#video: I'M GETTING KICKED OFF TOUR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trulyhblue · 4 months

Text

Girl(friends)

Lauren Hemp x Aussie! Reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, awkward, OG Man City

A/N — I'm in a Hempo phase rn so be prepared. Short one today x

______________________

You dreaded the days when you weren't playing football.

It was the one thing you couldn't live without, your adoration for the sport was larger and more demeaning than anything else. The solidarity, solace, and peace you found in running up down the wing, the ball at your feet. The feeling of utter elation when the ball went into the goal, past a defender, through the goalkeeper's reach. The celebrations, the assists, and everything else in between.

You could talk forever about football.

Except on Media Days.

You hated the unknown of it. You had managed to excuse yourself beforehand from most of these shoots since you weren't among the best-known players of the club — save that for Keira, Gee, and Lucy. But on the rare occasion that you were chosen for the quick photoshoot or challenge with one or more of the girls, you remained relatively quiet, speaking when you must and laughing when you should. You had no trouble with any of the girls, it was just in front of the public's view, and you were squirmish.

You pulled yourself out of bed after hitting snooze thrice, hearing Alanna ramp on downstairs. You made sure to stay in bed for another ten minutes. You changed into your team's tracksuit and a random top, making your way downstairs, slouching into one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

"Oh, wow." Alanna chuckled, holding out a coffee towards you. "You look delighted. Excited for today, are we?"

You simply offered her a grimace, taking a large sip of your coffee, hoping the taste would clear your evident distaste for the day ahead.

Alanna was a social butterfly. She was used to feeding into the Media's hand whenever they came becking. Most of the City girls were the same, it was a very jovial team that trusted one another well enough to have fun in the security of their job.

All the girls had arrived by the time Alanna and you had trampled in, wearing matching blue kits. Hayley was laughing with Georgia in front of a couple of cameras, a ball at their feet as they struggled to keep the ball off the floor. Gee tried to kick at the Aussie's feet, by didn't catch the ball in time to get the point. Raso threw her hands up in triumph, the cameras panning to Gee rolling around on the floor.

On the other side of the indoor training field were Lucy and Keira, standing around a giant-sized game of Janga, talking to the PR Managers behind the camera as they posed questions to the two of them as they played. Alex, Lauren and Chloe were sitting by a desk, on their phones as they waited for their turn to be called up.

The gush of blood that rushed to your cheeks when Lauren smiled towards you sent Alex and Chloe into a fit of giggles. The duo were always around to tease the two of you with your beyond-obvious, mutual pining. You wouldn't call it embarrassing, but there were certainly times when one of you would go out of your way to gain the other’s attention.

When you first met, Lauren tried to give you a tour of the facilities, but she ended up getting both of you lost. She apologised over and over profusely, and she dreaded the awful, first impression she had left you with.

You and Alanna sat beside them, greeting them with conversation before falling into a satisfied silence. Your next game was the Manchester Derby against United. The team had been training non-stop this past week, today is the first day without strenuous drills and exercises. Nevertheless, it was still a day at work, and to be honest, you'd rather be sweating ten times over than talking to a camera.

The thought of doing a video alone daunted you as you watched Hayley and Gee from afar. On a regular day, Hayley would be your Media Partner; the two of you always did videos with one another. On the odd day that you didn't, it'd be Alanna. If not Alanna, it was with a group of you. Now that you thought about it, the two Aussie girls were the only ones you had done a video with one-on-one. The feeling of someone different was tormenting. As the five of you sat silent on your phones, you hoped and prayed all of you would be doing a video together.

While you kept to yourself for the most part, save for the Aussie girls, you would go out of your way to make sure Lauren was your partner in drills. You’d try your hardest when she was watching, and vice versa. The blonde would hit the ball as hard as she could into the back of the net, and you’d be that landed with the assist. In games, you had been quickly dubbed as a duo due to the chemistry you seemed to have in the game. Fans would swarm at any interaction you’d have with her.

But to their dismay — and apparently most of your teammates — you and Lauren had never been in a video together.

But, to your surprise, you spoke too soon.

"Alright, Ladies, are you ready?" One of the PR girls came up with an iPad, scrolling through whatever it was she was looking for, and glancing up. You noticed Lauren straightening up beside you, holding her arms over her chest, waiting for the woman to finish her sentence.

You found yourself catching sight of the slight furrow in the girl's eyebrows; the concern written all over her face. You knew she was worried, and you supposed you were too. "We've got Greenwood, Kelly, and Kennedy over there. You've got interviews."

You tried not to look too relieved at the news, hiding the smile in response to the girl's identical groans. No one liked Interviews. They were serious, solemn, and no fun whatsoever. It was always boring questions about your job as a Midfielder, or how you maintained a balanced life outside of football. It wasn't the fans' favourite video to watch at all, but it was more for the professional side of it than the Media. Everyone had to do it. You were just glad that today it wasn't you.

"Hempo and Y/l/n, we've got an auto-complete interview."

"That's not fair, those are so much better," Alanna whined at that, throwing her head back like a toddler. "Hempo, surely we swap."

Lauren pursed her lips together, cheeks going a bit red at all the eyes on her. Alex and Chloe waited for her response, a smirk aligned on each of their faces.

"Nah, leave her Lani." Alex sounded, prodding the blonde with her elbow.

Lauren's cheeks went a deeper red when Chloe laughed. "Hempo's been wanting to do this for ages."

"Shut up, Kelly." Lauren snapped in a mutter, turning away to march off towards the direction of the lone white background and chairs. You turned to see the two Brits giggling to themselves, dragging Alanna over to the back doors.

"Have fun, Y/n/n."

"Hope you're as excited as Hempo!"

You shrugged them off, sauntering over to the set-up. Lauren was already sitting on a stool, playing with the rings on her fingers, wearing a prominent scowl.

"Are you alright?" You asked, sitting on the spare chair, tensing when you accidentally knocked your knee with hers.

Her pale cheeks disappeared, replaced with the blush you saw from before. "Yes, they're just annoying. Very annoying."

"Having a laugh, I 'spose." You reasoned, though the blonde didn't come off as too convinced. "But you're right, they're silly."

The blonde simply hummed in response, the both of you listening to the man behind the camera.

"Okay, guys, this is really straightforward." He said, readjusting the camera as he spoke. "You just got to introduce yourselves before you start, then we'll give you a board full of questions and you've just got to answer them. All good?"

Everyone watched the two of you nod. No one could deny the definitive awkwardness between the two of you, and the obvious hesitance toward what you were about to do. It was safe to say neither of you was fit to talk on and on, especially under the scrutiny of viewers.

You didn't know the cameras were already recording, choosing to fiddle with your hands as you waited. You could tell by the definitive look on Hempo's face that she was just as reluctant as you were. The blonde glanced at you from the corner of her eye, shuffling in her chair before she muttered towards you.

"You have an eyelash."

You spun to face her. "What?"

Lauren's face reddened, her beady brown eyes widening at your sudden response.

Without thinking, she pulled her hand out from her pocket, reaching to pinch something off your face. She was gentle when pulling away, holding her finger up to reveal the eyelash she had picked. She watched as you blew it off, giggling meekly at the benevolent interaction.

"You ready?" One of the people asked behind the camera, making the two of you leave your intimate bubble. "When you're ready."

Lauren nodded towards you. "You can start."

You sighed, trying to hide the smile that crammed your lips. "Hello, my name is Y/N, and this is Lauren Hemp," You waited for the blonde to finish your sentence, but when you were met with silence, you took one look at her stupefaction and continued. "And today we're going to be doing a... what is it?"

Lauren lifted up one of the boards that balanced against the end of her chair. She picked it up, surveying it, reading out the bulk letters at the top. "An auto-complete interview."

"Right. That's what we're doing."

The two of you left the introduction at that, an empty silence vacating the set.

Thankfully, a voice sounded from behind the camera. "Who's starting?"

Lauren shrugged, filling the ungainly silence. "I can."

You both stared at the board in between you. "I think you peel them off." You spoke, motioning at the tape that covered half the sentences. Lauren took your advice, skinning the first sticker to reveal the question.

"Who is Lauren Hemp's team?" You read out, making both of you giggle. "Oo, that's a good question."

"I play for Manchester City." Lauren played with the tape in her hand as answered. "But I play for England in the National Team."

She peeled off the second one, waiting for you to read it. "Who is Lauren Hemp's favourite teammates?" You spoke, rubbing your head in deceitful confusion.

Lauren laughed, glimpsing at you with a beaming smile. "We haven't known each other for long."

"Yes, but I'm very charismatic." You shook your head, sighing. "But go on, who is it?"

"Well," She thought to herself for a second. "I'm close with all the girls but... I'd have to say Esme, of course. She's my best friend."

"No brainer, clearly." You made a point to roll your eyes, huffing about, but it was plain to see that you were only joking. "Alright, who is Lauren Hemp's... boyfriend?"

There was a bit of an awkward interlude, leaving everyone looking around the pitch. Lauren, however, fell into a cynical fit of laughter, with you following shortly after.

"No boyfriends for me."

You didn't know why, but your stomach recoiled at the thought of Lauren with someone. It was a great relief to hear that she wasn't. "None at all?" You couldn't help but ask.

Lauren was quick to reply. "No, no boys... or girls at all."

"Right." You replied, placing the board onto the floor, hoping no one was noticing the pink across your cheeks. "Who's next?"

The next board was displayed between the two of you like before, except this time, your name was typed across it. Lauren shuffled closer to you, pinning the board to her side. “Go on then.”

You peeled the first question off. “Who is Y/N Y/L/N’s favourite team?”

Lauren looked at you, laughing when you were silent. “Well, I'm not answering, you are.”

“Yeah, well, hold on, I'm thinking.” You scoffed, pretending to whack the girl playfully with your board. She swatted you away, grabbing the board from where it rested on your thigh and smiled.

“I'm gonna say the Matildas because why else,” You could hear the Blonde’s indistinguishable disapproval, clicking her tongue. You’d later find out when watching the clip that she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest affectionately. “But yeah, my childhood club was Sydney FC, so I’ll stick with my roots.”

“But she plays for City,” Lauren added, both of you giggling at your ambiguity. You never liked these types of questions, especially when the media took them out of context. You love City with all your heart, but it was easy for people to twist things and make it out that you didn't mean what you said.

“But I play for City, yes, and I love it.” You repeated, proceeding in ripping off each of the stickers as the game went on.

Lauren was patient when it wasn’t her go, adding in her opinion and a subtle joke every so often, basking in your immediate reaction each time. You bounced off one another like wildfire, seemingly knowing what the other was going to say before it was said. You were intellectual in what you shared, favourite meals, celebrity crushes, words of advice — pretty much anything the questions asked. Without knowing, you and Lauren discovered more and more about each other without directly asking. Your relationship blossomed, even with the presence of the cameras, into something tangible, free, and warm.

When it got to the end, you were still holding the board, fiddling with its edges as Lauren wrapped up the last of her questions. Somehow, you felt a little upset that the video was coming to an end. You wanted these questions to keep on coming. You would spend hours listening to the girl talk about what she loved and who she was. But by the time the last question lingered, you feel into comfortable silence.

Ever so slowly, Lauren inched her hand closer to the board you were holding, brushing her pinky and ring finger across your thigh as she did so. You pretended to conceal your flustered state by smiling, giving her the board to chuck away.

You didn't know how you coped when you felt Lauren keep her hand on your thigh.

“Well, that's the end of the video,” She finished, looking towards the camera, then to you.

You smiled back at her. “We hope you enjoyed and if you what to see more—”

“Well there's no more videos of us.”

“But go check the channel anyway.”

“Bye!”

_________________

manchestercity

manchestercity — watch our fan-fav duo answer your questions on our youtube channel!!! 🩵🩵🩵

Coming out later today 💪🏻💪🏻

tagged: laurenhemp, yourusername

Comments:

alexgreenwood — I'm as excited as @ laurenhemp, right @ chloekelly???

^ chloekelly — the real ones know 😂

^ user19 — what r they talking about Lol???????

^ chloekelly — yeah, Hempo, what are we talking about?

^ laurenhemp — STOP

User1 — they are so cute omg

^ user2 — IKKKKK

user22 — Alex and Chloe’s comments?

^ user25 — they know something we don't

^ alexgreenwood 👀

^ user22 — HELP

yourusername — hope you all enjoy 🩵

^ manchestercity — 🩵

laurenhemp — thanks for having us!

^manchestercity — 🩵

^ user3 — the blue heart is just so 😍

User4 — “you've got an eyelash.” “what?” UGH THE SOFTNESS OMG

^ user5 — the way Y/N lets Hempo brush it off and blow it away 😭😭

^ user6 — they definitely had no idea they were recording.

user7 — OKAY ADMIN FINALLY FEEDING US WITH THE HEMPO x Y/N CONTENT

^ user8 — RIGHTTTTT LIKE IM HERE FOR IT

user10 — they will win us the league.

^ user11 — why didn't they work together sooner?

^ user10 — fr

laurenhemp (pretend its you, luv u keira)

laurenhemp — winner winners

tagged: yourusername

Comments are limited.

Yourusername — stargirl 🌟

^laurenhemp — 🫶🏼

alexgreenwood — yeah the girl(friends)

^ chloekelly — yeah the friends…

__________________________________

A/N — this was really rushed and cut up but there isn't enough Hempo fics out there. I rlly didn't do her justice tn 🫠

396 notes · View notes

anothermansjeans · 9 days

Note

not sure if you’re taking requests but i would love to see a part two to the singer!reader, like maybe the team all goes to her concert together! thank you!

HI!! i'm so glad the people loved the first singer!reader blurb!! this is a part 2 to the first one, and while the whole team isn't at her concert, i added penelope in!! i have plans for when the team first meets reader which will be in a separate blurb! hope you enjoy :)

cw: spencer and penelope at reader's concert :) a swear word (1), spencer is flustered

wc: 2k (i may have over done it)

singer!reader masterlist

Spencer sat in the cold police precinct in Philadelphia with JJ, Rossi, and Penelope (she was a vital resource, needing to come with the team on this case), counting down the minutes until Hotch, Derek, Emily, and a few Philly officers came back with the unsub in custody. As soon as they got back and the case was deemed closed, he could go and see you.

Obviously, he went to your concert last night, had you stay over, and slept in as much as possible before you had to leave for your next stop on tour and Spencer had to get to the office. The reason he was so hellbent on seeing you tonight as well is because when you're touring and he does his regular BAU job, the two of you barely see each other. Your tour kicked off three months ago, starting in Europe, and he didn't get to visit any of those shows, so when the U.S leg came around, he wanted to be as present as possible.

That too, was very hard.

Spencer loves his job, really, he does, but when he plans on using the allotted resting days the team gets after a case to visit you, and ends up getting called in anyway… he has grown some resentment over the time. So now– here in Philadelphia, where you are– he plans on missing out on the trip back with the team and instead, watch your show again. The only other thing in the back of his mind right now were the words of your last text to him.

Y/N: OH MY GOD OKAY!! i’m so happy you can make it, spence 🫶

Y/N: omg PLEASE invite that friend of yours too!! i'm so sorry she couldn't get tickets for d.c :(

When Spencer initially told you about Penelope and how she ousted your relationship just from a video online, you completely lost it. In a “oh my God, I'm going to piss my pants, I’m laughing so hard” kind of way. Your exact words to him when he was on the phone with you as he sat in his hotel room. You didn't have a problem with his friends and family knowing. You actually encouraged him to let his closest people in, but he valued you and how you wanted to keep him out of the public eye as much as possible, so he simply didn't say anything to anyone. The respect you have for each other is insanely beautiful.

So he felt as though he was between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to let the team in. They're his family, but once he lets them in– once he invites Penelope to this free concert offered by his girlfriend, he was losing an extra security blanket in keeping your wishes. He knew your wishes were solely there to benefit him and his job and her personal life, but it was still something that worried you to the point of breaking down every once in a while, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen again.

When those who went out to obtain the unsub came back, Spencer stood up, knowing once they got the confession they were done, and went to idly walk by the desk Penelope was sitting at.

“Yes, Mr. Into You. how can I help you?” She smirked at her words, causing Spencer to roll his eyes.

“You don't know that song is about me.” Her deadpan expression caused Spencer to sigh, “okay, fine. Anyway, I was wondering if you had plans for tonight. Like, after the case.”

Placing her hand on her chest, she batted her eyelashes. “Well, sweets, I'm flattered, but I don't think your girlfriend would be too happy.”

“Penelope.”

“Sorry!”

Wringing his fingers together, Spencer bit the inside of his cheek. “Y/N has a concert here in Philadelphia–”

“I’m well aware.”

“And she told me to invite you along tonight. She’s sorry you couldn't get tickets to D.C.”

A gasp left her lips and she stood to her feet quickly, “oh my lanta!” The volume of her voice caused chatter to quiet around them, and she sheepishly smiled at everyone, “sorry! But oh my– Spencer, are you joking? Because if you are, this is cruel and unusual punishment, Dr. FBI man.”

“It’s not a joke, Pen.”

“Eek!” She threw her arms around his neck without thinking, and Spencer, while he hesitated at first, eventually welcomed the hug. “Thank you so much!”

“You can thank her when you meet her.”

“Meet her–? I– oh…” Her eyes went wide with excitement, “I am so excited!”

And so was he. He didn't show it until the two of them got there though. You were very busy getting ready before the show, so when your manager met him and Penelope in the back of the venue, he insisted that the two of them went straight to your friends and family section and that he could see you afterwards. The excitement in his eyes became very apparent the moment the opening chords to your song Positions. Penelope was singing and dancing, while Spencer did his signature head bop– that's how you knew you made a good song.

it was about halfway through the set when you got to Nonsense, a song everyone looked forward to. You did a different outro every stop of the tour. Yesterday’s outro was a very colorful depiction of him and his… skills in the bedroom because you knew he was going to be there. There was no way he’d be embarrassed again.

