#i had to write something before i exploded i missed writing so much .. please GIVE ME REQUESTS RAHH

[fauustic]

something new, something that scares me

gender non-confirming reader (implied afab due to pregnancy) x miguel "spider-man 2099" o'hara

angst. comfort. with a secret hanging over the complicated relationship the both of you have, miguel is faced with his rot.

warnings: pregnant reader, discussion of sickness (throwing up, fatigue), discussion of loss of child, miscommunication, allusion to (reader's) past relationship trauma, heavy angst. not beta-read.

words: 5644

Your apartment echoed with your choked gags, the bathroom lit aflame with artificial light soon after the hurried stumbling of yours trailing from your bed. Sleep blurred your gaze, gross and sticky yet you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe the gunk. Your bones felt heavy as your pajama shirt slipped up your belly, exposing the soft flesh to the coldness of your home. The sensation made you suck a sharp breath through your teeth, as miserable and alone as ever.

This great big universe of yours was quaint and quiet, only ever needing to go out on your patrols at night. Sleep was gratefully given during the day, only ever interrupted by the gruff–staticy voices seeping into your apartment from the walkie-talkie that leaked codes and warnings of crime– you’ve never been the one to get sick. Not until this absolutely beautiful morning at the ripe time of 4:27AM.

The entire week leading up to today was filled with waves of nausea, interrupting the time you spent to yourself when months grew dull and delicate. Work was never really needed, graciously, as you lived off your success in the medical field. This allowed you to wallow in the comfort of your duvet, bedridden and hungry and moody. As another pitiful cough wracked your form and bile strayed on your tongue, the watch you kept hidden away in the bedside drawer began to illuminate the corner of your room in an orange hue. The warm sweat against your forehead almost stung painfully when the blood from your face drained in anxiety. The warm color and murmur of muffled words that would normally fill your lungs with a crash of adrenaline and mild irritation instead left your palms slipping off the toilet in panic.

You haven't been beckoned to join alongside a mission with another member of the Spider Society in a while. And you would accept one in a moment's notice if you weren't slumped against the cold tile floor of the bathroom.

There's never been a moment where you didn't answer Miguel's check-ins, whether he was asking for your presence for affection or actual help.

The relationship between you and Miguel, to say the very least, was complicated.

You were like the calm before the storm; the soft tide of an ocean meeting the shore with a gentle embrace. Your voice came out like raindrops meeting the morning dew of grass, yet when met with dire situations– it is as if someone brought forth a lighter to your skin and burnt you aflame. You knew how to hold your own, something others didn't expect of your quaint, observant temperament.

Miguel, was– an enigma within himself. He was a shadow of what he once was, you had learned through the stories he had told you during the nights where your watch felt too heavy on your wrist, drowned away in the bedsheets of your lover that held you as if you were going to leave at the mention of another universe– gone without any evidence that you even existed in the first place.

Ever since you learned, the insecurities that plagued his words in the darkness of the room you crashed in every now and then held greater weight. The white headband and blue wrapping bow resting upon the nightstand, gathering dust by each passing day, caught your eye more than it did not. As Miguel met your lips with his own in sleepy desperation, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you even closer– the trauma haunting his gaze whenever he recollected his thoughts flashed behind your eyelids.

Your first mistake is that you grew to love the shadow of what he once was, grew too attached to a man that wasn't under your protection of a universe that was your own.

The babble of sentences seeping through the cracks of your bedside cabinet had your heart lurching, an all-too-familiar voice passing through the silence like a knife striking through air. His voice was tentative, an exhausted repeat of your name before he heaved another "voice-mail" (or whatever is equivalent to such a thing on a universe-hopping device) into the technological watch. You can already imagine the dark bags right underneath his eyes, framed by definition of his features and wrinkles conjured through stress and age. His hair would be swept back with his claws, you're sure of it. Around this time in your universe it was roughly the same to his, perhaps an hour or two before him. But time didn't matter to the man who put himself in charge of a society full of clones of the same guy, give or take an infinite amount of variations alongside said-same-guy.

As your chin pressed down on the toilet seat, skin damp with sweat from the constant cycle of insomnia and sickness– you allowed yourself the indulging selfishness of imagining Miguel comforting you. But you were afraid of how he'd react to the secret you've kept under the wraps for a couple weeks now, skillfully and hopefully subtly avoiding him. Now you've been homebound, and letting him see you in this state would surely encourage him to come through that apartment door himself. 

The problem was, you and Miguel were not officially together. It was complicated, with him dancing into his life and hooking up with you– spending nights wrapped in your embrace as soft huffs of his breath would meet the shell of your ear. And then he'd disappear for a month and fade back onto nothing more than a coworker, a person you'd nod to in the offices because Miguel was not one to wave.

And to tell him you were most, no– definitely pregnant, you were unsure on how he'd respond.

Miguel has never bared his teeth towards you unless in bed, his fangs grazing the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder in the soft lull of a long day– but you knew he was not one necessarily subject to change. Something out of order. A situation abrupt and unexpected that would change the future and possibly everything that followed.

His past was never foreign, he'd let bits and pieces of himself slip past that guarded exterior of his in the safety of your blankets and pillows and kisses– but that's why fear shot up your spine and settled back down into the pit of your stomach. Miguel has tried more than once to create his own reality of what a family should be– and lost the only thing that has ever truly been important to him twice. Your baby would never be Gabriella, and you couldn't allow your future bundle of love to be put under that expectation.

And, and plus, you weren't even sure if you wanted to keep it. The idea of parenthood had you swallowing back spit like you'd just been dunked into freezing water, the circumstances unknown and dangerous. A father from a whole entire universe? That was stupid. Miguel would call you stupid, too. You knew it. Just like the one who treated you before.

Wetness blurred your vision before you even had a chance to get up, stumbling into the kitchen for a glass of water. You knew you looked like shit, eyes puffy and lips chapped as you pulled at your pajamas to get more comfortable. As you down half a water, a knock vibrates your apartment. It must be a neighbor, you thought. You were probably too loud with these fits you’ve been having, slumped over a toilet and being miserable.

Opening the door, your blood runs cold and the sweat that was finally beginning to stay away after wiping your face came back worse. It was the man that’s been haunting your every living moment, both in wake and in dreams. He looked absolutely wrecked beyond the facade he tried to put up– sunken eyes and unruly hair. “You’ve ignored another call of mine.” Was all he said, pointed and brooding.

“Miguel,” you began as you brought yourself inviting him in before you could even catch yourself. He had that stoic yet bothered look on his face, one that’s almost permanently etched within the few expressions he can muster.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Miguel's voice, confused and raising ever so slightly as his muddled gaze scanned over your pacing form. No hellos, how are you doing, direct as always. When your nails met your teeth in a nervous habit, Miguel exhaled heavily as if he was trying to calm himself down. "No reason, no call– just pure radio silence! I came here because I thought something happened– Dios mío–" He sounded pained, accent growing ever thicker as he shuffled a long-sleeved, futuristic athletic shirt off. The top part of his suit met your eyes, and you had to rip your guilty stare off his form as you remembered who the both of you are; two lines on a graph, who should have simply stayed parallel to one another. Intersecting with a man who has flipped your world upside down and spawned so many opportunities just to disappear the next night– you couldn't take it anymore. 

His sweatpant-clad ankles met your downcast attention as Miguel came closer, his touch contrasting that irritated voice of his. Index meeting the skin of your jaw just right to your chin, he guided your eyes to his own. A frown tugged at his features, winning the war when he so desperately tried to be stoic. Without a word, Miguel scanned the splotches on your face and dried wetness coating your cheeks. He knew you had been crying, he always does.

His touch is so inviting, so welcoming that you just want to surrender your entire being to him. To crawl right into the ribcage you were level with and to create a home, nestled as close to his heart that he tried to keep at bay.

People who aren't lovers shouldn't be holding one another like this, you thought as his thumb met the corner of your lip and his index rested upon your chin. Miguel's lips carved themselves into a deeper scowl as a choked sob erupted the silence following his question, his own hardness beyond that gaze of his shattering like an unlucky mirror. 

Miguel has never had to put up with you in such an emotional atmosphere. You thought you were scaring him away, but he only took your hands in his and rubbed the flesh of your knuckles as you cried. 

Guilt struck your lungs and constricted your breathing, "we shouldn't be doing this." You were full on crying now, you felt the tears rolling down the hot shame igniting your cheeks. You heard your voice crack under the pressure of avoiding him, of depriving your life of the one you loved the most. You snatched your hands away from his grasp, and the moment he let you, you regretted it.

"I shouldn't love you."

"You love me?"

The question tumbling from his agape lips was nothing less than sincere as you snapped your neck towards his shell-shocked expression. You didn't mean to say that– too caught up in emotions and memories and it just came out–

So instead you covered your mouth and shook your head rapidly, stepping away yet never turning away from him. Your sobs wracked your body for the millionth time that night, reminding you of the emptiness you felt on your knees, slumped against the toilet and fending off sickness. A flash of hurt made itself apparent in his gaze, but Miguel knew you were lying.

He stood there like a statue in the middle of your cozy living room, looking like he was sculpted to be here. To be at home, with you. 

If you were two other people, the both of you would be snuggled on the couch that cost way too much at a furniture store going out of business, buttery fingers accidentally intertwining in a bowl of chile-lime seasoned popcorn– having pointless debates on whether or not the next character to die in a B-listed horror film would be the clueless jock or stereotypical book-nerd. Miguel would be complaining "Why are we watching this, anyways? Película de mierda, should have listened to my recommendations from the start."

"I do not want to be stuck at home on a Friday night watching documentaries with you."

And he'd give you a side-eye with a scowl he truly didn't mean, before hitting you in the forehead with a piece of seasoned popcorn.

But this was not another universe where the two of you were intertwined, birthed on the same Earth and time that had you sharing classes and awkward, immature conversations. You would never be granted the experience of that pining phase, dancing around one another under sweet circumstances that consisted of healthy households and loving parents. You were you, holding your stomach in anticipated nausea. And he was Miguel, clenching the claws into his palms with his grey streak hovering uncharacteristically over his eyebrow.

The couch was empty, the television was not on. It was cold.

"We can't continue doing this." You sighed, daring to keep your darting eyes from that rare, broken expression painting his features and daring him to look older. "I'm tired." You fumbled with your hands, bruised and battered from the anxious picking and nights you stayed glued to the toilet. Miguel's eyes met the marks lining the flesh, and he challenged the empty space between the both of you. You knew that he knew he preached to never interfere with what's bound to happen in one another's worlds, that everything is supposed to keep itself flowing without the interference of even one, single organism from another universe. Yet here he was, fighting to keep this situation in the palms of his shaky hands. To hold onto you and never let go. "I'm sorry l, I'm sorry." He whispered into your hair, ruffled from the rough evening you've had. "Perdóname, por favor."

The mention of cutting this, whatever this was, had him crumbling into your frame that hugged the wall that met your back. His hands snaked themselves around your waist before tiredly settling on the softness peeking from your rumpled pajama shirt. His forehead met your shoulder, hunching into the warmth you omitted like he was a freezing man starved from fire. Miguel shifted so his nose met the crook of your neck, dampness meeting the tendons there as he inhaled deeply. "I'm, I'm sorry." He chanted like a broken vinyl, voice breaking into barely above a whisper.

Miguel thought it was because of all those times he had left you hours after he kissed the bruises littering your skin, the marks he branded into your flesh like a possessive sigil. And he wasn't wrong, Miguel was absolutely terrible for that. 

But the pain that tore open your heart and festered into the valves was the aching lit aflame from the nights ruined from sick, never soothed from the one who loved like he was starved and accepted affection like he was desperate, but never given the opportunity of you seeing the morning rays meet the stress dotting his relaxed forehead in the peacefulness of slumber. That was the breaking point.

"Miguel," a sigh escapes your lips before you could contain it. "Please leave." A desperate plea that you didn't fully believe in. All that you gained in response was his hold growing tighter, no words exchanged.

"No, no, no." He breathed into your being, mixing himself into you until you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. "I can't go, not until I know this is back to right again."

You shook your head, cheek grazing further into the curls that threatened to tickle you with each motion. "It can't be, Miguel. Just go back home."

"And why is that," Miguel says your name, fumbling slightly as he almost murmurs a pet name in the vulnerability of the moment. "This, what's happening– we can fix this as long as you tell me what's going on, angel. Just tell me and I'll fix this." It almost came out as a whine, the urge to keep everything in order oozing out from the ulterior of his words. "Nosotros podemos salvar esto. Please, please, please." He was at a loss, anxious and scared and trying his best to keep as calm as he possibly can– Miguel's native tongue always slipped into conversations at his most emotional, trying to convey his feelings as easily as possible.

Miguel's body pulled away only so he could grab your face gently, as if you were the most fragile thing in all the universes despite your life of busting noses and cleaning up the scum off every city, his suited palms met your skin and it was a bittersweet reminder of the lives you both had. The reason you two were never able to have that happy ending of yours. 

"I can't bring myself to tell you," you mumbled, the furrow of his sharp eyebrows accompanied with the squint of disbelief had you wishing you could just scoop him up in your arms and tell him that this was just one big joke. He wouldn't talk to you for months, cold shoulder and all.

"You can tell me anything. Siempre." The last came out as hushed, a promise you've never heard from him before. Miguel has never truly given you more to work with other than physicality. It hurt knowing you could have had this all along.

Nightlife bled into your apartment, the vibrant lights fighting against the blinds you drew closed. A soft glare of yellow met a mole just below his lip and traced his nose before disappearing as if it was never there at all. A honk flooded the taut tension, almost making you jump in the light grasp he held onto you. You were wondering if he thought you were going to wash away the moment he let go of you, as if you were a sailor lost at sea and he was the broken anchor trying its best to keep you grounded. 

Your teeth met your lip, rolling it around before metal met your tongue. The pain kept you in the moment, the soft echo of “tell him, tell him, tell him,” sounding throughout your head like an urgent emergency alarm. It was all too much. You couldn’t do it anymore.

One breath. Holding it, your confession came out a bit choked and ashamed. “I’m pregnant.” The second it left the confinement of your mind and left your tongue, you just wanted to go back into your room and dig a hole from your bed into the ground. The hold on your cheeks fell slack in shock, before Miguel’s claws that threatened to peak from his fingers trailed down the flesh of your collarbone and settled on your shoulders.

His habit of keeping eye-contact slipped, failing to keep up with your ever-changing gaze. Instead, he stared at you as if he was just something that defied both life and science itself, staring off into nothingness until finally knocking his forehead in the junction right above your heart– nose brushing your armpit. “¿Qué?” Was all he could bring himself to say, and you misconstrued his disbelief with disappointment. 

You brought yourself to repeat what you had held back, tears falling from your puffy eyes. “I’m, I’m pregnant.”

“That’s–” A loss of words, must be trying to fabricate his anger into words. You had messed up, right? Maybe you deserved this–

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I’m sorry–” You cut him off, panic setting into your skin and wiring your brain to go into flight mode. “I was on the pill, and I made sure–”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say another word because the next thing you know is that Miguel’s surrounding you, hands wrapping around the back of your head in a messy tangle of curls wrapped around large fingers as your teeth clashed with his, lips intertwined with your own– your slightly chapped skin meeting his plush mouth. Spit and tears became one until you couldn’t tell anymore, and when the both of you separated a string of saliva was left in its wake. You were dazed from the abrupt need of touch, as Miguel huffed and stammered into your mouth over things he didn’t know how to express.

“No, stop. None of that, none of that matters.” He heaved, and you weren’t sure if the shine glazing his eyes were tears because the wetness clouding your gaze almost had you seeing double.

Confusion set in, replacing the prepared rambling you had of excuses. “You don’t?” You felt stupid for questioning him, but he only hissed an exhale through his teeth and shook his head as if the tension within him began deflating like a balloon. 

“Never.” He assured, forehead meeting yours. “We’ve just never spoken about this before.” It almost came out sheepishly, a light shrug bumping your shoulders before his eyes drifted off. But they rested back on you within a blink.

Miguel breathed in deeply, as if he was having to take in oxygen and breathe out manually. His muscles within the constrictions of his suit rolled as he held himself hunched over you, trying his best not to be drafted away in thought. Something he found himself doing frequently whenever met with his computer panels.

A laugh couldn’t help but leave your throat as you bit back a sob. “Because you never wanted to.”

Nothing was said in response, and as you surveyed his darting gaze from your stomach to your lips, and finally your eyes– you felt as if you said something wrong. But he only sighed, nodding ever so slowly against your flesh.

“I was..” He fumbled with what he wanted to say, before finally screwing his eyes shut and hissing out; “scared.”

You stayed quiet for him to organize his thoughts, in which he slid his forearms around your back in gratitude and wrapped you in a hold that felt as safe as a weighted blanket. 

“You, you are something else entirely. Me recuerdas al aire que respiro, algo sin lo que no puedo vivir. The rapture in my veins, the photo I find myself staring at often as if somehow you’ll jump right from the screen and engulf me with that warmth I cannot ever get enough of.” It was cheesy, but you knew he was trying his best in describing even a fraction of the amount he cared for you. “I just never knew how to go about it.”

“But you got me pregnant,” You teased weakly into his shoulder as you slid away from his forehead, the eye-contact he craved to contain grew overwhelming with the newfound emotion he had for you locked away.

“Christ,” he mumbled as he mirrored your actions, fangs finding their way to graze the skin just within the crook of your neck. “I heard you, you said you love me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

His movements still, embrace going rigid until you were the one to spill your feelings.

“We, we were never even supposed to meet. We’re from completely different worlds, the people are different and the places don’t add up–” You tripped over the thoughts you finally revealed as well, desperately trying to claw your worries out from the lump in your throat. “What about everything you said, are you willing to risk it all just for this? I don’t want you to stay awake at night when it comes to contemplating the idea that what had once happened before could happen again.”

Give yourself this, you wanted to say. You’ve worked so hard, just give yourself this. 

Miguel stares at you, back and forth– each eye and giving it the same attention when his lip curls downward into a genuine wobble. He shakes his head, whether it be in incredulity over his final decision.

“I’m in love with you, too. Love you so much it hurts. Was just too afraid to let myself have you. Eres lo más preciado que tengo en el mundo, no matter where the Arachno Humanoid Poly Multiverse puts us.

“You are such a hidden nerd it hurts.” You find yourself joking with him, and you feel the smile against your skin.

“Only for you, I think.”

Silence enveloped the living room, an exhale of relief allowing itself to escape from your lips. A yawn followed, tiredness seeping into your muscles. “You’re stuck with me if you really do stay.”

The both of you get lost in the embrace of one another, Miguel hunched over into your form until your snores finally fill his ears and he scoops you up as gently as he’s ever handled you. “Te amo, mi lucero.”

“Te amo más,” you had mumbled sleepily as your arms found security around his neck.

And when you wake that morning, your face is met with his chest and your legs are tangled with his. His breath, stifling and hot, tickles the sleepy furrowed brow that creases your forehead. One of Miguel’s arms had found its way to become one with the pillow while the other presses you further into his chest on the small of your back. When he stirs, he blinks away sleep and takes your face into his calloused fingers, sweetly locking his lips with yours in a brief kiss. “Buenos días, mi cielo.” He whispered into the softness of your duvet. Your heart melts at the sight of it all. 

He finally stayed.

You make him breakfast that morning and he makes sure your hair stays out of the way when you need to empty your stomach out of morning sickness.

..

He was a beautiful thing, you knew it from the first peek into his crying eyes. Auburn with a hint of crimson, Miguel's former genes trying its best to win a losing fight. 

“Thank you,” you whispered into the delicate moment, watching your son wail softly in your tired embrace.

Miguel’s lips met your cheek bone, fluttering and sweet and different. His hand shakily cupped yours cradling your baby’s head. He was quiet for a long time, no huff of attitude that would meet your off-handed sweetness that secretly melted his heart ten-times over. You peered up at him, an exhausted yet bashful grin ebbing your features as each babble sounded throughout the hospital room. Miguel’s hair had gotten longer throughout the last eight months, curling at the end of his neck and almost brushing his shoulders. Glasses adorned the curvature of his nose, a twinkle that’s accompanied his crimson gaze ever since you cried out “I’m pregnant,” snot and tears and all. He hasn’t let go of himself perse, just more adamant to take care of himself for the sake of you and his family.

His family. If you had told him such a thing merely two years ago, he would have thrown a computer panel aiming straight for the nose and chased you around Nueva York like a rabid animal for such a cruel joke. Miguel almost winced, the baby fawn-like expression of his newborn son almost reminding him of the boy he did the exact thing he just described. After gaining a consciousness, he’s almost apologized in every possible way (not verbally, mainly by giving him an easier time) to that kid and his mom that almost beat his ass back on Earth-1610B. 

As his gaze carved into his son’s own, it was like everything felt right. It was like every obstacle that got in the way of the both of you was worth the struggle.

“Gabri. Gabriel.” He breathed, nodding as if it made the most sense in the world.

Your laugh, airy and heavy but lighthearted all the same. “What?” Miguel couldn’t help himself when his hand moved on its own accord, swiping through your unruly and unwashed hair. You had been through it these past couple days, but to him you were nothing less than an angel. Had your hands not been occupied with the newfound bundle of joy the both of you had just welcomed into the world, you would have done the same to his curls. Down the same path, tugging on the grey streak that he stopped dying after months of your persistence.

The baby had Miguel’s eyes, but he had your lips. Your son had Miguel’s nose, but he had your chin. He coughed and snorted and did everything a baby would do, but with every little motion his hands could muster the energy for– had you forgetting every worry that had clouded your mind once before. 

“Gabriel,” he repeated as he brought the tip of his index to tickle the palm of his, your son. “Gabri for short.” 

