregnancy when all color drains from his face.

He’s not especially surprised when Héctor jumps to his feet. “We must take her to the vet to check,” he urges. “Now.”

“... Can’t we wait until Imelda gets ba--”

“Now!”

The struggle to get Pepita into the cat carrier is brief, but oh is it vicious, and Ernesto takes great care to hold the carrier as far as he can from his body while Héctor tries to coax Pepita in at first, then wrestles her. He had no idea a cat could make such a vast array of unpleasant noises. Ernesto suspects he’ll keep hearing a few of them in his nightmares; on the doorway, both his dogs and Dante are observing the scene in utter confusion.

By the time Pepita is in the carrier, which jumps and clatters as she throws herself against the bars, Héctor looks like he might need medical attention himself, scratched-up and with his shirt in tatters.

“You might want to disinfect--” Ernesto begins, putting down the carrier carefully and taking a step back for good measure, but is immediately silenced.

“Later, I’m calling the vet to let him know we’re coming,” Héctor cuts him off, waving his free hand as he searches for the vet’s number. Ernesto sighs, and glances down at the carrier. Pepita stares right back at him, and hisses.

You’re going to regret this, that furious hiss tells him, and Ernesto suddenly wishes he never mentioned toxoplasmosis in Héctor’s presence.

“All right, we can go in immediately!” Héctor declares, ending the call and picking up the carrier.

Like being told we can’t go in immediately would have changed your mind, Ernesto thinks, and follows him through the doorway, almost to the front door. Almost , because they’re still a few steps away when the door opens and Imelda steps in, holding up a grocery bag so that Dante - and Ernesto’s dogs, too, but mostly Dante - can’t get to it.

“Héctor, can you get this to the kitchen for me? I need to... sit down just a...” Imelda’s voice slows as she takez in the scene - Pepita screaming from the carrier in Héctor’s hands, her own husband looking like he’d just crawled back from battle, and Ernesto pretending to be very busy smoothing down his shirt. “... Moment?”

“Imelda!” Héctor cries out, and lets the cat carrier fall, getting a literal howl of fury out of Pepita. He grabs both of her hands, including the one still holding the groceries, before she has time to voice any objections. “Mi amor! Are you feeling all right?”

She blinks. “What’s gotten into--”

“Aches? Fatigue?”

“I’m pregnant, of course I am-- the cat, what--”

“Headaches?”

“Por Dios, you’re giving me a headache right now!” Imelda groans, and turns to Ernesto. “You. Explain.”

And for the love of God, her gaze tells him, give me an explanation that makes sense.

He shrugs. “Taking her to the vet,” he says, and Imelda’s expression suddenly becomes worried.

Well. More worried.

“Is she sick?” she asks, leaving the grocery bag to Héctor and picking up the carrier. She holds up before her face, and Pepita’s growls turn into pitiful meowing to be let out. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing!” Héctor exclaims. “I mean, we hope nothing’s wrong. We’re taking her to the vet to check!”

“... You decided to wrestle her in the carrier and rush her to the vet for an impromptu check-up?”

“Well, Ernesto said--”

Oh no, this is Not Happening. He’s not taking the blame for something he is… probably to blame for. “I told you we should wait until Imelda came back! And I only asked because she keeps going out hunting rodents and if she catches it--”

“If she catches what?” Imelda cuts him off, opening the carrier. Pepita immediately jumps in her arms, tame as a kitten, although she does shoot Ernesto another look of pure evil. Like it was him to put her in there, anyway.

“Toxoplasmosis,” Héctor speaks, sounding like he’s naming the most horrifying thing in the world. “Ernesto told me that it would be-- really bad if you caught it.”

Imelda blinks and turns to Ernesto, honestly surprised. “Since when are you an expert on…?”

“Dogs get it too,” he points out, crossing his arms. “I did my research after I got mine.”

“I see,” Imelda mutters, sounding… mildly impressed before she turns to Héctor. “... Mi amor. Did you think I did not do all the research needed?”

Héctor blinks. “Well-- of course you would, but--”

“Remember how I asked you to take on the litter cleaning duty when I realized I was pregnant?”

“Yes, but--”

“Why, in God’s name, do you think I asked you to do that?”

Oh, Ernesto thinks, of course she’d already taken it into account. Well, that’s… a relief. Makes him feel kind of stupid, but it’s still a relief. Beside him Héctor opens his mouth, then closes it. He hesitates.

“So-- you’re safe?”

“I am perfectly safe and so is the baby.”

“Ah.” Héctor glances at Pepita, who returns his gaze with another hiss. He gives both cat and wife an embarrassed smile. “Heh. Lo siento?”

Imelda sighs, reaching to cup his face. “Let me look at that - you have to be on TV in less than a week,” she points out. “You shouldn’t show up on screen looking like you’ve been to battle.”

Ernesto nods. “She has a point. That nose is not doing you any favors as it is, best not to make it worse on camera,” he says, gaining himself an unimpressed look from Héctor.

“Pendejo,” he huffs, smacking the grocery bag against his chest, and he turns to Imelda with a dramatic hand over his heart. “I would go to battle for you, just for a dance,” he declares, causing her to roll her eyes.

“It would be less of a dance and more of a waddle,” Imelda points out, a hand on the baby bump, now remarkably close in size to a ripe watermelon. “Come, let me fix your face. Hope we still have peroxyde.”