“This song’s catchier than chicken pox is

I bet your house is where my other sock is

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop it

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

There's a lot to do out here in philly

My man came here so he can come and feel me

His body keeps me warm, I'm never chilly.”

You laughed as you looked over to the family and friends section, and immediately recognized the face you love becoming tinted with red by the minute. A couple songs later, you performed one of your newest songs, Vigilante Shit. You were the most excited for this portion of your set when you added it after it first released. You were on break after the Europe leg and couldn't stop going over all of the choreography, Spencer being the very first person not on your team to watch, and he thought it was incredible (even if it was with a kitchen chair in his living room).

When performing, you always put on your best show, but sometimes, if Spencer’s in the audience, you amp it up a bit. Which is what you did now. One of the moves involved having a leg propped up on the chair and slinking your hand down your body. When Spencer was there, you went extra hard with the facial expressions, giving it more sexuality. You also made sure to roll your body and stick your ass out a bit more whenever you stood up from the chair, making sure you're giving him a good view. It’s what your boyfriend deserved.

And while you always thought you were doing good by him (because he would never tell you otherwise), he was always as red as a tomato– especially now with Penelope next to him, moving her phone camera between you and him, capturing the dance and his reaction. He felt his warm cheeks begin to cool when you moved onto your next song, but that flush inevitably came back the moment you picked up your guitar for the acoustic set and shifted your eyes towards him.

“We are now moving onto the acoustic set!” The crowd went wild, as always, and you continued, “tonight is actually a little different… I’ll still sing ‘Picture You’ and ‘Dress’, but I wanted to add a new one.” You began strumming your guitar gently, “It’s not released yet, but I have someone here I want to dedicate it to… this one’s about you, you know who you are. I love you.”

“Oh my God!” Penelope once again whipped out her phone, but all Spencer could do was stare at your trembling hands as you continued to strum.

“Oh, no, did I get too close?

Oh, did I almost see what's really on the inside?

All your insecurities

All the dirty laundry

Never made me blink one time”

He held his breath as you continued to sing.

“Unconditional, unconditionally

I will love you unconditionally

There is no fear now

Let go and just be free

I will love you unconditionally”

And he released the air from his lungs.

“Come just as you are to me

Don't need apologies

Know that you are worthy

“I’ll take your bad days with your good

Walk through the storm, I would

I do it all because I love you

I love you”

And as you continued with the song, Spencer felt tears well up in his eyes. Of course, he didn't let any of them fall, slyly wiping them as Penelope was putting her phone back away.

You had about 2 songs left when Spencer spotted one of your security guys discreetly getting his attention so that he could go backstage. He tapped Penelope on the shoulder, and tilted his head towards the guy. “We’re gonna watch the rest of the show backstage if that's okay?”

Mouth opening and shutting, she nodded her head, following the two men in front of her. Spencer could tell Pen felt out of her element back there with the rest of the crew, especially knowing that in about thirty seconds now, you were going to be saying your goodbyes and head off stage.

“Thank you so much, Philadelphia! I had a wonderful time. Thank you to my band, and my dancers. The amazing audio techs and the entire crew that keeps this show running! Have a great night!”

Running towards them, you gave Spencer a big smile before leaping into his arms to give him a hug. “Hi. You were incredible,” you felt him mutter against your neck.

“Hi. Thank you,” you muttered back, only staying in his arms a second longer so that you could greet the other guest. “Hi, I’m Y/N!”

“H-Hi! I’m Penelope!” Not knowing what to do, she stuck out her hand, but you brushed it aside, opting for a hug instead.

“I’m more of a hugger.”

She laughed and gave you a nod as you released each other. “Me too.” She looked between you and Spencer for a moment with a wide grin. “You're even prettier in person. You're also incredible, and your music is amazing and I love everything about you.”

“You're too sweet,” you gave a pout when thinking of her words, “you're gorgeous as well! And I love this dress! Spencer has told me all about you and the rest of the team.”

The three of you continued to chat for a bit, and once you noticed the crew packing things up, you turned towards Penelope and gave her a smile. “Do you want to go out with us? We were just gonna grab dinner.”

“Oh, no! I have someone picking me up.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, boy genius, I’m sure. Derek stayed behind so that he could get me back to Quantico. Oh! You need to meet the rest of the team sometime.”

You immediately agreed, squeezing Spencer’s hand so he knows to introduce you to everyone else soon. “One hundred percent.”

“Anyway, I will let you two love birds go. Have a nice night, and I’ll see you at the office, Spencer!”

After getting security to show Penelope where to go to leave, Spencer turned back towards you and pulled you back into his arms. He has never felt so loved in his life, and thinking about you, and that song, and everything life has to offer him at the moment caused the unshed tears from before to finally fall.

“Spencer, are you okay?” You pulled back to see the tears, and cupped his face, “baby, why are you crying?”

“The song was beautiful.”

He didn't answer you explicitly, but from his words mixed with the reaction you knew what was going on. “Thank you… I love you so much,” you said, wiping his cheeks.

“Unconditionally?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Of course silly.”

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant (tagged some people based in interest! lmk if you want to be taken off the taglist!)

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#THE FORMATTING TOOK FOREVER IM SO SORRY #TWAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT AT 5:30 EST :(#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #singer!reader

208 notes · View notes

justmystyles · 11 months

Text

Home Stretch

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: as the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry.

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: we've all seen the Frankfurt night 2 videos. our boy is slowing down, so i had this idea for a blurb. i'll miss all the looks and videos and everything we've been getting the last couple of years, but i'm so glad he's going to be able to take some time to relax and recover.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You watched on with so much pride and joy as Harry gave his all on stage. It was the second night in Frankfurt, and your last night on the tour for two weeks. You had some family obligations that you needed to go back to the states for, but you promised Harry that you would be there for his last show. And then the two of you would ride off into the sunset and hide away together for a few weeks. You were looking forward to that.

Your mind had drifted off, thinking about the two of you isolated in a villa somewhere, but quickly snapped back to the present when you saw Harry falter onstage, it looked as if his knee had given out. Your heart stopped and your eyes went wide.

You lean over, getting Brad’s attention. “Did you see that?”

Brad nodded in response. “It’s been a long tour, and you know how hard he pushes up there.”

Your worried eyes are locked on Harry when it suddenly clicks; he hadn’t been doing as many jumps as he usually does, his satellite stops had been lacking their usual stomp. He’s hurting, but still pushing so hard. You can’t seem to let go of your concern. Your fingers start tapping against your thighs, a nervous tick of yours. You have to do something, you can’t just stand here and watch him push and continue to hurt himself.

“I’m going to go back and make sure there’s an ice bath ready for him as soon as he gets off.” You tell Brad, who nods in acknowledgement, but you don’t see it. You had turned and started to make your way backstage as soon as you finished the sentence.

When you get to the backstage area, you arrange an ice bath for him and make sure his dressing room is set up with towels and his post show change of clothes. You just have to be doing something.

Once you had things set up for him, you went to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show. You were studying his every move looking for any signs of pain or discomfort. When he noticed that you had moved from your usual spot in the front of the house, he shot you a questioning look. You simply shrugged and shot him a wink.

Your concern continued through the rest of the show, relieved when he substituted finger guns for his usual ‘Kiwi kicks’. You positioned yourself so that you would be right there when he got offstage, as he skipped toward the exit, you saw the moment where he decided he was far enough from the crowd that he could drop the facade. His skip quickly turned to a limp, and he practically doubled over.

You rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back and offering your other arm to him for support. “Baby, are you alright?”

Harry chuckled, a small cough escaping him. “I’m fine princess, you worry too much.” He leaned in, kissing you softly. “Why’d you come back here? I like having you in the audience.”

Despite assuring you he was fine, he continued to use your arm for support as you slowly made your way to his dressing room. “Because you’re hurt, and I wanted to make sure to get everything set up for you as soon as you got offstage.”

“Set up everything?” He asked. You opened the door to his dressing room to reveal the ice bath you had prepared for him. He looked over at you with a wide smile. “God, I love you.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. He puts his hand on the back of your head, deepening it. You pull away with a smirk. “I love you too. Now get in there, I’m going to go–”

“No, stay with me.” He pleads. “You’re leaving tomorrow and I’m not going to see you for two whole weeks.” He gave you his best puppy dog face, the one he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Ugh, fine.” You roll your eyes playfully. “But I am not getting into that thing.” You point to the tub filled with ice and water.

“Your loss,” he shrugs, closing the dressing room door and immediately stripping down.

You get yourself comfortable on the couch as Harry lowers himself into the tub. You give him a few minutes of silence as he adjusts to the temperature change.

“So, how did I do tonight princess?” He asked once he was settled.

You let out a deep sigh. “You were good, but I’m really starting to get worried about you.”

His brow knit in confusion. “Why?”

“Harry Edward Styles, you have got to be kidding me?”

“Did you just use my full name?” He was taken aback.

“You’re goddamned right I did. Baby you did amazing, you always do, but you give so much of yourself, it’s starting to take a toll on you. And I’m worried about you.”

“Oh angel,” he reaches his hand out to you. You scoot over on the couch to get closer to him, taking his offered hand. “Please don’t worry. There are only five shows left, I’ll get through these and then I’ll get some time to rest. We’ll get some time to rest.” He brings your joined hands to his lips. “Besides, I have you here to take care of me, so I know everything will be fine.”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to be here for four out of those five shows. What if something bad happens?” Your breath hitches slightly as you try to control your emotions.

Harry’s brows round in concern. “Baby, come here.” He tugs on your arm, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “I promise I won’t pull you in.” You move closer, kneeling beside the tub. He rests his hand on the side of your neck, pulling you in so your forehead rests against his. “I promise you, I am going to give everything I have responsibly for the last few shows. I will keep modifying things, and take it extra easy offstage. But I owe it to the fans to give them everything I possibly can until the end.”

“I know, I’m just afraid that you’re going to give so much that you won’t have enough for yourself once this is all over. You’re too selfless sometimes.” You raise your free hand, pushing a stray curl out of his face.

Harry kisses you, you can feel him smile against your lips. “I love you for worrying about me as much as you do. And for taking care of me like this. As much fun as I’m having, and as sad as I am to see the tour come to an end, I’m looking forward to having some time to take care of you, and try to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me this whole time. And I plan to be in tip top shape when I do that.”

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything. I do this because I love you, and the fact that I get to be here by your side and love you is all the payback I need.” You lean in, placing a lingering kiss on his lips.

Harry groans as you pull away. “Are you sure you need to leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’ve got my mom’s whole birthday thing. I need to be home for that.”

“But you’ll be in Italy?” He questions.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile. “Somebody is going to need to have an ice bath ready for you.” You wink.

“Will you do that one with me?” He asked hopefully.

You scrunch your face, hating the idea of sitting in a giant bucket of cold water. “Maybe.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

346 notes · View notes

notscarsafe · 4 months

Text

Okay, so in honor of all the Hermits stirring things up on Twitter today, let's REALISTICALLY consider Season Ten. What do we know, what are our clues, actually???

(Speculating and overanalyzing are really fun so I'm just going to embrace my tendency to Listify Everything and spill my thoughts on Season Ten under the cut!)

First Evidence: The Words of the Hermits.

Nine Days ago Scar said in his Jellie tribute video that Season Ten was “Just around the corner”. Five days ago on the 18th, right after the Hermit meeting that probably finalized their start of the season plans, Cub posted his cryptic tweet whose incorrect capitalizations spelled out “SEASON TEN SOON”. I can't imagine either of those hermits using that phrasing if the season start was more than a month away.

What's more, Gem posted yesterday the 23 that “If hermitcraft s10 doesn’t start soon I’m gonna explode!!!” I can't imagine Gem being that impatient unless there was only a couple of weeks or maybe just one week left before filming.

Second Point to Consider: Hermit Conscientiousness.

The Hermits sre generally really kind to each other and have known when the Hermitcraft Vault Hunters challenge was going to end (Jan 31st, midnight) for months. Per Iskall, the videos of the Herald Vault will drop February 1rst and I can't imagine they'd want video competition between that content and the new season.

Clue Three: The Streaming Activities of the Hermits.

The sheer amount of time Joe has spent playing Vault Hunters lead me to believe they can't have started filming for Season 10 yet. Seriously, when Joe finally has a day without a bonus Vault Hunters stream I'm gonna get mighty suspicious. Joe has streamed more than three hours of Vault Hunters every single day for a week. There was Wednesday when he did his art stream, but I wouldn't expect that to have been a launch day because:

Fact Four: Editing turn around times are so grindy.

The traffic series always has a several day turn around for editing time (IE film Monday post Friday) and several Hermits still struggle to get them out on those days. Even if the hermits were going to ignore the Vault Hunters conflict and start filming season ten this week, tomorrow even, they'd just barely have enough time to squeeze those videos out before the Herald Vault videos. As I'm editing this post Impulse just said he's trying to finish his office reorg this week and have a tour out next week. That does not sound like 'filming this week and editing the new season opener' behavior.

If it goes as Iskall indicated on stream, the Vault Hunter hermits will film the Herald Vault and post as soon as possible on February 1st, meaning the earliest they could kick off season ten would be Friday the 2nd. Even if they film on then I can't imagine them dropping new season videos/having them edited any earlier than Monday the 5th. Furthermore:

Clue Five: A lot of Hermits are very protective of their weekends.

Pearl for example almost didn't join the Decked Out visitor day because it was a weekend. It may be that Monday the 5th would be the more likely earliest useable day for filming after Vault Hunters ended. With editing turn around, we'd guess the start date to be Friday at least.

In Conclusion:

My totally bullshit overanalyzed but still blind guess is that the Hermits will film season ten starting February 5th and will drop videos sometime between February 7th and 9th.

That being said, Cub's cypher today that may have just been trolling said season ten would be “sooner than we'd think” so they may surprise me yet.

Keep an eye out for days where no hermits stream or days where Joe does a brief “1 hour chill stream” to see when the Hermits might be suspiciously behind the scenes. I won't be mad if I'm wrong, overthinking is fun. Either way I hope you join me in hypong up the new season and the new Hermits joining the Hermit Fam. I can't wait!

(Note: this post originally reported the herald vault videos as dropping the 2nd which was an estimate from a stream, but Iskalls video today reported they'd drop the first and this post has been edited to reflect that ❤️)

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 10 #hc s10 #hermitcraft s10 #hermitcraft speculation #hermitcraft vault hunters

122 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 6 months

Text

i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

139 notes · View notes

yournecessaryevil · 3 months

Text

Imagine...

...playing video games with Chris during your downtime on tour, the two of you trashtalking each other's playing...

"No way, old man. I can totally kick your ass!"

You shifted in your spot on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself, PS5 controller clutched between your hands.

The two of you were currently going head to head at one of the old Call of Duty games Chris had downloaded onto his console, and so far... it had been a back and forth of the two of you kicking each other's asses and sniping each other.

You always preferred playing as "Ghost" Riley, he'd always been your favorite of the boys. You had once joked with Chris that he and Konïg had a lot in common, with the two of them being tall as fuck, and it had kind of stuck, the tall masked man now being Chris's character any time the two of you played each other.

"Oh, bullshit. I'm gonna make you eat your words, you know," Chris shot back, raising a brow at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, noticing the way one corner of his mouth twitched up into a tiny smirk in response.

"Brat."

"Bully," you shot back, grinning.

Chris placed a hand against his chest, pretending to be offended, even though you knew better. "Me? A bully? How dare you?" he said, unable to keep from grinning.

"You. Fucking. Shot me!" you protested.

"You made it too easy, find a better hiding spot next time," Chris countered, shrugging.

"See? Bully. Imma kick your ass this round, let's fucking go," you retorted, letting out a huff as you tightened your grip on the controller.

Chris laughed, picking up his own controller and reloading the menu to start a new game. "Alright, small fry, you have a 20 second head start," he told you, casting you a sideways look. "But," he added with a smirk, "if I find you, I snipe you."

With that, he loaded up the new round, before reaching up to cover his eyes with one hand. "Anddd.... go. Tick tock, pipsqueak."

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you focused on the screen in front of you. As soon as you had your hiding spot, you cast a sideways glance at Chris to see if he'd been peeking, which, ever the gentleman he was, he had not.

"Time's up, let's go," he announced, uncovering his face to pick up his controller and start hunting you down. As you sat there and watched him, there was a knock on the break room door, and you looked over your shoulder to see Ricky poke his head into the room.

"Hey, you guys need to get ready, we're leaving in 10," he informed the two of you. You nodded, turning back around to watch the screen. "Give me one second, hunting Y/N down," Chris answered, his eyes focused on the game.

"Okay, but just-" Ricky started, when he was cut off by a laugh from his bandmate. "Ha! Game over, tiny. I win!" Chris announced, his statement followed by the sound of a gunshot from the screen.

"What??? NO-! Again, are you serious???" Your mouth hung open in disbelief, Chris's laughter still sounding from next to you.

"Better luck next time, small fry."

🎃 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @circle-with-me @motionlessindoubt @motionlessomens @tearfallpixie @bobateaandchocolatepudding @th0ughts-pr4yers @bxrnthyfears @talialovesmiw @cookiesupplier @beaker1636

#chris motionless imagine #chris motionless #chris cerulli imagine #chris cerulli #motionless in white imagine #motionless in white fandom #motionless in white #miw things #miw #motionless in white fanfiction #imagine #trashtalk and takedowns

80 notes · View notes

jokeroutsubs · 3 months

Text

Joker Out, who rose to popularity from the Eurovision Song Contest, starts off their European tour in Finland. A unique friendship was also born during the contest with Käärijä

Original article

Caption: On their last visit to Finland, Joker Out surprised everyone by playing Cha Cha Cha. During the song, Käärijä also appeared on stage. Photographer Niina Mäenpää.