“Miguel,” you sighed, with just as much weariness as you had when you asked him to leave your apartment that night. “You know it’s okay that you’re thinking about her–”

Miguel cut you off with a kiss, abrupt and short and sweet. It shut you up right away, a squeak coming out in surprise. His lashes were on full display as his gaze traced your lips before dipping back down to his baby in your loving hold. “Gabriel after my brother. I was going to name Gabriella after him had it been that way.” His brow furrowed faintly at the mention of his late daughter, yet a tiny turn of his mouth contrasted the subtle sorrow. “Namesake sort of thing, I think my mother would have liked it.” He confessed, a mellow fluster brushing his cheeks. Miguel was never one to talk about his parents, too much baggage that was locked away in the late nights of fluttering kisses and achingly tight holds. “Esto es importante para mí, por favor. Please, mi corazón.”

A little giggle of sorts interrupted the heartfelt communication, ripping your scanning, concerned gaze from your husband’s face. “Sé que es importante.” You murmured as a response, settling further into the near-uncomfortable fabric of the hospital bed. After complaining just a little to Miguel though, he had demanded you had the utmost care. He had brought you pillows from your own shared bed, alongside a new duvet from the hospital staff. You didn’t care to make another comment, knowing he’d break down the entire building in search of any aid to soothe your needs.

After a moment of contemplation and mainly just building suspense to get more of a reaction out of Miguel, you shook your head yes and grinned lazily. “Gabri. Lovely, baby.” You echoed your son’s name, hearing an intake of breath right next to your ear in a mixture of rare excitement and contentment that tickled the angle of your jaw and brushed hair upon your nose. Miguel must had seen the scrunch of your nose, as he had grazed where the hair had rested before.

Downright fatigue plagued your movements, wanting to celebrate this moment with Miguel but you had used all your energy in the process. So you leaned up only for him to usher you back down, using no words like he usually did. Quiet thing, he was– just a different atmosphere around his very soul nowadays.

“What can I do for you, my love?” He whispered into your hair, leaning down and getting on his knees to level himself with your exhausted expression. “Just say the word.”

“I need some sleep,” you huffed happily, wanting to trace the skin on his cheek as if he was the night sky and you were pointing out constellations. But you kept your fingers tucked safely around Gabriel until he reached out, allowing you to daintily place him in his own hold before another word between the both of you was uttered.

The dark hue of midnight black bled into the array of purple and pink, blessing the sunset with another hour of rest. It was fairly late already, judging by the amount of coffee cups Miguel had collected on the bedside desk like some kind of coffee connoisseur. When you had teased him about it earlier, he brushed you off with a faux frown and side-eye before laying his head back down on your thighs, giving into another nap before the baby was due. 

“Get some rest then, cariño. Me and Gabri will be here, won’t we?” He practically cooed into the space of the newborn, where he was just met with a series of spit-filled babbles and prattle.

You couldn’t help but just nod, overtaken by the lull of sleep and comfort. Here Miguel was, sitting not even a foot away and practically spilling into the bed. He was a clingy thing whether he admitted or not, basking in the warmth your skin brought like a cat drawn to sunlight. 

He was quiet as your breathing even out, watching his son like it was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

It wasn’t until you began snoring that he spoke to his son like an imagineer telling stories, light and fluttery yet raising in octaves to bring forth a squeal of tired excitement that Gabriel couldn’t grasp. And soon enough, Gabri was consumed with sleep in the embrace of his father who couldn’t stop shaking.

Was it nervousness? Disbelief? Fear? Miguel thought it was a scary concoction of all three filling his veins and causing his palms to grow clammy. But as a light gurgle escaped the small little thing in his hands and begged to be patted on the back, every insecurity that plagued his mind and consumed him washed away without a second thought.

A small, selfish part of him wished Gabriella was here to bask in the shared excitement between the both of you– but he knew she was gone. And you were here, and Gabri has come along too.

And that’s more than he ever thought he deserved.

[eustasskidagenda]

hello!! ^^ this is my first time requesting, so hopefully i'm doing this correctly :;

can I request a trafalgar law/reader hurt to comfort oneshot, where the two of them get into a really big argument or fight and reader decides to leave him alone for a long time, so THAT eventually leads to some problems between the two and Law has to make things right??

(basically reader gives law the silent treatment, and law is too prideful to admit his wrongs)

thank you in advance!!! I've really enjoyed reading your kid works, so i'd be happy to see more of your writing :)

☆Trafalgar Law x Reader giving him the silent treatment after an argument 

Hello dear anon, don't worry, you did it perfectly and thank you so much for your request. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it will match your expectation. Enjoy our dear emo boy!

CW : g/n reader, hurt&comfort, Law is bad at express how he feels, let me know if I forgot something

WC : around 2,000 words, whoops, I love Law way too much, I got carried away

Law is not a man of many words. That's the less you can tell. Always quiet about his plans, sometimes, you still struggle to understand what's going on in this beautiful mind. Usually, you just deal with it, supporting him as much as you can. But today, it's too much to handle. He is perpetually busy all day and night, and sometimes the bed is cold, and you know he didn't sleep with you. It hurts. You just have the feeling to carry on with this relationship alone. 

"We need to talk, Law." Busy with probably another shenanigan you don't know about, he totally ignores you and continues to read his newspaper. Again. Heavy-hearted, you close your eyes and clench your firsts. You can't step back and always try to round the corners. "Law", you insist. He finally drops the newspaper. "What, y/n-ya?" He asks, annoyed by the interruption. 

"Honestly, lately… I feel totally sidelined. You're always focused on your plans I don't nothing about, or busy with your patients. And it hurts" Law looks surprised by your words. Usually, you're more the one trying to smooth the things and trying to be super-comprehensive, because you do love Law, and you know he had been through a lot. Supporting him is the least you can do. But what about you? Your emotions? 

"I've not neglected you, y/n-ya. I'm just busy." Yes. That's the whole point. "You're always busy. If you don't need me anymore, just say it," you snarls, anger slowly heating your chest and burning your cheeks. Communication is maybe the key, but it's a struggle to communicate with someone as reserved as Law. The worst? You know he loves you. He's just… an aloof. Always distrustful. "Answer me," your voice is shaky from both anger and distress. " I have things to do, y/n-ya. Don't act like a child. I still feel the same way about you, and you know. " 

Maybe it's true, but you don't believe him anymore. You don't even remember the last time you kissed that sweet lips on him. And the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, when you redraw the lines of his tattoos, cuddling with him in bed. How can you feel the absence of someone you see every day? "I miss you," you confess. "But I'm right here. With you. I need to get those things done, so please be patient." Why can't he understand? With that unreadable face, he's still sitting on his chair. What's going on his mind? "What things, then?" He sighs. "I can't tell." 

No. It's enough. Now, you're mad. "Stop pushing me away! I miss you. Do you realize the absurdity of missing someone I can see every day? It's been four days since we last slept together! This morning, you didn't kiss me! You're always taking me for granted and I feel like I'm transparent!" At last, you manage to get a response from him. He removes his hat, runs his hand through his hair, and his eyes darken as your anger is about to explode. "Can you not be patient? I need to… finish what I'm working on. "

No.

Not this time.

He has already stated that too many times before. Before Dressrosa. Before Wano. You already waited way too long. Even for someone as patient as you, it's too much. " I'm tired," you confess, the voice which with emotions. "It can't keep going like this. Why am I always the second choice for you?"

Maybe it's because you always give everything you have to him. Supporting him, regardless of what. You had to break his armor several times to get closer to him, despite his distant and detached personality. The moment he finally confessed about his past was beautiful. The nights you spend together, simply talking about your lives, goals, and dreams, are rooted in your heart. A warm memory of two souls bonding and finding comfort through words and confession. Now, everything is just fading away. And you hate how angry and confused you sound, when Law is just as calm as always. Does he even notice what you just said? You can't tell.

"You don't even answer me. Such a shame to be named heart pirates when you don't even have one." you explodes, shouting the words.

"I don’t think it's the right time to talk about this because you're too emotional y/n-ya. "

"And you're too logical!"

The saying goes that opposites attract, but you're not so certain anymore. 

"I'm just so fucking done!" Now, you're screaming and Law growls, "Shh, don't yell, everyone will hear us," he says, caring way too much about his privacy. "I don't care! Just say something! " He looks so tired, with his usual dark rings under his eyes. "Leave me or not, but do something because I'm so done with this shit. I'm the only one trying to communicate and make things right!"

You slam the door of his small office with anger and tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He doesn't follow you. He remains confined, choking on his own pride. He probably thinks you will be back soon, as always after an argument. But not this time. You're really done. It's his time to make some efforts, to prove that he actually cares about you and your relationship. 

At the diner, he doesn't show up. During the night either. It's not easy to distance yourself from him. But you will not change your mind. After three days, he finally starts to realize that you will not come after him. 

Why aren't you bringing him his morning coffee, massaging his tensed shoulders, and spreading your stupid concealer under his eyes? All those small actions you always do to lighten his burden as a captain… damn, he never felt that lonely. But what can he do now? How can he fix the mess he made?

The Polar Tang's ambiance is as cold as a winter island after a week. Everybody noticed the huge tensions between you and the Law. The captain is irritable, barking orders at everyone and looking for you everywhere, but you're just hiding from him. He's exhausted by this situation. He's starting to understand what you said: he misses you, even if you're here. 

It's becoming too much for his tortured soul after 10 straight days. The pain in his heart is unbearable. In reality, he feels like a child he never had the chance to be: terrified, lost and alone. Are you going to leave him too? Why is everyone around him always dying or disappearing? Is it always his fault? Now, he feels miserable, almost crying alone in his office. He can't even focus when Bepo asks him to bandage a small wound he just made. His hair is messy because he runs his hands through it too much. Law sighs heavily. His nerves completely fading away as he struggles to bandage Bepo. Why the hell is he crying over a poor bandage? 

He's exhausted. Physically and mentally. An he misses you. Deeply. He understands everything you said that day. He understands how you have felt lately and it's a horrible sensation. You didn't deserve the way he pushed you away from everything. He misses the warmth of your body, the passion in your sweet kisses, and your hands redrawing his chest tattoo. 

He needs to make things right. 

In this situation, what Corazon would have done? 

Probably running after you after slamming the door, falling miserably on the ground, and crying pathetically with an ugly nose running. Law frowns. But at this point, he's so desperate that he wouldn't mind crawling and begging for your forgiveness. He stumbles out of his office, tired, and looks for you. How can you hide on such a small ship? "Have you seen y/n?" He asks to everyone and they all they say no. Are they lying? Where have you gone? Did something happen to you? Poor Law is so stressed right now, more than usual. He spent the entire day looking for you and failed. Is it too late? Have you just left? Without a goodbye? No. It can't be. He needs to see, kiss, and hug you. Just one more time, just one last time. Even if feels that he doesn't deserve you. 

He slams the door of the bedroom you used to share with brutal force. As he takes off his hat before laying on the mattress, he sighs and an idea crosses his mind. But he's afraid. Because if his plan is not working, it will mean you have already left the Polar Tang. For good. Hands shaking, he finally moves his fingers and mutters, 'room, shambles'. Your plushie disappears as you suddenly pop on the bed. 

Oh, thank god, you didn't leave. "Y/n-ya" he whispers, his voice thick with emotions. 

Your heart is pounding as you remain silent. Ten days. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin helped you hide from Law for ten days straight. Giving him the silent treatment was a difficult choice and all you can hope for is that it actually worked. "I'm not a man of many words," he confesses. "But I do love you. I'm sorry for always pushing you away, please forgive me. It's just that... I need to keep you out of trouble. If you don't know my current plan for now, it's safer. " For someone as quiet as him, he's talking a lot. But still not enough."I think I've taken you for granted, but I want to be there for you. Please, let me stay by your side. Don't leave me, please." He almost begs, his voice thick with emotions. 

His gentle touch on your cheek almost melts you.  You missed those beautiful, smooth hands on your face. You get closer, enjoying the warm heat heating up your chest. "You're so beautiful", he whispers. He looks so genuinely innocent, discovering again all the small details of your face. What has he done to be so fortunate in love? Does he only deserve you? You can tell that he's not even sure as he waits for your answer, trying to hide the slight shaking in his movements. 

"I love you, Law." You gently assure him by kissing the tattoos on his fingers. As the solace embraces his heart, Law is melting inside.

He didn't lose you. It's not too late. "I know you're not good at words, so I won't ask for much. What you just said is already perfect. Thank you for confessing to me. I know it's hard for you to open up." you reassure him. "What should I do, y/n-ya? How can I show you that I care about you? I won't repeat this situation twice." His eyes are now shining with pure determination. "Just the small things you used to do before. Sleeping with me, giving me a hello and a goodnight kiss... you remember that? Our routines." Law nods, probably taking mental note. "I have to kiss you twenty times." You raise an eyebrow confusedly. "Why?" 

He shrugs. "It's been ten days since I last saw you. And I'm supposed to kiss you all mornings and evenings." He's so serious right now, you can't help but burst out laughing. He's not joking at all. God, you love this nerd so much. The confusion on his face is even more hilarious. " I love you," you sigh between two laughs. "Why are you laughing? Am I wrong?" That man is so smart, cold and logical, but with love… he's just a mess. A beautiful mess. The one you will always love and cherish. "You're so adorable."

And now, he's blushing. How dare you call him adorable? "Just come here," he sighs, grabs your hips, and sits you on his laps. His lips are sealed to yours, and he kisses you. Twenty times. And he's counting. Every kiss is filled with passion, love, unspoken emotions, and sweet promises. 

And, as always when you're together in the same bed, you end up redrawing the tattoos on his chest. As you gently caress his skin, he falls asleep, the tension finally leaving his face. You cradle your head against his chest. His heart is slowly beating, and he looks so calm right now. 

You are here with him, and his tortured mind can finally get some sleep.

[simpjaes]

speaking of hoon edging himself for days when you're not available, can you write a quick prompt about how he'd fill up and overflow all your holes when you get back. fuck, he'd be the type to go for ages even after you're all fucked out and overstimulated

reminder that I don't do requests but since you asked for a prompt, i'll write a lil somethin' somethin'.

christmas setting woohoo!

warnings: major edging, a billion orgasms, reader is smaller than him and can be lifted and held up.

wc: 1.4k

Sunghoon, your busy, busy boyfriend. Sunghoon, you're amazingly sweet, loving, and careful boyfriend. Sunghoon, your very, very horny boyfriend.

Honestly, he hates himself every time he does it. Sometimes it's intentional, but this time it wasn't entirely his fault.

It's the first time since you started dating him that you had to go home for a week during the holidays. Which is fine, you've only been dating him since the beginning of the year and it was somewhat expected that you wouldn't be spending christmas with him and him alone. After all, you expected him to go home too.

And he did, which arguably makes his situation worse.

Sunghoon, your needy, pathetic, and annoyed boyfriend.

What's worse is that edging is one thing, but this is just blatant torture. He thought it would be fun to be long-distance for a week. He wanted phone sex, he wanted to see you fuck yourself on camera for him, he wanted you to show him how much you missed him. And that's ultimately where he fucked up.

Because you can barely even respond to his text messages let alone call him for phone sex. Due to sharing a room with your cousin, due to constantly helping your family out with holiday preparations, due to-- doing stuff that doesn't involve helping him out.

You're entirely being distracted from him right now. Family, holiday tradition, and merry joy or whatever.

And you know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that his libido is far too high to have a girlfriend not on him every night. And by every night, it's really every night.

He's supposed to be distracted, though, with being home too and all. But he's entirely tuned into the fact that he's been so fucking hard since the day after you left. It's almost painful now, especially because something inside of him drives him to enjoy this torture. To try and hold off for the day you both eventually land back in the same city, and he can fuck all of this frustration out of himself and into you.

Plus, um, it's kind of hard to jerk off in his family home surrounded by said family. If anything, he should not be as horny as he is. He should be entirely turned off, and entirely tuned in to wrapping gifts and pretending santa is real.

Which, again, isn't working because with each day that passes, all he can think about is you and how you looked the last night you were together, all pretty with your lashes fluttering up at him. Pretty face, pretty mouth, pretty pussy.

Man, he's gonna fucking explode before this week is up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Safe to say, Sunghoon did not explode.

But upon looking at him when he storms into your dorm room? He seems pretty fucking close to it. He looks sleepy, spent, and even exhausted.

You were half ready to offer your bed up for a nice little afternoon nap before he came up to you and immediately had his hand down your loose pajama shorts.

"Hoon?" You ask with a light chuckle.

"You couldn't even call me." He very nearly whined, which is kiiind of new to you.

Then it clicks. Right. Your boyfriend and his libido. His sex drive.

Oh my god, he must have been suffering.

"I'm so hard right now," He chokes out, rubbing himself against your thigh. "I've been so hard all week, babe, please."

And he doesn't really need to ask, but it's kind of cute that he does.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" You ask playfully, feeling his frantic fingers work you up so that you're ready to take whatever nightmare amount of cum he needs to give to you.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" He counters, fingers stopping for a moment before he shifts entirely, pulling his hand out of your pants and immediately shoving you back and against the small dorm kitchen counter.

You chuckle, because of course you do. You'll never get used to being needed or wanted so badly by someone, and it fills you with so much joy that he's really this desperate.

"I should maybe leave more often," You smile at him when he's slipping your pants off of you, hiking one of your legs up and against his waist before fumbling with his own pants. "Never seen you this horny--"

He shuts you up fast, your voice only working him up more and more with your stupid, stupid playful words. You're loving this, you must loooove to see him fucking suffer over you.

And then, the only sound that you can hear is the ringing in your ears as he plunges himself into you. Cock already hard and wet, pulsing with the need to fuck something. You, specifically.

It's like neither of you could speak if you wanted to, with his consistent groans and relieved sighs of feeling your pussy squeeze him like he missed so much.

"Missed you, fuck-" He manages to choke out, already nearing the point of orgasm before it slams into him without warning.

It's the first time he's ever come so fast, barely a full ten strokes into you before it happened, but you love it all the same. It felt somehow better than usual. After all, he could go for an hour or more when his sexual appetite is fed nearly every night by you.

Arguably, he appears to be able to go an hour or more now too, as your face falls into that of shock that his orgasm doesn't render him flaccid or spent.

He paused through his first orgasm, feeling it run through his body in a numbing way, only to immediately fuck up and into you harder once it's subsided. He knows he has more to give, so, so much more. A weeks worth of fucking you will be had now.

And man, you feel every inch of him, deeper and deeper until somehow he feels bigger than usual. Somehow he's splitting you open better than he ever has, and he's filling you up with orgasms that have never once lasted as long as the ones he's shaking through now.

A second orgasm comes in the form of him wrapping your other leg around his waist too, where he's essentially holding you up and against the counter absolutely railing your pussy until his legs nearly buckle.

And well, they do buckle. He's careful though, maintaining his balance before tapping your legs without a word and immediately pushing you to the floor. You stared in awe at how his cock is still working through the two orgasms, despite his brain clearly having gone blank the moment he said he missed you.

There, you give him a third orgasm with your throat. It took a little longer, and it only happened when he let it. Holding your head in place with both hands, fucking his hips into you just to feel your throat constrict and strangle his pathetic and still needy cock. You hear his brain start working again through this, and the only words he can mutter is, "it's like you're doing this on purpose, god, look at how you take it."

You take all of it and you taste all of it, again and again as he stumbled in front of you, angling his hips into your mouth to push it deeper, just to come to the point that you're choking. You wish you could have seen the way he chewed against his bottom lip and threw his head back as it happened.

You're so good to him though, letting him take it out on you like this. So, so good to him.

And it didn't stop. For hours he fucked himself into every part of you that you'd allow, offering you several orgasms in turn from sheer force and need alone. He didn't really even try, because for the first time with you, he was solely desperate to focus on himself. To empty his body of this buildup, and to fill you up with how frustrated he's managed to become.

By the next morning, you weren't the only one rendered unable to walk. His own legs felt weak, his head hurt, his eyes were strained at the morning light. But when he looked at you, smiling as if you really would leave more often just to have him lose his goddamn mind like that again, he immediately scolds.

"Why are you smiling like you're gonna do this shit to me again?"

And you'd just smile wider.

"Because I definitely will."

He rolls his strained eyes at you, thinking hard about the fact that as much as he hates not fucking you, he might kind of love the way you make it up to him.

[alottiegoingon]

i had this idea I wanted to write, but every time I started, it I end up hating it, so I thought maybe you could come up with something better!!

jackie doing the reader's make up or hair, and they're really close together and finally jackie can't handle it anymore and closes the gap.

user alottiegoingon is completely dead after this!!! sorry its short, im not sure if thats what you had in mind but i had a draft inspired by that pic and thought it would fit well with your idea

jackie taylor x fem!reader

warnings: fluff and a bit of suggestive ending, not proofread

"you can not go like this." jackie broke into a quiet chuckle, studying every feature of your face. "come on. let's fix that." she grabs your hand and lead the way to her bed.

as always, you were always dragged by jackie to many parties you wouldn't usually go if it wasn't for her. 'lucky' for you, she wouldn't ever miss any. not much of a party girl, you would let her pick everything for you; dress, hairstyle, make up.

tonight, trying to mirror her gestures and putting make up by yourself, you somehow ended up looking extremely boring.