“No! Anything but that!”

“What happened to being willing to march into battle for me?”

Ernesto has a chuckle at Héctor’s expenses as Imelda leads him to the bathroom, but it is short-lived; it fades almost as soon as they’re out of his sight, and he’s quiet as he takes the groceries to the kitchen, ignoring the pleading looks from his dog, the murderous glare from Pepita, and holding it well out of Dante’s reach.

It’s nice to be welcomed back, of course. It’s good to have his best friend back. It’s good to be on good terms with Imelda, to know they want him there, want him to be their child’s godfather. It’s been weeks, almost two months; he should be used to this new normal. He is, for the most part - but he’s still human and ah, sometimes it still hurts. Sometimes he wonders if they feel the same, too, but he may never know. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself.

It’s for the best.

***

“You know, we could invent a machine that--”

“No machines, Felipe.”

“Actually, I’m Óscar.” “I have never fallen for that, and I won’t start now. So, when it comes to working the leather--”

“It would be faster if we built a machine to do it for us.”

“If we used machines, it wouldn’t be traditionally handmade.”

“Yes, but--”

“And that is what our brand is about,” Imelda cuts him off, sitting back. Her brothers are sitting across her at the workbench, supposedly to watch her and learn, but they seem to be too busy running their mouths to retain much of what she's trying to teach them. “People buy these shoes because they want them traditionally handmade, or else they’d be buying from a chain store.”

“Not that they would know,” Óscar mutters, the next moment he barely ducks under a roll of masking tape.

“We are not using machines,” Imelda enounces. “And that is fin--”

Her phone beeps suddenly with a reminder, and both twins leap over the workbench to sit next to Imelda, looking over at her laptop, which at the moment is showing the latest orders received.

“It’s about to start, isn’t it?”

“Come on, get it on!”

“They’re streaming it, no?”

“Yes, yes, give me a moment…”

It is… odd, to see Héctor and Ernesto on screen, being interviewed about their upcoming album. She’s seen them playing before crowds, and they were interviewed by radio stations before - she can’t say their agent doesn’t know how to get them visibility - but a TV studio must be an entirely different experience. And Héctor looks… a little overwhelmed at first, although the smile is wide enough that no one who doesn’t know him as well as she does would be tricked into thinking otherwise.

“So, your debut album will be out tomorrow. Tell us how your career started…”

Ernesto, of course, looks perfectly at ease and does the lion’s share of the talking, smile bright and voice smooth, a natural in front of the camera - even inspiring, if you fall for his ‘seize your moment’ spiel. He has the interviewer and just about everybody else in the studio absolutely charmed, and soon enough Imelda sees Héctor’s body language relax, too. His smiles are more sincere, he laughs when Ernesto brings up a particularly disastrous trip over a cable during their first day recording, playfully punches his shoulder when he brings up the time he forgot to pick him up from the airport years ago because he got caught up writing a new song.

“It was one time!”

“It happened at least three times.” A laugh, and Ernesto shoves him back. “But we got three good songs out of it, so who am I to complain?”

More chuckles, and the interviewer turns to Héctor, who looks perfectly at ease by now.

“I understand you’re the songwriter - I listened to a preview of your album and loved Un Poco Loco especially. Who is the song about?”

Héctor’s smile grows wider, and so does Imelda’s. “Oh, it’s about my wife.”

“Awwww,” her brothers exclaim, bringing a hand to each other’s heart. Imelda lightly smacks the arm closest to her, eyes on the screen, still smiling.

“She’s amazing - she couldn’t be here today, but she’s… my muse,” Héctor is going on. “She’s in the album, too! In our cover of La Llorona, the female singing voice? That’s her! She and Ernesto did the video, too, and it won't be out until--”

He goes on talking about the song, gushing about her, and the smile remains on Imelda’s lips - only a tad more melancholic. She remembers the day they recorded the song, of course. She remembers the day she and Ernesto filmed the video, too, dancing in front of a green screen. There had been attempts at upstaging each other, bickering, and oh they were so tired by the end of it - but they had given their absolute best, and it had been fun, looking back. Not that she’d have admitted it in front of Ernesto, then.

A good time.

She keeps listening, keeps her gaze on the screen as they stand and grab their guitars to play for the public - and if her brothers notice a change in her expression, they say nothing of it.

***

To their credit, Héctor would think later, he and Ernesto managed to wait until they were alone in a changing room backstage before they erupted in gritos, laughter and more gritos while hugging each other and dancing around like idiots, almost knocking down a clothes rack.

But what the hell, they just talked about their album on TV, played for the audience, and were loudly asked for an encore; they have every reason to celebrate and be as loud about it as they damn please. To think of how they’d started out from Santa Cecilia… well, this was beyond anything Héctor ever thought they would achieve.

And clearly, Ernesto’s dreams go even further.

“And this is just the start!” Ernesto exclaims, an arm tight around Héctor’s shoulders and the other hand gesturing at empty air, like he’s addressing a crowd of fans. “It’s going to be a success, I’m telling you, and so will be the albums that follow! Our names will be everywhere - Ernesto y Héctor!”

“You mean, Héctor y Ernesto,” Héctor points out, grinning a little and elbowing him in the chest. “That’s what it says on the album. Armando agreed it sounds better.”