The Nordic gigs may also feature a tourist, Käärijä.

Original text and interview: Niina Mäenpää

A gold record from Finland, fans camped outside the venues from the early hours of the morning, the new song Everybody's Waiting streaming at a fast pace. Slovenian indie rock band Joker Out are going strong. The band, who emerged from last year's Eurovision Song Contest, have been super-popular in their home country for a long time, but it was the Eurovision Song Contest that blew them up.

The European tour, which kicks off at the House of Culture this weekend, will run well into April. The band, who won a gold record in Finland for their Eurovision song, Carpe Diem, will be coming to Helsinki for the second time.

"We feel at home in Finland, and last time it was very cosy for us. Finns and Slovenians have a lot in common", says singer Bojan Cvjetićanin in a remote interview.

Liverpool's Eurovision Song Contest not only left them with Europe-wide popularity, but also something else unique - a friendship with Jere Pöyhönen, aka Käärijä.

"Buddies for life. In all the Eurovision hype and chaos, we managed to find a very close friendship, and that is something truly unique", says Bojan.

After the weekend in Helsinki, the tour continues to Tallinn, Estonia. Käärijä will jump on board.

"Jere will be joining us as tourists because he has some time off. We are definitely going to spend a lot of time together during those days", Bojan says.

"Hopefully I'll get to the sauna in Finland too! I'm really looking forward to the gigs, and as Jere says, it's crazy, it's party."

See embed video on the original article: watch Joker Out reminisce about their experiences in Finland and Bojan imitating Käärijä.

Joker Out was seen at this year's UMK as Slovenia's point presenter, and the Nokia Arena went wild as Bojan, bassist Nace Jordan and drummer Jure Maček took the screen to present the points - Bojan wearing a green Käärijä shirt.

How did it feel to make an arena full of Finns scream remotely?

"We just hoped that our internet connection would last", drummer Jure laughs.

The Nokia Arena was a special place for us, as the last time we saw the arena was when we drove past it during our gig in Tampere. Jere joked that, one day we'll make this arena, Bojan imitates his friend's rally English.

So maybe a joint tour?

"Maybe we do, maybe we do, we’re gonna plan it now..." Bojan grins.

What is Joker Out?

Slovenian indie band, which describes their music as shagadelic rock ‘n’ roll

A Slovenian indie band, who describe their music as shagadelic rock and roll

Members: singer Bojan Cvjetićanin, guitar players Kris Guštin and Jan Peteh, bass player Nace Jordan and drummer Jure Maček.

Best known for Eurovision 2023, where the band jumped to popularity with their song Carpe Diem.

The new single ‘Everybody's Waiting’ tries a new musical direction and tells the story of the downsides of life in the crossfire of demands. The music video was directed by Bojan Cvjetićanin.

At the House of Culture Joker Out will play on Saturday 2nd and Sunday 3rd of March 2024. Saturday's concert is sold out, but there are still some tickets available for Sunday's extra show. Tickets on Lippu.fi.

Translated by @niini5 @drugsforaddicts @saallotar Proofread by IG Gboleyn123

#joker out #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #jokeroutsubs #jan peteh #kris gustin #nace jordan #kris guštin #jure macek #käärijä #see you soon tour

96 notes · View notes

iamthecomet · 3 months

Text

I'm alive I promise! As proof here's 800 words of Cirrus/Cumulus bath time. Magic use, making out, clit rubbing. A miniscule amount of lore. You know all the good stuff.

Many thanks to @mikorsghouls for blessing me with the idea of using air magic underwater. Your brain is so big.

Cirrus is, in a word, comfortable.

The water is hot, the bathroom sealed and steamy. She upended one of Mountain’s bath bottles into the bath before she stepped in. Rose and jasmine petals swirl around her, stick her to damp skin.

Cumulus’ fingers press into her belly, just over her belly button. The other hand rests on her thigh. Cirrus leans back, deeper into Cumulus. Lets the other ghoulette hold her, support her. She tucks her head under Cumulus’ chin, her own nearly dipping into the water. She sighs, bodily. The stress of the day wicking away the longer she sits.

Planning a tour is hard. Harder without Aether around to help. It’s all logistics and phone calls and numbers and a calendar so tight Cirrus is sure one tiny misstep will throw the whole thing off.

The work never ends, and Copia who is usually exuberantly helpful is distant. Tired. Worried about something. Cirrus has found him more often than not in his room playing that ancient video game system looking at the corners of his room like he’s seen a ghost.

He’s crankier than she remembers. More sarcastic. She doesn’t mind that so much except that it’s out of character. She knows the tension is from the upcoming tour. Knows things are at stake. Everyone can feel it. And once they’re on the road it will ease. Being on the road is easy, fun. Exhausting but overall they are all their best selves when they have a show to look forward to.

These last couple weeks before they set out will be torture–already have been. Cirrus has a million things she should be doing right now that aren’t lounging in the bath with Cumulus.

But she really can’t be fucked to get up and do any of them. And, even if she wanted to, Cumulus would never let her.

Cirrus kicks up a purr as she relaxes, eyes slipping closed as Cumulus dances her fingers over Cirrus’ thigh, drawing patterns on smooth skin. Cumulus dips her head to kiss Cirrus’ hair.

“Feel better?”

Cirrus’ answer is a low hum, confirmation. “Can I make you feel even better?”

Cirrus nods. Cumulus’ hand slips a little higher and Cirrus lets her legs fall open further. Knees pressed to the sides of the oversized tub. She loves this tub. Loves every tub in the Abbey honestly. Nearly big enough to swim in. Built for holding multiple ghouls at a time. The depth of it keeping her and Cumulus fully submerged. Cirrus turns her head, braces her temple against Cumulus’ shoulder.

She kisses the damp flesh. Tastes roses, smells sun dried linen. Home.

Cumulus slides her hand higher. Pets a finger over Cirrus’ slit, gentle but not teasing.

“I learned a new trick.” She hums into Cirrus’ hair.

“Show me.” Cirrus says, angling her head up just enough to kiss Cumulus’ neck now, up over the soft line of her jaw. .

She loves it best like this. No urgency. Allowed to just melt into Cumulus, to stay there for hours. To be touched, to touch, with no expectation. Maybe she’ll cum, maybe she won’t. It doesn’t matter.

She feels the disturbance in the water before the bubbles touch her. Cumulus summoning air beneath the surface. Bubbles dancing over her inner thighs, the pace where her clit juts out just so from her lips.

“Fun.”

“Isn’t it? Gentler than fingers. Good to get you warmed up.”

Cirrus needs this. The warm up. Gentle fingers, bubbles, kitten licks. Time to let her body catch up to her brain. Time and indulgence and decadence. Another soft jet of air hits her, a little more this time, enough to make her twitch, to make her gasp.

“Do you like it?” Cumulus asks.

Cirrus nods, she lifts her head, and turns to kiss Cumulus. It’s thorough. Filled with the same lack of urgency as everything else. Just the desire to kiss. To taste. To feel each other. Cumulus replaces the jet of air with her fingers. The pads of her index and middle fingers dragging over the hood of Cirrus’ clit, spreading her a little, delving into her slick folds as they kiss. Slow and sloppy and decadent, and Cirrus can’t think of a single reason she will ever need to leave this bath.

Cumulus pulls away, she pulls her hand from Cirrus’ belly to guide her head back down, to press it to the slope of her breast. Cirrus’ jaw and cheek dipping into the water as Cumulus cards those wet fingers under the dark curtain of Cirrus’ hair to drag over her undercut. Freshly shaved and soft. Motions meant to soothe, fingers moving in time with the ones stroking through her folds.

Cirrus lets her eyes drift closed again. She lets a haze of comfort and pleasure drape over her.

“Don’t stop,” Cirrus mumbles, lips moving over Cumulus’ ever-steady pulse.

“Never.”

59 notes · View notes

humblequestvinyl · 1 year

Text

mountain with a view

MOUNTAIN WITH A VIEW, EDDIE DIAZ X FEM!READER

APART OF THE ‘ROLLING UP THE WELCOME MAT’ SERIES

SUMMARY: after one too many late nights, y/n l/n is sitting at their kitchen table, debating if her and her husband's marriage is even worth fighting for.

inspired by mountain with a view, by kelsea ballerini

previous chapter, | next chapter,

lowercase is intentional! wc: 1.9k

warning: angst!!!!! swearing, marriage problems, trust issues (?) if there’s anything i missed let me know!

a/n: AHHH NEW SERIES W EDDIE <33! i'm so excited for this!! also my deepest apologies in advance bc i am so mean to eddie in this LMFAOO hope u guys enjoy <333

“COUNTRY STAR Y/N L/N HAS FILED FOR DIVORCE FROM HER HUSBAND, EDDIE DIAZ AFTER FIVE YEARS OF MARRIAGE.”

the voice of a news reporter flooded through the tv as photos of the former couple were placed on the screen.

“L/N on instagram asked her fans on instagram to be mindful, and that both parties are fragile, and to respect their privacy.”the reporter went on, before a photo flashed of the h/c girl, “L/N is currently gearing up for her fifth album release; SUBJECT TO CHANGE this september.”

the video came to a stop, and she saw her best friend standing in front of her, with a horrified look on his face, “you and eddie are getting a divorce?” her heart hurt. this wasn’t how she wanted him to find out.

“it was bound to happen buck.”y/n’s voice was strained due to all of the crying she had done for the past two months, with a heavy feeling in her chest, “you and i both saw this coming.”

“i didn’t.” evan buckley’s voice dropped, and y/n slipped the shades to the top of her head, revealing her bloodshot eyes, “never once did i see this coming.”

“this wasn’t how we wanted you to find out.”her voice cracked, playing with the strings of her hoodie, “eddie said he was going to call you about it.” buck’s eyes watched as the girl avoided his eyes, refusing to make contact with them, knowing if she did she would probably burst into tears.

“why did you file for divorce?”

(TWO MONTHS BEFORE.)

STARING OUT THE BIG OPEN WINDOWS OF THEIR PENTHOUSE,

y/n could see the sun rising as she finished making breakfast for her and her stepson, making sure to leave some for her husband in case he came home in time.

eddie diaz and y/n l/n had first met when she was 21, and he was 23, one kick-starting on their music career, while one had just become a single parent to a son from a former marriage. somehow, they still made it work. getting married at 23 and 25, going from texas, to los angeles, becoming a mother figure to his son chris, and making sure she could still go on tour.

they thought they had it all figured out, with everything working and a fixed schedule.

until they didn't.

so here she sat, waiting for her husband to come home while her stepson got ready for school, knowing she’d have to force a smile, make everything seem like it was okay, and be able to play the part of the perfect wife, perfect wife. it wasn’t until she smelt smoke that y/n realized the toast was burnt to absolute crisp, and was ruined, meaning she’d have to make more.

“shit.”she muttered, rushing to make more, as she saw chris come down the hallway, and she forced a smile, brushing her h/c hair out of her face, making sure to tie it back.

“did you burn the toast again?”chris asked with a smile, and y/n forced a laugh, nodding before she brought over a plate with pancakes and eggs on them. “unfortunately, i did. i’m making more right now.”

a knock on the front door came, before it opened, revealing carla, and she had a wide smile spread across her face as she came in, and y/n waved as the toast popped up, less burnt than before. quickly placing it on a plate, and putting it on the table, making it so chris would be able to get to school on time.

“you go get ready for the day, i’ll make sure chris eats.”carla told the 28 year old, giving her a soft smile, and y/n nodded, before rushing off towards her room, and grabbing the clothing she needed for that day.

walking into the bathroom after she had changed, her eyes glanced down, seeing a wedding band that wasn’t hers sitting on the counter.

it was her husband’s.

she felt anger run through her, with a million thoughts racing through her mind. why would he take it off? or why did he leave it at home? did he forget it? did he take it off intentionally before he left for work?

why did he take it off?

“bye n/n!’chris yelled, breaking the girl out of her thoughts, and she gripped the counter, trying to keep her anger under check. “have a good day at school chris!”she yelled back, and the front door slammed, as she took a deep breath in.

it was a few moments before she walked back out towards the kitchen, noticing everything was put away, except for the burnt toast. opening up her refrigerator, y/n grabbed the butter out, and brought it over towards the kitchen table, before spreading the butter against the toast, and taking a bite out of it.

her eyes scanned back over the mountains as the clock struck 7:30 am, realizing her husband was over three hours late coming home, and had missed seeing his son in the morning for the second time that week.

it killed her. it absolutely killed her that he wasn’t coming home, and she was the one who was carrying all of that weight on her shoulders, trying to keep this marriage going when it was all one sided. she felt like a glass plate, and was breaking into a million pieces.

hearing boots come towards her, her head snapped towards it, seeing her husband eddie diaz walking towards her, before placing a kiss on the top of her head, with no words spoken between the two. the tension in the air made her uncomfortable. it was so thick that you could almost cut it through it with a knife.

it was a while before any words were spoken between the two, and when they were, they were laced with anger and confusion.

“you left your ring at home.”y/n spoke up, taking another bite of the burnt toast, afraid to see the look her husband was giving her, “and you were late coming home again.”

“i forgot it when i left.”eddie admitted, glancing over at his wife for a moment, before looking back at his plate of food, “and i was finishing up something with buck.”

wrong. he wasn’t with buck, because buck had texted y/n back at five, saying he hadn’t seen eddie since he left his shift at 4am.

“what? you don’t believe me?”eddie questioned, as y/n got up to throw the toast away, keeping silent for a moment, debating on how to handle the situation, before she shook her head no.

“i don’t believe you.”y/n admitted, placing the plate in the sink, avoiding eye contact with him, and she could feel the anger radiating off of him, “because buck texted me at five that he hadn’t seen you since you left your shift at four.”

she saw eddie freeze, knowing he had gotten caught into a lie, and y/n had seen right through it. he wouldn’t be able to hide whatever he was away for.

“okay fine, i wasn’t with buck.”eddie admitted, causing y/n to lean up against the kitchen counter, facing her husband to read his body language.

“so, where were you?”

“i don’t understand why you need to know.”eddie shrugged, getting defensive, causing y/n to read all the red flag, “it doesn’t matter to you at all.”

“it does matter to me eddie.”y/n spoke softly, fearing of an argument breaking out, but it was enviable with the two. “i want to make sure you’re not sitting in the goddamn morgue.”

“well guess what, i’m not.”eddie spewed, catching y/n off guard, “i’m standing right in front of you, trying to eat breakfast while you’re bothering me.”

“because i want for you to realize that i’m worried about you.”she told him, and she could tell he was dismissive, “i wait up for you every night, only for you to not come home until chris is about to leave for school.”

“and i never asked you to do that.”he stabbed his eggs with his fork, and y/n tensed up, “that’s your own doing for staying up and waiting.” y/n gave him a look as she took his words like gut punches, making her absolutely sick, “maybe you should just stop staying up and waiting.”

“maybe you should come home on time.”y/n shot back, folding her arms as she watched him closely, “to the family you have. to your son.”

“i do!”eddie defended, and y/n shook her head, “no you don’t! for the past four months you’ve been late coming home after every single shift eddie!”

“you’re forgetting your ring, you’re not coming home on time and you’re distant.”y/n pointed out as eddie brushed past her to put his plate in the sink, and walked towards their shared bathroom, slipping his wedding band on, “there! are you happy now?”

“no i’m not!”y/n exclaimed as eddie started to change, and she followed him, “we’ve been in and out of therapy for the past three years and absolutely nothing has changed eddie. i’m so tired of it.”

“i mentally cannot handle another year of us being just fine.”y/n whispered, causing eddie to snap his head towards her, with a shocked look spread across his face, “what are you trying to say?”

“i want a divorce.”y/n spoke aloud, making all of her feelings real, and she saw eddie’s face fall.

“you want a divorce? all because i’m taking extra shifts to try and provide for our family? to pay for the mortgage for the house you insisted we had to have.”he shot back, and y/n felt her anger bubble over, causing her to snap, “you don’t even pay for the house! i do! it’s under my name and everything! not yours!”

“i’m the one who pays for the cleaners, the groceries, the electric!”she yelled, as the two stood in their bedroom, one that hadn’t felt like theirs in months. “i feel like i’m the only one who’s doing all the work all the time because you’re never home!”

“you loved me way more at 23 than you do now eddie, and that's a fact.”she told him as she brushed past him to pack a bag, “i cannot keep doing this anymore.”

“you’re just like your parents. giving up way too easy on our marriage.” eddie swore, and y/n felt something snap inside of her. “first off, don’t you dare talk about my parents! secondly, i have tried for months to get through to you.”

“you’re the one who never came to nashville when i called you begging to hop on that flight, one i paid for by the way!”y/n exclaimed, zipping up the bag she had packed, “i knew you had the week off and didn’t have chris at all and you still refused to come.”

“i’m done trying eddie.”she finished, before storming past him and walking towards the front door of their penthouse.

“so you’re done?”he questioned as she grabbed her car keys, and opened up the front door, staring right back at him with tears in her e/c eyes.

“this is when it’s over for me.”

#eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz fluff #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz angst #eddie x reader #911 spoilers #911 on fox #buckley diaz family #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #rolling up the welcome mat

313 notes · View notes

americas1suiteheart · 6 months

Text

Better Off As Lovers

Patrick Stump x Reader

This was also posted on Ao3 if you prefer that platform, this whole text is the link. :)

[Summary; You and Patrick have been friends since middle school and have been going to tours with him and the band to watch their shows. At one of the shows, Patrick decides to play one unreleased song he just so happened to write for you to confess his feelings. (I dunno this is kinda the summary but I'm also dumb as shit and can't make a correct summary).

[Notes; I felt like writing a little something for him as I've been wanting to for a while now, and here it is! And honestly, guys, if I end up wring more Patrick x Reader fics they're all most likely to be song fics or fics based off of some of the music videos, sorry but man I'm a sucker for song fics.

[Warnings; Some cursing and some bickering back and forth between Pete and Y/n over stupid stuff. Really really cheesy and unrealistic ig. Also Y/n is kind of really fucking stupid as well, but for the sake of the fic.

[Word Count: 4,068 (This is literally the longest fic I've ever written oh my gods.)

<Playing- Bang The Doldrums by Fall Out Boy>

1:32 ────ㅇ────── 3:31

God, why are these tour bus seats so uncomfortable? You'd figure that because they were meant for people to sleep in, they would be more comfortable.

You get up and stretch, heading to the cupboard where the band keeps all of the snacks to look for your hidden stash in the back.

"Where the hell are they?" You say, muttering to yourself.

You continue to scrounge through the cabinet to try and find your two twin packs of Twinkies, only to give up and walk to where the boys were hanging out.

"Hey, did any of you guys eat my Twinkies?" You call out as you walk to where you can hear the boys talking; a curtain was the only thing acting as a door for the area.

Just as you open the curtain to the "room" (aka the six loft beds that were separated by just a curtain), you see Pete and Joe munching on your beloved creme-filled cakes.

"Are you kidding me?" You say, your mouth agape and eyebrows raised.

"I told you guys so."

The two boys look at each other and then at you, a twinge of fear apparent on their faces, the creme filling on the corners of their mouths, and the wrappers thrown onto the floor.

"You two so totally owe me two boxes of Twinkies, I mean it! One box from each of you two! How did you find them?! I hid them!" You flail your arms about towards the boys, the guilt becoming more apparent on Joe's face.

Pete and Joe shuffle in their spots, licking their fingers and corners of their mouths to get the creme off from their messy way of eating.

"Honestly, you're kinda bad at hiding stuff; it wasn't that hard to find them," Pete says with a shrug.

Patrick kicks his shin from where he was sitting from across, earning a hiss of pain and a dirty look from Peter.

"I'm gonna eat all of your fucking Blow-Pops." You say, leaving the sleeping area and heading back to the snack cupboard. You can hear Pete's shouts, telling you not to touch them.

Opening the cupboard, you immediately spot a party-size pack of Blow-Pops with a large piece of duct tape stuck on to the bag, big bold letters drawn with a black Sharpie reading 'PETE'S LOLLIPOPS!!! DON'T TOUCH!!!'

Pete really liked those things, and he would individually count them to keep track of how many he had, so that way, if someone decided to take one or two of them, he would know. Which is kind of insane of him now that you think about it. Actually, scratch that, Pete was insane—PERIOD!

You grab the bag and grab three handfuls of lollipops, shoving them into your hoodie pockets and putting the bag back into the cupboard.

"Give them back, Y/n!" Pete says, grabbing your shoulders just enough to keep you from moving.

"Hell no! Buy me back my Twinkies and then I might just give you all of them back." You say putting one hand into your pocket to take out a Blow-Pop.

"Those Twinkies were practically begging to be eaten by someone, man; come on, those were in there for days without being touched."

You unwrap the lollipop, pulling your hand up to pop it into your mouth, Pete's mouth falling agape as you do so.

"Was that one of the apple ones..."

You nod your head, taking it out of your mouth. "And I've still got more. And as I said, I'm not giving them back until you buy me back, my Twinkies,"

"God, fine! But promise not to eat anymore until we get to a gas station! Especially not the Apple ones!"

"Will do," You pop the Blow-Pop back into your mouth as he lets go of your shoulders, looking defeated as he walks back to the room all of the others were still in.

You smile to yourself, sitting back into the seat you were originally in.

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

You and the boys get out of the bus, heading into the gas station as the drivers fuel up. You immediately head for the drink section, looking for a can of Arizona tea.

What the hell man, where are they?

You continue to look for another minute or so until you finally give up, heading to the soda section where Patrick was.

You had somewhat of a crush on Patrick. You always have to be honest.

You went to high school with Patrick, so you've known him since sophomore year. You had a lot of classes with him too and often hung out with each other both inside and outside of school, making you closer to Patrick than you were to any of the other kids and considering him your best friend.

When he first started playing with Joe and Pete and officially being in a band with them, you started going over to practices with him, getting to know the two better, and when Andy joined the band, it was the same with him.

Now that you think about it, you have no clue how liking him could have been avoided. He's sweet and smart—a little awkward at times too, but nonetheless an incredible guy.

I mean, the whole reason why you started looking into learning some music technology was so that you could be with him more often. A lot of what you started doing was to get to hang out with him more often.

"Boo!" You say, grabbing Patrick's arm gently.

"N/n, there you are," Patrick says, turning around to look at you, holding out two cans of Arizona tea to you.

"What the hell, I just spent like, two minutes looking for these; where the heck did you find them?" You chuckle, taking one of the cans.

"I'll never tell.." Patrick chuckles, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Well, thank you Patrick. I appreciate your kind gesture very much."

Andy and Joe run by you and Patrick, with Pete doing the same shortly afterwards. Some screams and laughs came with that as well. You could see the cashier trying their best to make it through all the noise, with a look on their face that could only be explained as exhaustion and frustration, clearly not wanting to be at work.

You look at Patrick and sigh, knowing that you'll have to yell at the three once again as if they were children, regardless of the fact they were all older than you and Patrick.

You walk to the snack aisle, where you can see Joe and Andy crouching down, assumingly hiding from Pete for whatever reason, and walk up behind them. Andy had a bag of skittles in his hand and a sprite in the other, while Joe carried a twin pack of Twinkies—just as you asked him for—and a bag of chips and diet coke in his arms.

"What are we hiding from?" You whisper to the two, who jump slightly and look back in response.

"Pete," Andy replies quietly.

"Well, we've gotta go; you guys will have to finish this up some other time, preferably when we aren't in a public place."

You hear footsteps from behind and stand up, turning around to see Pete walking slowly, putting a finger up to his lips as to say "don't say anything," and you shake your head and mouth, "No."

"Come on guys, go check out we need to get back on the road," you say, turning back to Andy and Joe.

Pete groans and fully stands up, Andy and Joe doing the same.

"God, you're such a grump all the time, no fun," Pete says, walking up to the cashier.

Patrick comes up from behind you, putting his hand on your back. "Is everyone ready to go?"

You blush from the contact, nodding your head in response, and walk to the register where the boys were checking out.

"No, I paid the last time. It's Andy's turn to pay now, remember?" Pete argues. The cashier looked like he was about to snap; if it was a cartoon, steam would probably be coming out of his ears right now.

"I'll pay, fine dude, just chill out," Andy says, pulling out his wallet and handing the cashier his credit card.

The cashier puts their items into a plastic bag, and Andy grabs it and leaves with the other two.

You and Patrick walk to the register, putting your items down on the counter.

"Sorry about them by the way, they get rowdy sometimes," Patrick says, attempting to break the awkwardness by making small talk, leading it to get worse.

"Your total is $9.34," the cashier says with a deadpan look on his face.

The two of you pull out your cards and look at each other. "Let me pay for it, please; you had paid the last time, and it was almost 20 dollars," Patrick says with puppy eyes.

God, this guy always knows how to get his way with that look.

"Alright then, Pat. Thank you," You thank him, putting your card away.

Patrick pays and the cashier puts our stuff into a plastic bag, handing it to him, with him thanking the guy and telling him to have a good day.

You two walk back into the bus, and Patrick places the bag on the couch in the lounge.

"Do you want both of these in the mini fridge?" Patrick asks, taking one of the tea cans out of the bag.

"I'll have one now and save the other for later, if you can put one in though, that'd be awesome."

Patrick nods and puts one can and one of his sodas in the mini fridge plugged in next to the counter where the broken toaster sat. Now that you think about it, how long has that thing been broken? Why haven't any of us bothered to replace it?

You open one of the cans, walking into the bunk area, and sit on your bunk at the top, letting your feet dangle above the middle bunk.

"Y/n, here you go," Joe says, handing me two twin packs of Twinkies.

"Thanks, Joe. Here are your Blow-Pops back dickhead," you say, taking the wrapped cakes and taking all of the blow pops out of your pocket, handing them to Pete, who was sitting next to Joe.

"Jesus, dude, how many of my fucking Blow-Pops did you take?" Pete exclaims.

"A couple handfuls, I think," you reply, taking a drink of your tea.

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

"Alright guys, we've got a couple more songs to play; are you ready?" Pete shouts into his mic, earning cheers from throughout the crowd.

The boys continue playing a couple more songs.

The band had been playing for an hour and a half now, playing some of their newer songs from the newest album they were working on, those of which you had the pleasure of getting to listen to before they played them for others, as well as songs from Take This To Your Grave and From Under The Cork Tree. The crowd was singing the lyrics along with the band, enjoying all of it.

"This is the last song for tonight and is another one from the album that we're currently working on; this one me and Patrick worked on together is called Bang The Doldrums!" Pete says, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead.

Patrick adjusts the strap of his guitar slightly, walking up to the mic. Him and Joe begin to play together, with the rest of the band joining in.

You listen to it for a bit, you hadn't recognised the name but you figured that they had probably changed it.

'I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm when you passed out,'

What the hell? I haven't heard this one yet.

'I couldn't bring myself to call, except to call it quits,'

This is great; why hadn't they shown me this one? They all sound amazing.

Patrick looks at me as he sings the next verse; his face tinted a slight red, maybe from how out of breath he was getting? God, he always looked so pretty like that.

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around,'

You listen to the lyrics; why did he look at me like that in that exact verse? Maybe I'm just going crazy.

'Racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow-checkered cars,'

You continued to listen, enjoying the sound of the way they were playing.

Then once again, Patrick looks at you, looking less nervous and giving a slight smile as he sings the same verse.

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around,'

You can feel your face rapidly becoming warm, oh?

You think for a bit, your mouth slightly agape as you stand still. You just hope what you think is happening and what he's implying is actually what it is. No, no way. You guys have just been friends since high school; there's no way.

'..in the back of yellow-checkered cars. You're wrong, are we all wrong?

'Best friends, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around, ex-friends till the end, better off as lovers!'

The song ends, and the band thanks the crowd before exiting the stage, allowing the stage technicians to begin striking and taking everything down.

You were still standing there as the crowd began to clear out. Shit, you should get to the boys. What do I do about how Patrick looked at me? What if I ask him about it and I'm totally wrong? Oh god, I'm screwed.

You begin to head to the door that lead to the backstage lounge, a security guard protecting it from letting anyone else in. The guard immediately notices you and lets you in.

You nervously walk to the same area that the boys were in, knocking on the door and hearing Joe shout, "Come in!"

You open the door and smile at the boys, who were sitting down, drinking water and using towels to dry themselves off.

Where's Pat?

"Hey guys! You sounded awesome tonight, what was with that last song though? I'd never heard it before." You greet, sitting down on one of the metal pull-out chairs across from everyone else.

"Thanks! We were going to show you Bang The Doldrums when we were first working on it, but about halfway through writing it Patrick had said something about waiting to play it at a gig instead, something about surprising you, I dunno," Pete says in response, taking a chug of his water bottle.

"Where is Patrick, by the way?" You ask, rubbing your hands on your thighs.

"I think he went to go and look for you actually; try ringing him or go and look for him; he's somewhere around here," Andy says.

"Shit really? I'll go try to find him now. Do you guys need anything that could be outside of this room?"

"Can you get us some more water? I'm still totally parched man," Pete asks, taking the towel he had on his shoulder to wipe his face off.

You nod and get up, leaving the room and closing the door to go and look for Patrick.

How on earth do you know where every place in this theater would be? This place is huge..

After searching around, you finally decide to go outside to check if he was in the tour bus by chance, only to see him sitting on a curb next to the door hidden from all of the different fans still exiting the venue.

"Pat? What're you doin' out here without a sweater on? It's freezing right now." You speak out, walking to where he was and sitting to the left of him.

"Oh, I went to look for you, and when I came out here, it was way cooler than it was in the theater, so I stayed out here to cool off a little bit," Patrick says, straightening his back and looking at you.

You nod in a way of understanding.

"How'd you like the show, though?" Patrick says, after a few seconds of silence.

"It was great! You guys never have a boring gig; everyone was loving it. What was the last song about though? I had never heard you guys play it up until just now." You say excitedly.

Patrick shifts slightly, looking away from you as his face flushes, now looking slightly embarrassed.

"I mean, it's not that it sounded bad or anything; it sounded great, but, during that chorus, you kept looking at me and, well," You say awkwardly, avoiding saying what you actually wanted to say.

It stayed silent for a couple of seconds before Patrick broke it.

"Sorry about that, I don't know if it made you weirded out or anything." Patrick says quietly.

"'Weirded out?' Pat I don't think you can really do anything to weird me out honestly. I didn't mind the contact all that much really." You lightly laugh, quietly mumbling the last part.

After saying that, you notice Patrick relax a bit, as if he were relieved and a little bit of a weight was off his shoulders.

"Y/n, can I tell you something?" Patrick says looking down at his shoes, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, of course," You reply, anxious for his words, yet somehow excited at the same time, wondering what they might be.

"This is going to sound so stupid, gosh. Um," Patrick chuckles, trying to calm his nerves as he twiddles his thumbs together, then proceeding with what he was saying. "I uh, would you hate me if I said that I really liked you, and not in a friend sort of way but um,"

You stay quiet for a few seconds, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. You're glad that it was dim in the little corner you two were sitting at so that he wouldn't see how red your face was turning.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anythi-" Patrick apologises before getting cut off by you.

"Patrick, don't be sorry," You say.

Patrick furrows his brows, creasing his forehead slightly, turning to look at you with confusion clear on his face.

"You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited for you to say something along the lines of that," You continue, grinning widely.

Patrick's face softened, a small smile appearing onto his face.

"So, does that mean that, well, you know," He says, looking at some cracks in the concrete, kicking at a pebble aside.

"Yeah, it means exactly that, Trick," You put your hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention back.

He looks back at you, smiling, his eyes that you looked into so often seemed to shine brighter underneath the dim light that the venue had over the door in the back that barely showed any light where you two were sitting.

Patrick brings a hand to your face, caressing your cheek. You lean into his touch, doing the same as he did.

His eyes glance at your lips for a millisecond, quickly returning to your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Patrick asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod your head and lean in as he does, fluttering your eyes closed.

Patrick closes the gap between the both of you, his breath warm. The kiss is soft and sweet, not pressed too hard against each other but still with passion. Your lips seemed to fit perfectly with his, as if they were made specifically for the both of you and just the both of you alone.

You two pull away, pressing your foreheads together, panting ever so slightly from the lack of oxygen the both of you got during the kiss.

There was a peaceful silence for a few seconds, you swear that if it weren't for the muffled music and talking of the crowd outside Patrick would've been able to hear your heart beating out of your chest.

"God, if I knew this would be the outcome I would've told you years ago," Patrick chuckles lightly.

You smile, now realizing that this wasn't a dream and that your best friend since high school really confessed what you dreamed he would for years now. That you two really kissed and it wasn't some guy that you pretended to love in hopes of letting your feelings for Patrick disappear, and you were so glad that your mind and heart didn't let that happen.

"Oh my god finally, you two are idiots," Pete says, standing on the steps that lead to the door to get backstage.

You and Patrick quickly pull away from each other, your face burning up quickly.

"What the hell do you mean 'finally'?" You say, looking at Pete in confusion.

"We've been waiting for you two idiots to finally say something to each other for years now,"

You look at Pete for a few seconds, the cogs in your head turning.

"What?"

"I mean, you two were so painfully obvious, I'm honestly surprised that you two didn't figure it out way earlier man. Oh! Wait, wait, who confessed first? Was it you Y/n?"

Joe and Andy walk out and stand next to Pete.

"Did it finally happen? Who said it first, do you know?" Joe asks.

You and Patrick stare at each other, completely baffled.

"Was it Patrick?" Andy asks.

You flush even more, looking back at the three, then quickly looking away.

"It was totally Patrick, I called it! Come on pay up you two,"

Joe and Pete groan, taking out their wallets.

"Did you guys place bets on us?" Patrick asks, getting completely ignored by them.

"How much was it again, I don't remember it's been like 5 years now," Pete asks, looking at Andy.

"I think it was either ten or twenty,"

"Can we just say it was ten? I don't have a twenty or two tens on me and I don't want to go to the ATM tomorrow morning." Joe says, rummaging through his wallet.

"Sure that works," Pete and Joe both hand Andy one ten dollar bill each.

"What the hell, was Andy the only one that thought I would confess?" Patrick says. He seemed more upset at the fact that Pete and Joe put their bets on you confessing first rather than him.

"Come inside, it's freezing out here and we still haven't gotten our waters yet," Pete says, holding the door open for Andy and Joe.

You get up and gesture for Patrick to do the same, walking to the doorway.

"I fucking hate you and I hope you know that," You whisper to Pete jokingly, proceeding inside with Patrick and Pete behind you.

"Love you too N/n.." Pete says sarcastically, walking to the table where a load of plastic water bottles were, grabbing three of them.

"I hate him," You say, looking at Pete walk away and disappear into the room the three were in before.

"Me too sometimes but honestly if it weren't for him I probably would have never said anything," Patrick looks at you.