"you don't need any, but if you want to wear it..." she's delicate when pushing you onto her bed, soft smile spreading across her face, but there's something in those eyes when she crawls to you. "then we gotta make it right."

your muscles tightens as you sense the warmth emanating from her breath as it meets your face. jackie had an eyeliner in hand and lipstick and blush resting by your side. her knees were straddling you, supporting her weight as half of her body was leaning over you and you had a hard time discerning if her rosy cheeks were caused by the lack of distance between you two or the blush she had applied before.

she graces you with an affectionate grin and the side of her hand touches your face, the cold and wet feeling of the tip of the eyeliner makes you flinch a bit as it touches your eye. "don't move," she murmurs under her breath even though she was struggling as well with unsteady hands.

the air seems to thicken around you. her focused gaze locks onto your eyes, while her lips begin to slightly part. you have never seen jackie so immersed, not even in class or watching a movie. in a matter of seconds, she was done with your eyes and with a firm grasp on the brush, she swept the pinkish powder onto your cheeks in gentle, circular strokes. "see, now you don't look dead anymore," she lets out a breathy giggle, eyes darting from your flushed cheekbones to meet your hesitant stare.

nervously, you just shake your head to agree with her and give her a faint smile. if your heart was already beating fast, it felt like it was about to explode when she switched to the lipstick. your hands resting on the sheets begin to play with the thin fabric.

popping the cap off and bringing her face nearer, her left hand reaches for your skin, thumb tracing your bottom lip with no rush. she was so lost in the sight of your unselead lips that her ragged and heavy breath was resonating in your ears. holding your breath, you felt like you were about to pass out and judging by jackie's distressed and lost eyes, so were she.

"open wider, please." she demands in a low and raspy voice and her words made your heart stop for a moment. her finger, still resting on your mouth, forcefully parted your lips and her hand then slides down to cradle your chin between her thumb and index finger.

she swallows hard, forcing down the lump in her throat, and with her trembling right hand, she starts to apply the red color to your lips. she's careful to cover every inch of your mouth, paying attention to your upper lip first.

when jackie's about to move to your lower lip, she abruptly stops. looking up at your hazy eyes and back at your colored lips over and over, she was waiting for any sign of rejection. perhaps a spoken longing from you, even a faint noise. but you didn't utter a word and it was all she needed.

with a swift motion, jackie abandons the lipstick on the bed, missing it, and her hands immediately find your face. the sharp clatter of the plastic hitting the floor goes unnoticed by both of you as she fervently presses her lips against yours.

taken aback, you momentarily halted before kissing her back, eyes shutting rapidly.

with her brushing finger over your jawline, her other hand makes its way to your neck, gently wrapping her fingers around it. in an instant reaction, your hands forsake the sheets, eagerly gripping her hips.

"jackie," you tried to break the kiss but your words were nothing but slurred and weak sounds that she didn't care one bit about. "what about the party?"

not letting you speak, denying you any space by not letting go of your lips, and with smudged red lipstick all over her mouth, she whispers something into your mouth.

"forget about it."

[sagesolsticewrites]

“i can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

12 years ago, Elvis chose his career over you. What happens when he shows up at your door asking for a second chance?

a/n: this is entirely based on a dialogue prompt I saw from @twelvegods: “I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” apparently it was a really good prompt because it inspired all 8,735 words of this lol. I I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it <3 Thank you all again so so so much for 500 followers!!

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a couple swear words, lots of angst in the first half, Y/N has trust issues oops, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

That’s what Elvis Presley had said to you when he was just 20 years old and his career was starting to take off, thanks in large part (as Elvis said) to the Colonel. And you, being the young girl in love that you were, believed him.

What a fool you were.

You managed to stay together for another year before the Colonel, his claws digging into Elvis’s heart and soul to bleed all the green he could out of him, managed to convince him that appearing single would be what was best for his career— he had to let all those screaming girls believe they had a chance with him, after all.

“Baby please,” Elvis pleaded, “this is for my career. I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll get back together, you’ll see.”

You shook your head, “No, Elvis. I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you like some damsel in distress. If you want me, keep me. But otherwise…”

You paused, waiting for him to say something. Begging, pleading, praying he would say something, that you had managed to change his mind.

When he said nothing, you exploded.

You had screamed and cried, and he had screamed and cried, and you had taken your things that had made their way into his room in Graceland and stormed out of his life for good, only pausing to give him one final sincere “I love you” before you walked out the door.

The last image you had of him (that wasn’t on a tv screen or poster) was of him standing in the foyer in Graceland, tears streaming down his face, refusing to chase after you.

You hoped that time would eventually heal your wounded heart, but apparently whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking idiot because it was now just over a decade later and you were still as in love with Elvis Presley as you had been when you were one of the only girls in the world who knew his name.

He, evidently, didn’t feel the same.

That much was clear, at least, based on the way he was still overly flirtatious with his audience in his shows, not to mention the rumors about relationships with his movie co-stars. In his shows, before he went off to Germany, he had taken to stepping down into the audience and kissing practically every woman in the room. That alone cleared any remaining doubts from your mind that he still thought about you in any capacity, despite that little voice in the back of your head that still held out some futile, desperate hope.

You’re about to curl up on the couch with some tea and your copy of Anne of Green Gables — exactly what you need on a rainy day like today — when someone knocks on your door.

“You expecting anyone, Y/N?” your friend Annie calls from the hall. You had been living with her for about 5 years down in Louisiana, after the memories in Memphis had become too much, and you loved it.

“Nope,” You call back, wondering who on earth would be knocking on doors in this weather. “If it’s one of those door-to-door salesmen, slam it in his face again.” You suggest with a laugh.

“Will do,” comes her reply, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

You turn you attention back to your book as the door opens, and nearly spill your tea all over yourself as you hear a sultry drawl you hadn’t heard in person in over a decade.

“Hi Annie… is Y/N here?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re sure Annie is as stunned as you are, then:

“Maybe,” she replies curtly, “What do ya want?”

Annie knew the whole story of you and Elvis, and she had sworn that she’d never let you get hurt like that ever again.

“Please, Annie, I just wanna talk to her.”

“And why should I let you? You’ve got a lotta nerve comin’ here after what you did—“

You’re not sure what prompts you to set your book and mug down and sigh “Annie, just let him in,” but you’re just as surprised as Annie is that you did.

She reluctantly steps aside to let him in, eyeing him warily the entire time.

Your eyes drink him in; this is the first time you’re seeing him in person in over 12 years, and your mind automatically catalogs the differences since you last saw him. He’s tanned, with a few more freckles, a result of the California sun, no doubt, and tinted glasses hide his eyes. His burgundy suit is soaked, and his hair, which was no doubt carefully styled before, now flops onto his forehead, dripping into his eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses, revealing tired blue eyes. From the way his eyes track along your body, he was drinking you in the same way you had done him.

There’s a beat of silence, then his eyes finally meet yours.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You maintain a straight face, unwilling to be taken in so easily.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice cold. You want nothing more than to rush into his arms, but you remind yourself: he chose his career over you, and never looked back.

“I fired the Colonel,” he blurts, after several moments of trying to figure out what to say.

“About time,” you snort, dropping your serious demeanor for a split second, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. A lotta mistakes, really, but letting you go was the biggest one I ever made in my life. I missed you so, so much, and I—“

You cut him off, “Elvis, cut the shit. You made it very clear you moved on from me.”

“Y/N, I never stopped thinkin’ about you, I promise.”

“Sure, and was that before or after you kissed every girl in the audience at the end of every damn show?”

“Y/N, I—“ he starts, frustrated, then takes a deep breath. He starts again, calmer, softer, “I know how that looks. But I… I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes.

You feel your cracked heart melt just a little at his words, and yet…

“I don’t…” you sigh, “I don’t believe you. You put your career before me over a decade ago, and I tried to move on, but I couldn’t when I was seeing your face and hearing your voice everywhere, and it hurt like hell. And now you walk back in here, tell me you just made a mistake, and… what? Expect me to take you back just like that?”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, an echo of his plea back when he broke your heart for the first time, “I know I messed up bad, but… it’s you. It’s always been you, with those girls in the audience, even with Ann-Margret… I was always thinkin’ about you. And I’m willin’ to do whatever I have to to fix this. Anything. I mean it.”

And you can see the conviction in his eyes, like he’s that little boy again who believed he was Captain Marvel Jr. and could fly his family out of poverty to the Rock of Eternity. You know in your bones that he’d buy you the moon if it meant he could love you again.

But you’d made the mistake of believing his promises before.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you won’t drop me when your next manager thinks that’d be ‘what’s best for your career’?”

He winces as you throw the Colonel’s words from all those years ago back in his face. “I know I ruined any kind of trust you had in me that day, and I can’t tell you enough how goddamn sorry I am, Y/N. But I’m not askin’ for you to forgive me right now, I just want a chance to try and fix this. That’s all, I swear.”

He waits as you process his words, practically holding his breath as you think of how to reply.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

He nods. “That’s all I’m askin’ for, sw— Y/N,” he fumbles to avoid using the old pet name for you.

“I think you should go now,” you say, your voice cold again to hide how the almost-pet name brought a storm of feelings rushing back..

“Right, um..” he fumbles around in his pocket, producing a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it, “Gimme a call, if you want? I’ve gotta head back to Memphis in a couple days, that’ll probably be the easiest way to reach me if you, uh, decide anything.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing at it quickly before stuffing it in your pocket. The number was for Graceland’s house phone; a number you’d never forgotten for a second, not that you’d be telling Elvis that.

“Well, um… bye Y/N, Annie,” he nods as he moves past your roommate towards the door. He pauses, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You look good, Y/N,” he says softly before heading back out into the downpour.

The “you, too” you whisper in reply is lost in the sound of rain hitting the pavement outside.

The enormity of everything that had just transpired suddenly hits you and you fall back onto the couch, tears welling up in your eyes.

Annie rushes over, concerned. You look up as she fusses over you.

“Was that… did that actually just happen?”

Annie nods, “Yeah, it did, honey. I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“Did I do the right thing?” You wring your hands, suddenly second-guessing every decision you made during the interaction with Elvis.

“I know I’ve always said that I’d punch him in his smug face if he ever showed up here after what he did to you,” Annie says, “But I see the way you look at him when he shows up on the TV, and that ain’t the look of someone who’s just angry at an ex. You’re still in love with him, honey, I know it, and I feel like a fresh start is what both of you need. I don’t mean to overstep,” she drawls, “But if I can give you some advice: just start over as friends. Don’t jump back into a relationship right away. Try to make it organic. A clean slate.”

“A clean slate,” you echo, processing her words.

You mull over what to do for a few days, worst and best-case scenarios swirling around your brain, and eventually dial Graceland. Your foot taps anxiously as you lean against the wall by the phone, listening to it ring.

“Hullo?” A raspy voice comes over the receiver.

“Hi, Elvis,” you say, trying your best to sound casual, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he stammers, sounding less like the confident King of Rock and Roll superstar and more like the shy little kid you’d grown up with, “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” You reply, “Look, I did some thinking about what you said and, well… I’ve got a couple questions before I decide anything.”

“Sure, yeah, what is it?”

“Well, first of all… why now?”

“Huh?”

You sigh, “It’s been over 10 years, Elvis. What made you come back now? What made you fire the Colonel after all this time?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t very happy with the movies the Colonel was signing me up for. And then he planned this whole silly special for NBC…” he sighs, “I’ve been lost ever since I lost Mama— before that, even, when I lost—“ he cuts himself off with an awkward cough, “uh, anyway; he wasn’t helping. And I finally realized that he didn’t really care what I wanted to do. It was all about profit for him,” he says quietly. He goes on to explain hiring Binder and Bones to help with the special, to “find himself” again, and the realization he’d had that he hadn’t truly felt like himself since he’d left you.

“Hm,” is your only response at first, trying to shove down the warmth growing in your chest. “Well, um… thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to know, Y/N… you can trust me. I know I ruined that back then, but I’d really like a chance to try and rebuild it with you if I can.”

“I think I’d like that, too.” You say after a moment of silence. “Look, Elvis, I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, if we’re gonna do this, to pick up right where we left off. We need a… a clean slate. So what if we started over as friends?” You fidget with the phone cord as you await his reply.

There are several moments of silence, and you're wondering if something happened with the call before his raspy drawl comes over the phone once more.

“I’d love to be your friend again, Y/N.”

A wave of relief floods your body, and you smile. You think for a moment before speaking again, saying hesitantly, “I’m coming up to visit for Mama’s birthday next weekend, and… maybe we could see each other then? That would be a ‘friend’ thing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great, well,” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’ll just give you a call when I’m back home and we can figure everything out then?”

“Whatever works for you is fine with me,” he assures you, “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me, too,” you say softly, allowing a tiny bit of the warmth you felt earlier to creep back. “I’ll see you next weekend, then.”

“See you then,” he says and with a click, the phone is back to humming a dial tone.

You’re buzzing with anticipation for the next week, not only excited to see your family but also to see Elvis.

“Y/N!” Your mother rushes out as you pull into the driveway of your family’s Memphis home, “My baby’s home!”

“Happy birthday, Mama,” you smile as she rushes up to give you a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Thank you, darlin’. Come inside, honey, come in!” she insists, grabbing your suitcase from you despite your protests.

“Honey!” she calls to your father as she leads you into your childhood home, “Look who’s finally decided to come for a visit!”

“Mama, I was just here for Easter,” you remind her as you head to the living room to greet your father. “Hi Daddy,” you smile as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, “Louisiana treatin’ you well?”

You nod, “Mhm. Everyone’s real nice, and Annie’s always lookin’ out for me.”

You fill your parents in on life in Louisiana, and in return they (your mother, mostly) regale you with all the Memphis gossip you’ve missed. Apparently the young couple next door had a baby recently, another young couple in town just got married, and oh yes, Elvis came back fr—

“Mary Ann, you know I don’t like talkin’ about that boy!” your father exclaims, cutting your mother off.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, Walter,” your mother retorts, “It’s not as if we can pretend he doesn’t exist, not when he’s such a big part of this town…”

As you listen to your parents bicker, you decide that now might as well be as good a time as any to bring up your new friendship.

“Actually, Mama,” you interrupt their bickering, “I’m gonna try and meet up with Elvis while I’m in town this weekend…”

Your father’s expression flickers between confusion and anger at your words, while your mother’s morphs into one of delight.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, “Though I admit, I thought you’d’ve at least called to tell us you got back together—“

“Mama!” You cut her off, heat flooding your face, “We’re not back together, I promise,” you add with a glance over to your father. “He showed up at our place last week, we had a talk, and we’re gonna try to be friends again.”

“Well I’m glad to see the two of you are startin’ over, honey,” your mother says with a smile

“I still don’t trust that boy,” your father grumbles. “Just… be careful, alright?”

You nod, “Of course, you know I always am, Daddy.”

”When were you two planning on meeting up?” your mother asks.

You shrug, “We haven’t figured out the details yet. I was gonna call him today to sort everything out.”

”Well you should invite him over for dinner while you’re in town.” your mother suggests, with just a hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eye, ignoring your father’s clear alarm at the suggestion.

You groan. “Mama, no, he really doesn’t need to come for dinner—“

”Y/N L/N, inviting a friend over for dinner is a polite thing to do,” your mother scolds, “and in this house we are always…?”

“Polite and respectful,” you mumble, repeating the words that had been drilled into you in childhood.

She nods, satisfied. ”It’s settled then. You two will have your little meetup and then he can come over for dinner that night, or the next if it suits him.”

”Yes, Mama,” you say, resigned. “I’ll go call him now.”

You make your way over to the kitchen, dialing the number you’ve had memorized for over 12 years.

“Hello?” The same raspy voice comes over the receiver.

”Hey, it’s um, it’s me. Y/N.”

”Oh, hey. Um, how are ya?”

”I’m alright. I’m back in town now, and Mama’s bein’… well, Mama, so you can imagine.” you say with a soft laugh.

”Oh, I can imagine,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “How was the drive up?”

The two of you make small talk for a bit, slowly easing back into being a part of each other’s lives, and eventually you remember the reason you called. “Oh, yeah, by the way; I was calling to see if there was a day or time that worked for you as far as meeting up this weekend?”

”Oh, yeah.” You can hear some rustling on his end, and you assume he’s checking his schedule. “I’m actually free this afternoon around 1 if that works? Or tomorrow?”

You weren’t prepared to see him quite so soon, but you suppose now is better than putting it off until tomorrow. “This afternoon is perfect. You still like that diner on Beale Street, right?”

He hums an affirmative, and you smile, “Great, I’ll meet you there at 1, then.”

”I’ll see you then,” and the line clicks back to a dial tone.

You head back to the living room, entering to see your parents doing a wonderfully poor job of pretending as though they weren’t listening to your conversation. You roll your eyes.

”I assume you already heard, but Elvis and I are meeting for lunch at 1, just as friends, Mama,” you say pointedly, noting the beam on your mother’s face. “I’ll ask him about dinner then.”

Your father harrumphs, but mainly keeps silent, a firm frown on his face.

”That’s wonderful, honey,” your mother beams, “You’ve gotta get goin’ pretty soon then, huh?”

“Huh?” You glance over at the clock on the mantle and sure enough, it’s already 15 past noon and you still haven’t changed out of the outfit you wore for the 6-hour drive up to Memphis. You grab your suitcase and race to make yourself presentable, managing to change into a dress that seems nice enough for a lunch outing (but not too fancy), fix your windswept hair, and reapply your makeup in a cool 30 minutes before racing out the door.

Before you can make it out to the porch, though, your father stops you, calling your name as you’re about to step out the door. You turn, “Yes, Daddy?”

He has a solemn look on his face. “Just… be careful, darlin’. You know me, I hold grudges like no one else, and I admit I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you all those years ago. If you let him in, and he hurts you again somehow I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You step back into the room and envelop him in a hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not the same girl I was when I met him.” You add with a sad smile.

He squeezes your hand comfortingly, “I know you’ll be smart. If he does anything, you come right to me and I’ll sort him out, alright?” You nod and, satisfied, he kindly shoos you out the door with a soft “Go on, have fun.”

You pull up to the diner to find that Elvis is already there, if the deep purple Cadillac parked nearby is any indication.

He waves from a booth near the back as you enter, his bodyguards seated at a table nearby. You slide into the seat across from him, pushing down the butterflies that threaten to stir. It might’ve been a bad idea to choose the place you went on your first date, you realize belatedly, but too late now.

“How are you?” he asks with a casual smile.

“Pretty good,” you reply, “My parents have been updating me on all the Memphis gossip I’ve missed since I was away, very exciting stuff,” you say sarcastically. “Mama says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” he grins.

“Will do. Uh, how are you?” You say, trying to fall back into the rhythm of talking to him.

“I’m alright. There’s this big thing I’m gonna be workin’ on soon, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Oh, big thing?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“It’s a…” he pauses, looking around, “no one really knows about it yet, so you gotta promise not to tell anyone, alright?”

You nod, and he continues, leaning in to whisper, “You remember that special I told you about, the one that Steve and Bones are helpin’ me with? It’s gonna be a TV special for NBC. A Christmas show, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, it’ll have a couple of Christmas songs, but I really want it to be about finding myself again. Gettin’ back to the real Elvis.”

“Sounds exciting,” you reply, a genuine smile coming across your face at how excited he seems.

A starstruck waitress comes to take your order, and the conversation continues.

“So,” Elvis says, “how are you doin’ in Louisiana?”

“I actually really like it there,” you reply, smiling. “Annie’s great, obviously, and I found a job at a bookstore that I really love, things are goin’ pretty well. I do have the occasional grumpy customer, but that’s just how it is.” You finish with a shrug.

“Grumpy customer? Sounds like you’ve got some stories to tell,” he says, sounding genuinely interested, and you can’t help but launch into the story of a man who was sure that Stranger in a Strange Land was in the nonfiction section no matter how many times you tried to lead him over to science fiction.

You finally fall back into a rhythm of friendly conversation, trading stories for over an hour before you finally bring up what your mother had asked.

“Oh by the way,” you say, sipping your milkshake, “Mama wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Elvis nearly chokes on the fry he’s just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?”

“I told my parents that we were meeting up and she was adamant that I at the very least invite you to come over for dinner tomorrow— you know how she is about politeness—“ you explain, “but I promise, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I completely understand, I’d be more than happy to make up an excuse for you.”

“And refuse an invitation from Mrs. L/N? It’s like you want her to kill me,” he jokes. “I’d be more than happy to come,” he says, in a more sincere tone. “Besides, friends come over for dinner right?”

“Of course,” you say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, “and Mama’s very excited to see you, so be prepared for that.”

“I always am,” he replies with a smile.

You arrange for him to come over at 7 the next night, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly until the check arrives, which starts off a round of bickering between the two of you about who should pay.

“Please let me get this, I want this to be a start to making it up to you,” Elvis argues.

“I appreciate it but I’m perfectly capable of paying for lunch, thank you very much,” you retort, and this goes on for several minutes before the two of you eventually agree to split the check.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” Elvis says as you exit the diner, his bodyguards dutifully on alert as they follow you out.

“You, too.” You say. “I…” I didn’t realize just how much I missed you, is what you want to say, but instead, you go with “I had a good time.”

His face lights up as if those 5 little words were all he needed to brighten his day. He steps towards the Cadillac, throwing a friendly wave to you as he calls “See you tomorrow!”

You wave back, and you don’t realize how happy you are until your cheeks start to ache from smiling on the drive home.

The next day, your mother is practically frantic, bustling around the house making sure everything is perfect for when Elvis gets here.

“Mama, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever been here! And we’re just friends, please try to remember that.”

“Alright, alright, I know, honey. I just think it’s nice that you two are spending time together again, that’s—“

The doorbell rings, and your mother jumps into action, plucking microscopic bits of lint from your dress before hurrying to the door and opening it with a polite smile.

Elvis stands on your porch, bearing a polite smile and a bouquet of lilacs. “Hello, Mrs. L/N.”

“Hello, Elvis!” Your mother beams, “It’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought Y/N flowers, how sweet!” She looks pointedly at you.

Elvis lets out a nervous laugh as he steps into the house, “Actually, Mrs. L/N, these are for you. A birthday gift.” He holds out the bouquet to her with a shy smile, looking remarkably like the shy boy he had been back in ‘51 when you first became friends.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you dear. Wasn’t that kind of him, Walter?”

“Very kind,” your father grumbles in a tone that makes it seem as though Elvis had brought a pile of mud as a gift. He nods a greeting, “Hello, Elvis. California’s treatin’ you well, I hear.”

“Uh, yes, sir, it is. Thank you.” he replies.

When your father doesn’t respond, Elvis turns his attention to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you reply, resisting the urge to fuss with your dress.