Ernesto rolls his eyes. “Details, details.” He waves a hand dismissively, like he didn’t pout for the entire day after the decision to place Héctor’s name first was taken. “What matters is, we’re on the right track! We should go out and celebrate!”

“Ah, I…” Héctor shifts a little, feeling mildly guilty. “I should go back home. You know, with Imelda… her brothers are there, sure, but… you know.” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. Ernesto is not very happy to hear that, he can tell. “How about you come over and have dinner with us?”

“No,” Ernesto says a little too quickly. He clears his throat. “I mean-- no, thanks. I will probably go out, have some drinks… networking, you know?”

Héctor nods. “Of course. You were always the best at this kind of thing. Just, uh… you’re alway welcome. You know that, no?”

Ernesto pauses at the door to look back at him. His expression is somewhat blank for a moment, then the easy smile is back, familiar, reassuring. And, Héctor fears, not entirely sincere. “Of course. Thanks, amigo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Héctor says, and sighs when the door closes again. Part of him wants to throw the door open, call out for his best friend, tell him they really want him to join them, but in the end he cannot bring himself to do so. They are no longer an item, so he can… do his own thing, party, maybe get some company - meet someone else. If he wants to, then he should get to do so.

It would be the normal thing to do. Things are back to normal, and all is going well. But ah, sometimes… no, often, Héctor misses the way things were. He misses what they had.

And he wonders if Imelda does, too.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #hector rivera #coco #mind the gap

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 98

Chapter Summary - Tom and Danielle enjoy a few days in Ireland after the world learns about them.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

I put photos in to give an idea of the areas Danielle and Tom are in and visiting. I will add more for the next few chapters (since I have now figured out how to do so)

I own none of the images used, all Copyright is of course, to the owners of these images. I am merely using them to shamelessly show off my lovely country.

Okay, few things.

- The Burrows does not exist as far as I am aware. - The place in Galway does, it is called McDonaghs and I love it! - Irish people until recently tended to have big families, my mother is one of 7, my dad is one of 14, my partner's mother is one of 9, his dad is one of 7, you get the idea, cousins are something that I seem to have everywhere.

Much of this is seen in Ed Sheeran's Galway Girl video

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom adored Ireland, it was just like Scotland in most ways and as Danielle had stated, most everyone did not seem to care about their being there. A few people seemed to recognise them, but they did not seem overly bothered by the fact there was someone famous nearby as they walked through the narrow streets of Galway City.

They had stayed at Danielle’s grandmothers the night before and with consent from Lourda and Michael, had gone to Galway to get one or two things sorted for it. Danielle had taken a slightly larger loan than the cost of the house and the solicitor fees, Tom had realised, as she wanted to fix one or two issues in the house while they were there. He smiled as she walked through the city and got what was needed to be ordered and paid for. “It’s about an acceptable time to eat dinner, right?” She asked as she looked at her phone.

Tom checked his watch. “Yes, what have you in mind?”

“Fish and chips, really nice ones.” She smiled.

“You’re not going to convince me they are any better than the ones in Aldeburgh, let us just put to rest that argument here and now,” Tom stated firmly but with a large smile on his face.

“We’ll see.” Tom’s smile faltered with the smug grin on Danielle’s face.

Tom had to admit, it was delicious, the cod was almost equal to the place near his mum, but the chips were incredible, giving it an edge, the smile on Danielle’s face only grew as she watched him eat. “Fine, it’s amazing.” She grinned widely at that admission. “The batter is nicer in The Burrow’s though.” “It is, I will concede, but the chips make this better.” “We did not discuss the chips, only the cod, so I am right.” Tom goaded, Danielle gave him a warning glance, “You know it’s true.” “We’re in public, so I can’t fight you on this one.” Tom laughed at her annoyed expression.

* “Why did you leave?” Danielle looked at Tom as they walked along the path next to the ocean in a small area of Galway Danielle had called The Claddagh. “It is so beautiful here, how did you decide to leave?” “There’s nothing here. I mean jobs are still being lost a lot, even though it is not as bad as it was, but there was nothing for me, I also needed to get away, I felt like I would just combust if I stayed, I felt so alone and lost after Dad and Mam left. I didn’t even know where to go.” “Why Suffolk?” “I fell asleep watching TV and when I woke up, a documentary was on, Suffolk, Cornwall and I think…Isle of Wight, or was it the Isle of Man, regardless, they were on it. I had thought about going to England, but I was sort of lost about what to do, it was a documentary on why certain people retire to those areas and it sort of led from there. I felt like the cities were too big, they were a good size and fit for me.” She looked up at him. “It worked out well in the end,” Tom looked down at her. “Had I decided to move to London, if I was some girl you walked passed getting out of a Tube or walking down the street, I may never have gotten to know you; and why would I? I would never have afforded a place in Belsize, maybe I may have chosen a house near Emma, but would I have started talking to her, probably not, I would never have gotten to know you. That random show on TV is why Suffolk, your mum saying hello as she got her shopping out of the car the day and being nice to me while I was waiting for the estate agent was why that house.”

Tom stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. A simple little decision, made when tired and lonely was the reason they were introduced and in turn together. “It’s weird how one thing leads to another.” “Yep. Everything we have done to date has led us here.” Danielle smiled. “We are always the results of our actions or inactions.” “I wasn’t meant to be home that weekend you moved in and I wasn’t supposed to go with Emma that day for the hotel choosing, but I was, I remember that day, you were not taking any of the hotelier’s bullshit and you were incredible.” “Is that when you realised I was amazing?” Danielle jested.