"What do you mean?"

"He's the one that organized the whole plan of playing Bang The Doldrums and not showing it to you until earlier during the show," Patrick answers, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Huh, he told me you said something about not showing me until now. You know, maybe I don't hate him as much anymore now."

Patrick laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to the table, grabbing two bottles for himself and you.

You smile to yourself, looking at your entangled hands then at him as he walked you to the room the boys were in.

You couldn't have been happier in all the years of your life up until now, and you wouldn't change or trade it for anything in the world. You were happy that you finally got to be like this with Patrick, the boy that was always so nice to everyone no matter what, the boy that knew exactly what to say if anyone was ever down, the boy that never left you no matter how difficult or bad it got.

This was the boy that you fell in love with since the moment you saw him, and he loved you back.

3:13 ─────────ㅇ─ 3:31

This took me forever to finish, and thank gods that I hyper fixated on FOB again (more than many times throughout the making of this fic,) because if not it wouldn't have ever gotten finished. I think I might end up writing more fics for Patrick, let me know if you would like for that to happen, send in some requests if you would like as well! Thank you for reading this seriously, regardless if your new or if you've been a follower since I started posting my fics on here, I appreciate you all for continuing to read my stuff because it makes me truly feel like I'm getting better and that people enjoy my stuff.

#patrick stump #patrick stumph #patrick stump x reader #patrick stump imagines #fob x reader #fall out boy #fall out boy x reader #fob #infinity on high #post hiatus fob #song fic #Y/n is kinda stupid #one of those oblivious towards one another types of fics i dunno man im a sucker for that shit #kinda cheesy but sweet ig #if you were looking for something more realistic then you wont ever get that with band fic i dont know what you expected man #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

75 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I'm so sorry it took me a little longer to update. I've got a gnarly head cold, but I'm in bed, and hoping to get the next part started after this one is posted. We’re getting to the meat of the story here now folks. There’s lots of fluffy cheesy fluff in this chapter, because it’s going to get real heavy later. Remember to let me know if you want to be tagged! 🖤

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. ++ chapter warning for consensual choking***

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 7 — Concrete Jungle

The days were passing slower than molasses. I found myself working overtime nearly every day to give me something to do outside of being at home, AA, or waiting for Noah to call. Being a hermit was much easier when the only person I had to look forward to seeing was my dog.

We were so close to the end of the first leg of the tour, Noah only having two shows left before he came home for nearly three months.

I dreamt of how wonderful those three months would be. We talked about it often. He swore he was coming over the day he got home from Witchita, and we weren’t leaving my house for a solid week. As unrealistic as that was, I still looked forward to it, and scheduled vacation to have that entire week off.

I was soaking in the tub, music pumping through my earbuds when the sound of a familiar ringtone sang through my ears. I smiled and tapped my phone screen, answering the call.

“Hey babe.” I sank back down into the water, inhaling the lavender scent of the epsom salts I had added.

“Hey sweetheart, how was your day?” His voice was relaxed, calm and cool.

“Not the worst. Sam wasn’t there today, so I actually didn’t hate it.”

He chuckled. “That guy’s a real dick, huh?”

I snorted. “The worst.”

“Well, if he ever makes another pass at you, just tell him your big scary boyfriend will kick his ass.”

My eyes were closed, just relaxing at the sound of his voice. “My boyfriend?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I thought I said I didn’t want anything official?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well that was before big meathead dudes were hitting on you.”

“Mm,” I pulled my arm out of the water to readjust my towel under my head. “I’ll tell him my big scary boyfriend said so.”

“What is that noise? Are you doing dishes?”

“In the tub.”

He didn’t respond, but I heard my phone’s twinkling ringtone, indicating I was getting a FaceTime call. I snickered and ignored it.

“No way. You gotta wait to see it in person.”

I heard him groan on the other end of the line. “Not fucking fair! You’re all wet and bubbly.”

“No bubbles today.”

“So I can see through the water?!”

The jingling came again and I ignored it, laughing loudly.

“Shouldn’t you be in soundcheck?”

“That ended hours ago. I’m relaxing in my room before the show.” His voice lowered. “I’m so lonely.”

“See if Nick’s around.” I said nonchalantly.

He hissed. “Babe, I’m in a mood here, help me out.”

I giggled. “Say please.”

“You know I don’t fucking ask.” His tone was deadly now. I shivered at the sound, spreading my thighs a little.

“Fine, but no video. Last time I nearly dropped my phone in the tub.”

“Deal.”

It was silent for a beat. “You okay?” I looked over to the phone to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.

“I’ll be better once I know you’re touching yourself.” My stomach dropped, a small moan leaving my mouth. His words were always so maddening, getting me hot so quickly.

I adjusted myself, spreading my thighs and letting my hands fall lazily over my slit, running my fingers gently over my sensitive spot.

“I am.”

“Good girl.” I pressed a little harder against my clit, rubbing slow circles around it. “Now, tell me how bad you miss my cock. How bad do you miss me baby.”

I moaned louder now, bringing my left hand up to punch my nipples. My undulations on my core increasing speed by the second.

“Ugh I miss you so much Noah.” I let my head fall back, eyes closed, picturing him in the tub with me.

“That’s right. You miss me touching you, baby?”

My voice was just breaths. “Yes.”

“You miss me eating that sweet pussy? Making you fucking scream?” His breaths were coming quicker now.

“Yes, Noah.” I answered louder, my hips buckling slightly at the thought.

“When I get home, you going to let me fucking destroy you, baby? Fuck you until you can’t even move?”

“Oh, fuck, yes...” I was so fucking close.

“I’m going to come just fucking thinking about it baby. Always thinking about you. That pretty, tight pussy. So fucking wet.” I could hear movement on the other end, I could tell he was as close as I was.

“Noah I need you so bad. Please come home. Please come home and fuck me. I need you so so bad.”

I heard him gasp hard on the other end. “Fuck!” His voice was sharp. He came.

I wasn’t far behind, letting out a small scream.

There was no words exchanged for at least five minutes while we both worked on getting our breathing under control.

After a moment, I heard him make a sound of disapproval. “I made a mess.”

This caused me to burst out laughing, him joining me only a second later.

“Fucking hell, Noah. I can’t wait to see you.”

He sighed heavy. “I know.” I could tell he was thinking, he only got completely silent when he was.

“Fuck it, come to Witchita! Catch a flight tomorrow and you can make the show. Then you can ride home with us.” I paused myself, now toweling off while the water drained from the tub.

“Excuse me?”

“You took the week off, right? I’ll book you a ticket right now.”

“Noah, you aren’t coming home until Thursday. I can’t leave Angel that long. And I can’t bring him on the bus.”

“Can Laura watch him for a few days?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Noah. I’d miss two days of group.”

He huffed, obviously defeated. “Alright. I’m sorry, it was a dumb idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. I just need more time to plan something like that.”

He had to go, ending the call quickly to shower and head back down to the venue. With a promise of calling me after, we hung up.

I called Laura that night, telling her about Noah’s promise to keep me in bed for a week.

“I’m so fucking jealous of you.” I laughed heartily.

“You’re married!”

“I know! But you’re literally dating a rockstar, Leena. I’m jealous.”

I chewed on my thumb nail.

“He called himself my boyfriend, Laura.”

“Isn’t he?”

I flopped back on my bed. “I don’t know. It feels like it.”

“Is that so bad?”

I contemplated this. “I’m scared, Laura.” My arm covered my eyes. “You know how long it’s been.”

“I know, LeeLee.” Her childhood nickname for me brought me some comfort. “But Noah isn’t him.”

“I know he isn’t.”

“So don’t hold yourself back. Have you even told Noah about him? About any of your trauma?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

I could feel hot tears brewing. “I’m scared to love him, Lo.” My childhood nickname for her.

“Babes, if you’re scared to, then I think you already do.”

Well, that’s a lot to unpack.

I sniffled hard, wiping my tears. “Ugh.” I sat up. “He also asked me to fly to Kansas tomorrow. Go to the show and ride back with them on the bus.”

“That’s cute as fuck. Are you going to? You know I’ll watch Angel.” I rolled my eyes.

“I know, but that’s insane! I would have to leave in like 12 hours.”

“…and?” I didn’t respond, which told her how I felt. “Leena, you don’t do spontaneous, fun stuff anymore. Did you already tell him no?”

“Thank you for that.” I sighed. “And yeah, told him I couldn’t miss group.”

“Abel can handle group for one week.” I stayed quiet. My mind was actually considering it. “You could surprise him!”

“What?”

“Yeah! Show up without telling him, and hold up a sign that says LH hearts NS or some shit! He’s sappy, he’d love it!”

“I can’t exactly get in without him knowing. The show is sold out.”

“Can’t you call Nick or Folio?”

With that, my brain kicked into place and the plan all formed in my head.

“Laura, I’ll drop Angel off in the morning.”

She laughed. “See, you love him!”

I hung up without another word.

I dug through my contacts and found Nick’s number. The show should have ended at least an hour ago, so I guessed they were still in the green room, shaking off the energy.

“C’mon, pick up Nick, pick up.”

“Hey!” The voice was loud, a ton of background noise. “Is everything okay? Do you need to talk to Noah!”

“No!” I yelled into the phone. “No, Nick I’m fine, but I need to talk to you privately.”

Having filled Nick in on my plan, he was on board from the moment I said the word ‘surprise’. He thought it was a great idea. He told me Noah had been homesick, and he was sure me coming would perk him right up.

I booked the earliest flight to Witchita that I could, leaving at 5AM. Laura cursed at me when she opened the door to bring Angel inside at 3AM. I dropped a quick kiss on his snout and promised to text Laura the moment I landed.

I then drove to LAX, running through the terminal to my gate, barely making it on the plane in time.

My adrenaline was on high, my backpack filled to the brim with clothes, random toiletries I may need, my wallet, and my phone charger. Everything else would just have to do without.

I understood now why Noah takes a panic day before traveling, because this was anxiety-inducing to do. I hated flying, so my heart raced the entire nearly eight hours.

Once I touched down, I grabbed an Uber to the hotel, the same one I knew they stayed at. I had four hours until the doors opened. I asked Nick for a regular GA ticket, no VIP. I needed to be the first one there so I was in the very front. He needed to see me.

Checked into my room, I slipped in a quick shower to wash the flight off of me, shivering when I got out. I stared down at my bag and realized what I had forgotten.

“Oh shit!”

I picked up my phone and dialed Nick. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, you here yet?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m in my room. Dude! I have nothing to make a sign out of!”

“Erm…what do you need?”

I ran my hands over my forehead feverishly.

“Poster board and a big sharpie?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Okay, give me 15, let me see what I can find. Text me your room number.”

He hung up and I quickly slipped my clothes on.

My phone rang, Noah’s face flashing.

“Hey you.” I even sounded suspicious, what the fuck? I’m so bad at this.

“Hey gorgeous, you alright?”

My blood ran cold. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh, just because you went to bed early last night and then said you were busy all day. I haven’t heard much from you.”

I laughed, relieved. “Oh yeah, just hung out with Laura all day. I just got home.”

“Ah, okay. I can’t talk long, I’ve got to get ready soon. But I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh, sure! I miss you.” I sat down on the bed.

“I miss you too, baby. Only a couple more days.”

I gritted my teeth. “Yup. Home stretch.”

We said our goodbyes and as I clicked ‘End’, there was a knock at the door.

Nick stood on the other side, 5-pack of poster boards and 3-pack of giant markers in his hands. He was sweating and absolutely out of breath.

“Hi…Leena…” he said in between breaths. “I ran to the corner store and got these. I hope they work.”

I took the items from him, taking note of the color of the posters.

“Neon green?” He nodded, putting his hands on his knees.

“Yeah. Trust me. He can see it way better on stage.”

I smiled brightly. “This is perfect, Nick. Thank you!”

He smiled back. “Anytime. Now look, we take a break between Death of Peace of Mind and Just Pretend where Noah talks to the crowd and gives his little monologue. It gives him time to get his voice ready for the song.”

I listened intently.

“That’s when you hold it up. He’ll have them turn on the lights so he can look at the crowd, and that’s when you hold it up.”

“But what if he sees me before then? Won’t it be obvious if I’m in the front?”

He shook his head. “Don’t let him bullshit you. When the lights are down, we can’t see shit up there.”

I was the second person in line, behind a red-headed girl who looked positively irritated. She was dressed in full Bad Omens merch, reminding me that I should have worn the shirt he gave me. Instead, I wore a black tank top, black jeans, and combat boots.

When the doors opened, I walked up to the rail in front of the stage, my sign tightly wrapped in my hands, and turned my back. I didn’t want to risk him seeing me from the back.

I pulled my phone out and shot him a quick message.

Me: Have a great show tonight, babe!

His response was quick.

Noah: Yep, last one till I’m home with you.

Noah: Call you after.

The show was so long, by the time the guys actually made it on stage, I was wiped. ERRA and Invent Animate had put on great sets, but I was here for Bad Omens.

When I heard the opening chords to Death of Peace of Mind, I felt my heart jump into my throat. I sunk low by the railing, listening to Noah’s enchanting voice sing the melody.

“You come and go in waves. Leaving me in your wake.”

I swallowed hard.

“You come and go in waves. Swallowing everything.”

The guitars and drums pounded out the last verse of the song, leaving the venue dark when the lights went out.

I began unraveling the sign, questioning my entire life. This was so corny. Is this how I really wanted to do this? Make such a strong confession to him? In a fucking sign? Like a prom-posal?!

My gut twisted. I couldn’t do this. But I had to. I came all this way. Nick nearly gave himself an asthma attack getting the supplies.

And there was my guy, sauntering around the stage, monologuing, right on schedule.

He would turn the lights up any second. It’s now or never.

I lifted the sign as high as my 5’1 frame would allow, closing my eyes to the rest of the world, internally cringing at how ridiculous this was.

“Woah, we got a sign over here!” His voice was boisterous. And he saw me, or my sign, rather, as I was hiding my face behind it.

I heard him walk toward where I stood.

“Let’s see what it says.” I peeked around the side for only a second, seeing he was bent over, squinting to read the sign.

“‘I love you Noah S’, awe, thank you, that’s so sweet.” He hadn’t walked away though. “What does that say underneath?”

He was quiet for a second. He was reading my name. ‘Leena R.’

The room fell silent, or for me it did. I heard nothing but the shuffling of the microphone being put on the stand. I lowered the sign to see what was happening just as he fixed his mic on the stage.

“Give me just a second, guys.”

The crowd screamed, and he jogged over to the area of the stage directly above where I stood. With no warning, he jumped down, causing the security guard to scramble over to him. He was unfazed, walking straight up to the railing in front of me.

His eyes were wide, a giant grin nearly breaking his cheekbones.

I was sheepishly smiling back, trying hard to maintain my composure.

“You love me?” I almost couldn’t hear him over the crowd. I just nodded wildly, moisture prickling behind my eyes.

Before anything else could happen, he reached up and hooked my neck, pulling me toward the railing and crashing his lips on mine.

All I felt was vibrations, likely from the crowd exploding. His lips tasted like mint and sweat, his gloved hand rough against the back of my neck.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to mine for a second.

“I fucking love you, Leena.”

I was still shaking, my hands tucked firmly in my jean pockets while the security guard walked me to the green room as instructed by Noah.

I could hear the concert continue, only two songs left. Noah had jumped back onstage and continued as if nothing had happened, able to breeze right past it like the professional he is.

“Okay, you can wait in here. They’ll be back here once they finish up.” I smiled at the security guard and walked past him into the room.

“Hey,” I turned to look at him. “that was a ballsy move out there. Good for you.”

I blushed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah? It felt kind of insane.”

He laughed. “It was fucking psychotic.” This wasn’t helping. “But to be honest, I never see shit like that happen. It was cool as fuck.”

He left before I could say anything else.

It wasn’t long before Folio burst through the door, obviously still hyper from the performance. Jolly and Nick followed, already chatting.

“I swear to you my rig was out of tune, dude! It kept giving me sour notes during Limits, and then Dethrone was a fucking mess.” Nick’s eyes scanned the room and found me sitting on the couch, waiting patiently. “Leena!”

I jumped up. “Hey!”

“Perfect fucking execution dude! Exactly how I pictured it.”

“Yeah? How embarrassing was it? Be honest.”

Jolly laughed, pulling his long hair back into a low ponytail. “Oh, it was adorable. I loved it.”

“It was fucking cringe, dude!” Folio’s voice called from the table that had snacks on it. He looked over, open water bottle in his hand. “It was rad as fuck!”

I relaxed my shoulders.

Noah came skipping into the room after a moment, pulling the gloves off of his hands.

“Hey!” He bound up to me, his arms coming to grab me by the hips, pulling me down to another kiss.

“I thought you couldn’t make it!”

I smirked. “I changed my mind.”

“So you didn’t spend the entire day with Laura, I gather?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I spent the day traveling.”

He had disbelief on his face. “How did you pull it off?”

“Called Nick. Booked a flight. Easy stuff.”

“I risked my life for that sign, by the way!” Nick hollered from the couch.

“Is that why you ran out of the room earlier?”

Nick just nodded in response. “I came through. Pulled the wool over your eyes.”

Noah lifted his brows at me, his expression was unreadable.

“You both are insufferable, you know that?”

I had brought my things to Noah’s room, not much need for my own. My legs were feeling heavy, so the walk off the elevator and down the hallway with him was my time to find the strength. Noah was a very…active…individual, and I assumed that he was going to be looking for some time together.

When we entered the room, he walked past me, immediately pulling his shirt off and sitting in the bed. Rather than looking at me with his usual hunger, his eyes looked exhausted when they met mine.