The awkward silence that follows is broken as your mother ushers everyone to the dining room, arranged so she and your father are at the heads of the table while you and Elvis are sitting across from one another.

The meal begins, and the conversation that follows is strained but polite, with your mother eagerly asking questions about life in California and Hollywood and Elvis answering modestly then turning the conversation back to your family, remaining the picture of a Southern gentleman. The conversation remains polite apart from your father’s not-so-subtle grumbling about Elvis running off the California, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, he decides to bring up the rumors of Elvis’s womanizing.

“So, Elvis,” your father says casually, though his eyes remain calculating, “what’s all this I hear about you and… what’s that actress’s name, Ann-Margret? Or have you moved on to someone new by now?”

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure the mortification shows on your face as you hiss for your father to stop, please.

“Oh well sir, that’s really all just the tabloids tryin’ to get their stuff to sell, there’s no truth to that at all, I promise. Ann-Margret is a good friend of mine now, though.” Elvis answers politely, unfazed as your mother quietly scolds your father.

“Walter, quit it, you’re scarin’ the boy!”

“Well good, he should be scared after what he did to my little girl!”

“Dad!” you exclaim, mortified, “We talked about this! We’re friends now, you promised you’d be polite!”

“No, it’s alright, Y/N,” Elvis assures you, briefly breaking eye contact with your father to glance over at you, “He’s just lookin’ out for you like any father would, and I respect you for that, sir.”

Your father grunts a reply, and the conversation picks up again, still polite but even more strained than before.

Elvis remains as polite as ever, even offering to take care of the dishes — “Oh I can get those plates for ya, don’t you worry Mrs. L/N” — and despite your determination for a clean slate, your mind betrays you, reminding you of how shy and overly polite he was the first few times he was over for dinner, especially after the two of you first got together. Sure, he’s gotten a little more confident, which you’ll admit is kind of attractive, but— NO.

You firmly cut off that train of thought, no matter how badly that little voice in the back of your head (the one that practically melted at the sight of him at your door with a bouquet, reminiscent of your first date) wants to keep on track. Just friends, clean slate, you remind yourself.

After the dishes are done, your mother prepares coffee for everyone and the four of you head to the living room. At one point, Elvis gets up to get a refill, and your father follows him.

Your father approaches Elvis once it’s clear that neither you nor your mother will be getting up, and corners him.

“Now Elvis, I’m gonna try to be polite, because my daughter’s told me you two are tryin’ to be friends and I respect her wishes, but I don’t trust you after what you did to her. And if I get even a hint that you’re playin’ with her feelings, well… I’m afraid that won’t end well for ya, son.”

Elvis nods quickly, “Sir I promise you, I have no intentions of playing with your daughter’s feelings. She’s very dear to me, and I swear I’d do anything to make sure she’s happy.” He says, conviction clear in his eyes.

Your father eyes Elvis for several long moments and, apparently satisfied, returns to the living room with more coffee for you and your mother.

Elvis takes a breath to compose himself — he’s forgotten how scary your father could be when he wanted to — and exits the kitchen, re-entering as you’re laughing at some comment your mother made.

You turn as he enters with a wide smile on your face, and he’s suddenly slammed back to a time where you looked at him like that every time he entered a room— when you looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars just for you.

Fighting the urge to rush over and kiss you senseless — that’s not something a friend would do, he reminds himself — he moves to sit in the armchair across from you, turning his attention to whatever neighbor your mother is gossiping about tonight.

The night eventually winds to a close and Elvis thanks your parents profusely for “a wonderful meal and even better company.”

Your mother waves off the compliment modestly, “Oh it was nothin’ darling. We’ll be glad to have you back anytime. Y/N, why don’t you walk our guest out while we take care of these last few things?” she says, gesturing to the coffee mugs still sitting out.

Elvis gives one last wave to your parents, wishing them well, before stepping out to the porch with you.

“Well, my parents loved you,” you tease as the two of you make your way to the pink Cadillac looking more than slightly out of place in your modest gravel driveway.

He lets out a shy laugh, “They haven’t changed a bit, that’s for sure. Your daddy’s still as protective as ever.” His tone softens as he continues, “It was nice seein’ them again. ‘Specially your mama. She’s always been better to me than I deserve.”

Acting on impulse, you lean over and squeeze his hand as you remember his own mama isn’t waiting for him at home anymore. “You’re welcome over anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a near whisper. Your hand stays clasped with his, the warmth of him tempting you closer, and his gaze drifts slowly down to your lips before the two of you snap back to yourselves and create a respectable two feet of distance between you.

“Uh, anyway,” you attempt to continue the conversation, refusing to acknowledge that moment of… whatever that was, “Are you gonna be here for a while longer?”

He shakes his head, “I’m actually gonna be leaving for California again tomorrow.” he says almost apologetically, adding with a nod to the house, “But I’ll still be able to call ya for a bit, right?”

A frown crosses your face as you remember: “I’m actually headin’ back to Louisiana tomorrow. But,” you brighten, “I can give you my number for down there if you want?”

“I’d love that,” Elvis smiles.

You rummage around in your pockets for anything you can scribble on, producing some long-forgotten shopping list and a small pen. You scrawl your phone number down and hand it to him, determinedly not noticing the sparks you feel as your fingers brush.

“I’ll call ya every night,” he says as he stuffs it in his pocket, “I’ll need ya to keep me updated on all the Louisiana gossip, hm?”

A sad smile crosses your face at the memory of the last time he’d made a promise like that. Despite all your talk of a clean slate, you can’t help but remind him, “Let’s not make promises you can’t keep, Elvis.”

You give him one last wave, wish him goodnight, and walk back inside, his pleas of “What? No, Y/N, this ain’t gonna be like that!” falling on deaf ears.

You put on a brave face for your parents the next day, joking about what a coincidence it was that both you and Elvis happened to be leaving town on the same day, but behind closed doors, you’re unable to block the memories of the last time he had promised he’d call you every night: when he went along with the Colonel on Hank Snow’s tour.

1955

“I’ll be back in time for prom, darlin’, I promise,” Elvis reassures you over the phone. “I’ll bring you a corsage, we’ll have a great time.”

“Okay,” you reply, “I’m sorry, I know I must sound silly, but I’m just really lookin’ forward to going with you.”

“That’s not silly,” he assures you with a soft laugh, “I’m lookin’ forward to it, t—“ he cuts off, and you can barely make out what sounds like a knock on the door on his end of the line. “That’ll be Scotty again, no doubt.” he groans good-naturedly. There’s some shuffling as he makes his way over, yanking the door open with a “Scotty, how many times do I have to tell ya—“

“Elvis?” you say, concerned at how he cuts off mid-sentence, “Is everything alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, after which he stammers out a response.

“I, uh… I gotta go, I’ll call ya back, darlin’, alright?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before hanging up, but in the split second before it goes to a dial tone you can just make out a woman’s sultry voice over the receiver.

1968 - Present Day

He had still called after that, but not as frequently; certainly not every day like he promised. And while you forgave what happened on tour, you had never quite forgotten what him being away for a stretch of time could mean.

Still. Clean slate. Maybe this time could be different, you reasoned, though you were barely convincing yourself at this point.

You head back to Louisiana, promising your parents you’ll visit again soon and that you’ll give them a call as soon as you get home. You stumble through the door of your little house, exhausted after the 6-hour drive. Annie rushes over to hug you.

“Hey honey! Good to have ya home,” she grins, taking your suitcase from you, “I’ve got lunch for ya, you go sit down. I’ll put this in your room. And then I wanna hear all about how that li’l meetup went,” she adds with a wink, gently shoving you towards the kitchen while she heads down the hall.

You smile as you enter the kitchen to see a little card with the words “Welcome Home” in Annie’s signature scrawl next to a plate on the counter. You take a bite of the sandwich waiting for you — grilled cheese, Annie’s specialty — and finally allow yourself to relax. At that moment, Annie slides in with a mischievous grin, plopping herself down on the stool next to you.

“So…” she leads, a sparkle in her eye. “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, purposefully misinterpreting her question, “We took Mama out for dinner and I made her a cake—”

Annie cuts you off with a playful swat to your arm, “Not that! Elvis,” she says, dragging out the ‘s’ longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, “Fine! It was… fine. We met up for lunch at this old diner we used to go to, we talked… Mama had me invite him over for dinner, and he brought flowers for her” you say pointedly, noticing the gleam in her eyes. “It went well, all things considered. Daddy did have some things to say, he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for what he did, but Elvis was a real gentleman the whole time. He actually went back to California today, filming somethin’ for TV, but he said he wants to keep in touch.”

“That’s great, honey!” Annie squeals, “I’m glad y’all are doin’ well.”

You give a weak smile in return. “Yeah, he said he’s gonna call every day, but…”

“Oh…” Annie’s eyes soften in understanding, recalling what you had told her about your relationship before. “Y/N, I know it might be scary, but what if it’s different this time? What if he actually keeps his promise? He’s said he wants to work on trust with you again, right? This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove to you that he’s worth trusting. And if he doesn’t,” she adds in a lighter tone, “I’ll fly out to California and sock him right in his pretty face myself.”

“I know you will,” you laugh, “but you’re right, I’ll—“

You’re cut off as the phone rings, and you lock eyes with Annie. It can’t be him already, can it? No, it’s probably your parents calling to make sure you made it home safely, you reason as you move to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N,” the heavy drawl surprises you, and you nearly miss what Elvis says next, “I’m glad I caught you, I was callin’ a bit ago and got quite a tellin’ off from Annie sayin’ that you weren’t there yet.”

At that you turn to glare at Annie, who only gives you a smug, mischievous smirk in return.

“Yeah, I just got in maybe twenty minutes ago,” you reply, the shock slowly fading into a kind of warmth as his voice washes over you.

“How was the drive?”

“Long,” you say with a laugh, “I’m glad to be home now. How’s California?”

“‘S alright,” he replies, “I just got back from finalizing some stuff with Steve for filming tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” you recall your conversation from a few days ago, “The Christmas special, right? Or,” you correct yourself, “the not-entirely-Christmas special.”

“Exactly,” he laughs, “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”

“That’s good,” you smile, “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “But anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Well, Annie had one of her famous grilled cheeses waiting for me when I got here so I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Tomorrow’s an inventory day at work, though, not nearly as exciting as filming a special for NBC.”

He sucks in a breath in sympathy, “I remember you never liked those days. Good luck with that,” he says, “and I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make sure to tell you all about the boring parts of filming so ya don’t get too jealous, how ‘bout that?” he teases

“Sounds perfect,” you laugh.

You don’t even notice the time flying by as the conversation continues, the two of you talking about everything and nothing, and you fall into a rhythm of talking for hours every night. Slowly, the nagging fear you feel that today’s the day he won’t call starts to fade, and you look forward to your nightly chats where you fill him in on any interesting customers and he tells you about the goofs he made that day during filming.

“I’m not kiddin’, I legitimately forgot the words!” he laughs.

Your only reply is to laugh even harder at the image of him surrounded by cameras forgetting the words to Heartbreak Hotel.

“Alright, come on, it ain’t that funny,” he says in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, I promise it is,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, “I might need you to send me a copy or whatever of these goofs, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange that for ya…” he replies, his voice trailing off as he seemingly turns away from the receiver for some reason.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just someone at the door,” he assures you, “Gimme one second.”

There’s some shuffling as he makes his way to the door, and your surprise at the thought of him carrying the phone with him across the room turns into a sinking feeling in your stomach as you hear the squeak of a door open and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice. Your heart sinks as the memory of that day on his tour starts to play again in your mind, a cacophony of not again, I knew this would happen, I shouldn’t have trusted him filling your ears.

“-N? Y/N, you there?” You slowly blink back to reality as Elvis calls your name over the receiver, “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply hesitantly as he dives into an explanation about some crazy fan sneaking past security to his room. He pauses, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice.

“Y/N… you can talk to me, you know that, right? What’s wrong?” he says softly, and he sounds so genuine you want to cry.

“It’s… it’s silly…” you reply, embarrassed at the thought of telling him that that memory from all this years ago still haunts you.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to know if I can help,” he replies patiently.

You sigh, and launch into an explanation of that night back in ‘55. “You just hung up on me, and the last thing I heard was some woman’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much that hurt me until I started worrying about who you were with whenever you were gone for a long time.” You explain softly, nervously fiddling with the phone cord.

“So just now, when you heard that girl at my door…” he sighs, realization dawning on him, “that brought all that back, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, and the sincerity of his words does bring tears to your eyes this time.

“I’m alright, I promise,” you reassure him, “surprised you turned her down,” you tease, wanting to move on.

“I don’t do that kinda thing anymore,” he laughs, picking up on your attempt to move to another topic, “besides, why would I stop to talk to some stranger who thinks they know everything about me when I could talk to you?”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you hope he can’t tell how much you’re blushing over the phone, “Aw, you’re sweet.”

There’s a moment of silence; not an awkward one, but comfortable, like the two of you don’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just on the phone. The moment is cut short, however, as Elvis speaks up again.

“I was thinkin’— and you’re free to say no, of course— well, Steve’s organizing this screening of the special before it airs. Right now it’s just Steve, Bones, Dad, Jerry, and me, but I’d like you to be there, too. Maybe get an opinion from someone who’s not family or paid to be nice to me.” He jokes.

“I’d love to,” you reply, “I’ll have to see if I can get off work, but if I can I’ll absolutely be there. And don’t worry, I’ll be brutally honest about the whole thing,” you add teasingly.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He laughs, “I’ll call once Steve has the day arranged and hopefully you can make it.”

The date Steve apparently figures out is November 19, two weeks before the special is actually set to air. Elvis relays to you that he’s arranged to do the screening at Graceland, and luckily you manage to convince your boss to give you both that day and the following day off for the long drive. Your parents are delighted to see you, of course, and you just barely miss the knowing smile on your mother’s face as you gush about how well your friendship with Elvis is going. Your father has warmed up to him the slightest bit, it seems, since your visit back in June, if the fact that he doesn’t scowl at every mention of Elvis’s name is any indication.

You take a deep breath as you pull up to Graceland. You force down the surfacing memories from the last time you were here, when Elvis officially put his career before you. Clean. Slate. you forcefully remind yourself as you step up to the front door.

The door swings open barely half a second after you ring the doorbell, and you find Elvis standing there, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment where the two of you simply stare at each other before he blinks, as if coming back to his senses, and steps aside to let you in. “Come on in, lemme introduce you to everybody,” he says, leading you to a room with not one, not two, but three TVs mounted into the wall, as one of his household staff comes to take your coat. 4 spaces on the immense couch taking up most of the space in the room are taken, one by his father and three others by people you don’t recognize. “This is Jerry, my manager,” Elvis says, gesturing to a man in a brown suit who looked to be in his late-20s with shaggy blondish hair, “and Steve and Bones, the masterminds behind this whole thing,” he introduces the two men sitting beside Jerry with a smile, one with neat brown hair and an ascot tied around his neck, the other with dark curly hair and round glasses. The three men give you various waves and smiles.

“And of course you know my dad,” Elvis finishes, gesturing to where he’s sitting next to Bones.

“Of course, hi Mr. Presley,” you say with a smile, coming over to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Y/N, how’ve ya been?” he asks as you take a seat next to him.

You’re hyperaware of Elvis sitting next to you as you make small talk with everyone, carefully leaning so that there’s a bit of distance between the two of you. As the screening begins, your attention is torn between the performance onscreen and real-life Elvis making jokes in your ear about “this is actually the take right after that goof I told you about—“ Your senses are full of him: the scent of his cologne, his arm brushing against yours, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he whispers to you, and it takes more and more of your energy to actually focus on the TVs in front of you.

About half an hour into the special, you excuse yourself and wander out to the hall, needing a break from the proximity. You don’t realize Elvis followed you out until his hand gently wraps around your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he explains, releasing you.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “just… needed a break.”

“It was that bad?” he jokes, “Damn, I’ll have to let Steve know.”

You shake your head, “No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” You hesitate, unsure if you should say what the real reason is. Your friendship is going so well, you’re not sure how he’ll react if you admit that your feelings for him were back in full force, that in truth they never really left.

“What is it?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I never really stopped being in love with you, if I’m being honest. But being with you these past few months, being your friend again… I’ve loved it. I’ve loved talking with you on the phone for hours about everything and nothing, seeing you talk with my parents like nothing’s changed, and I… I wanna try again. For real this time.” You bite your lip, nervously gauging his reaction.

“You— you mean that?” Elvis asks softly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you reply, “I mean it.”

“Y/N, I’d… I’d love that. I promise,” he says sincerely, “I’ll do it right this time. I’ll be the man you deserve.” He steps closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. “Can I—“ his eyes flick from looking into yours down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.” he breathes.

You nod your consent, and he swoops down to capture your lips with his, one hand cupping your cheek while the other grips your waist, pulling you close. Your arms wind around his neck up into his hair, mussing the carefully styled locks as you savor the feeling of his lips velvet-soft against yours. He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the wall, his lips never leaving yours as his body presses against you. Eventually the need for air gets the better of you, and he reluctantly pulls away, keeping his forehead and nose pressed to yours as if he can’t bear to be any farther away. His blue eyes lock with yours as you catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours, and the amount of love clear in those 5 little words brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, a smile spreading across your face.

The two of you stay like that for a while, pressed against the wall of the hallway, before Elvis mumbles “As much as I’d love to just stay here with you forever, we should probably get back before they notice we’re gone.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh sheepishly as you remember the reason you were there in the first place.

The two of you slip back into the TV room, your absence seemingly having gone unnoticed, and assume the spaces you had occupied before you left, with one small difference: your hand is intertwined with his throughout the rest of the screening.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

I'll Look After You - Bucky x Y/N

This is my first ever fanfic. I dont know why I wrote this, I never ever thought I'd actually write a fic or post it. But this just wouldnt leave my head. I hope you enjoy and please give me feedback!

***********************************************************************

It had been a tough misson. They lost a lot of men. Bucky had gotten a bad concussion and broke two ribs. Despite Buckys protests that her was fine, he was put straight to the infirmary. He was told he would have to stay there for at least a week if not longer. At this news Bucky almost had a fit. He wanted to go back up in the air as soon as possible and 'show those Nazi pigs who's boss'. His protests went on deaf ears.

She noticed on the first night that he was awake much later than the other patients. She turned out the lights and told him to rest, to which he just nodded. At 4am when the other nurse came to take over; she noticed he was still awake. Surely soon sleep would take over him.

Bucky couldnt sleep. No, Bucky refused to sleep. With sleep came nightmares. Nightmares of torn off legs and burnt faces. Planes exploding right infront of his eyes. The sound of his men screaming in pain and fear. No. Bucky would not sleep.

The following night she was greeted to the same thing. All the men fast asleep and Major John Egan wide awake. Though it was clear by his sunken in eyes he was exhausted. He tried his best to hide his frequent yawns behind the book he was reading, but she could see and hear them clearly. 'Major Egan, you should be asleep by now.' 'I'm not tired.' he said as he fought back another yawn. 'You're exhausted. And your body needs sleep to recover. You'll never be cleared to get back in that plane if you dont sleep.' Noticing the stern look on her face Bucky decided to feign sleep so she would leave him alone. 'Fine, I'll go to sleep. Goodnight.' 'Goodnight Major.'

As much as he tried not to, Bucky did fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Around forty minutes passed, forty minutes of blissful slumber. Cradled among the warm blankets and soft pillows of the infirmay; his body was totally serene. His mind however, was in turmoil. As the nightmares came once again, Bucky started to cry out in his sleep. 'Curt! Curt! Engine 3! Buck...' She heard him straight away, he wasnt the first pilot to have these types of dreams. His body thrashed against the bed. 'Major Egan, its okay, Major wake up.'

He shot upright in his bed with a scream. He wasnt flying the misson. He was in bed, with two thin arms wrapped around his torso. He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was scared. A shocked and timid look on her face. Was she scared of him? 'I'm sorry, I dont know what-' 'You had a nightmare. It's okay. It's normal.' Normal. Bucky did not feel normal. He had always been able to keep his cool. Not feel a thing. Now all he could do was feel. Feel the ache in his soul and the ache in his ribs. 'I'm sorry Nurse...' 'Y/N' she said with a warm smile. She was sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadnt seen her this up close before. She had long hair, it looked soft. Her eyes were kind, and her gentle smile made him feel something he wasnt sure of. 'Y/N' he played with her name on his tongue, he liked the way it sounded. It suited her perfectly.

He tried to sit up against the headboard, make himself look less vulnerable. As he moved he gasped at the stabbing pain in his ribs. 'God damn!' 'Easy there Major, let me help.' She adjusted his pillows and helped prop him up. She was so close he could smell her perfume. Warm, vanilla, like a freshly baked cookie. But also spicy. He felt intoxicated. He missed the last thing she said to him he was in such a trance. 'I'm sorry what did you say?' With concern all over her pretty face, she said 'I'm just going to get you some more pain meds okay?' she turned and walked to the medicine cabinet.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart rate. He wasnt sure if it was going so fast because of the nightmare, or her. She returned a moment later with two painkillers and a glass of water. 'Here you go Major.' He took the pills from her delicate hand. 'Bucky. You can call me Bucky.' He swallowed the pills. 'Mm Bucky. Cool nickname.' His heart skipped a beat hearing his name from her mouth. And she thought it was cool? He felt like a fourteen year old again. 'You should go back to sleep Major. You need your rest.' Bucky knew there wasnt a hope in hell of him going back to sleep, but he smiled and nodded so to not dissapoint her.

An hour later she was doing her rounds, checking on each patient; most of who were sleeping. Except one. Major John 'Bucky' Egan. 'Bucky, why arent you sleeping?' He lifted the book in his hands 'It's just this book Y/N, I gotta know how it ends!' She smirked, 'I saw you finish that book yesterday.' His face grew red. He'd been caught. But he couldnt possibly humiliate himself by admitting he was afraid of going to sleep for fear of his own mind.