“Yes, it was.” She paused and stared at him. “I spent a year of my life in love with you and did nothing about it. I did not do anything about it and caused myself more than a few miserable nights thinking about it, over and over. We could already be together for far longer, I…” He looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “I have to confess, I have not always slept well since we have been together.” Danielle frowned at his admission. “I have woken a few nights, thinking of ‘what ifs’ and one that gets me every time is what if when you were with Paul and you had gotten pregnant, not this other woman. I literally cannot get that out of my head.” “We never…” “But you would have, sooner or later.” Tom pointed out, Danielle could not argue, if she had remained with Paul, sooner or later, yes, it would have happened. She would have still been on contraception, but there was always a chance. She physically shuddered at that. She was not ready for children yet, but with Tom, she believed she could make it work, she did want it with him down the road, but with Paul; that was a terrifying prospect to her. She would have felt trapped then. “Are you okay?” Tom noted her shuddering but did not know the reason why. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I…the idea of that, of alternatives to this…I don’t like it.” She explained, “But we are not in those alternatives, I think about it sometimes too, the weird little voice in my head playing games with me, but you can’t listen to it, it’s not healthy.” She pointed out. “Now, we better drive back to the house, we have an early day tomorrow.” “I never actually asked, but where else is planned on this little holiday?” Tom asked curiously. “Galway is incredible, I can see why Sheeran sang about it.” Danielle looked at him. “Ed Sheeran has a song about Galway on his next album, or more about a girl from Galway, falling in love with an English man,” he laughed. “It’s a lot like you actually.” “How do you know what is on his next album?” “He was in Rome last summer when I was there, I was in the room when he…” He stopped talking. “You were there when he let Taylor listen to it.” She completed, Tom nodded sheepishly. “I see.” She said nothing more until they made their way back to the car.

Tom looked at her worriedly as she sat in and started the engine. “I could drive if you would like?” “No offence, but this is a city with a serious one-way street system, watching you get flustered would be hilarious, but I really just want to get back to the house.” She laughed. “Come on.”

“Elle, did I…?” “Make things weird back there by ceasing to talk when it came to referencing an event that occurred in the three months of your life that you had lost the absolute run of yourself? Yes, you did. Was I ignoring it because I don’t want to make a big deal of it, yes, I was.” She replied. “You did stuff in your time together Tom, I know no one wants to talk about that stuff with the current partner, nor does their current partner want to hear those things, especially if they think they are comparing them, but what you were saying had little to do with Swift, you were talking about Sheeran, I had no idea he was out there.” “No one did,” Tom informed her. “I am not comparing you to her by the way, and if I did, you’d win.” “Obviously.” Danielle smiled, but she bit her lip after. “I sometimes feel like the money thing is an issue though.” Tom’s eyes widened slightly. “I have nowhere near your money, I never will.” “What the hell does that matter?” Tom got a little angered by her words. Her income was good, good enough to afford her everything she needed, that was all that mattered to him. In truth, Tom worried about that being a point of contention between them, Danielle was too proud and independent to ever take handouts, he’d known that before he ever offered to help her with the house, but he also knew that she would compare herself to other women of better income. As she had said before, Taylor had been able to private jet anywhere she wished, Tom wondered how that may have affected her self-esteem. “I don’t want someone based on their bank balance, I am not like that, I want someone that makes me happy and who is a pleasure to be around.” He argued.

“I know, but I wish I was able to afford to drop everything and get a private jet across Europe or to afford to go to exclusive expensive restaurants, but…I’m not.”

“I know, and I like that about you; you weren’t raised with a silver spoon in your mouth, expecting everything to be given to you. When I was nineteen, my parents didn’t have the money to get me a car, but I wanted one. I got a waiting job in a posh country club, and fuck me, was every one of them an ass. They were so rude, self-centred and all round horrible.” He stated. “I swore that summer I would never be l them, or surround myself with people like them, for fear I would turn into one.” “So you are using me to keep you grounded, to still feel like you’re part of the normal set?” Tom looked at her horrified, his face calming when he saw her sticking her tongue out between her teeth as she did so, a large grin on her face. “Behave.”

“Make me.” “What day are we heading on?” “We are going to Clare tomorrow.” “And we are not returning to your grandmothers?” “No, we are staying down there, then heading to Kerry, then to Cork before heading up to Dublin to go home, why?” Tom’s smile grew as she spoke of London as ‘home’. “Because when I get you to Clare, I am going to make you.” Danielle’s brows rose at that statement. “What do you say to that?” She opened and closed her mouth a few times silently at that. “Lost for words Darling?” “It’s going to be a difficult night.” She admitted; her voice slightly higher in pitch.

“And why is that?” Tom’s voice deepened as his hand slid up her thigh.

“Tom.” “What Darling?”

“Don’t.” she warned.

“Don’t want?” “Tom, I swear, I am finding it hard enough to stay behaving myself at Nan’s with you rubbing your crotch into me in your sleep, making naughty noises, adding to that is not fair.” Tom slipped his hand further up her thigh. “I swear to God, if you make me crash this car,” Danielle warned, but she was smiling and did not take her eyes off the road.

“Is it a B&B in Clare?”

“Yes, a nice one. I stayed there for a wedding before, good thick walls.” She grinned.