It occurred to me, Noah had been on tour for a couple of months. He was playing shows nearly every night while traveling, sometimes without even time to sleep in a hotel room. He needed rest.

“Noah?” He only tipped his chin up in response. “I think I know what you need.”

He raised his brow, the playful expression shadowing his face. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

“A shower.” It took him a second to process, but once he did, his shoulders relaxed forward and he huffed out an amused sigh.

“Yep, you’re right about that.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

I stepped over to him, putting my arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close. He pressed the side of his face into my chest in a comforting gesture, wrapping his own arms around my waist.

“Then, you need some sleep. Nick said we leave at 6AM.”

I could only feel him nod. I pulled back so he could look up at me.

“Why don’t we pick up on the fun stuff when we get home? And just work on recovering for now?”

I felt his body go slack.

“Oh thank God.” I shook with laughter. “I’m so fucking tired, Leena. I didn’t want to disappoint you, though.”

“You want to know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m fucking dead, dude. I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up.”

He laughed into my chest, caging me in just a little tighter.

“Didn’t you sleep on the plane?”

“No, I uh…I’m not a great flyer.”

“Me neither, why do you think we still take a tour bus?” His voice was muffled by my shirt and he sighed heavily.

“You, mister, go get in a hot shower. Scrub off all that sweat. I will order us some food, and get a movie on.”

He groaned approvingly. “Today is the best day ever.”

He sounded small, which tugged on my heart. “I’m glad I came.”

“Me too.”

After a solid five hours of sleep, a morning shower (that may have included some touching), and a third cup of coffee, Noah and I were standing at the hotel check-in desk turning in his room key, and my completely useless one as well. We had fallen asleep not twenty-minutes into the horror movie I had put on after devouring a pizza. We fell asleep spooning, but he eventually rolled onto his back, and I woke up half-laying on him, sweat covering both of us.

Noah was always so chipper in the mornings, which was painful for me, as I was a creature of the night. Even after all of the caffeine, I was still wearing sweatpants, one of Noah's sweatshirts, no bra, flip-flops, and my sunglasses. My hair was hanging loose over my shoulders, not brushed out after the shower. I looked absolutely dreadful.

Still, he held my hand as we walked out to the bus, and helped my backpack off of me and let me on first. The bus was about what I expected, large, loungers lining both sides, a table near a somewhat kitchenette with a refrigerator and table. In the 'hallway' area were the bunks, a bathroom that was smaller than the one on the airplane, and in the very back was a couch with two large televisions, a couple of various gaming consoles, and some cabinets that Noah showed me were filled with snacks.

I had set myself up on one of the lounge couches while the rest of the guys loaded onto the bus. I was waving to each of them lazily as they stepped on, dropping things off in their respective bunks. Folio laid on the lounger across from me, immediately letting his eyes fall closed. I felt my own lids get heavy.

"Are we ready? Ron says we aren't stopping for at least six hours." Jolly called from the front of the bus. He received several yelps of approval in the back from Noah and Nick, who were putting their things away in the back cabinets. No response from the now comatose Folio, and just a thumbs up from me.

As the bus began to move, the vibrations had me lulled, pulling me closer to falling back asleep as my eyes watched the sun slowly rising from the window. An arm reached over me, pulling a shade closed and blocking the light, which was lovely.

I heard Noah's voice above me, so I angled my head to look up. "Going to take a nap, love?" The word made me turn my lips up tiredly.

"Mm, it's not even a nap. It's just going back to bed."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You want to lay in my bunk? The pillows smell like me." He winked, making me roll my eyes playfully.

"I'm too claustrophobic for those things." I sunk down into the cushions. "Besides, I'm so comfy."

He walked to the back, returning only a moment later with a large green blanket that was plush and warm, flinging it over me.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Get some sleep. I'm going to go kick the shit out of Nick at Warzone."

"Fuck you, dude! I'm going to wipe the fucking floor with you." Nick's voice carried through the bus.

Noah was only gone for a moment before my eyes slipped closed and the movement from the bus had me in a nice, deep slumber.

The drive back home was long. Longer than I had exactly anticipated. It was now about 11PM, and Noah and I were snuggled on the couch in the back, watching through The Conjuring 2, under the same blanket I had napped under earlier. I was going to sleep back here tonight, and I had this pulling feeling that Noah was too.

I was laying sideways, pressed against his side and chest as he laid flat, legs crossed and spread long on the couch. He had one arm wrapped around me, and the other folded under his head.

I wasn't so much watching the movie, having seen it many times, but I was mostly studying him. My fingers traced the tattoos on his shirtless chest, taking note of freckles that were barely visible between the lines of ink.

After a while, I glanced up at him, seeing his eyes beginning to flutter closed. I reached my face up, and pressed a kiss to his jaw, catching his attention. His arm tightened around me, and he breathed heavy.

"I'm fighting for my life to stay awake here." His voice was deep and thick, sleepy.

I smiled. "Why not go to bed, babe? This couch is a little small for two of us."

"Cause you're wide awake, and I'm not going to leave you alone."

"I'm a big girl, Noah. I can put on something to watch and lay here until I get drowsy"

He just shook his head and cleared his throat. "I'll be okay."

I shrugged and began sitting up, needing to stretch. He followed suit.

His eyes watched me as I lifted my arms over my head, my crop top pulling and exposing the underside of my breasts. I saw his tongue slide over his bottom lip.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

He smirked, reaching out to press his palm into my side, making me shiver. His hands were freezing.

"Actually..." He pulled, nearly causing me to topple into his lap.

I let out a squeal, clapping a hand over my mouth. Jolly and Nick were passed out, their snores carrying through the bus. Folio was in his bunk, watching something on his tablet with headphones in. Noah had closed the door to the back of the bus when we first came back here, but I didn't want to be a nuisance, and wake everyone.

He quietly laughed, pulling my legs on either side of him, bringing my face down to his with a hand in my hair.

Our mouths connected softly, his hands coming to rest on my sides.

I pulled back slightly, my eyes glancing over at the door.

"It's locked."

I raised my brows at him, hands resting on his shoulders. "Yeah? Had ideas of how this night was going to go?"

I tried to keep my face even, but I was struggling not to crack a smile.

"I'm not as tired tonight." His voice was low, serious.

He pressed his lips to mine again, steady but not eager. We had time. We were only halfway back to LA, most everyone was asleep, and, most importantly, we were in love.

This moment together just felt different. There was a barrier that had been up, completely fallen now, leaving us bare to each other and vulnerable.

Slowly, he lifted my shirt over my head, drinking in the sight in front of him. His mouth came down on my chest, teeth leaving soft bites as he worked toward my left nipple slowly, painfully. His lips locked onto my nipple, and my head fell back. His hands pulled my hips down, only the fabrics of our sweats between us. The hard bulge ground against my core, making me moan softly.

We stayed this way for a long time, writhing together, his mouth moving from my nipples to my neck, to my mouth. I tugged on his shirt, pulling it over his head. For a second, I stood off of him, and intentionally pulled my pants down as slowly as possible, causing him to groan.

Once I had kicked them off, I reached down and grabbed onto his, only pulling them down enough to let his erection free. I then regained my spot straddling him, sliding myself over him, our mouths hot on each other. When I felt the head of his cock bump my entrance, we both froze for a second. His eyes latched onto me.

We both stared for longer than a moment, trying to decide what we do here. I wasn't on birth control. I knew I was clean. I trusted him to tell me if he wasn't. As stupid as it was, it didn't bother me. Nothing bothered me here. Nothing.

I sunk down, letting him slide into me, and I watched as his mouth fell open, eyes wide. This wasn't just us having sex on the back of a tour bus where someone could hear or see. This was more. This was something else entirely.

I felt every inch of him, all the way to the hilt, and my eyes fluttered closed, my bottom lip caught in my teeth. I was adjusting to the size, having only felt it the one time before, months ago.

"Look at me." His voice was nothing more than a breath.

I opened my eyes, staring at him, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I couldn't say if it was from the slight pain of the penetration, or the sheer emotion I had for Noah.

His hands held me in place by my sides, keeping me from moving an inch.

"I love you, Leena."

A tear spilled down my face, and I sucked in a hard breath.

"I love you, Noah. So fucking much."

I felt his fingers release me ever so gently, and I bucked my hips, causing the most delicious friction that pulled a moan out of both of us. Again, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from giving us away, and began a slow rhythm of bouncing up and down, each thrust pushing me toward a finish line I so desperately wanted.

He leaned his head back against the cabinet, his breathing so heavy I thought his chest might burst.

"Jesus Christ, baby. Don't fucking stop." He was too loud, he would have the entire bus knowing what we were doing.

I reached my hand up to cover his mouth too, but he snatched my wrist in his hand, reaching up and grabbing the other from over my mouth. He held both wrists in one hand, and pinned them between us, not letting me free while his hips bucked, pressing him deeper and deeper each time I landed on top of him.

He leaned his head in to whisper in my ear. "Stay quiet baby, wouldn't want anyone to know."

Small squeaks escaped with nearly every thrust, my eyes beginning to roll back. I grit my teeth to keep the sound from escaping.

"That's it. Good job, baby." His eyes were half-masked when he spoke, one hand gripping my wrists in a deadly tight grasp, the other lifting my hips for leverage. "You're trying so hard to keep quiet. So good, princess."

His words were giving me a familiar tingling sensation in my belly, my climax coming closer the more he spoke.

"Look so fucking pretty when you ride my cock. Missed that tight pussy so much."

I let a small whine out and his body stilled instantly. My eyes snapped open, and he narrowed his eyes at me. The irises were black, his expression was serious.

"What did I say? You need to keep quiet."

My eyes widened, but my head nodded frantically. The lack of friction was becoming painful.

"I'm sorry."

He released my wrists, my hands falling lifelessly to my side. Both of his hands snaked up my chest, reaching my shoulders. His right hand reached up, wrapping his fingers gently around my throat and slowly adding pressure until I felt my windpipe compressing ever so slightly.

The sensation was sickeningly delicious and my legs naturally jerked in an attempt to gain sensation.

"You will do as I say, is that understood?" I nodded. He reached a hand around me and grabbed a fist full of skin from my ass, pulling me forward. His hand tightened on my throat.

"Now, ask nicely for me to fuck you."

I gasped, his hand loosening to let air through.

"Please, Noah. Please...fuck me."

His hand released my neck, coming down to grab my ass and began bucking up into me violently. I fell forward against him. His arms then wrapped around my chest as I felt the coil in my body pull tighter and tighter. I pulled back to look him in the eyes, his expression wild.

I leaned down and bit into his neck hard, causing a strangled sound to come from his throat as I felt him slow his thrusts. I used the opportunity to grind myself harder against him, the contact pushing me over the edge, my orgasm tearing out of me.

I rode down onto him hard, slowing with each thrust, until we were both panting against each other.

"Are you okay?" He breathed out after a moment, having calmed to nearly normal.

I only nodded in response.

"I've never done...that before." His voice was entirely different now, sounding nearly nervous.

"What?" I expected him to be referring to the choking. It wasn't my first time, but any other time had been pretty dissatisfying, to say the least.

"Having sex...without a condom."

I pulled back to look at him, my brows raised in disbelief.

"Really?"

He was chewing on his lip. "I trust you. I just..." He trailed off, his mind clearly racing. "I'm clean, I swear I am."

I only chuckled at this, rolling off of him and snatching my pants off of the floor. He pulled his up as well.

"I am, too. However," I slipped my shirt over my head. "I'm not on the pill, so we'll need to grab a Plan B when we get back to civilization."

His eyes widened. "I didn't even fucking think of that."

I stood up, stretching. "Luckily for you, I did."

We turned the movie off, as we had missed most of it already anyway. We sat facing each other, cross-legged on the couch, eating snacks out of our respective bags; I had Cheez-Its and he had Reese's Pieces.

"Are you from LA, originally?"

I shook my head. "No, I was born in Washington, but only lived there until I was about five. When my mom died, my Dad moved us to LA. Him and Mom lives there before I was born, and she was buried in East Los Angeles. He said it only made sense.”

"What does he do?" He popped a candy into his mouth.

"He's has a wood-working business. Builds furniture and does art pieces. He doesn't do much of the actual labor stuff anymore, at his age, but he still loves to carve. He has six stores in LA County, two in San Bernardino, and one up in Alameda."

Noah looked thoroughly impressed. "Fucking nice!"

"Yeah, he's my best friend. Best Dad ever." I smiled thinking about my Dad. I would be calling him the moment I got home to update him on my trip.

I looked up at Noah, my turn to ask questions.

"Why go to an AA group in Orange County when you live all the way in Calabasas?"

He twirled a candy in his fingers, shrugging. "Well, when I google searched AA meetings, I didn't want to risk anyone seeing me, so I didn't want to be too close by. I also didn't want to travel too far so I wouldn't have an excuse not to go. Then I narrowed it down to meeting not associated with any churches or religious groups. That's how I found yours."

"What made you decide it was time for AA?"

He was looking down into his bag, and I saw the expression on his face change. I had hit a nerve somewhere, but I wasn't sure where.

"It's like I said before, I had some downtime and figured it was time."

"I don't believe that."

His head snapped up to look at me. "What?"

"Well, maybe in general that's true, but there's usually something. One thing that leads you to AA. It's rare when you just wake up one day, realize you have a problem, and then walk into a meeting."

His eyes narrowed. "Well, that's what happened to me."

He didn't want to keep talking about this, I could tell, but something was there that he wasn't saying. I elected to let it go. I'm no longer his sponsor, maybe I'm not entitled to that information anymore.

Maybe.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

48 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 1 year

Text

Fans or Foe (Rose X Singer!R)

Request: Part 2 to Hesitate where r meets the team.

Author's Note: Hey guys, I'm sorry that it's been grad school has been kicking my ass. I hope you guys enjoy this.

There was a reason that you were so cautious with how much you shared with the fans and the media. Every move you made was meticulous, calculated to give them the glimpse into your life that they desired, but not enough for them to actually know anything.

Still, they took whatever crumbs you left them, thinking that they had the whole story and running with it.

It was why you had been so careful with the way you came out to the fans, and why you had guarded your relationship with Rose as tightly as you had.

You weren’t ashamed. Not at all, and Rose knew that.

But you had been worried about how the fans would treat her. Sure, she was famous in her own right, but your fans could be intense. You were afraid of them coming after her with hate.

She didn’t deserve to be bombarded by people who had never met her before.

That’s why it had taken you so long to devise a plan to reveal your relationship.

But even with your planning and your prepping, nothing could have prepared Rose for the flood that followed the release of your music video.

It was instant, and overwhelming in a way that she had never experienced for herself before.

The wave of media and fans was one that she had seen you handle time and time again with practiced ease. She watched as you ran invasive reporters around in circles when they asked rude questions and as you smiled gently at sobbing fans, giving out as many photos and autographs as you could.

Of course, you got overwhelmed.

She had seen the bad days when you couldn’t even pick up coffee without getting mobbed. Where you saw flashes of cameras through every open window. Where you wondered if getting to do the thing you loved was worth the harassment.

She had witnessed meetings with your publicist, managers, and team (your war council as rose liked to call it) where you strategized how to combat bad rumors and tour drama, or to deal with being linked to every person you so much as looked at (except her funnily enough).

But you handled it all with a nerdy grace that Rose wasn’t sure she was capable of.

She could turn off her Twitter and Instagram notifications. She could avoid the windows and have her teammates shield her from the paparazzi that had set up outside the hotel. She could handle the USWNT media team’s never-ending begging for a segment with her.

What she couldn’t handle was the nosiness of her own team.

They were driving her crazy, and she wondered again how you could deal with it all without losing your smile because she was going to murder her teammates.

“You guys have seriously got to stop,” Rose groaned, running an irritated hand through her hair and dropping her fork, suddenly losing her appetite. “You're giving me a headache,”

“Come on Rosie, you’re marrying The Y/n Y/l/N,” Emily whined, tossing a grape at the midfielder.

“No. I’m marrying Y/n,” Rose said slowly, hoping that they would be able to catch the distinction. She wasn’t marrying the character that you and your team had created. She was marrying the person behind the character, the woman she had known since your junior year of college. “A person none of you cared about until you found out her last name,”

A small grumble of agreement rumbled around the group, acknowledging the point Rose had made just after the video. If they had asked the right questions then they wouldn’t have been so blindsided. It wasn’t like she hid her relationship from them.

They actually knew quite a bit about you. They knew you liked music, and that you memorized poems and movie quotes for fun. They knew you were a writer (just not a songwriter) and that you were obsessed with rocky road ice cream. They knew more substance about you than most of your own fans did, they just didn’t know they knew.

“I’m just surprised you listened to us thirst after her as much as you did,” Kelley muttered, taking a bite of her sandwich as Lindsey nodded along with her.

“I’m not sure I would have been able to reign in my jealousy if I was in your position,”

Rose shrugged. “You weren’t saying anything that wasn’t true. At least you guys were respectful. More respectful than some of her fans,”

It was the truth. She had learned how to share part of you with the public. That was why she treasured the parts of yourself you didn’t reveal so much. There were parts of you that only she saw. It was a reminder that it was her you called after a show, your voice froggy, and her bed you ended up in as much as you could.

Listening to her teammates hadn’t bothered her. It had been incredibly entertaining, actually. At least they didn’t talk about you like you were a piece of meat.

“I deal with millions of people telling her how gorgeous she is every day. She deals with the same,” Rose continued, squinting to try and get the wording right. “You learn to get over it because I know things that everyone else doesn’t,”

She knew about the smile you saved only for her. She knew about the curl that always popped out behind your ear by the end of the day. She knew all the little things that no one else ever would.