Y/N could see it. Just as she'd seen it plenty times before. Though this case was definetly the worst. She didnt know much about Bucky, but the way the other nurses talked about his charm and swagger made her this he was not the type of man who would willingly admit his fear. She wouldnt force him to either. She grabbed the chair next to his bed and pulled it closer. She picke up the book from his lap and opened it on the first page and started reading. 'In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind...' 'What are you doing?' The confusion on Buckys face would have made a great picture. 'You've read this book twice in two days? I have to see what all the fuss is about.' She continued to read out loud in a soft melodic voice. A voice so soothing and gentle it sent Bucky straight to sleep. Even after he nodded off Y/N kept reading. Hoping that her voice could reach him in his dreams and keep him away from the darkness that lurked in his mind.

The next morning, Bucky awoke to a sight so rare, so unthinkable, he had to blink several times to make sure it was real. Y/N was still by his side, asleep on the small wooden chair, her cardigan draped over her. She had stayed, stayed by his side all night long. It was at this moment Bucky realised this was the first night in a long time he'd slept the whole night through without a single nightmare. Because she was there to protect him.

[ech0schamber]

Hey hey hey could you write the s/o in coma scenario but with akutagawa?

sure thing!

☆you had been working on a mission that mori has sent you on. little did you know, mori knew you were going to get hurt, he doesn't exactly care if an underling get hurts

☆you were sent alone, of course, and it ended with you getting too close to an explosion (as that seems to be a reoccurring theme in bsd)

☆you got lucky as the area you were in wasn't too far from emergency services and they immediately jumped into action, so you got to the hospital before you could bleed to death

☆i would like to think that this mf never answers his phone if he doesn't recognize the number, so it was either gin, chuuya, or the bastard of a boss that told him the news

☆he managed to keep his composure in front of them?? expect if it was gin that told him, then his panic attack would be very obvious

☆he wanted to rush to the hospital, but oh look at that. he's a public criminal... he can't go anywhere near the hospital

☆so he asked gin to go in his place, of course he would only trust his little sister with that. she gets the information she needs from the doctors, but she doesn't visit you for too long. surprise surprise, she cared about you too. like a lot, so it hurt to not only see her brother in such a state of panic, but it hurt to see just how injured you got

☆that's how it went every single day. akutagawa would ask gin to go pay you a visit, hoping that you would be awake

☆during this time, he started taking care of himself less. typically that wouldn't mean much, but you had actually convinced him to start taking care of himself more. now that you weren't around to make sure he was doing that, he fell back into his old habits of just not taking care of himself

☆gin and chuuya tried their hardest to make sure that he was at least eating 2 meals a day. gin would quite literally drag her brother and basically throw him in the shower once a week

☆this poor baby had finally found a reason to take care of himself, to start seeing the good in some people, to stop putting himself in as dangerous situations as before, and now it's been ripped away from him

☆hell, dazai probably even noticed that akutagawa wasn't fighting atsushi for his approval as much

☆and queue a lot of peoples confusion when he suddenly started attacking atsushi again dont let atsushi find out why, he may accidentally use it against him during an agrument

☆it was gin who got the call that you had finally woken up after being in a coma for a year. of course, aku still couldn't visit you, so she went in the check on you... basically see if you can handle if aku decides to break into the fucking hospital to see you

☆thankfully he doesn't. but he really wants to, but he knows that you wouldn't be too pleased with him if he did that, so he exploded something to get that urge away.

☆he is probably going to get more violent in this time, he has no way of contacting you (cause they don't allow phones in the hospital) and has to depend on someone else to know if you stay awake

☆and finally, after (insert set amount time here, i have no idea how long hospitals keep you after you wake up from a coma) you were finally released. while you were mainly stuck to a wheelchair because your muscles are too weak to carry your weight, you made sure that you could at least stand with only one crutch so you would hug your boy

☆you and gin decided to make it a surprise for aku. and man, did it work. if it wasn't for the fact that you were leaning on one crutch, and the wheelchair behind you, he would have thrown himself at you

☆instead, he 'calmly' walks over to you, lays his head on your shoulder, and just starts crying. gin was nice enough to give you two some privacy, please hold this boy to the best of your abilities. he has missed you so much

☆now, if he's under the impression that you went willingly, expect him to lecture you. he listens to you though, so simply tell him that mori made you go and gave you no warnings

☆it's not like you have to worry about the people that attacked you though, they died in an... accident about two days after you were sent to the hospital :]

☆surprisingly, he is willing to help you with physical therapy! but you are going to have to explain why you are having to do each exercise. it's not that he doesn't trust the doctors, instead he is curious about how these will help you. it's a learning process for the both of you, how cute!

☆possessive. anyone even looks at you wrong now and he threatens to kill them. he will go against moris orders if it means that you are no longer going on any mission he deems dangerous.

☆i feel like he'd also freak out anytime you got hurt. if it was a small papercut, he wouldn't freak out, but you fell because you're leg gave out on you??? roshomon is now carrying you for the rest of the day.

----

i can't think of anything else :] maybe i need to rewatch the show to get a better grasp of some of the characters... oh well

[notsoattractivearenti]

It's Time to Leave (Mason Mount x Reader)

Song Inspo: Stay - Why Don't We (Listening to the song while reading this fic is highly recommended 😊)

WC: 1.5K

Warnings: Curse words, angst

A/N: Made a poll about who to write this fic for and Mason got the most votes! Should've finished 2 weeks ago but I didn't have the time lol but here it is 😉 Special thanks to @ariddletobesolved for proofreading! This fic is an one-shot, so there's not gonna be a 2nd part. Please enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts through replies/reblogs/asks 💗 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

---

“I just wish things could be like they used to

But they never will, now I see right through you

Wish you could tell me all the ways that I miss you

Baby, I'd be lying if I didn't say I wish you'd

Stay”

---

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one who’s invested in our relationship. It’s supposed to work both ways, you know? Well it used to be like that. But now-“

“Excuse me!? Why the fuck would you even think that way, Mason? I’m not invested in us? Why do you think I stayed for all these years?”

“You’ve changed, Y/N! You’ve fucking changed! Don’t you realise that? Do you think I’m too dumb to notice that?? I’m tired of being the one who cares so much when you don’t give a shit about me anymore!” He yelled, and you could see he was already tearing up.

From the first time you met him, he had never yelled at you. He has always been a calm, gentle, and loving person. No matter how upset he could be, he always handled things in a peaceful manner. You loved that about him, because he was different from the other guys you’ve previously dated. You felt like he was the one you can always count on, who will never let you down. He has a very positive attitude and big, warm personality, the moment you laid your eyes on Mason you were instantly drawn to him.

But today he showed you the side of him you have never seen before. You could clearly see he was filled with disappointment, resentment, anger, and sadness. You just came to a realisation that you have hurt him deeply. You were aware that your feelings toward him have changed, but you were in denial and tried to ignore that because you didn’t know how to tell him. You were afraid that if you broke up with him, you would make the biggest mistake in your life. But what you didn’t notice is that your behaviour had changed as well, you thought he would never notice – but knowing how in love with you he was, and that he’d known you all too well, of course he did.

“I was always there when you needed me, and I know for sure you fucking knew. I put a lot of effort into making our relationship last because I thought you were my forever.” He scoffed, pausing for a bit, shaking his head in something like disbelief. “Back then, we were so in love, we had so much fun together. But lately you seem like you have given up on us… What could possibly go wrong with us, Y/N?” His bloodshot eyes were now on you. Gone was the warmth that he used to reserve for you. “Have I done something to make you feel like I’m not worthy of your love anymore?” His voice was shaky as he tried to control himself from exploding, but his overflowing emotions were difficult to hide. 

You froze for a minute, unable to think of anything to say. It’s like your brain suddenly couldn’t function. There was a pang in your chest that felt so heavy, and your hands started shaking. You were trying to gather yourself to find the right words to express how you feel about him. 

“Mason… I-” This will hurt, you thought before continuing, “I’m sorry. The truth is… My feelings have not been the same. I don’t know why, how or when, but it is what it is.” You sighed, “I… I don’t love you anymore.”

He bit his lip and started breathing heavily, seemingly not ready to hear you say those last five words.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that, but I just didn’t know how. I swear, it’s not you. But I feel like there’s something lacking within our relationship. I ju-”

“I gave you everything I could give you, Y/N. Everything. I poured my heart and soul into you, us. Wasn’t that enough for you?” 

Your eyes widened, your jaw just dropped. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

Mason took a deep breath, “I loved that you had shown me how much you needed me, but now it feels like you don't anymore. I mean, not long ago I just got injured and had to miss training and matches for a few weeks! You knew how much I needed you by my side, but instead you left me alone while you were out doing God-knows-what. You lied to me, and you kept making excuses after excuses, it’s like you just want to get away from me.”

Tears started streaming down your face. Fuck, you thought, what have I done?

“Wha- Mase, I… I have no idea you feel that way. I’m sorry… Fuck, I’m sorry I have been treating you like shit, I just…” you caught your breath from crying, “I don’t know what’s happening with me. What I did was wrong, I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve… I should’ve been honest to you. I… I don’t… I didn’t mean to break your heart…”

“Well it’s a little too late isn’t it?” he let out a scoff as he furiously wiped his tears, “I think it’s time for me to leave, Y/N. There’s no point of me staying in a dead-end relationship. You’ve fallen out of love with me, and I’m not going to convince you to love me the way you used to. I’ve tried my hardest to keep this ship floating, now I’m done.”

Overwhelmed, he paused for a second. “I just… I just don’t know you anymore, Y/N. You are not who you used to be. Now you don’t seem to care about me, about us. Now everything is always about you.”

You could feel your heart begin to shatter. You knew a break-up was coming eventually, but to hear him speak his truth hurt you deeper than you thought it would. You have done such awful things to him just because you were afraid to tell him how you feel. You wouldn’t blame him if he hates you now – in fact, you knew you deserved it.

“I’m tired of feeling down. I deserve better than whatever bullshit you’re giving me.”

 He would be lying if he said he didn’t wish for you to stay, to give your relationship another try. But he knew you two would never work anymore. He wanted everything to be the way it used to be, he wanted to be loved by you and you only. But if you stayed, it would cause you both nothing but pain. At the moment he just knew that going separate ways was the only right thing to do.

You tried to hold back your tears, you were filled with instant regret. You knew you’ve fucked up and taken the greatest love of your life for granted. You hated that your relationship had to go down this way, but you knew you deserved it.

“Mase, I wish I could’ve done better… You and I both know even a million sorries will never be enough. You should know I’ve never meant to hurt you… And yet, at the end, I still did. Thank you for telling me everything I needed to know, I hate myself for treating you unfairly. You deserve better than a bitch like m-”

“No, Y/N, don’t say that,” he cut you off, “you’re not a bitch. You never were.”

“I am, Mase. I know for sure I am. You’ve always been so sweet and loving to me but I fucking hurt you in the worst way possible.”

You both then sat in silence for a while, trying to process the break-up. There was nothing easy about it, especially since you weren’t exactly prepared for what just happened.

“Well,” you broke the silence, “I guess it’s time for me to go.” This is it. “Goodbye Mase, and I’m sorry we had to end like this.”

You went in and tried to give him a hug, but he refused. “I can’t do that, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I- I understand.” You pressed your lips into a tight line, taking it as your cue to leave.

As you stood up and grabbed your things, he said to you: “Goodbye, Y/N.”

---

Two weeks had passed. His heart ached from missing you, he was questioning his decision to let you go but he knew it had to be done. He tried to delete your pictures and your number from his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that he still needed some time.

Putting his phone away, he then grabbed a pen and a little notebook he had. Since he couldn’t tell you how he was feeling, he wrote them down instead:

“Y/N, I wish I could tell you just how much I miss you… You are just too hard to forget. But I deserve better… After everything, I need to heal. We both do. Nonetheless, I hope you will find someone who can love you better than I did…”

---

“Gave you all I can give you

Now all that's left is "I still miss you"”

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem

[stiingrayyyy]

Just You and Me, B.H.

Just You and Me

Pairings — Ben Hargreeves x GN!Reader

Summary — Ben didn’t know how long he had left to live, he didn’t get to say everything he wanted to tell you.

Warnings — swearing, mild angst towards the end, mention of death, tell me if I missed any <3

A/N — this is my first official post on tumblr! I’m sorry to the ones who wanted the heavy angst but that’s not until part two (if you want a second part). This is a different writing style than what I’m used to, please give any constructive criticism. Y/n’s pronouns are they/them and Klaus’s pronouns are he/they.

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house to go to parties, intoxicating himself with liquor and weed.

Luther and Allison spend too much time together to forget and run away from responsibilities.

Viktor plays violin because he was convinced he was ordinary, powerless, and different from his siblings. This made him question why Reginald had him to begin with.

Diego distracted himself with anything he could. He would go out and look for conflict just so he could end it and save the day. He needed action, he needed something to keep his mind racing so he won't worry about his home and relationship with his father. He needed praise to feel validated, some would say he has and is experiencing some sort of hero syndrome.

Ben? He loved to paint and sketch. He would lock himself in his room for hours just to be alone to create art. There were papers taped to the wall, canvases hung from several of his works.

"I don't understand the craze with glazed donuts. I really don't." Klaus bit into a fresh jelly donut, rolling his eyes back as he savoured the flavour that exploded into his mouth.

The children escaped again.

They snuck out to have donuts and coffee. It was tradition, and somehow they get away with it. Every 12th of the month at 10:00pm they would leave the house and walk to Griddy's Doughnuts.

"Glazed donuts are amazing. They're simple yet sweet," Ben defended his regular order, taking small bites to properly enjoy the donut while he watched Klaus finish his in two bites.

"That's disgusting." Allison laughed, eying her sibling.

"What's wrong with it?" Klaus licked their fingers, downing their cup of coffee all in one. "It's less messy that way."

"No, it isn't!"

Ben began to slowly drown out the sounds of his siblings arguing. His attention made its way across the cafe, his gaze falling upon a teenager who sat alone at a booth. He could've sworn he's seen them before, he could've sworn they met, but at the same time, he knew for a fact that this was his first time laying his eyes on you.

"..Ben? Ben? Earth to Benerrino!" Klaus waved their hand in front of him and he finally snapped out of it when you looked back at him.

"Sorry?" Ben blinked a few times, looking at his sibling as he held his cup of tea in both his hands.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking back to see what Ben had been staring at. A smile was brought to his face when he turned back to look at Ben, eyes going wide. "Ben! You think that person is cute, right?"

"Shh! Shh!" Ben clasped a hand over their mouth, glancing over at the teenager to see if they heard.

And sure enough, you did.

"I'm flattered." You said, earning the attention of all six Hargreeves siblings. "Thanks, Ben."

Number Six seemed to stop working for a moment. His eyes widened as he stared at you in shock, face covered with a cherry red hue. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, you— yeah." He smiled and nodded, sipping from his cup as he turned away.

"Bennerino~" Klaus gave his brother a wink, sticking his tongue out as he paid for his snacks.

"Klaus!" Ben whisper-shouted, giving them a death glare as he finished his cup of tea. One after the other, each sibling finished, paid, and walked back home.

Ben couldn't help but spare a glance, looking back at you as he and his siblings exited the shop.

When he looked back at the path in front of him, he caught Klaus's stare in his peripheral vision. He gave them a scoff, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, darting away before Klaus could annoy him with their bickering.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house and attends teenage parties while doping and drinking himself silly.

Allison and Luther spend inordinate amounts of time together letting their responsibilities slip their minds.

Viktor plays the violin because he believes he is unexceptional, weak, and distinct from his siblings. He knows he's different and every day he asks himself why Reginald chose to keep him, or why Reginald even took him in the first place if all Viktor ever got was neglect.

Diego tries to divert his attention from his family life in every way he can. He needs action to keep his mind active. He needs validation to keep going. He needs to be seen as a hero.

Ben creates art.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn’t leave his mind. He dedicated his free time to a new work of art. The inspiration was you.

His delicate fingers held the piece of charcoal in a gentle, yet firm grip. With every stroke, a distinct mark was left behind. He made each line unique from the one previously. His movements were smooth, not a muscle was tensed.

When he finished, he took a deep breath. The fresh oxygen from his open window filled his lungs before escaping his lips, dusting off the excess charcoal on the page. Ben smiled at his piece, gliding the tip of his index finger along the jawline of the teenager on the paper.

It was you, the one from the cafe.

He looked out the window. He watched as the sun painted the molten sky with various reds and oranges along with dashes of purple and pink. It was a work of art within itself.

He glanced over to the clock on his wall, then back out the window. He carefully rolled the drawing in his hands, stepping outside of the window and using his tentacles to make his way down onto the grass.

He looked behind himself, searching for any sign of life through the windows of the Hargreeves Mansion. When it was clear, he ran out of the gate.

Ben sat at Griddy's Doughnuts, a cup of tea placed in both his hands while a glazed donut sat in front of him on a ceramic plate.

"You're alone?"

Ben snapped out of his thoughts, looking at the owner of the voice.

"Yeah," he responded.

Agnus knew the Hargeeeves siblings would always come in packs, she found it strange how there was only one of them at the counter. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Ben smiled. "Nothing bad, no. Thank you for asking, though." He hadn't remembered the last time someone asked him if he was okay and meant it. The question was simple, but hearing the sincerity behind it was enough to make him smile.

He sat there and waited. The drawing was by the plate, and he began to ponder; he began to overthink. He hadn't talked to you and he already drew you. He didn't have bad intentions, but he didn't want it to come off as creepy. He began to have second thoughts, like he was doing something wrong.

Ben finished up his tea and donut. He grabbed the drawing and placed some coins on the table before leaving the cafe. His head was down, almost ashamed even though he did nothing wrong. He pushed the door open and collided with someone.

He gasped and dropped the piece of paper and watched it fly away in the subtle breeze. Before he got to react, someone grabbed it. He looked at the person and froze.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." You sheepishly smiled. The paper was unrolled you looked at it.

"I am so sorry." Ben bowed down to show respect. "I know it might be creepy but I promise I'm not a creep. I mean no harm, I just- I just thought that you were—"

"Cute?" You recalled what Klaus called you.

Ben stood up straight, looking at you with cherry-stained cheeks. He said nothing, not denying nor confirming the assumption.

"That's what your brother said last week." You scanned the piece of art, a 'wow' falling under your breath before you handed it back. "You're talented. I can't even draw a straight stick figure. I envy you."

"You? You envy... me?"

"Yes."

"You don't think I was being creepy?"

"No, not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Stop overthinking it, Ben." You took a step towards the door of the cafe. "I hope to see you around more often."

Ben stilled as the corners of his lips formed a smile. He nodded, then his expression dropped, watching you walk into the shop. "Wait! What's your—"

"Y/n."

Ben paused, "Y/n?"

"That's my name."

The smile returned to his face, "thank you."

You waved, finally walking through the doors and sitting at his usual spot by the window. You looked at Ben, an instant smile lit up your face when he looked back. You held a hand up and waved, earning a rather excited wave back. You began to wonder if you would ever get a moment with Ben, even if it was just to sit together and have coffee; as friends. "There's nothing wrong with having a glazed donut."

— ( ☂︎ ) —

"See, Klaus? Even Y/n agrees that glazed donuts are amazing." Ben defended his favourite treat, biting out of the freshly glazed donut.

"I said there's nothing wrong with a glazed donut. I didn't say they were amazing." It didn't take long for you to get along with the Hargreeves siblings. Especially when Klaus kept nagging Ben to invite you.

"Ha! Y/n agrees with me!" Klaus slammed his hand against the table.

"Hey, woah, woah. I didn't say that either!" You laughed along with the others, heart filled with joy and happiness. You didn’t remember the last time you hung out with other teenagers and felt like you belonged.

"Guys, we should head out." Allison said, "it's getting late. Ben hurry up, it's two more bites. Today is on me." She pulled her wallet out.

"I can pay for my own. Thank you, though, Allison." You only had a chocolate donut. You were smart enough not to have caffeine pumping in your veins before bed.

"You guys can go out, I'll meet you there." Ben looked at you, then Klaus. Klaus smirked back, to the point where their ears began to lift.

You thought you were included in the 'you guys', so you shuffled around to get your wallet back in your pocket. Ben noticed this and quickly took your wrist.

"Not you." He spoke firmer than he intended, "please." His voice softened as he let go of your wrist, bashfully looking at the bottom of his glass while he took another bite of his donut.

You locked eyes with him, then you fell silent, sitting back down with cheeks tinted pink. “Why me?”

Ben turned away again, it was just his timid nature, this boy can never keep eye contact for too long without freaking out. “I was wondering… maybe on Friday we could meet up again?”

“This Friday? I thought Luther had something important coming up. His personal training with your father? That poor guy is going to overwork himself all day…” you looked out the window to look at the Umbrella Academy’s number one. “So we’re just gonna leave him out? If he finds out he’ll be heartbroken.”

“No, uhm…” Ben tapped the edge of his cup. “I was actually hoping it would be us? Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?” Your eyes seemed to light up the second he spoke. The most foolish smile crawled onto your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, “I would love that. Just you and me.”

Ben’s heart beat out of his chest. Oh, he was such a loser in love. He nodded frantically, finishing the rest of his donut quickly. He covered his mouth as he chewed, shy and polite. He then made his way outside.

“Ready?” Allison motioned for the others to follow her as Luther walked by her side, leading the siblings back to the mansion.

“I’ll see you! Friday at noon!” Ben walked with his siblings with a hand in his pocket, the other one waving goodbye.

“Friday! Noon!” You carried through with his energy and waved back. Then you turned on your heel and went home.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“You’re not going to get in trouble, will you?” Your cup of coffee was finished about an hour ago. An hour ago was also when you and Ben agreed to go back home and call it a day. You didn’t even recall how the conversation kept going, but it did.