“How do you know about the walls?” Tom asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. “My cousin had a girl to the next room, let’s just say, going into my room, I could hear a lot, in my room, I heard hardly anything.”

“You have a considerable number of cousins,” Tom noted.

“Like you can talk.” “I have eight, you seem to have…”

“Forty-three first cousins.” “Jesus Christ.” Tom stared at her.

“Fine Catholic Irish families. Mam was one of nine, so you know how it is.” Danielle shrugged. “I am the only only-child on both sides.”

“That is pretty insane,” Tom commented. “It happens a lot in rural families.” “Will we meet any of them?” “I dunno, do you want to? I haven’t seen any of them since Mam died. I only talk to one or two on Facebook at birthdays.”

“It’s sort of sad you’re not close to them.” “If I had been, I would not have left, so selfishly, no I am not bothered by it. I have you instead now, I prefer that; plus, I love having Emma and your Mam, and even the Duchess and everyone else. I am happier over with you all.” “Well, we sort of are your family now.” “I take it you’re not getting the updates from your sisters.” Tom looked at her confused. “Your Mam was mentioning hotels.” “For what?” “Wedding receptions.” She glanced at him for a bare moment as she waited for them to get their turn to enter a roundabout. “Yep, I kid you not. Emma has had to tell her, more than once, to stop.” “You’re kidding, why have I not been told this?” he stared at her as though expecting her to erupt in laughter. “Elle, are you serious?” “Ask Sarah.” “Wait, you said she was talking to Emma.” “Yes, and Sarah.” She laughed.

“You’re lying.” “Ask her.” Tom took out his phone and typed a message to his sister, he looked at Danielle again before pressing send, Danielle not looking at him as she focused on the road. Only a moment later, there was a beep to tell him he received a new message, looking at it, his eyes widened. “Jesus, Mum.” “Told you.” “She’s even hinted at places here apparently over the last day or so.” “Ha-ha.”

“Elle!” “What, it’s funny. Let her have some fun, we are not getting married so it’s not like she is actually interfering, she is only…” “Getting completely ahead of herself, how are you not running for the hills?” Tom looked at Danielle, who clearly was just finding the whole situation amusing. “Because I am not bothered, yes, she is getting a tad ahead of herself, but if it keeps her happy, she’s not harming anyone. I actually love that your Mam thinks that that would be a good step for us, have you any idea how terrible some people have it with their partner’s mother?”

“But we’re not even together a year, marriage…” “Is not even on the cards yet, I know, but leave her have her fun, saying something may cause her to feel hurt, saying nothing and letting her have it when it is a non-issue is far better for everyone involved.” She smiled.

“So, this is not scaring you off?” Danielle laughed as she used the indicator, then turned the car up the smaller road they were driving to. “No, it does not. I actually like it.” Tom looked at her worriedly. “Not because I want to get married in the next week or so, but because it makes me feel like this is something that matters.” She explained, smiling as she did so, but not taking her eyes off the road.

Galway City - including a castle in the centre of it.

The Claddagh

Connemara, where Danielle's grandmother's cottage is.

#tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn #chapter 98 #I Hate You I Love You

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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (4)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.9k (this chapter), 13.5k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Phil did not invite Chris and Sophie to come to Rossendale with him. Not because he doesn't like spending time with them, but because he wouldn't know how to explain a situation to his parents that he doesn't even understand himself. To his knowledge, PJ also did not invite them.

"Change it," Chris whines from the backseat. He'd lost the scuffle against Phil to claim the front, and he's been complaining about Phil's music choices for half the trip so far in retaliation.

"You like McFly," Phil huffs, continuing his search for an album that won't elicit a loud sigh from behind him.

"That's fucking slander, is what that is. You hear that, PJ?"

"Oh, I hear you both," PJ says, flat. "Loud and clear."

They've only been driving for probably forty minutes and PJ already looks like he wants to kick them all out of his car. Phil doesn't exactly blame him, although he resents being lumped in with Chris in the 'annoying background noise' category.

He has no idea how they've managed to invite themselves along, but Phil was too polite and PJ was too smitten to tell them off when they came out to the car with their bags.

So, this is a group activity now. Phil's parents had been thrilled to hear it when he texted them the updated situation - they're taking it as a sign that Phil has a motley crew of good friends again, like he'd had as a kid and again in uni. He supposes that they're not wrong, exactly, but he's definitely anxious about introducing them to Chris.

"I like this song," Sophie says, mild, and Chris closes his mouth.

"Fine, this one is alright," he says begrudgingly. Phil glances at them in the rearview - Sophie is patting Chris' knee and giving him the sort of smile that always makes Phil feel like he shouldn't be present. He looks back down at his phone so he doesn't have to sit with that feeling too long.

PJ turns up the volume, probably to curb any more bickering before he has to toss them all out of his car, and Phil tries to just lose himself in the music for a little bit.

His friends sing along at varying levels of obnoxiousness and Phil tries not to keep opening the Tumblr app to see if someone has messaged him. Well, someone specific. I'm going north today!, is the last message sent between them, and Phil is still waiting for Winnie to offer to meet up or something.

After their non-starter interview, Phil and Winnie kept missing each other's free time to finish it over Skype. Phil kind of wants to hear more from them before he checks it out himself, but that's not looking likely at this point, especially if he's lugging his housemates along with him all weekend.