“Her fans are kind of over the top,” Sam agreed, decidedly ignoring the fact that their own fans also thirsted after them.

“Like scary over the top,” Mal snorted, flipping her phone and showing a Twitter update on where the fans thought your private jet was. A dangerous game if Rose did say so herself. “Right now they’re trying to track her private jet. They're convinced she's flying into DC right now,”

It was scary how invasive your fans got, and how convinced they were that the crumbs you left for them were the entire picture.

Your security team had gotten larger as your fanbase had for a reason. Crazy people trying to track the private jet you didn’t own was definitely one of those reasons.

Rose snorted at the page and all its inaccuracies.

“She’s not,” She said, shaking her head. “She won't be here until very late tonight probably,”

The table seemed to pause, Emily’s jaw dropping.

“How do you-?”

“They’re engaged dipshit,” Lindsey cackled, throwing her roll and whacking Emily in the face.

The defender grabbed the roll, taking a bite as she pouted at her girlfriend.

“She has an interview with Falon to promote the album, and then she’s going to see Wicked for like the 50th time,” Rose rolled her eyes. “She’ll Fly here after that,”

She said it casually, like knowing your entire schedule wasn’t a novel thing for the team.

“She’s actually coming?” Emily asked, practically bouncing in her seat, earning another eye roll from Rose.

“Yeah, she wanted to see the game,” Rose shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, because to her it wasn’t anything new. “Apparently, watching soccer is relaxing for her,”

She wouldn’t tell them your actual quote, that watching her ass was the reason you enjoyed it so much.

Emily’s blue eyes widened, and her bouncing increased so much that Rose was afraid she was going to tip her chair over. “What room are you in?”

“No,”

Rose’s response was immediate, sharp, and left no room for argument. She knew her friends too well to divulge that kind of information. They could be worse than your own fans at times, and she knew you were going to be exhausted when you got in. You didn’t need any more harassment, not with the way fans were already tracking your every movement.

“What?” Emily asked incredulously, trying too hard to seem innocent.“It’s just for my curiosity,”

Rose’s eyes narrowed at the statement, as it confirmed her suspicion.

“You’re not camping outside of my door and waiting for her to get here,” Rose said, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t think about staking out the lobby either, she’s not coming in through the front, and it’ll be hella late anyway. You’ll get to see her in the morning,”

“Why is she flying in so late?” Kelley asked, ignoring Emily’s pout. “Why not wait until tomorrow morning or something?”

Rose shrugged, unable to stop the small blush that colored her cheeks. “It’s easier,”

She wasn’t going to tell them that you had trouble sleeping without her. That you just couldn’t wait the extra 12 hours to see her. That she didn’t want to wait to see you either.

“Yeah, right,” Lindsey snorted.

“It probably is,” Mal said, her eyebrows furrowed. “The airport is probably less crowded, and there's probably fewer paparazzi to track her every movement,”

Rose nodded. “There are also fewer fans,”

The table seemed to pause as it took in the information, and Rose could practically see the wheels turning in their heads.

“I thought she liked meeting the fans?” Emily frowned, sounding deeply wounded. It was one of the things your fans loved most about you, your commitment to them.

Rose sighed. It was another difficult concept to explain.

You loved your fans. You loved giving them special moments, like when you always pulled someone up on the stage for your piano set, or the hundreds of free meet and greets you did, but there was an invisible line that separated your working self from your actual self. The line between Y/n and The Y/n Y/l/n. It was dangerous when your fans chose to cross that line.

“She does,” Rose hedged, biting her lip, trying to think of how to explain to them that meeting a giant crowd of people wherever you went was not only overwhelming but a threat to your safety. “It just makes things more complicated when a thousand people are waiting for her wherever she goes,”

“I think that’s understandable,” Sam agreed easily, and the table nodded along with her. “She did get mobbed in time square when she went to pick up her album last night,”

Rose winced at the fact, silently grateful for the distance between you for once. You had told her that it would have been even worse if she was actually with you. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from scrolling through the thousands of Tik Toks and Snap Stories of the incident, or the way her heart beat a little faster at the nervous smile you had sent to everyone you passed that night.

They had all deemed that it was a grateful look. That you were happy they had shown up. They couldn’t see the anxiety that was clear to her.

“And that’s exactly what we want to avoid,”

“So we don’t get any details?” Emily asked again, her pout deepening when Rose shook her head.

“I’ll introduce you tomorrow, and you can harass her before we leave for the game and after we get back,” Rose said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Before that, she’s off limits,”

“We’ll respect tonight,” Kelley hummed soothingly, sending a look to her fellow chaos defender. “But I make no promises for tomorrow,”

Rose blew out a breath. “All I ask for is tonight,”

*******

You were no stranger to sneaking in and out of hotel rooms. You practically lived in hotel rooms 200 days out of the year, avoiding hotel staff and fans for some semblance of privacy. You spent another 50 following your girlfriend around the world.

You knew how to get in and out without people knowing, and your staff was well-trained in doing the same.

But you appearing at Rose’s door when her teammates were still texting the group chat convinced your airplane hadn’t left JFK yet, was something that would never get old.

“Hey,” You smiled softly at the woman, leaning on the doorframe.

Her nose scrunched at your voice, froggy from too many performances. “Hey you, wanna come in?”

You hummed, stepping forward and pulling the midfielder into your arms. She melted into you, wrapping her arms around your neck as you buried your face in her hair.

You held her tightly, rocking side to side as the door slammed uncaringly behind you. “I missed you,”

It was a soft admission, vulnerable in a way that most people would never get to see. It was an admission that she didn’t need you to verbalize for her to know. She could feel it in the way that you held her, in a way that seeped from your bones into her.

“I missed you too,” She breathed into your shoulder, holding you just as tightly. She had missed you just as much.

Despite your ability to write music, she had learned long ago that you were actually rather terrible at putting your emotions into words, but that didn't mean that you didn’t express yourself.

You just preferred to use bad quotes and physical contact to convey how you felt, and She let you.

The hug went on for a long few moments, before you pulled away, your eyes tracing over her features. “No, I missed you,”

She smiled softly up at you, leaning in and connecting your lips. She knew what you meant, that you struggled to show how much you cared for her when there was so much distance between you. You hadn’t just missed being near her, you missed the comfort and stability she brought you. You missed being able to hold her and make her feel as safe as she made you feel.

The kiss was soft and slow, your tongues gently dancing together in a familiar waltz, your hand tighten around her hips, and her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

“I know,” Rose smirked, against your lips. “Are we going to make out in the entranceway all night?”

You shook your head once. “That wouldn’t be very economical of us, not when the part we’re paying for is the bed,”

“Then why don’t we put it to good use?” She wiggled her eyebrows at you, earning a slightly pained smile.

She frowned, trailing her hands across your neck to cup your cheeks. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

You leaned heavily into the touch

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” You started softly, biting your lip as the words seemed to get caught in your mouth. You didn’t think there would ever be a time when you didn’t want her. “I’m just-...”

Rose knew how difficult vocalizing your emotions could be for you. How you always struggled to express what you were feeling, but you didn’t have to say it for her to know. She could see the droop in your eyelids, the dark circles that accented your face.

She ran her thumb over the marks, and you sighed.

“Completely exhausted,” She murmured, and all you could do was nod.

You weren’t opposed to sex, but you knew that you would never be able to finish (or guide her to a finish) if you started. You wanted to be present when you were intimate with her, and with how worn out you were, you knew it wouldn’t be that kind of experience.

“When was the last time you slept?” She pressed, already guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. She stepped between your legs, running her hands through your hair as your eyebrows furrowed. Your plan had been to sleep on the way to Colorado so you could be more awake for her when you got there, but you had been so totally consumed by a song idea that you hadn’t been able to sleep. You hadn’t planned on staying awake for the entire 4-hour flight, but once you started, you couldn’t stop.

“I was working on a project on the airplane and I got distracted,” You mumbled in answer, leaning forward and resting your forehead on her chest, breathing her in. You ran your thumb along the small sliver of skin between her shirt and her pants, tapping out random patterns. “I just want to feel you,”

She hummed, scratching your scalp more deeply. She understood what you meant, you wanted the intimacy that you only got with her, and she was happy to give it to you.

“Come on,”

She used the hand in your hair to pull your head back, and placed a very soft kiss on your lips. “Let's get more comfortable and then we can cuddle,”

Her fingers hooked the bottom of your sweatshirt as you pulled away, maneuvering it over your head and pulling your shirt off with it.

You let out a low sound in the back of your throat, reaching for her shirt and tugging the hem. “Can this come off too?”

Rose sent you a small smirk, running her hands through your hair again. “That was the plan babe,”

You made another low sound, tugging again at her shirt. She rolled her eyes at you, pulling the material over her head and chuckling at the way your eyes roamed over the creamy skin of her chest and down her abs (she wasn’t wearing a bra).

The way you looked at her never failed to send a shiver down her spine. It made her feel wanted and powerful. She knew that you didn’t look at anyone else like you looked at her. You didn’t look at anyone else with so much love and devotion and want, despite how many people looked at you that way.

She made more of a show pulling down her sleep shorts, turning away from you to toss them into her bag, and wiggling her ass for you just a bit before turning back towards you and kneeling between your legs.

“Now, let's get you out of your pants too,”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed as her warm hands landed on your stomach, just above the button of your jeans. “I want you so bad, but I’m so fucking tired,”

She chuckled, shaking her head and undoing your pants. “I know. We’re just going to cuddle. You like naked cuddles the best,”

You nodded, lifting your hips so she could pull your pants off. “They’re the best,”

“Move to the middle of the bed so we can cuddle then,” She hummed, grabbing your pants and underwear and tossing them next to her own abandoned clothing next to her bag.

“So bossy,” You grumbled, following her instruction nonetheless, and tucking yourself under the blankets.

She huffed, settling under the blanket next to you, drawing you in so your head rested on her chest. “You love it,”

“I do,” You murmured, kissing the skin in between her breasts. “I love you so much it hurts, and I’m so happy to see you,”

“I love you too,” She hummed back, kissing the crown of your head, and rubbing your back. “Now sleep. You’re too sappy when you’re sleep deprived,”

You hummed back, your eyes sliding closed. There would be time to be sappy in the morning when you were more awake.

******

Early morning light flickered through the window, casting soft shadows over the alabaster skin of Rose’s back.

It would never fail to be one of your favorite sights, her hair spilled across the pillows wild and untamed, the blanket pulled down just below her shoulders, and her hand reaching out and resting on your stomach, where she had drawn circles for most of the night. It was so domestic, foreign, and familiar all the same (That’s what you got with only 60 days a year with neither of you on the road).

You had never really been a morning person, always preferring the twinkling lights of stars and buildings over the budding sunrise, but Rose was slowly changing that. Seeing her in the lantern-like oranges and yellows of dawn was something to behold. It was better than any painting or work of art you had ever seen.

What you wouldn’t give to wake up to her every day.

You shook your head, reaching for your bag, but never leaving the bed, and pulling out a very famous little black notebook.

It always made you chuckle how people freaked out about your songbook or assumed that you only wrote songs on one platform.

It was a ridiculous notion that your entire musical career was held in a singular bound notebook, but you never felt the need to correct the fans. You always did prefer little black books to write out your song thoughts, and it made you laugh when they went crazy when they saw it.

You hummed lightly to yourself, opening the book and flipping to the page you had already started on.

Your eyes scanned the partial lyrics on the page, looking at the little notes you had made about chords and patterns, using your pen to make a few edits and additions. You had the tune in your head, but figuring out how it fit with the story you wanted to tell was always a fun challenge for you. One that sucked you in.

You weren’t sure how long you sat, Rose’s hand on your abs as you worked through your song before you noticed her fingers moving in slow circles. They trailed up your stomach, to your book, and pulled it down, drawing your attention to her.

You complied, tossing your book towards the bedside table, before drawing her up in your arms, enjoying the way your skin felt pressed together.

“How long have you been up?” She asked, her voice groggy, and you squinted glancing at the clock.

The truth was that you weren’t quite sure. You hadn’t looked at the clock, but the sun had been just barely peeking through the window, and now it was streaming in a constant ray.

“Not too long I don’t think,” You shrugged, running your free hand through your hair, squinting.“I had an idea and I didn’t want to lose it,”

You felt more than you saw her roll her eyes. “You always have an idea you don’t want to lose,”

“Guilty as charged,” You chuckled, kissing her head. “It’s just easier for me to think when i don’t have so much music tangled in my head,”

You knew that she wasn’t a fan of your sleep schedule, but it wasn’t really something you could help. You and sleep had never been good friends, though it had gotten much better when you moved in with Rose, it was still never something that would be considered normal.

She let out a long breath, rolling over so she was facing you, kissing your lips. “I know, I just worry about you,”

Your arm tightened around her waist and tilted your head to capture her lips again.

Rose had seen you at your worst. She had seen you work yourself to the edge of insanity. She had seen you push yourself to please your record label and neglect your own needs. She had seen how self-destructive you could be (the break between your second album and your third had been rough). She would never not worry about you pushing yourself too far.

“I know,” You murmured, pulling away from the kiss. “But I’m doing ok. I’ve got a better team, and a good balance,”

She hummed, her lips finding your neck and leaving little kisses there.

“Speaking of teams,” She muttered, trailing lower toward your collarbone.

“I have to meet yours don’t I?”

“Yeah,” She sighed, looking up at you and resting her chin just above your heart. “They're going to be invasive and annoying,”

“They gonna give me a shovel talk?” You asked, chuckling just a bit. “Even though I’ve known you for longer than any of them?”

Rose chuckled too, pushing herself to a sitting position and essentially straddling your waist (and you tried very hard to maintain eye contact and not be a pervert and ogle her breasts). “I think Emily is going to be more interested in grilling you about all of your music,”

You scrunched your nose. “She knows I’m not going to tell her any details about who i sing about right?”

Rose smirked. “I think she’s convinced she’s going to get the whole story now that she knows The Y/n Y/l/n,”

“I think the only person other person who knows the whole story is you,” You grumbled with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t know why they’re so obsessed. Why can’t they just enjoy the music,”

It was Rose’s turn to roll her eyes. “Because then you wouldn’t have so much fun leaving breadcrumbs for them to piece together,”

You shrugged. “I leave them breadcrumbs and they were still blindsided by us announcing our engagement,”

“It’s because your puzzles never have only one answer,” Rose said, slapping your shoulder and pushing herself out of bed. “You design them so they can come to multiple conclusions, so I hardly think that's fair,”

Your eyes followed her as she bent over, grabbing a towel tossing a shirt towards her bag, your shirt from last night, and heading towards the bathroom to shower. You also knew she was taking every opportunity to tease you.

It was kind of her MO.

“And what you do to me is fair?” You asked, earning a smirk. “We both have the games we like to play,”

“At least you actually get satisfaction in the end,” Rose said, raising an eyebrow at you.

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement, following after her toward the bathroom.

“I give them so much of myself already,” You said softly, as she turned the water on. “The last things I have are the stories behind the songs. I want to keep it sacred,”

Rose’s entire body paused, and she very slowly turned towards you, kneeling down in front of where you had sat down on the toilet.

“First of all,” She started gently. “Your music is not the only thing you have. You have me, and you’re never going to lose me,”

She kissed your lips before she continued. “Second, you don’t have to give up anything you don’t want to, and I won't let any of my friends force you to, not that they would,”

You nodded again. “I know you won’t Rosie,”

“Now let's shower, and then we’ll meet my crazy teammates,”

******

Your entire life was based around the public’s opinion of you. It was why you were so good at handling people. At painting a charming smile on your face and playing the charismatic singer.

And from the moment you stepped out of the hotel room, Rose knew that she was in the presence of the character you so often played instead of her significant other.

It was what you knew the team wanted and expected.

But it wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted her friends to meet the women she fell in love with. She wanted them to meet the real you.

Her hand tightened around your arm, pulling you to a stop before you could hit the elevator button, and she immediately had all of your attention.

“Don’t do that,” She said seriously, stepping into your personal bubble, her nose nearly touching your chin.

You frowned, tilting your head at her. “Do what? Press the elevator? Would you rather take the stairs?”

She shook her head, pressing impossibly closer to you. “I want them to meet my fiance, not Y/n Y/l/n Singer, songwriter, superstar extraordinaire,”

“But your fiance is Y/n Y/l/n - Singer, songwriter, terrible chief extraordinaire,” You smirked.

She chuckled at how you changed her line, but didn’t move away from you. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean,”

You blew out a long breath. It was easier to meet people as your alter ego. People had expectations of her and it was fairly easy to meet them. What was more difficult was actually being yourself.

Your fans only got glimpses of the person you were underneath the persona, mostly through your songs and acoustic sets. Letting people closer required vulnerability and you didn’t share that often. The only person you felt comfortable seeing it was Rose.

Your expression softened, and you brought your hands up to very gently hold her waist. “I just know what they’re expecting,” You confessed softly. “I don’t want to embarrass you,”

“Baby,” She cooed with more gentleness than she usually used with you, her hands sliding up your arms to cup your jaw. “Why would you being yourself embarrass me,”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, trying to find the words.

The Y/n Y/l/n was cool. She was suave and dapper and knew how to make the fans feel seen and heard even when she had never met them. She knew how to be charismatic and charming. She wasn’t… you.

You were a dork, obsessed with music theory and chord progressions that made absolutely no sense. You were shy and introverted.

You were not what the team was expecting.

You closed your eyes under the weight of her stare, leaning forward so your foreheads touched.

It was so easy for you to get stuck in your head when you had to be your actual self around anyone who wasn’t Rose.

Her team thought she had gotten a catch, but in reality, it was her who was so far out of your league.