“I should be fine,” Ben glanced at the clock, then back at his empty plate that once had two donuts on it. His signature glazed donut and your vanilla-sprinkled one. You got a different donut each time you came. “Thank you for coming with me today.” Words couldn’t express his gratitude, “I’m not saying that I don’t like coming here with my siblings, it’s just… good to have a real friend.”

Your heart warmed at his words, “thank you for asking me out, Ben.” You placed a hand atop his. “I really enjoyed spending time together; just you and me.”

“Do you think…” he began, “..we can see each other again? Only if you want to, that is. There’s no shame in rejecting, I don’t want you to feel obliged to say yes or anything—“

“Yes.” You said with confidence, laughing at the way he began to ramble. “I’d love to, Ben.” You gently gripped his hand, “the second date is always better than the first.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, mind empty. All he focused on was the way you hand your hand placed on his. As seconds passed, the words finally registered. “Wait, second date? This— th-this was a date?”

You instantly took your hand away, “that was my impression. I’m so sorry if I assumed wrong. I should’ve asked.” You felt foolish. You felt as though you were making bold assumptions and you read him wrong. Your ego was making the decisions. “That’s embarrassing.” You laughed it off.

“No, no! There’s nothing wrong with this being a date!” Ben grabbed both of your hands, holding them with a delicate grip. “It actually makes all of this ten times better.”

“Really?” A wave of relief washed over you as you emitted a soft sigh. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to spare my feelings. I was getting a bit too ahead of myself.”

“I’m not lying,” he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean every word.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Never once has anyone made you feel this weak in the knees. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Just know that I would never lie to you. Ever,” he moved his hand, linking his pinky with yours as if he was a seven-year-old boy. “Promise.”

The gesture was so small, so childish, “alright, then.” But this pinky promise held a special place in your heart. “Promise.”

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Can we just stay like this?” He sat beside you on top of a building with the city beneath you. “It’s so much better up here.”

“Don’t you have a training session with your father?” You looked at him, “and you can’t miss it because that’s how you’re supposed to spend the rest of your day?”

Ben didn’t return your gaze, he just looked down at his lap with his legs swinging back and forth on the edge, “..yeah.”

“And if you don’t show up, you’ll get in trouble and he’ll get mad.”

“I know,” his voice was barely over a whisper.

“So… you should go back. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your father.” You carefully took his face in your hand, tipping his head up to look at you. “It’s okay, Ben. I’ll be fine. You can go.”

“It’s just—“ Ben sighed, shuffling around to get comfortable now that he was facing you. “I don’t want to go. If I do, he’s going to make me kill again.”

“Kill?”

He nodded, “and I don’t want to keep doing it.”

You were at loss for words. You couldn’t tell him to ‘not go’, it was his father and he couldn’t just avoid him. You noticed how he began to tremble, his hands shook along with his quivering lip. “Ben.” You held his hands, “you can drop by my place after.”

“It’s going to be late. Your parents won’t notice?” His voice rose in volume, “I-I don’t want to get you in trouble. It’s an inconvenience. It’s fine, I’ll just see you next week. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll keep my window open for you.”

“No, no. You don’t have to do that. I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” you rubbed your thumb over the top of his hand. “I’m still going to keep it open. Just in case.”

How did he get so lucky? If someone told him one month ago that he’d make a friend that cared about him as a person rather than a member of the Umbrella Academy, he wouldn’t believe you.

“Okay,” he shot you a smile.

That smile never failed to warm your heart. “Now get us down, Benny Boy.”

He slithered his arm around your waist and you secured your hands on his shoulders. Tentacles sprouted from his back and he safely took you down the building.

“I’ve got you,” he noticed how you held onto him with a deathly grip. “I’m not gonna let you go.”

“You better not,” you laughed, burying your face into the crook of his neck with closed eyes. You took a deep breath, taking in the comforting scent that lingered in his skin and clothing.

When he made it to the ground, he ran his fingers through your hair. “You can let go now.”

You reopened your eyes, looking at the boy. The proximity was close, breathtaking. “What if I don’t want to?” You thought out loud, realizing only when his tanned cheeks tinted red.

“Then that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” You could feel his subtle breath on your skin.

You moved a hand from his shoulder to his chest, “your heart is beating a mile a minute.” You teased.

“Who’s fault is that?” He teased you back, leaning in closer. His eyes fixated on your lips for no more than a ninth of a second before looking back at your eyes.

“Mine,” you admitted with no shame. With every passing second, Ben inched closer to your face. You looked at his lips, then his eyes as you leaned closer to him.

“I’ve never done this before,” he whispered.

“Neither have I.” You matched his tone..

“May I?”

“May you, what?” You teased him once again.

Ben paused, his breath trembled and you felt it. “May I kiss you?”

“You may.”

“Ben!” The boy was taken away from your grasp. “Dad’s been looking for you! He’s not in the best mood today, Benerrino. You know to never keep the old man waiting!”

You couldn’t even say anything, Klaus had already run off with their brother. The only thing you got was Ben’s glance back. He looked as if he was apologizing with his eyes, a deep frown engraved on his face.

“Klaus!” Ben ripped his wrist out of their grip.

“You know how strict dad is. I don’t want him to get mad at you.” He looked back, he saw you turn and walk away. “Oh shit.” He whispered under his breath, “Ben, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” His tone was sharp enough to kill. “Let’s just go see dad.”

— ( ☂︎ ) —

You haven’t left your room since you arrived home. You were still salty about the episode earlier with Ben and Klaus. You kept your word and left the window open in case Ben dropped by, but time was ticking.

11:11pm.

Curfew at the Umbrella Academy was two hours ago, so you assumed that Ben wasn’t coming. You swung your legs off the edge of your bed and slowly made your way towards the window.

“Y/n?”

“Ben?” You called out, moving your curtains out of the way. “Holy shit,” you held your hand out and helped him inside. “Careful, don’t sit on the bed.” You kept your voice in a low whisper.

He didn’t speak, he only nodded.

You rushed out of your room to grab a cloth then pulled the wooden chair from your desk when you got back. “Sit here, it’s okay. Just relax.”

“How do you expect me to relax?” His voice instantly broke as tears pooled at the bottom of his eyes. “I’ve been trying to relax, for- for the past two hours!” He was careful not to raise his voice too much.

“Are you hurt?“ You used the cloth to wipe the blood off his hands.

He shook his head.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically.”

“Are you… okay?”

He shook his head, “not emotionally.”

Silence lingered in the air as you washed the blood off his skin. When you finished with his hands you went to his neck, then his face. You stopped for a moment, taking this time to cup his cheek. Ben leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes and placed a hand on top of yours. Tears silently trickled down his cheeks as he took in the comfort of your hand. You began to gently wipe the damp cloth over his blood-stained cheeks.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” He looked at you.

“No,” you stated with confidence, “no you’re not. You’re no monster. It’s not your fault. Your dad made you do it, you didn’t have a choice.” You reassured him the best you could. You’re okay now. You’re safe here.” You whispered sweet affirmations. “Thank you for choosing me, tonight.” When you finished, you placed the cloth on your desk. “I’m glad that you’re here with me, Ben.”

“Me too,” he moved away from your hand and stood up. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not once. “Can I have a hug?” A sob slipped past his lips with his words. You didn’t say anything, instantly leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He began to cry as he returned the embrace, crumpling your shirt up in his hands.

“I’m here, Ben. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You make me feel safe.” He whispered into your hair, “when I’m with you, the rest of the world melts away. Like nothing else matters but you and me.”

Those butterflies came back. They fluttered in your tummy with excitement and wonder.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Yes?” You pulled away from the embrace but kept your hands on either side of Ben’s body. You didn’t want to let go of him, not yet.

“I’m really happy that you’re in my life.” He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. “Being with you makes me feel stronger, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do. Because I can’t think of any word that comes close to the way you make me feel.”

You were at loss for words. You wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms and keep him safe, away from his stupid excuse for a father. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” his hand rubbed your side. “You don’t have to say anything.” He looked at your lips, “you’re perfect.” His stare dallied before darting up into your eyes. “May I?”

“Yes,” you closed the gap, wrapping your arms around his neck as he engulfed your body with ease. In that moment, it was as if the world stopped spinning; like nothing else in the world mattered.

The kiss lingered, and Ben began to move his lips, slowly running his hands down your body. He held your hips in a soft grasp. Then he finally parted.

“Ben…” his name rolled off your tongue like a melody. You leaned in for another kiss, pushing him down on your mattress. He didn’t have time to react, toppling over with a giggle. “Please stay,” you gasped for air.

“Stay?” He kicked his shoes off and got comfortable on the bed, “are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you gave him an extra pillow and laid next to him. “I want you to stay.” You snuggled up next to him.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

Your smile lit up the dim room, “yes.” You gave him one last peck on the lips before closing your eyes to fall asleep. There was nothing more comforting than the feeling of his arms around your body, his hand running through your hair as you fall asleep.

But the next day when you awoke, he was gone.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Will you stay this time?” You asked for the millionth time as you laid on your boyfriend’s chest, taking a slow and deep breath as you shuffled around to get comfortable. “I want to wake up beside you this time.” The sleepiness was slowly taking over you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay,” Ben whispered, “I couldn’t risk my dad catching me out. It was only recently he stopped putting cameras in our rooms, if even one of us gets caught, all of us are busted.” He was truly sorry. He wanted to wake up by your side. He wanted to wake up with you in his arms. But he couldn’t risk getting his siblings in trouble.

“Cameras in your room?” Your voice was groggy, you didn’t even pay attention to what he said, you stopped processing what he said after ‘cameras in our rooms’. “That’s messed up,” your words were slurring together.

“Sleepyhead, just close your eyes and rest. You need it.”

“Mnn…”

The sound of your gentle snores filled the darkened room. He fixed his position, looking down at you while keeping you secure in his arms. His lips formed a frown as he moved bits of your hair out of your face. He planted a delicate kiss on your forehead, sighing deeply, “God, I love you…” if he got caught, his father would be furious. He knows that he’d be forbidden from seeing you, and he didn’t want to risk it. He got himself in a mess, a lovely, wonderful mess. Things would be so much easier if he didn’t love you, but he didn’t regret a single thing. He’d choose you over his father in a heartbeat.

12:00am.

He needed to get home, so he did. He carefully placed you down on the bed, properly bringing your blanket to your chin. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing another kiss on your forehead. “I have to go.” He spoke as though you were awake though you were fast asleep. He walked towards the window, watching as you got comfortable in your slumber. He stood by the window and stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t turn away, he just stared at you with pure love. You were the first to treat him right, the first to take care of him out of the kindness of your own heart, the first to truly love him, yet he always left before the morning. Not once have you woken up to him by your side. Did he deserve you.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

“Ben?” You approached him and he and his siblings walked out of Griddy’s Doughnuts. It was their monthly sneak-out plan and for the first time in seven months, you didn’t tag along. “Sorry to bother you, I was going to the library, and… this was close by.”

“Going to the library? This late at night?” His eyes went wide, “it’s dangerous. You don’t know what kind of creeps are out there.”

“I’m fine, Ben. Really, I–”

“Ben, let’s go,” Luther called out.

“I need to go.” He made his way past you, but you grabbed his wrist. He turned to face you, effortlessly prying himself from your grasp.

“Can we go out on Sunday? Nothing fancy, just here.” You looked at the donut shop. “Griddy’s Doughnuts. You get the glazed donut and I’ll get the one with sprinkles?”

He squinted as he listened to you. You were being oddly specific, and it worried him. “No, sorry, I’m busy this Sunday.”

“How about Tuesday?”

“Ben! Let’s go!” Allison shouted.

“I need to go,” Ben took a few steps away from you. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you–” midsentence and he was running off. “...around.” You ended up going on Wednesday, but not to Griddy’s Doughnuts. Instead you and Ben crashed in your room for the day. The second he stepped through the front door, the atmosphere changed. You didn’t know what it is, but it was heavier. It was mildly uncomfortable and you could tell Ben felt it too.

“You should go home.” Now you were laying on his chest like you always did whenever he came. You two snuggled up with each other whenever the sun began to set, that hasn’t changed. But today is different: the elephant in the room didn’t want to leave.

“It’s nine. A little early for me to leave, don’t you think?” He muttered into your hair. “Let me stay.” He remembered how you used to always ask him to stay, and now you were the one pushing him away.

You shrugged, “I’m feeling tired. I’m going to sleep early tonight.”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he brushed the back of his hand on your cheek before holding it.

“You never stay, anyways. It’s fine. Just go.” You moved away from his touch.

That was a first.

“What’s wrong?” Something was in the air before, he knew something was wrong, he knew you knew something was wrong. He acted on it first.

“Nothing.” You dismissed it.

“Y/n, you know you can talk to me.”

You shook your head, pursing your lips as you felt the tears begin to form in your eyes. “We barely see each other anymore,” you muttered, “when we do it’s… awkward. It’s not the same as before.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He shut his eyes, sighing heavily. “I should’ve talked to you earlier. Shutting you out probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“What’s going on, Benny Boy?”

“Us being together… is risky. Especially with my strict dad and all. I feel like I should’ve thought about that before foolishly asking you out.” He couldn’t bear to look at you.

“What are you…” your voice trailed off into utter silence. You looked at him, desperately wanting to meet his gaze. “...what are you implying?” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t.

“I love you,” Ben began. “I may be seventeen, I may be young, and people say kids like us don’t know what love is. But I know that I really, really love you. You’re the first to see me as who I am. Not just some boy with powers, not the boy in the Umbrella Academy, not Number Six, but you see me as Ben.” He glanced down at you for a moment, but he couldn’t stand that mere second of your pained expression. “I love you, Y/n,” he caressed your arm with his hand, “but if my dad finds out we’re together, he’ll stop us from seeing each other. I’m mistreating you, we don’t see each other as often as we used to because I’m playing it safe. It’s unfair, and you deserve better.”

“Ben, I can wait. I can wait as long as I need to. It’s okay. I don’t mind, I know you’re busy,” you sat up straight, hand gripping his bicep. “I can wait.”

“I don’t want to do this, but it’s better for us to take a break.” His heart sank the moment he finished, finally looking at you. “I’ll come back. When I’m eighteen I can get a bit more freedom. Then we can start seeing each other again.”

You turned away when he looked at you, shaking your head slowly as tears fell from your eyes. You didn’t want this, but you were mature enough to know that he was right. He was in the Umbrella Academy, he has powers, and he isn’t a normal kid. He’s different and you recognized that. You just wished that things were different.

“So… until you’re eighteen, we can’t talk?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ben reassured you, keeping you close. He didn’t want to let go. He felt that if he did, then he’d lose you for good. “I’ll still come by and visit. You can come to Griddy’s Doughnuts with me and my siblings. I’m still going to be here.” He pulled you for a quick yet passionate kiss. “I’m still going to be here, I promise.”

“You better be,” you laughed off your sadness, wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Just stay until I fall asleep. You can go home after.” You closed your eyes and snuggled up to his body warmth. “I love you, Ben.”

“I love you too,” he took slow deep breaths, adjusting his posture for better comfort as he held you.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

You haven’t seen him in two weeks. Not a word from Ben. You kept your window ajar and the lock flipped up. You gave him opportunities to see you, but he hadn’t taken any of them yet. You tried to understand, but you didn’t expect any of this to happen. He promised he’d still be there, but you hadn’t seen him. The two weeks stretched out to three and three turned into four. You showed up at Griddy’s Doughnuts from time to time, and there was no sign of him. You gave up. You didn’t want to wait any longer. He left and didn’t have the heart to properly break it off so instead, he gave you false hope.

That was until October 1st rolled around. You spent the day off at home alone. Your parents were working, busy with their jobs. It was like any regular old day.

Or so you thought.

The knock from your front door bounced off the walls. This day was the last and only day that you had hopes for.

Today was the day Ben turned eighteen.

You rushed to the front door, swinging it open with a smile, “hey, Klaus! Happy birthday!” You stepped out and looked left and right. “Is Ben with you?”

“Not exactly,” Klaus rocked back and forth between his heels and toes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. Come on.” You ushered them inside, “where’s Ben?”

“Uh…” he took a seat on the couch, motioning for you to sit across from him. “It’s kind of complicated.” He took a heavy breath, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to find his words.

“Just spit it out already,” Ben said, leaning against the wall behind you.

Klaus glared at him.

“Something wrong?” You noticed his facial expression change, looking behind you before back at them.

“No, no, it’s all good. All good,” he leaned back, sighing once more. The atmosphere was dense, he kept looking back and forth between you two.

“Klaus!” Ben was getting impatient.

“Okay! Okay!” Klaus sat up straight then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Ben wanted to tell you that he’s sorry that he didn’t spend as much time with you as he promised.”

“Ben said that?” You leaned back, arms crossed over your chest. “Why couldn’t he tell me himself? Why did he send you?”

Klaus paused, mouth agape before pursing their lips. “He’s dead.”

He said that so nonchalantly that it didn’t process, “dead?” You scanned your living room, waiting for Ben to pop out from somewhere and tell you that it was some silly prank. “Funny, Klaus. Where is he?”

“No, Y/n you don’t understand.” His head fell into his hands. “Ben died on a mission two weeks ago.” He looked at the ghost that stood behind you, “and he’s sorry. He’s sorry since… y’know, he can’t be here with you. I don’t know why he’s so apologetic, it’s not his fault he died or anything.”

All of this was still too much to process. You were in shock, in heavy denial. “Ben?” You looked at Klaus as if they were a massive liar. “Like… Ben Hargreeves. He died? Two weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” they rubbed their hands together, frowning. “I’m sorry you found out this way.”

“No,” your voice instantly broke and tears spilled out of your eyes as if they were on command. You wiped the oncoming them away with the sleeves of your sweater. You tried to stop them but they kept going. The ache in your heart never stopped, it still hasn’t recovered from the last time you saw him. Hearing this news and knowing you wouldn’t see him again was heart-rending. “No, no, no. Klaus, you’re playing a sick game. You’re getting too good at this shit.” You laughed, leaning back on the couch with your sleeved hand over your eyes. “Please stop it, you little shit. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not lying! Do you think I’d lie about something like this? My brother’s death? Y/n… it hurts me as much as it hurts you. Ben is gone.” Klaus stayed strong for you, he didn’t show signs of weakness or sorrow. They already spent all of that within the first week, they didn’t need to cry again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You buried your head in your hands, biting on your bottom lip to ease the pain and keep it together. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

Ben could see it. He could see how hard you tried to keep it in. He could hear the heartbreak in your voice and the pain in your body language. He moved from behind you to in front of you. He wanted all of this to stop, he wanted your suffering to end. Watching you lament felt like he was shot through the heart.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, “I really am.” His voice quavered, “I wish things were different, but I did what I thought I had to do.” He reached out to touch your cheek, only for his hand to glow blue as it passed right through you. “If you could see yourself the way I do, then you’d know how much I love you. You’d know how sorry I am, you’d know how much I m-miss you.” He reached out again, but the same thing happened. “I’d do anything to hold you one last time.” He couldn’t bear to speak anymore, his voice cracked and he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You don’t deserve any of this.” But he kept talking. He hoped that a miracle would happen, he wanted you to hear him. “Y/n please… please, please. I love you. I love you, please I need you to know.” He reached out to pull you into an embrace, only to feel emptiness in his arms.

“Ben loves you,” Klaus said.

“I know.” You began to question your own statement. You began to question what Ben told you before he left. “Jesus Christ.” You whispered under your breath and stood up, walking right through Ben as you made your way out of the living room. “Klaus just- just leave.”

“But, Y/n—“

“Klaus leave.” Your voice was as sharp as a blade. “Don’t make me say it a third time.” You turned to them with slanted eyebrows. “Leave.”

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Klaus waved as he walked towards the exit. “I’ll see you some other day. Take care of yourself, please.”

You didn’t respond and walked to your bedroom. The second you got in there the door slammed shut. You slid down the wall and tried your hardest to control your breathing, but nothing you did could help. Your hands shook violently as a scream ripped your vocal cords.

Ben’s heart shattered. The agony behind your voice was enough to break him to pieces. He sat on the other side of the door with tear-stained cheeks. If he knew that four weeks ago would be the last time he’d hold you, he’d hold you tighter. If he knew that four weeks ago would be the last time he’d talk to you, he wouldn’t have stopped talking until the both of you were passed out. He would’ve stayed by your side until the sun rose and you opened your eyes.

— ( ☂︎ ) —

Being Reginald Hargreeves's child isn't easy. Constant training, missions left and right, it all seems endless and you'd never have a normal childhood. His children have several ways of coping.

Klaus sneaks out of the house to go to teen parties where he overindulges in alcohol and pumps drugs into his veins.

Allison and Luther lock themselves up in a room where they can be alone and undisturbed. This way they can forget about their responsibilities.

Viktor plays the violin because he isn’t special. He isn’t like his siblings, he’s powerless and weak.

Diego seeks attention. Any attention that validates him as a hero is enough to feed his ego.

Ben can no longer hold a pencil or paintbrush the way he used to. All he can do is watch his loved ones suffer and get hurt. Ben’s heart was broken, knowing that he passed on his misery and misfortune to the one he loved most.

Part two? If I write it, it’s going to be a bit more angsty, no fluff, and it’s going to be shorter (hopefully). Tell me if you want to be tagged.

I may or may not already have an idea.

tags: @xenijk @vivsmcdo

[glitterforashes]

hi, i was curious if you could do sally face character w someone who plays the bass (guitar) it can be platonic and gender neutral if you want. feel free to ignore and dont forget to take care of yourself (sorry if im not doing this right, its the first time i've made a request)

𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ; 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜�� 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

>>> thank you to @flo0werry for requesting! i am so honored to be your first request experience. i am very sorry for taking so long to get to this, had to have a break from social media for a while! that being said, my writing is probably very bad and rusty so not too much on me please. 🙏🏼 mainly fluff and giggles, gender neutral reader, platonic-ish (?). hope you enjoy!

sally was a quiet, odd little dude and everyone knew it. he didn’t have many hobbies besides playing video games and ghost hunting, but when he met (y/n), that changed. they were like the modern day stevie nicks to everyone in the apartments, known to carry their base strapped across their back at all times. he avoided them for a while, not knowing what to say to spark up conversation, but that changed when fate brought them together in the way of getting them stuck in the rusty old elevator.