Phil opens a puzzle game on his phone and lets the mostly-mindless swiping distract him. It's a long drive up to Rossendale, and the last thing Phil wants is to be left alone with his thoughts.

Phil's parents love having guests round almost as much as they love to have him home, so Phil isn't at all surprised to walk in and smell a roast cooking. He expects that treats will be made as soon as the oven is free, because that's what his mum is like.

"Hello," Phil calls into the house, kicking off his shoes. His friends follow his lead - PJ puts his boots carefully on the mat that Phil didn't bother aiming for, and Sophie struggles with a particularly stubborn knot in her laces - as he hangs up his jacket. "Mum? Dad?"

"Child," his mum greets him happily, appearing in the entry to the kitchen and making grabby hands at him until he envelops her in a hug.

"Missed you," Phil tells her, quiet enough that his friends won't hear to make fun of him.

"Oh, I missed you," she says, giving him a kiss on the side of his face. She turns her beaming smile onto his housemates, who all pause in what they're doing like a frozen tableau. It's a little funny. "More children! Hello! I'm Kathryn, it's so nice to meet you. And so nice to see you again, PJ," she adds in that somewhat pointed voice that Phil hates so very much.

"Hello, Kath," PJ says, grinning wide. He gives her a hug, too. Chris holds out his hand for her to shake when she's done squeezing the life out of PJ, but Kath will have none of it.

"Don't be silly," she says, wrapping her arms tight around Chris' waist with a laugh. "We hug in this family."

"Really?" Chris asks, and the look he gives Phil is almost more embarrassing than if he'd asked 'so why isn't your son a hugger?' out loud. "Something smells absolutely delicious, Kathryn. Is that you, or is supper cooking?"

Phil stops himself from groaning out loud, but barely. He probably shouldn't be surprised at all that Chris' cheeky, flirtatious charm extends to mothers as well. Kath laughs and smacks lightly at Chris' chest before she turns to Sophie.

Skilled at making people feel comfortable in four seconds flat, Kath chatters away about supper and how lovely Sophie's curls are and how long it's been since she's seen Phil, did they know how long it's been? She herds them all into the kitchen like they're cattle and insists that Phil take their things upstairs while she puts the kettle on.

"Er, alright," Phil says, looking at the small collection of bags that they'd brought with them. Their clothes and toiletries are all there, of course, but so is all the filming and hunting equipment. He'll have to make at least two trips.

"Your father got the guest room and Martyn's room all set up before he went out," she tells him, either not noticing or ignoring his internal struggle.

Oh, wonderful. Phil had somehow forgotten about the part where they had three beds for four of them. He's positive that his housemates won't mind sharing with each other, but now he's been tasked with the anxiety-inducing puzzle of whose bags to put where.

"Okay," Phil says again, even though they've moved on to talking about their favourite kinds of cakes so that Kath can wow them all with her skills. He tries to catch PJ's eye, but PJ is too wrapped up in a conversation about strawberries to notice.

Alright, well. Phil grabs as many bags as he can carry and brings them upstairs, feeling some tension deep inside him get a little tighter as he notices that most of their personal effects are packed away, either in storage or already on the island, and his childhood home looks more like a show home than he's comfortable with. The stairs only creak a little under his weight, nothing like the old house in Brighton, but Phil still feels unsettled.

In the end, he throws PJ and Sophie in the guest room. It's a selfish move more than anything, because he's brought PJ for enough visits to be familiar with the way his parents look at each other every time PJ teases him.

They don't ask. They're not the type of people to pry, and Phil isn't the type of people to offer information unprompted. They've all been in this limbo for years where Phil doesn't tell them that he likes boys and they don't outright question if PJ is just a friend and, frankly, Phil is tired of it. So, Chris can sleep alone.

He takes his own bags up last, because he knows that stepping into his bedroom and seeing all the personality stripped from it is going to make him feel things he isn’t prepared to feel. Phil takes a deep breath before he goes inside, and releases it shakily as he drops his things on the floor.

The beige carpet is almost mocking him, telling him that it's time to grow up, and Phil leaves the room as fast as he can.

God it is so hard to get anything done here. Sorry to complain at you randomly but like... I forgot how hard it is to work when my parents are hovering and asking a million questions lmao

Winnie still hasn't responded to Phil's early morning message, but the frustration of his parents distracting him and his friends from their work is starting to get to him. Chris has completely charmed them, somehow, and both Sophie and PJ are too polite to put headphones on and ignore them the way Phil has decided to.

Surprisingly, he gets a reply right away: omg how have i never considered the fact that you had to tell your parents you wanted to hunt ghosts for a living thats so fucking funny also that sucks i live in a house full of students and i always have to go to the coffee shop to work on essays and shit

There's nothing good like that where my parents live. Your coffee place is in the city, right?

“No! He didn’t!” Chris is laughing, somewhere in the living room, and Phil has to turn up the white noise on his headphones. The idea of his parents and housemates trading embarrassing stories about him while he's holed up at the table with audio files he hates makes him itch.

yeah, Winnie says. Phil is so thrown off by the short message that his fingers pause on the keyboard.

Is he annoying them? He doesn't mean to. Phil thinks over the messages they've exchanged since talking on Skype, the wheel of worst case scenarios spinning quickly.

Before Phil can apologise or even really get his anxious mind to settle down, his laptop bloops again, once, twice, three times. Relief from the worry that Winnie doesn't like talking to him curls around Phil's shoulders, relaxing them.