You weren’t quite sure how you of all people had become an international pop sensation. You were just an abandoned kid from Kansas who sang about your pain.

“I’m not…cool,” You mumbled, your fingers tightening around her waist. “Really, I’m a loser who got famous for putting together songs about a fucked up situation,”

You felt her suck in a deep breath, and the finger on your cheek tapped twice. Your eyes opened to meet her blue.

“We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.”

You cracked a smile at the familiar line, shoving her away just a bit. “You know I hate the breakfast club,”

“Yes,” She hummed, grabbing your belt loops and pulling you back in. “But you gotta admit, it has some good quotes,”

“Dont forget about me was the only good part of that movie,” You scoffed, shaking your head. “If it wasn’t considered a cult classic, no one would care about it. At least other cult classics have better tunes,”

“Like Rocky Horror?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged a rye smile etching its way across your features, a sharp contrast to the mask of The y/n y/l/n. “Time warp will never not be good, and really I was talking about Batman and Robin,”

Rose chuckled at the mention of your favorite campy movie, leaning up to kiss your lips. They weren’t as sophisticated as Christopher Nolan’s Batman, but they were a staple in your childhood. “I didn’t think poison ivy sang in that,”

“She doesn’t,” You agreed, as she pulled back and pressed the elevator call button. “Mr. Freeze does,”

She rolled her eyes at your explanation, tugging your hand as the doors popped open. “They stole that from A Year Without a Santa Claus,”

“I liked that one too,” You shrugged, unbothered.

The banter with her made it easy for your shoulders to relax. Made it easy for you to feel like yourself, and you knew that didn’t go unnoticed by Rose.

You just hoped her friends liked the real you.

*****

You knew that meeting Rose’s team was going to be absolute chaos.

You had heard enough stories to know exactly how crazy they could be, and you expected the normal questions you were peppered with anytime you met new people. You knew that many of the women on the team were fans, but you hadn’t realized how big of fans they were.

You hadn’t expected to be swarmed as soon as the elevator door binged open, and it took everything in you not to paint your million-dollar smile on your face.

“You have to tell us who all the songs are about now that we know you,”

“What’s it like to sing on a stage in front of thousands?”

“How do you pick the person you serenade during the love song set?”

“Did you date Taylor?”

Their voices blended together in a symphony that would rival even the loudest crowds you performed to, and the sudden attention made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t like attention unless you were on stage.

“Jesus guys, it’s not even 10 yet,” Rose said, holding up a hand to silence her friends. “Calm your tits,”

Kelley smirked. “You just asked for peace until this morning. That’s all we promised,”

“You talked about me?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

Rose rolled her eyes, “These looney toons wanted to ambush you outside my door last night,”

You hummed, noting how her fingers tightened around yours. It told you how much she had stopped her friends as much for her own sake as she had done it for yours.

You couldn’t help the way your famous smirk danced across your features. “That would tie for one of the craziest things a fan has done to meet me,”

Rose squeezed your hand again. A reminder that she wanted them to meet you, and not who you pretended to be, but it was too late.

It was so easy to slip into character, and give her friends exactly what you knew they expected.

“Oh!” Emily’s eyes lit up, and she launched herself at you, pulling you away from rose and dragging you towards the meal room. “Tell me more,”

“Yeah y/n what’s your crazy fan story?” Kelley chimed in, smirking towards Rose as they trailed after you.

You glanced behind you, catching Rose’s frown just before she slid her own mask into place.

It made your chest ache, but the show must go on.

You wiggled your eyebrows at her teammates. “Well…-“

********

“So I’ve gotta ask,” Emily said, leaning forward as you finished your chicken and whipped your mouth. “Are all of them about her?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question. “Are all of what about who?”

Rose snorted from across from you. She had been pouting since the youngins and Emily called dibs on the seats next to you.

“The songs,” Emily clarified a slight whine to her voice. “Are they all about Rose?”

“They can’t be,” Lindsey groaned, leaning back in her chair. “There’s an entire set about breakups,”

You shrugged, smirking as you started in on your rice.

“She’s not going to tell you,” Rose sighed, shaking her head with a slight smile. At least she wasn’t angry with you, even though you hadn’t been able to keep your promise to her.

“But why?” Sanchez whined.

“It would ruin the fun,” Your smirk widened. “Plus, who I think the songs are about isn’t important,”

The youngins around you gasped like you had spoken the most blasphemous thing they had ever heard.

“You can’t be serious,” Emily grumbled. “You’re entire fandom hinges on the theories,”

Rose snorted again, stabbing her lunch.“She’s deadly serious,”

“I am,” You agreed, meeting Rose’s eyes. “When I put music out, it’s no longer my own. It belongs to the fans. It’s theirs to create theories about or to apply to their own situation. When I sing it at concerts, I don’t sing it to the person I wrote it for. I sing it for the fans, and they sing it about their situations. It’s kinda like inception, a meaning within a meaning,”

The table went quiet at your explanation.

“That was deeper than I thought it'd be,” Kelley mumbled.

You shrugged, just as your phone started ringing in your pocket.

You glanced down at the device, your eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve gotta take this,”

You pushed yourself up from the table, waving Rose away as you stepped out to answer, not noticing the little black book you had left in your chair.

But Emily noticed it.

She reached for it, holding it up. “Is this what I think it is?”

“You guys are too much,” Rose rolled her eyes. “Let me have it before she freaks out,”

“So this is what I think it is then?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow at Rose. “The sacred book that all our theories are based upon,”

“It’s just a songbook,” Rose grumbled, holding her hand out for the book. “Not the fucking bible. Give it to me,”

“It’s the Y/fan base/n bible,” Ashley added unhelpfully. “You should see what she’s working on,”

“That’s a massive invasion of privacy,” Rose huffed, reaching to pull the book out of Sonnett’s hand.

“But you wanted us to get to know her,” Emily said, raising her eyebrow.

“And if we just… happened to drop it, and looked at the page as we opened it… it wouldn’t be an invasion,” Ashley shrugged.

“No,” Rose growled, glaring at the blondes.

“Yes,” Emily smirked back, holding the book up and casually dropping it, so it landed on the page you were working on, before leaning over and scooping it up.

The youngins clambered around her to get a good look at your loopy writing, squinting at the page, and Rose sat back in defeat.

You barely let her read your book as it was.

“What are the symbols above the words?” Lindsey asked, glancing up at Rose from the page.

“Those are the notes,” Rose said, her eyes narrowing. “Sometimes she’ll include dots to indicate the rhythm. It’s mostly shorthand,”

Emily hummed, flipping it around for Rose to see. “Looks like a love song to me. She even said your sleepy smile is her favorite sight in the margin,”

Rose leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to make out your scratchy handwriting.

Her eyes followed Emily’s finger, making out the sketch of a Rose, and the line right next to the lyrics you were working through.

“She didn’t say it was me,” Rose huffed, sitting back. “She just likes to doodle sometimes,”

“The line she wrote next to it is - Doesn't matter if the world falls apart Or whatever comes tomorrow I will always keep you in my heart-. It’s about you,” Emily said, rolling her eyes and pulling the book back. “But I wonder what the little ladder she drew means,”

“It’s the bridge,” You said, plucking your book out of her hand and pulling it to your chest. “It’s impolite to read things that don’t belong to you, or to show those things to other people,”

“Oh, it fell,” Sanchez tried to argue, but you held up a finger, silencing them.

“It didn’t fall into your finger,” You muttered. “She wasn’t supposed to see that yet,”

You could feel your mask cracking. Your frustration at them showing her the song you were working on overwhelmed the easy-going character you normally played.

You had been working on the song for months, to surprise Rose, maybe for your wedding.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the concerned look your fiancé was sending your way. “I need to go meet with my manager. There’s a problem. I just came back to tell you I’d see you after practice,”

You didn’t wait for a response before you turned on your heel and left the room again.

“Nice going guys,” Rose muttered, grabbing both of your plates and chasing after you.

This was not how she expected your first meeting with the team to go.

*****

You hadn’t been lying when you said you had a meeting with your manager and your publicist. There was an apparent crisis that you had to deal with. It was annoying, but you weren’t sure if you were more irritated by some front desk person posting a picture of you in the USWNT hotel, or from Rose’s team showing her your book.

Only you got to show her stuff in your book.

“I literally don’t care,” You muttered to your publicist, sipping your coffee. “I’m wearing her jersey to the game tomorrow, so there’s no need to be subtle,”

“You don’t need to be snippy,” Kara (your publicist) said gently, pulling the cup from your hand.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated,”

“I thought Rosie would have worked all the frustration out of you,” Lena (your manager) chuckled. “You’re usually a ray of sunshine after spending the night with her,”

You shrugged, blowing out another breath. “I was in a good mood and then I met her team,”

“They read you the riot act?” Lena raised her eyebrow at you.

“No,” You muttered, furrowing your eyebrows. “They read my songbook and showed it to Rose while I was in the phone with you,”

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the two women who had been with you since the beginning. “They showed her the page with the song I was gonna sing during our first dance,”

Lena and Kara shared a long look. They knew how protective you were over your music before it had been perfected. They knew how rare it was for you to show anyone, barring Rose herself.

“What did Rose say?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell as you picked your cuticle with your nail. “I didn’t give her time to catch up for a conversation,”

You had perfected the art of disappearing as much as you had appearing. You had slipped out by the time she had made it to the lobby, and you hadn’t answered her text messages since.

Lena and Kara both sighed, and your green-eyed manager reached out and caught your hand. “I thought the two of you agreed, no more running,”

“I know,” You ground out, pulling away and meeting Lena’s green eyes.

It had been one of the most important promises in your relationship. It was hard for you to talk when you were upset, and your childhood had taught you it was better to run than face the consequences. That you couldn’t be hurt if you didn’t talk.

But you wanted it to be different with Rose. It was different with her.

“It’s not her fault they read it,” You muttered. “I heard her tell them to stop,”

“So why not talk to her?” Kara pressed.

You chewed your bottom lip.“Because she read what isn’t done yet. It’s too raw,”

“Too vulnerable,” Kara supplied easily.

You shook your head. You didn’t mind being vulnerable with Rose, she was going to be your wife. You minded that all of her friends had been watching. You worried that one of those pages would wind up on some tumblr somewhere and she would be exposed. That your private thoughts would be stolen from you.

You already struggled enough with not feeling like a person with how much people felt comfortable taking your privacy away.

“Rose wanted them to meet the real me, and I couldn’t give her that,” You said slowly. “And now they’ve ruined my surprise for her,”

“Kid,” Lena sighed. “You know Rose doesn’t care about any of that. She loves you,”

“But I care,” You muttered. It was a hard thing for you to put into words. That you felt so … violated by something so seemingly innocuous. “I care that I didn’t get to show her my song in my own time. It’d be like… Davinci being forced to put his last supper on display before he was ready,”

Kara hummed. “Then why don’t you show her in your own way,”

You frowned, not understanding.

“The hotel has a piano,” Kara explained gently. “Why don’t you show her the song the way you had planned? The one in your notebook might not be finished, but the one in your head is,”

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. “I wanted to play to clear my head anyway,”

“Then I’ll get you set up,” Lena nodded. “We’ll take care of it,”

*****

Your fingers gently danced across the white keys, caressing them like they were a long-lost love, an old friend that welcomed you with familiar comfort. With nearly as much reverence as you touched rose with.

You had once heard Michael Phelps talk about how the pool drowned out his thoughts. The piano was that for you. The world around you went silent, and you could be at peace, even surrounded by a hundred thousand of your closest friends.

You sighed, humming along as your fingers pressed out the bridge again.

It was the one part that had been bothering you. The one part that wasn’t quite right. You squinted, running the same line again, switching out one of the notes, and shaking your head.

It still wasn’t right. You grit your teeth, slamming both hands on the keys.

You went to do it again, but her voice stopped you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rose asked you, landing a hand on your shoulder, and you gently lowered your fingers to the keys.

You blinked up at her, painting your famous smirk across your lips. “Sure you won’t sell them for a dollar?”

Her lips ticked up at your joke as she settled onto the bench beside you. “Becky had a long talk with Emily and Sanchez, expect an apology tomorrow,”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped, and your fingers returned to their starting position.

You didn’t need team dynamics to get involved in something that wasn’t a team problem.

You could feel Rose’s eyes on you, trying to read what was going through your mind.

“I’m not upset that they read my book,” You muttered, your fingers catching on the keys as you played through the bridge again, “they’re fans. I should have expected that,”

“No,” Rose growled, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. “Them being fans does not give them the right to invade your privacy. You being famous doesn’t negate your right to your thoughts,”

You pulled away, shaking your head. It was a familiar argument, one the two of you had had many times over.

Rose knew how you struggled to separate the parts of yourself.

“They don’t see me as a person,” You mumbled, closing your eyes as your fingers danced across the keys again, stumbling over the bridge. “To them, I’m just a character on a stage. My book is a part of that. It’s part of their lore. I’m not upset they looked,”

Rose paused, her eyes searching you. “You’re upset I looked?”

Again your shoulders lifted as you played through the section again. “They ruined my surprise,”

Your voice came out soft, and weak, showing the vulnerability that you knew only Rose would understand.

Rose’s eyebrows furrowed as you played the same riff again, missing the same note that you had several times. It wasn’t like you to miss notes, or to be indecisive.

Her hands moved to cover yours, stopping you from playing it again. “Baby, look at me,”

You sighed, your finger landing on the wrong note as you looked up at her, finally making eye contact.

Her thumb traced across your cheek as she searched you. It felt like she was peering into your very soul. “What’s going on?”

“I know you’ve been struggling to pick a song for our first dance,” You said slowly. “I was trying to surprise you. They ruined it. You saw it and now I can’t finish it,”

You watched as her face morphed from awe to something so much softer, and you leaned into her touch as she pulled you in for a very sweet kiss.

“Baby,” She smiled gently at you as she pulled away, and you saw the playful glint in her eyes. “They haven’t ruined everything. I may have heard a few of the words, but I can’t put a tune together with a few notes written on a page,”

You shook your head. “Still,”

You wanted it to be perfect. You knew your wedding day was likely to turn out like a fucking zoo, so you wanted to give her what you could. She deserved to have her dream wedding, and you hoped that you writing a song for her would help to make it that.

“I had it in my head, and now it’s just,” You flicked your hand. “Poof,”

Rose hummed, she knew how finicky your writing could be. How you could so easily be derailed. “You’ll figure it out, and then you can show me in your own time,”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped, and Rose knew that was all she would get out of you.

“But what I wanted to talk about more was your disappearing act,” She said seriously, and your shoulders hunched.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled earnestly. “It was just too much,”

She nodded. If anyone understood it was her. You were a flight person more than you were a fight person, but you had promised her you wouldn’t run anymore a long time ago.

For the most part, you kept that promise. It worried her that today you hadn’t.

“I know, but pushing me away means I can’t help you,” She said gently. “It would have been better even if you just let me give you a hug before you ran off to meet Lena and Kara,”

You swallowed hard. You hadn’t waited because you didn’t want to fall apart on her. You needed to collect yourself before you faced her, and your management team always knew how to put you back together.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice broke as the words left your lips, and Rose pulled you closer to her. “I just needed to… process what I was feeling. It’s not always so cut and dry,”

She hummed, letting you tuck your face into her chest and just breathe her in. She knew it would comfort you more than anything she could say would.

She ran her hand through your chair, scratching your scalp, and enjoying getting to have you close. Enjoying that you were allowing her to comfort you.

You let out a long breath before pulling away and looking up at her. “I’m sorry I made a bad impression on your friends,”

She shook her head. “You didn't. They were fucking thrilled that you scolded them. Apparently, they think you're going to write a song about this or whatever,”

She waved her hand for effect, the same gesture you used most of the time when you were talking about the overzealousness of your fans. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her, shaking your head.

You would never truly understand your fans, no matter how much you tried or pretended to. But these weren’t just fans, these were her friends.

“I hope that someday they get to meet the real me,” You said, squeezing her hips. “Preferably before the wedding,”

Rose couldn’t help but cackle. “I’m sure we’ll get it all straightened out tomorrow. They were far less excited to get yelled at by Becky,”

You hummed, squeezing her hips again and just basking in the long moment. You knew you would have to break it. While you were technically on vacation, she was not.

“You have practice,” You said finally, glancing over at the clock. “And I should really work out this line before I go insane,”

“I know,” She shot you a sad sigh. “At least I’ll see you later,”

“I’m here for you all week babe,” You agreed with a nod. “And I’m taking you to dinner,”

She smirked. “You missed dessert last night, so be ready,”

You wiggled your eyebrows at her. “I’m always ready,”

“You’re too much,” She slapped your shoulder, and leaned in to kiss you, but before she could there was a knock at the door, and Becky’s head popped into the room.

She send a sorry smile your way, but you waved her off. You understood that Rose had things that she needed to do. You would never stop her from chasing after her dream.

You pulled away. “Go score some goals for me, I’ll be here when you get back,”

“Just don’t work too hard alright?” She said, moving a curl from in front of your eyes.

Your smirk widened. “No promises,”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Rose said, her smile never leaving her face as she leaned in a placed a very sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you,” You hummed against her,

“I love you too,” She smiled against your lips, lingering for another long second, her hands accidentally pressing into the keys behind you before pulling away.

Your head tilted at the sound, even though your eyes didn’t move to the key until Rose was out of sight.

Your finger landed on the key again, experimentally pressing it.

The A rang out across the ballroom like the hum of a tuning fork.

You shook your head, your lips parting. It was perfect.

Maybe you wouldn’t have to work so hard after all.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #rose lavelle x reader #rose lavelle imagine

357 notes · View notes