“well this blows.” (y/n) said, slumping down into a seated position against the wall, which was probably the most unsanitary thing they had done all day. sally nodded slightly in agreement, stealing a quick glance at them from the corner of his eye. “so what’s your deal?” they asked, looking up at him from their spot on the floor. sally’s face flushed behind his mask and he turned to face them as they said, “you talk or what?” he looked down at his shoes and moved his hands behind his back, tucking them between the wall and his bum. “uh, yeah. yeah i talk. my names sally.”

“cool. i’m (y/n).” they reached behind their back, took off their guitar, propped it up between their folded legs and started to fiddle with the tuning pegs. “i know.” they paused briefly, as if shocked, before going back to what they had been doing. “you know? you some kind of stalker or something?” sally’s face fell, his eyes going wide. “what? no! no, i’m not a stalker. just, everyone knows you here. you’re kinda hard to miss when you’ve got that thing poking out of your back all the time.” he pointed to their base.

“oh, this ‘ol thing? yeah, guess you’re right. her name’s daisy.” sally blinked. “you named the guitar?” (y/n) turned their head up to him and grinned, raising an eyebrow. “do the things you love not have names?” sally didn’t respond, only slid down next to them and tucked his knees close to his chest. “you play?” they asked, strumming their fingers over the freshly tuned strings and nodding in approval at the sound. “no.” he said, scooting towards the corner nearest to him to give them and ‘daisy’ some room. “wanna learn?” he was silent for a few moments, feeling (y/n)’s stare on him. he might never get the opportunity to talk to them again if he turned this down, so.. “sure.” he muttered, scooting back as (y/n) lifted daisy and handed her to him. “i know all the strings.” he said as he took the guitar, holding it awkwardly like it would explode.

“why’re you holdin’ it like that? she’s not gonna bite you. here,” (y/n) gently grabbed his arms and adjusted his hold, placing his fingers on the b and a strings. “i’ve just never held something so expensive before.” he said. (y/n) laughed and moved so they would be sitting in front of him, optimum placement for teaching. “we’ll start you off with something easy, yeah?”

(y/n) and sally spent close to thirty minutes learning the opening to a song (y/n) loved, sally impressing them with his knowledge of rhythm and pace. “that’s so sick, man. start from the beginning.” they said, scooting back a little to observe him. sally strummed all the strings once, twice, before breaking out into the music, playing each chord perfectly. (y/n) was grinning like an idiot when they picked up the chorus, starting to sing the words. their voice was raspy and smooth and edged and feminine all at the same time and it made sally feel ways he didn’t know were possible. (y/n) was watching his hands but he was watching them, the smile on their face as they sang like it was the only thing they knew how to do. (y/n) didn’t even notice when he started playing past the part they’d taught him, too lost in the song to care.

just as the song came to an end, the elevator doors dragged apart loudly, making an awful screeching and groaning sound. “oh, hey man.” a male voice said from behind them. (y/n) turned around to see larry the rocker boy and lisa the maintenance lady standing in the doorway, larry with a crap-eating grin and lisa with a doe-like expression on her face. “hey.” sally stood up from the floor with daisy still cradled in his arms as lisa started apologizing about the inconvenience, saying how the elevator was such a piece of rusty old crap. (y/n) stood up next, running a hand through their hair as they faced larry and lisa. “i heard you playing. i didn’t think you still knew that song.”

larry said. (y/n) turned to sally with an eyebrow raised, hands on their hips. “still?” they asked, looking between the two boys. sally had gone stiff and they seemed to almost be communicating telepathically. almost, because larry continued talking. “oh yeah. that was the first song i ever taught him on base.”

the gears clicked into place in (y/n)’s brain and a slow, wicked grin spread onto their face. “you, sally, are a liar.” they said, taking daisy back from him and slinging her over their back. they huffed a little laugh and looked between the two boys again, shaking their head. “see you around, sally.” they sauntered out of the elevator and regarded lisa with a few kind words and a gentle pat on the shoulder as they went, giving sally one last smirk over their shoulder before they disappeared around the corner.

larry turned on sal immediately, a ‘no-way’ expression on his face. “you talked to them?” he asked, grabbing sal by the shoulders. “yeah.” “and you told them you don’t know how to play??” “yeah.” “you sly dog, you!” larry slapped him on the shoulder like a proud dad, a smile breaking out onto his face.

“did you invite them to the thing tonight? at the lake?” “…crap.” “Sally!”

(y/n) stood around the corner, hand covering their mouth as they giggled and hurriedly scribbled some words onto an old napkin they found in their pocket. when they were done, they oh-so conveniently dropped the piece of paper on the ground, knowing they’d see it and pick it up.

the note read, “room three oh two, seven o’clock. be there. see you then.”

(y/n) quickly turned and hurried to their room as they heard sal and larry’s voices get closer, slipping through the door before they saw them.

one second. two, five, ten. then, the most excited whoops and shouts. (y/n) laughed so hard their stomach hurt, shaking their head. “aw, man.” they walked across their living room and pat their cat on the head, a little extra pep in their step as they walked towards their bedroom to get ready.

“imagine if he knew that i’ve been watching him too.”

[propheciesanddreams]

for the writing game thing: that trope where two strangers keep bumping into one another in the most random of locations, almost like it’s kismet

Hi lovely!

This was a great trope to explore! I feel like I could write so much more to this drabble in general, it's only a bit over 2k words. So maybe I'll return to it as well but I wanted to share what I wrote with you!

Oh she was late. She was so, so late! 

The morning hadn’t started off this way, of course. She had planned to leave her flat at exactly 7:05. That would give her enough time to grab a coffee and a pastry at the cute coffee place about a five minute walk away and then she could catch the bus to uni from there. 

Except then she hit snooze on her alarm subconsciously and lost her spot to get ready when her roommate, who truly was lovely except in this instance, swooped in to take their shower first. So then she had decided to try to make coffee at home instead which resulted in the French press somehow exploding all over the counter and floor. 

Her roommate had come out of the shower, a towel wrapped around their short hair comedically, and insisted they clean it for her while she get cleaned up. Thankfully, or else she may have been stuck in the kitchen even longer, rinsing coffee grounds out of their tea towel until they’d missed every bus entirely. 

Leaving the house at exactly 7:17, she chanced the coffee shop closer to her flat that had worse coffee but was admittedly faster. 

Except this morning. 

Fuck, nothing was going her way today at all. If she missed the beginning of this chem lecture she feared what her professor would say and if it would harm her chances for the internship she was applying for through that professor. Though maybe she could stay after and explain, exploding French press machines is a completely valid reason to be late, right? And besides she was top of class and could always get notes from—-

“Lily!” Her name was rung out as a to-go coffee cup was placed down on the counter. Finally! She made her way through the crowd and was reaching out for her cup when she collided with something—no someone. 

“Ouch! Oh my god I’m so sorry! Here let me help you!” The someone she had run into was saying and Lily graciously accepted the hand being offered to her by—oh just the most gorgeous person there ever was. 

They truly looked like they'd been sent down from heaven just moments before with their hands adorned in gold rings matching the gold in her braids. They were dressed simply; in jeans, a white crop top with a simple flower embroidery that looked hand stitched over the left shoulder, and a leather jacket overtop but Lily found herself captivated by how well it all suited them. 

“I’m sorry?” Lily offered when she realised the stranger had been saying something to her. She hadn’t made out a word, had she been stating that would be embarrassing. She looked up and made the mistake of meeting the stranger’s eyes and oh the way Lily melted at them. 

“I just said I think that was yours?” The stranger nodded towards the cup on the counter. “I’m sorry to run into you. I thought they said Mary but clearly,” and the stranger pointed to the name written in Sharpie across the cup, “that says Lily and I’m guessing that’s…”

“Lily. Yes. Me. I mean, yes. I’m Lily.” The stranger, Mary, giggled. Lily never wanted to hear another sound again. 

“Well hi I’m Mary. So sorry to run into you like that. I hope you weren’t hurt.” 

“Hurt?” Why was conversation so difficult? “No, uh, no. I’m fine, thanks. I’m—“ Lily’s phone buzzed in her hand and… shit! “I’m late, shit! So sorry!” She grabbed her coffee off the counter and started walking away, keeping her eyes on Mary as she did so, “it was so nice to meet you, Mary!” She called just before she had to peel her eyes away. 

She was sitting on the bus only three stops before her uni stop when she realised she hadn’t asked for a number and would never see Mary again. 

——-

“Come on Lils, please come out with Frank and I tonight? Pleaseeeee!” Her roommate was standing in front of her bed tugging at her arm. It would probably have been enough to get Lily out of bed if they weren’t so much smaller than Lily was and if Lily had any intention of ever leaving her bed. She pulled her arm free and hugged her pillow closer to her face, muttering an answer into it. “Lils, I can’t hear you.” She moved the pillow away from her face. 

“Al, you and Frank are going to be all couple-y and I just don’t know if I can handle that right now.” She groaned out. Her roommate gave her a sceptical look. 

“Is this about your coffee shop stranger?” Alice plopped down on the bed next to Lily and raised their eyebrow at her. Lily pushed her face back into her pillow. 

She and Alice had been friends going back to their childhood. It had been three of them actually, she, Alice, and Remus. They were inseparable even with Alice being two years ahead of them in school. When Alice had left their small village to attend uni in London, she and Remus had followed as soon as they could. Of course, Remus by that time had been head over heels in love with his best friend, Sirius, and they had moved in together which left Lily and Alice to find a place together. Which Alice had been ecstatic about. They had been so glad with their friends being back in the same city and also being able to leave a very boring roommate situation. 

“Do you want me to invite Remus?” Alice asked as if they had read her mind. Lily groaned again. 

“No because then he’ll invite Sirius and then they will be all couple-y and I’ll still be single and sad.” 

“Okay first babe you aren’t single and sad,” Alice began. Lily removed her face from the pillow and raised a brow. “In this moment, yes, but that’s why you have to come out with us! Come on! You’re hot, single, and deserve to have fun!” They bounded off the bed and started rummaging in Lily’s wardrobe. “Here, put this on aaaand yep this too. I’m getting the vodka and I’ll be back to do your makeup.” 

“You’re not going to accept a no?” Lily attempted one last time. 

“Not a chance.” Al blew a kiss to Lily before disappearing towards the kitchen. 

Lily was hot. She had to admit it as she looked herself over in the mirror, admiring Al's handiwork. It wasn't just the drinks they had both been downing for the last hour, Alice had done a good job. It was a basic look really, fishnet tights under ripped jeans, a plain black crop top long sleeve that showed off part of a tattoo she had on her right hip, and of course a pair of docs. She’d thrown on some large hoops in her ears but left her fingers free of any rings. Alice had curled her hair and done up her makeup so the contrast between her red hair and her green eyes was stunning. Yeah, she looked hot. Maybe she would pick up someone tonight, who knew. 

She had ended up texting Remus though just in case she ended up alone. He reluctantly agreed to come but only if Sirius could, which meant Sirius' best friend would come, which meant James' boyfriend would come, which meant Regulus' friends would be there, and to not be left out their roommate Peter as well. Four became ten in only five seconds, as per usual with them. Lily loved it though, she wasn't extroverted per se, she just felt so comfortable in this group of friends and they always managed to replenish her energy. Plus with them all there, Lily didn't have time to focus on her singleness or worry about if she should be out there finding someone, she could just be herself with her friends and get lost in the music, conversation, and drink. 

Frank picked them up not long after they had both finished posting some positively hot photos to their respective social medias and hyped one another up for it. Lily hearted a comment Remus had already left on her post as Alice ruffled her short hair in the mirror by the door. 

"Frank has been a goner for you for four years now, come on, he doesn't care what your hair looks like." Lily teased. "Anyway, can you even see in the mirror?" 

"Fuck off, Lils!" Al elbowed her gently in the side. "Besides who said I'm looking good for him." They winked and Lily just rolled her eyes before they left their flat. 

The club was crowded and hot and sticky, Lily was beginning to think she should have stayed home in her sweats. James and Regulus had fucked off somewhere, probably to actually fuck. Al and Frank were also mysteriously missing and Alice had promised to get the next round. Lily was making her way towards the bar because she needed something to get her through until a literal half of their friends group returned when a glint of gold caught her eye. 

It couldn't be. 

A lot of people wear gold rings. But that one, the one set with a rose quartz and gold leaves. Lily had just seen it for a minute the other day and she had memorised it all the same. She followed into the crowd just as the owner of that ring spun around and…

"Hi!" 

"Hi!" 

"Hi! Oh we've done that bit already." Mary laughed at her. 

"Wow, wild to run into you here." Lily said and inwardly cringed. Really? That's what she was going with. 

"Yeah, err, usually not my go to but it's my friend's birthday," Mary pointed across the room to her friend who was dancing with a few others, birthday sash across her body and tiara atop her head. 

"Yeah, my best friend dragged me out here tonight and then disappeared with her boyfriend, somewhere, and two other friends have fucked off to who knows where and– I don't know why I'm saying all this." Lily shut her mouth quickly. Mary hummed and nodded in understanding. At least Lily hoped it was understanding and not pity, though she couldn't be sure. 

"Wanna get a drink?" Mary tilted her head at Lily in question as the music swelled around them again, a louder song that made it so Lily could only nod in reply. She was rewarded by a smile that could melt ice yet ironically froze her to the spot. She saw more than heard Mary chuckle and suddenly she was being taken by the hand and led to the bar. 

Without making the conscious decision, she heard herself ordering a drink and beside her Mary rattled off an order as well. Then they were both sitting and chatting and Lily couldn't remember why she had been having such a bad night when all her mind could focus on was those eyes, and that smile, and the way Mary's shoulders shook when she laughed like a laugh consumed her entire body. She was mesmerising and they were surprisingly getting along in a way Lily hadn't even allowed herself to imagine. 

As quickly as they had collided into each other again, they were spinning out of each other's orbit. One of Mary's friends rushed over with an urgent tone and expression that Mary could not ignore. She gave an apologetic look to Lily and a quick 'see you later' before leaving.  Before she was fully out of sight, Mary looked over her shoulder once more just to make sure Lily was watching. She was. 

Later that night, safe in her room, Lily screamed into her pillow. They had once again forgotten to exchange numbers. 

—-----

"What was the title again, Remus?" Lily asked into the phone in way of saying hello. On the other end she heard a sniffle and cough before a hoarse reply. 

"I've forgotten it, it's in the poetry section with the red cover and it has gold writing across the spine." 

"That's unhelpful." Lily mused glancing over the spines of the shelf in front of her. "Do you really need it? Couldn't I find you another book?" 

"I really want to read that one though!" Remus whined. 

"You don't even remember what it's about!" 

"Yes, but I remember picking it up and looking at it and wanting it so therefore I want to read it. Besides, I'm sick and you have to do what I say." Sometimes Remus was as bad as a younger brother; though he was only younger by two months, a fact he constantly reminded her of, just like a younger brother would. 

"Ok I'll see what I can do. I'll be over soon, try and rest?" 

A brief goodbye and a promise to pick up his favourite soup on the way over left Lily glancing over the shelf again. Perhaps they had another poetry section in this bookstore? She doubted it, it was a small space and she could see the entire store from where she was standing. Lily was just wondering if she should ask one of the booksellers when the little bell over the door briefly caught her attention and she was stopped in her tracks.

"Mary?" She couldn't quite believe it.

"Hi!" The other woman exclaimed and rushed over, clearly forgetting where they were until she nearly collided with the bookshelf beside Lily. 

"Still running into things?" Lily teased. 

"You've no idea, you should see the bruises on my body—I mean! No, not like that! I just!" The panic in Mary's eyes made Lily laugh and emboldened her slightly.

"I should, should I?" She asked, then passed her phone over. "Maybe I should get your number this time then?" 

"Yeah," Mary sighed out as she accepted Lily's phone and started to plug her number in. "Only took us three tries, right?" 

"Third time's the charm." 

[rooftoprabbit]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  

Summary | It was time to show Eddie why this band means so much to you

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Fluff, swearing, Fem!Reader, Jason Carver, bullying (Carver on his BS again), Eddie wanting to see reader happy, arguments, y/n opening up to Eddie

Author's Notes | This is Chapter 4 of the series (Master List posted below). This Chapter picks up a few days after Chapter 3, it is a lighter read. Left it on a cliff hanger.

I hope you enjoy reading this series just as much as I am enjoying writing it! x

Word Count | 4.5k

Key | Pink Italics is reader’s internal monologue

Blue Italics is Eddie’s internal monologue             

Bold Italics is a recall of a past event/encounter

If you liked it, please like and reblog and share it with your friends! Feedback is so incredibly welcomed!

I don't consent to my work being copied and posted on third party websites. Plagiary is a crime...you wouldn't steal a car

MASTER LIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Saturday could not have come any slower even if it had tried.  It was a Tuesday when Eddie had told you he had won tickets to see your favourite band and by the time Saturday rolled round it had felt like a lifetime had passed. 

You had both decided if you were going to drive all the way to the big city you would make a day of it.  Eddie had only gone into the city once or twice before, but he wanted to show you all the spots he knew you’d enjoy. 

“There’s a café that also has a second hand book store, it has plants absolutely covering the place and old books lying everywhere! Oh!! And there is this record store too I really want to take you to” Eddie had said while you were both sitting in detention for the third lunch in a row that week, thanks to the scene you had both caused during Geography class. You could see why the teacher was pissed but come on? Lunchtime detention for the rest of the week because of it? That’s a bit harsh. 

You couldn’t contain yourself all week, telling anyone who would give you the time of day that you were heading to see Skyhooks live! No one really cared all that much but that didn’t stop you from feeling like you were going to explode with excitement.  And Eddie? You couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, all he wanted was to see you happy.  You were running around telling everyone how hard he worked to win you those tickets and that made him realise how much his life had changed for the better when you arrived. 

So there you were, already sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van with your hand firmly planted on the car horn, screaming at Eddie to hurry his ass long so you could get on the road. 

“Ok, Ok!! I’m coming, it’s like we have somewhere important to go to or something” smirks Eddie, teasing your impatience. 

“Very funny.  Come on! I don’t want to miss out on you showing me around the city!” you excitedly dance in your chair as Eddie hops in and starts the engine. 

“Come off it Y/N, you don’t want to be late to the concert.  Even though we’re leaving SIX hours early” tapping the clock on his van.

Crossing you arms and huffing “that thing must be wrong.  Anyway, I just really want you to see them, see why I love them so much!” 

All Eddie can do is laugh at how poorly your attempt at being cross with him is.  

“I feel like you’ve already explained to me why you love them so much anyway.” 

“No, it’s different seeing them live though! Don’t worry, when you see them you’ll understand!” Patting Eddie on the arm.

“Well then, away we go!” 

Eddie puts his foot to the floor and off you go, leaving a large cloud of black smoke billowing from the back of his van.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

“Jesus Christ Hunter how much weight did you put on over the summer, you’re so fucking heavy” Tyler says struggling to lift Hunter through one of your trailer windows. 

With his bottom half hanging out of the trailer window, Hunter puffs “why are we even breaking into y/n’s trailer Jason? What are you looking for?”

Jason looks around the trailer park cautiously to make sure they weren’t being watched before answering “anything to tie y/n to Victoria y/l/n.  They were looking way too cozy the other day for it to just be y/n helping a person out.  They know each other and once I find proof I want y/n to remember where her place is in this town”. 

You see, you thought you had given Jason a good enough excuse as to why you were interacting with your mum that day in the parking lot.  Unfortunately you underestimated how much Jason truly despised you.  

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

Dusting yourself off, you stand up from the ground behind Eddie’s trailer and wipe the tears from your eyes.  Looking around you were glad no one was there to see the heated exchange you had had with your mother.  The last thing you needed was to be associated with her, especially after your last fight with Jason where you had spoken about how horrible the rich people of this town were. What would happen if they were to find out you were related to someone like him?  You knew you were the complete opposite to everything Jason encompassed as a human, but to even think about being associated with someone like your mother caused shudders down your spine. 

As you walk back into the school corridors you see Jason and Hunter meandering around your locker space. What do you want you absolute Neanderthal? Y/n please, that would be offensive to Neanderthals.  Have you not caused me enough drama for one school year?

“Excuse me, Jason.  I need to get to my locker” nudging yourself between his loser friend and your locker.

Jason looks you up and down before slowly moving out of your way. 

“I saw you outside before, behind Eddie’s van.”

Shit, of all people…

“You keeping tabs on me now Carver?” Giving Jason a side-eyed glance, trying to gauge how much he saw.

“I don’t waste my time on people like you y/n.  I just saw you speaking to Victoria y/l/n and was curious how you two know each other? You two definitely run in different circles so I was shocked to see you so chummy with her” Crossing his arms and leaning on the locker next to you all nonchalant.

Fuck…

“I was just getting books out of Eddie’s van when she slipped and fell. I was just helping her up.” At that point you decide to take great interest in your locker and start shuffling textbooks around, avoiding eye contact with Jason who was now sticking his head out more to try and catch your eye. 

“Seemed a bit more than helping someone out y/n.  Looked like you may have history with her?” 

You slam your locker shut causing Hunter to jump before staring Jason dead in the eyes “I guess I’m just feeling super friendly today, I’m here speaking to you after all.” 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me I have Geography to get to.”  

Fuck, how much did he see?

 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

The drive into the city was uneventful, it only got exciting when you’d see a farm animal and scream “COW” or “HORSE” startling Eddie in the process.  So far you had sighted, 112 sheep, 15 horses and 350 cows although the horse tally was up for debate, Eddie was sure you had counted a donkey in that one. 