It's a screenshot of Google Maps with an address pulled up, a different building circled in a bright blue. yeah i hella recommend and it's really close to wilkins as well, is the message accompanying the screenshot. Then, right afterwards, 10/10 hot chocolate if i do say so myself.

Phil isn't very big on hot chocolate on its own, but he is very big on quiet coffee shops.

It takes a lot of cajoling and promises that he won't be out too late for Phil to convince his parents that they'll be fine to drive to the city by themselves. His dad gets the same look on his face that he always does when Phil talks about work, but his mum merely pats his cheek and says, "Oh, love, be careful. I'll be cross if I have to get you from the police again."

"That was one time," Phil says, feeling his face flush as Chris looks at him with glee.

"One time too many," Nigel says, a bit too sternly to be a joke. Phil wonders if his friends pick up on it or if they just think he's banting like he's been all through supper, that same dry humour that Phil can see in Martyn making him funnier than his housemates had expected.

PJ and Sophie both laugh a bit, so... probably just Phil's knowledge of his dad making it more pointed than it really needs to be.

The coffee shop is open late, so Phil and his housemates decide to do some recon at the Wilkins place. The sun hasn't quite set yet, and the street isn't completely deserted or anything, so they have to wait for a good moment to leave the car.

They're careful. They've done this before.

The Wilkins place is an older townhouse in Rusholme with windows that have been boarded up since the early noughties because they kept getting broken. Technically, someone still owns the property, but the Wilkins family either didn't care about it or had forgotten it existed, because it's been abandoned as long as Phil can remember.

It also isn't very scary in his memory. It's draughty and has rats scurrying about, but the electricity and heating still worked, somehow, and the social situations he'd gotten thrown into at Martyn's shoulder were definitely more nerve-wracking than the house itself.

All of these things are still more or less true, according to everything Phil has been told, but when Phil climbs in through the loose boards of the kitchen window, the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He hesitates for so long on the sill that Chris pushes a bit at him, reminding him to move before some annoyed neighbour calls the police.

It's dim inside but not so dark that Phil's eyes strain; the streetlights and setting sun filter in through the boards and showcase the dust covering every surface.

Phil helps Sophie and then Chris through the window, PJ giving them boosts from the outside. They take the various bags from PJ and Sophie immediately pulls out the camera, ignoring the thuds that PJ's feet make as he launches himself up and clambers in like a monkey.

"Sexy," Chris drawls as PJ nearly tumbles onto his face. He's grabbing out equipment of his own, and so Phil is tasked with getting PJ through the window safely.

"At least I've got a modicum of upper body strength," PJ says. Neither of them are bothering to whisper, and that's making Phil anxious.

He can't put his finger on it, but... it doesn't feel like they're alone in here. There's probably someone hiding out from the chill of late October in one of the various empty rooms, and Phil's worst case scenario wheel is spinning so fast it's making him dizzy.

"Do you hear that?" Sophie asks, hushed. That stops PJ and Chris from continuing their bickering, and all three men freeze as they strain for whatever it is that Sophie's hearing. After a moment of complete silence, Sophie shakes her head. "It stopped. Hopefully the mic caught it over you lot."

PJ looks appropriately abashed, but Chris just shrugs. He's got a flashlight and an EMF meter, and he slings one of the bags over his shoulder before disappearing.

This is technically for Phil's channel - they're checking the place out, and Sophie is filming just in case something happens - but Phil still feels weird when PJ ducks off in another direction and Sophie stays at his side instead of following one of her boys, camera steady in her hands and the tip of her nose pink from the cool air.

"What did you hear?" Phil murmurs, beckoning her further into the house. The sound of creaking wood is so loud, like it's right above their heads, and Phil can only hope that it's one of his friends going upstairs.

"It could have been the wind," Sophie says mildly. "Or rats."

"Is that what it sounded like?"

Sophie blinks up at him and her mouth twists in an emotion that Phil can't place. "No. No, it sounded like a person talking."

Yeah, that's what Phil was afraid of. "Someone might be living here," he whispers, focusing on the dark hallway and trusting that Sophie is following.

The creaking again, this time from beside them, and Phil peeks his head around the corner to confirm that the staircase is what he's hearing. Chris is halfway up it, flashlight off between his teeth as he grips the railing like he's afraid the stairs are going to give out under him.

Phil hates this part. He'd rather do this completely alone than have to herd his friends like sheep. He leaves Chris to his own devices and moves into the lounge. This is where the majority of the litter is, empty bottles and cans and crisp bags everywhere. Phil takes a couple photos of it all and sends them to Martyn.

Remember your friend who used to bring a garbage bag to every party? Looks like he was the only one lol

He pauses. All too aware of Sophie's eyes and possibly the camera lens on him, Phil sends the photo to Winnie as well with a different caption: Does it always look like this?

Neither of them respond by the time Phil has picked his way through the first floor, which is at least good for his focus, but it doesn't explain why the house feels so much different than it had seven or eight years ago. Phil feels unsettled here in a way that he doesn't usually get anymore, goosebumps down his arms that aren't from the cold and the constant, unnerving feeling that someone is looking at him from the shadows.

Phil's phone buzzes as he and Sophie debate in whispers if they should go upstairs. Phil hates leaving anything to someone else, even if it's just a few rooms that surely PJ and Chris are capable of exploring on their own. He's in the middle of trying to explain that to Sophie when his voice catches in his throat.

"Peej says we should go," Phil says, interrupting himself. "He found something weird in the attic."

"What's he doing in the attic?" Sophie hisses.

"Dunno. I didn't even know there was an attic."

"We should go, then," says Sophie, like that decides it. Although it does rankle a bit to be lower on the totem pole of his own project, Phil has to admit that Sophie is right. If PJ is saying that it's time to go, then it's time to go.

Phil climbs out of the window first, taking the equipment with him, and then helps hoist Sophie safely down. She's so small that it's not even a strain, really, even with how little exercise Phil gets. They wait, huddled together, and Phil feels some of the knot in his chest start to loosen when he hears Chris and PJ arguing in whispers before the window boards get slid out of the way again.

"What did you find?" Phil asks immediately, and PJ hushes him on his way down.

"Let's go, I'll tell you at the café," he whispers, leading the way down the pavement with strides so purposeful that Phil wonders if he's been in this area before. It's all the rest of them can do to keep up with him, and Phil spares a moment to feel sorry for Sophie and her short legs.

He hangs back with her and lets Chris keep pace with PJ. Chris is still talking at a silent PJ in a hushed, passionate tone, like he's fighting with a brick wall, and Phil doesn't need to be involved in that.

The coffee shop is only a couple of streets away, but the tension that the Wilkins place and PJ's subsequent discovery has brought to the group makes it feel much further. PJ stops in front of a purple door, and Phil has a begrudging respect for his ability to remember where something is after simply being told the address. The shop is small and a little dingy, but the lighting inside is soft through the narrow windows and there's a fireplace that Phil longs to curl up in front of like a cat.

Chris scowls at PJ and holds the door open for him in the same breath. Phil doesn't understand their relationship and at this point he's too afraid to ask, but he ducks into the inviting warmth anyway to try to get the goosebumps off his skin.

The two employees behind the counter look at the door like they've been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. A girl with brightly-coloured hair is holding a bunch of marshmallows, a hand poised mid-throw, and an unreasonably tall guy with an unreasonably large mouth is gawping as one of the marshmallows hits him in the chin.

"You missed," Phil informs them, grinning a bit as he unwinds his scarf.

"Oops," the girl laughs, setting the marshmallows down and pulling up a customer service smile. "What can I get for you guys?"

While PJ and Sophie pore over the menu and Chris starts asking if she'll throw marshmallows into his mouth if he asks very nicely, Phil's eyes drift to the other worker.

His mouth is still open, a bit, and his face flushes when their eyes meet. "Er," he says, glancing behind him as if Phil is looking at someone else, and that's so endearing that Phil is sufficiently distracted from the mystery down the street.

Phil isn't extremely self-conscious or anything, but he also knows he's not going to be the hottest guy in a room, so he's a bit flattered and a lot confused about this guy's reaction to him.

The thing is, the guy is very attractive. A couple of perfect curls poke out from under his cap, and there's some type of shimmer on his face that Phil could not put a name to if you paid him. He knows literally nothing about makeup, but he knows that it makes this giant of a man look softer and his blush even more obvious when it deepens.

"Hi," Phil says, giving him a little wave. He can still hear Chris chattering on and Sophie debating the merits of a hot chocolate versus a cappuccino, so he's pretty sure nobody is paying them any attention. The guy twitches like he wants to look over his shoulder again, but he stops himself.

"Uh, hi? Sorry to be, like, weird, I just - I didn't expect -"

The voice is familiar, the rambling is familiar, and then it clicks. "Oh, hi," Phil says again, warmer this time. He steps closer to the counter and grins up at them - an unusual thing in itself, since Phil doesn't meet many people taller than him. "You didn't mention that you work here."

Winnie's shoulders slump forward in a kind of relief, and they scratch the back of their neck, looking awkward and out of place even in an outfit that coordinates with the colour scheme of the whole shop. Phil looks the uniform over and immediately regrets it, because he didn't mean to see Winnie's name tag and now he feels weird about knowing something he wasn't actually told. He doesn't feel too weird about being here, though, because - well. Winnie had technically invited him.

"Honestly, I didn't know you'd be 'investigating' so soon," says Winnie. They're still blushing and the finger quotes are somehow cute, even though they're being used to poke at Phil's career. Their nails are dark and sparkly, and Phil desperately needs to stop noticing things about their hands. "I would have told you, probably, or I'd just - I dunno, try to make a better first impression."

"You're making a fine first impression," Phil assures them.

Winnie snorts. "Oh, bullshit."

"Phil," PJ says, nudging him. Phil suddenly remembers that there are, in fact, other people around him, and he can't just keep looking at Winnie's long, dark eyelashes. "What are you having?"

Honestly, Phil hasn't even looked at the menu. He's so easily distracted by pretty boys with big hands and - oh, right, he's got to be careful about that, even in his own head. Especially in his own head. Winnie isn't a pretty boy, he really shouldn't be thinking about them like that at all.

"Uh," Phil says eloquently. He's very particular with his hot drinks, usually, but he's got a lot going on in his mind right now and it's easier just to shrug at Winnie than to look away and think. "Dunno, actually. Surprise me?"

Winnie smiles, and Phil's stomach twists. "I can do that."

#quiet on widow's peak #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words

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