As a trade off for coming to the concert you let Eddie play his music the whole car ride.  Although you both appreciated each others taste in music, Skyhooks wasn’t his cup of tea but you were happy he was being kind enough to sit through it with you.  It was one thing listening to their music on cassette and talking to him about how amazing they were on stage but to actually show him in person, maybe he’d finally understand why you wanted him to see them so badly – to see how being a freak can pay off. 

Every time you and Eddie would sit in your trailer and smoke and listen to music he would talk on and on about getting out of Hawkins and ‘making it big’ but he still had doubts that someone like him could make his dreams come true. Every conversation would end in “who wants to watch a freak play guitar in a shitty garage band?”. Me

You knew that if he saw people like him on stage he’d be inspired to keep going, that’s all you hoped he’d get out of this. 

As you drive into the parking garage you grab for your wallet “here let me pay for parking, it’s the least I could do”

Eddie grabs your arm “No, Y/n I got this, it’s fine!”

“Eddie, don’t be stupid, just let me pay for this. You wouldn’t let me pitch in for gas so at least let me do this” hitting his hand away from you so you could grab the change from your wallet.

Eddie reluctantly gives in and lets you pay.  He knew you lived pay check to pay check, having to live alone in the trailer so he didn’t want you paying for anything this trip. He just wanted you to forget what your life was like in Hawkins and be carefree for a day.  He also knew how stubborn you were going to be if he didn’t let you pay for at least one thing. Just this once

As you walk down the Main Street of the city you take in all the sights and sounds around you, amazed at how big cities were in this country.  

“I mean, we have cities back home but seriously, this place is massive.  Look how big that building over there is! It’s at least 60 stories high!” The excitement of being in a new space escaping from your lips. 

Eddie noticed that with each day you spent together you came out of your shell more.  With every passing day he would notice new things about you – how you stuck your tongue out of the corner of your mouth when you were in deep concentration, how you would sing at the top of your lungs and dance when you thought no one was watching, or how you could never hide how you were feeling on your face.  If you disagreed with someone or thought what they had said was stupid or even if you were excited your facial expressions would give it away, without fail.  That was what he loved most about you. As bad ass as you were, when you were comfortable with someone you let your feelings come back to the surface and trusted that person with your heart, whether you realised it or not.  

That’s why he loved you but knew he had to keep those feelings to himself.  He knew your plans after graduation.  Every time he had thoughts of grabbing your hand to hold or to linger in your hugs that little bit longer he knew it would only hurt him more when it came time to say goodbye.  If being beside you is all I can have, that’s enough.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

Hitting the trailer floor with a massive thump Jason whips his head around again making sure they were still undetected by the residents in the trailer park “Jesus Christ Hunter, could you be any louder? We’re supposed to be avoiding attention but your fat ass seems to be doing the opposite.”

“Jeez Jason you don’t have to be so mean all the time” Hunter exasperates while picking himself up off the floor.

“What am I supposed to be looking for anyway?” 

“The door knob, Hunter. Let us in you dumbass.”

Hunter slowly opens the door to your trailer and Jason and Tyler stumble in, not bothering to clean the dirt off their shoes.  

“Now boys, look for anything that will tie y/n to Victoria.  Leave no stone unturned, but keep it clean – we don’t want her knowing we were here”.  Jason makes his way for your bedroom while Hunter starts for the kitchen and Tyler upturns your couch cushions, pocketing the loose change. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

“Today has been so much fun, thank you Eddie, for everything” you say while shovelling a third piece of cheese pizza into your mouth. 

“It was my pleasure y/n, I’m glad I could get you out of Hawkins for a day.  We should do this more often” Eddie says sipping his beer, smiling while he watches you do your little food dance. 

“It’s a date”

Shit

“I mean, like not a date date but like two pals hanging out – a day on the town” trying to back track but still play it cool, failing miserably. 

I don’t want him to think this is a date, is this a date? I mean it’s not a bad thing if it was, but we’re just friends, aren’t we? Just two friends hanging out, like always.  Does he think this is a date? Shit 

“Relax y/n” laughing over his beer bottle. Wait, is this a date? Does she think it is?

Breaking the awkward silence that was trying to creep over your table like an ominous mist “oh would you look at the time, we better get going to get a space at the front! You have to be up the front to get the full experience”.  Grabbing your things you give Eddie a smile and start to head for the door. 

As you enter the venue both you and Eddie head for the bar.  With a beer in one hand you grab Eddie’s hand “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd, come on – let’s get to the front!” Shouting over the opening act playing on stage.  Please don’t let go.  

Being 5ft1 has it’s advantages, like being able to snake your way to the front unnoticed.  Too bad you had to drag a 6ft metal head behind you.  You both manage to snag a space right front and centre of the stage and you release Eddie’s hand as the lights go down and Skyhooks come on stage. 

For the entirety of the concert Eddie only pays attention to you.  You can feel his stares but every time you look up at him he’s watching Shirley jump around on stage giving what you considered the performance of a lifetime.  You could see Eddie was mesmerised by how confident each of the band members were on stage.  Standing there in full costume, face makeup in front of a crowded audience and just enjoying themselves on stage – not giving a shit about what people thought of them.  

But Eddie was always mesmerised by you.  Every moment he wasn’t watching the stage he was watching you sing along to every song, the little dances you would do when your favourites would play.  His favourite moments were when you interacted with Shirley like it was two old friends meeting again after years apart.  I want that, with you.

As the night came to a close you started to get worried they weren’t going to play it. How could you not play your most popular song? Come on! Please!!!

♫I feel a little crazy, I feel a little strange….♫

“Eddie! This! this is my favourite song, watch!” Grabbing Eddie’s hand and pointing to the stage. 

Eddie looks from your interlocked fingers to the heartfelt expression on your face.  If your eyes could speak they were telling him this was the most important moment of his life, this moment in time, this song. Y/n, you’ve shown me this song a million times, what’s so different now?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“If I was y/n where would I hide all of my dirty little secrets?” Jason walks around your room with a coat hanger in his hand lifting up books and clothing like he could possibly catch a disease if he used his bare hands. 

“Maybe in a desk drawer” nope, nothing but receipts and a calculator.

Jason opens up your cupboard door “maybe in your top dresser?” Nope, another bust. 

Jason sits on your desk chair spinning, ready to give up before a box under your bed catches his eye. 

“What do we have here y/n, the old shoebox under the bed. How predictable” smirking to himself like he’s some sort of evil genius. 

He bends down and grabs the box, sitting it on top of your bed.  Opening the box he rifles through letters from Uncle Mick, birthday cards from your dad’s grandparents and some photos of your friends back home.  He’s ready to give up completely before it falls from a birthday card into his lap.

Lifting the folded photograph he sees a man helping a small two year old on a skateboard with an arm draped over his shoulder.  Putting the photo into his lap he reads the contents of the card:

“Dear Y/n,

Happy 16th Birthday, I found this photo of your father and thought you might want it. Enjoy.

From Mom”

As he unfolds the photograph his eyes widen at what he’s just discovered.  

“Well, well, well y/n looks like we aren’t so different after all.  Hey boys, I’ve found it!” Jason calls out over his shoulder to Hunter and Tyler to halt the search.

Jason puts the birthday card back into the box and places the shoebox where he found it, keeping the photograph. 

“What did you find?” asks Tyler as Jason smugly walks back into the living room. 

“Feast your eyes on this” holding up the photograph.

“Shit” Hunter squints as he takes the photo from Jason to get a better look.

“That’s y/n clearly but fuck is that….” Jason snatches the photograph back from Hunter and gives it another look over. 

“Yes, gentleman that is my golden goose” not letting his eyes leave the photograph in his hands.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♫…I’m livin in the 70’s, I feel like I’ve lost my keys….♫

You loved this song and the way Shirley really turned up the weird for it but all you could concentrate on was Eddie’s reaction to the performance. Eddie, are you getting it? Please I hope you understand why I want you to really listen to this song. 

As it comes up you squeeze Eddie’s hand and he looks at you smiling, turning his gaze back to the band on stage, singing a long to the song.  Come on Eddie, really listen

Eddie still didn’t really understand why you wanted him to pay extra attention to this song but he was happy you were holding his hand again.  

♫…got the right day but I got the wrong week….♫

And in that moment it was as if the lights all pointed to him. Like the crowd had disappeared and Shirley was signing directly to Eddie, like he knew this was for him- 

♫…and I get paid for just being a freak….♫

You knew as the giant smile grew over Eddie’s face, he got it.  Of all people, Graeme “Shirley” Strachan had gotten through to Eddie.  Eddie, this could be you.  It will be you.

And just as flamboyantly as they had entered the stage the boys gave their bows to a hollering applause and everyone disappeared into the cold Indiana night.  

Still holding onto Eddie’s hand as you left the Patio you move in closer to keep yourself warm “Well! What did you think? I told you they would be amazing in person!”

Eddie, not wanting to release his hand from yours but noticing your chattering teeth, removes his jacket and drapes it over your shoulder 

“Thanks Ed” putting your arms through his jacket, feeling the warmth and smelling Eddie’s signature scent of leather, cigarettes and cheap cologne giving you that extra bit of comfort.

“It was amazing y/n! I really felt like they were speaking to me in that last set!” 

“I knew you would! Now do you see why I was so desperate to get here today? Everyone in Hawkins calls you a freak.  Why not show them how much of a freak you can really be! I just know you’ll make it big one day!” Walking that extra bit closer to Eddie as you make your way to the parking garage, convincing yourself it was purely to keep warm.

Eddie lingers in the small space you are creating between each other “Dundee, I think you might be onto something.  That is what I want, I can see it clearer than ever! Corroded Coffin performing to thousands of adoring fans! Letting our freak fly!” 

“Well, you’ve got your first fan right here.”

Eddie decides to risk the moment and places his arm over your shoulders bringing you in even closer “you’ve got my jacket, you’ve gotta keep me warmer now, especially if your my number one fan, can’t be getting getting sick if I’m gonna be famous” keeping the conversation light so as not to scare you off. 

“I’m your fan, not a groupie Ed” nudging his side. 

“I don’t need groupies when I’ve got you y/n” winking as he opens the passenger door of his van letting what he said settle in the silence of the parking garage.

As you hop into the van you feel your stomach jitter and your heart race.  Your brain loses all functioning, focusing only on the words that just left Eddie’s mouth.  When I’ve got you… 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Excuse me boys, what are you doing leaving y/n’s trailer?” The elderly gentleman from the trailer behind you had become suspicious of the noises coming from your place, knowing that you and Eddie wouldn’t be getting home until the early hours. 

“Shit we’ve been had” Hunter screams under his breath, the panic setting in. 

Jason pushes Hunter out of the way and puts his best citizen voice on to answer “We are friends of y/n, we know she’s out but she has the last half of our group science project so she said we could come in and grab it while she was out”.  

You could stretch Jason’s smile from the trailer park to the middle of town with how over the top he was trying to be to convince your neighbour they were meant to be there.  They stuck out like sore thumbs, three rich kids in a trailer park.

“Ok boys, better get going, it’s getting late” the elderly man eyes the boys up and down and walks away.

“Stupid old man, needs to mind his own.  Come on boys, lets get out of here” Jason pocketing your photo leaving only footprints behind. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Y/n…y/n we’re home, wake up so I can bring you inside.”

You awake to Eddie lightly nudging your leg and unclipping your seatbelt.  Eddie gives you a moment to familiarise yourself with your surroundings before helping you out of the van and into your trailer.  It was almost 2am by the time you had gotten back to Hawkins and you felt bad for having Eddie drive all the way home with you fast asleep in the passenger seat. 

“Do you still have the tickets Eddie? I want to put them in my shoebox” you say sorting through your bag to find your keys. 

“Your shoebox? What’s that for?” Eddie asks as he follows you into the trailer towards your bedroom. 

As you throw your bag down besides your bedroom door and turn on your desk lamp you gesture to Eddie to sit down on the bed. 

“It’s my box of keepsakes, here let me show you – it has letters and photos from back home. I want to save the tickets to remember tonight.  I’ve shown you a few photos from here but not the whole box”.  You felt there was no better time than the present to show him exactly why you loved Skyhooks so much. 

With only the lamp from your desk and the light from the bathroom illuminating the room you sit next to Eddie and place the shoebox on your lap. 

Taking out the first photo, you pass it to Eddie.  “This is my dad and uncle Mick, their twins.  They shared everything in common – food, alcohol, music, even girls at times.  And that’s Shirley in the middle” nudging Eddie. 

“Wow they really do look alike”.  Eddie looks at you to give you the reassurance you need to continue.  

“Before Skyhooks a few of the members were in a small pub rock band that my dad and Uncle Mick absolutely loved going to see.”

Your voice becomes quiet and you rest your head on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“He died before Skyhooks formed but Uncle Mick would always talk about how he knew dad would have loved them” a tear falling from your eyes. 

Eddie moves in closer putting his arm around you. 

“Listening to them makes me feel that little bit closer to him. They’re comforting to me I guess and then when you started talking about how you’d never make it big because of how you’ve been labelled by the people in this shitty town…I thought…I thought just maybe by showing you the band maybe they’d bring comfort to you too.” 

I love you 

“Y/n, I had no idea, thank you”.  It was all Eddie could think to say in that moment.  He was overwhelmed by what you had just shared, not because he didn’t know what to do with that information but because you felt safe enough to share something that intimate with him. Talking about your dad was always a sore subject for you. 

All he wanted to do was take you away for a night to enjoy yourself and see your favourite band, he didn’t realise the significance they held for you.  He was also overwhelmed that for the first time someone was actually thinking about him and caring for him.  No one had ever done something like this for him.  You walked into his life and showed him what true kindness was. 

“Hey, it’s nothing – I’m just glad you got something out of it” sitting up and wiping away tears.

The room fell silent again as you shuffled through cards and photographs.

“I’ve got some stupid photos in here, wanna see me trying to ride a skateboard?” Trying to change the atmosphere in the room 

“Of course y/n! I knew your badassery started from an early age.” 

You grab the birthday card you knew it sat in but when you opened it was empty.  Turning it upside down and flicking it open and close like the photo would magically appear. 

“That’s weird, it was definitely in here” you start to feel panic rise in your throat, it was one of the only photos you brought of your dad with you from Australia.

“I’m sure it’s just fallen in the box, it’ll be there somewhere y/n.”

Both you and Eddie give each other a glance.

“Right?” 

[httpiastri]

so lucky – op81

going for two different types of rides in oscar's car.

genre: fluff turned into smut

pairing: female aussie!reader (the reader having family in australia is mentioned once) x oscar piastri

warnings: uh well it's smut so... you know... besides that, it's very soft so i don't think there should be any other warnings

requested?: nooot really, but pretty much inspired by an ask i got about car sex with oscar 😁<3 thank you anon!!!!

author's note: oKay i have a lot to say here... first off, this is based like a week after the australian gp! secondly, i wrote the start of this on the same day as i opened this acc but i just haven't been able to write anything more after that, until now!

and lastly, maybe the biggest thing... i have never written smut before this, like i've done some suggestive stuff but never real smut. so uh please keep in mind that this is my first time ever... well, the experience was both really awkward, funny, hard, so so so cringey, and very interesting. i def have more respect for smut writers after this 🤣 (i also had like 5 separate fits of laughing manically while writing this) so uh sorry for this mess but i hope you can enjoy it anyway! also i have proofread but it's 2am so i probs missed something

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact! thank you.

tonight has been like a dream.

well, being with oscar always feels like a dream. most of the time, you can’t wrap your brain around the fact that he is your boyfriend. how did you get so lucky?

just a few days ago, oscar took his first ever points in formula one – in his home race. you were so immensely proud of his hard work and you couldn't be more happy for him.

to celebrate, he was allowed a week off to rest in his, and your, hometown. the two of you have spent the days meeting your old friends, visiting family and just enjoying each other’s company.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had a pasta that good,” oscar says as you both exit the restaurant. “i’m not sure what they put in it, but it was addicting.”

you hum in agreement, flattening out your dress with your hand. the cool air nips on your skin and as a gust of wind blows over, you feel goosebumps spreading across your bare arms. your fancy black sleeveless dress is making you hot in one way, but at the same time, it isn’t very good at keeping the cold away.

oscar has always been extremely attentive. so the moment that you start making your way back to his car and a slight shiver spreads through your body, he stops.

“are you cold?” you don’t even get to answer his question before he shrugs off his dress jacket, taking it into his hands. he steps closer and drapes the fabric across your shoulders, mentally cooing at how adorable you looked with his big clothes.

“thank you,” you tell him and he just smiles, leaning down to place a quick kiss to your temple. then his hand drags down your arm to reach your hand, taking it in his as you start walking again.

“this week has been great,” he sighs, a satisfied grin landing on his lips.

"yeah," you agree. "and it's still not over yet."

"mum called me earlier," he starts, intertwining his fingers with yours as you make a turn. "she wants to take you out for a cup of tea."

you look up at him, your eyes shining with fondness and your heart almost exploding with love. "i'd love that."

oscar gives your hand a squeeze. "i told her that we might have plans because i didn't want to promise anything before i talked to you, but-"

"i'll text her and tell her that i'd love to go with her." you both reach his car. "as long as that's fine by you?"

instead of responding, oscar takes your hand up to his face and gives the back of your hand a couple of quick kisses. his answer comes through clearly.

you think you're the lucky one in your relationship, but oscar is so sure that it's the other way around. not only are you so beautiful, brilliant, smart and just perfect in every way, but you also get along well with his family? and you support his driving thoroughly and fully? and you made any place, country or city feel like home, as long as he was with you?

he feels so lucky even just looking at you.

he lets go of your hand, leaning down to open the door to the passenger's seat for you. once you get in, he closes the door behind you and hurries to get in himself. "what do you feel like doing now?" he hums as he starts the car, reversing out of the parking space. "is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

you think for a moment. "can we just... drive around?"

you see him nod and he flashes you a smile with the corner of his mouth before pulling out on a bigger road, just going where ever the car takes you.

after you’ve been on the road for a few moments, you lean forward a bit to play with the radio, leaning back again once you’ve found a station that you like. one of his hands finds it’s way to your thigh and you can’t help but to hum and close your eyes at the way his thumb strokes up and down your skin.

somehow, you feel like there’s been a change in the mood after dinner.

the dinner was romantic, sure, but there’s just something in the low tunes playing in the backgrounds, combined with the feeling of his touch that makes everything… special.

and you’re sure oscar feels it too.

the main thing that gives it away is how his fingers slowly start creeping higher and higher up. the second thing is how his driving has become a little slower and a little sloppier, his focus seemingly being on something (or rather someone) else.

and then, there’s also the fact that he's stealing glances at you every once in a while, almost as if he's curious to see your reactions.

his once so innocent touch moves even further and soon, there’s a finger dragging along the edge of your underwear. your boyfriend hums along to a song, acting pure and sinless despite his actions telling a whole different story.

he’s testing you, and you know it.

you want to act like you don’t care; like his touch doesn’t affect you as much as it does; like your whole body isn’t set aflame at the mere thought of him.

but when a finger lightly pushes against your clothed clit, you can’t pretend anymore.

you open your eyes instantly, your hand coming to grab his wrist as you look over at him. “oscar…” your voice is hushed as you search his face. his playfully innocent eyes meet yours and paired with how incredibly handsome he looks in the gleam of the street lights, they make you feel even hotter than before.

your hand doesn’t even attempt to stop him – he knows that’s not really what you want.

oscar’s eyes focus back on the road, though his attention doesn’t really leave you. his middle finger goes beyond the thin material, trailing across your wetness. your eyes flutter closed again when his finger slips inside you, the grip on his wrist loosening. he pumps you a couple of times, slowly, before adding another finger, and another.

you feel your high approaching, and you’re so thankful that the road is completely empty, because oscar isn't exactly driving as carefully as he does on the track. you can’t think straight, and yet you use all the power you have left to speak. “oscar, fuck,” you let out. “you’re gonna need to pull over.”

he chuckles and soon, the sound of the blinkers turning on echoes through the car. despite being the one who asked for it, disappointment washes over you as he pulls his hand away from you, the absence of his fingers making you huff. when you open your eyes, they catch what's maybe the most incredible thing you've ever witnessed.

god, how can someone look this attractive?

he’s steering the car with one hand whilst his other is by his mouth, his tongue licking your juices from his fingers.

you’re thankful you’re sitting down, because otherwise, your knees would have gone so weak that you wouldn’t have been able to stand up straight.

oscar finds a completely empty parking lot and pulls into it, deciding to stop in a corner to not bring too much attention to you in case someone else were to roll in. once he’s parked, his lips are on yours within a second. it doesn’t take long before you pull away, but the force and passion of the kiss has already made you both dizzy and out of breath. “can i ride you?”

oscar merely blinks for a moment, almost surprised at your question. “all day, every day, love.”

you quickly undo your and his seatbelts, your eagerness instantly becoming very obvious to you both. oscar pulls his seat back to make more spare for you, one of his hands tapping his lap to signal for you to join him already.

his lap always fit you so perfectly; it was like you were made to sit there. once you settle on top of him, there’s something hard in his pants indicating that it wasn’t just you who had enjoyed the car ride so far. you let out a low groan at the feeling of his rough pants against your skin and he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours to muffle your sounds. you lean into him, letting one of your hands rest on his shoulder while the other rakes through his hair, pulling slightly on the strands.

he grabs your hips, pulling the material of your dress up to pool above your butt. then he pulls away from the kiss, instead letting his lips explore the skin of your neck, leaving kisses everywhere he can. when he reaches the spot he knows you love so badly, his teeth graze the area for a moment before settling into your skin. the beautiful sounds leaving your mouth only encourage him to keep going down your body.

your fingers reach down to open the zipper of his pants, hands not so accidentally teasing against his bulge in the meantime. “you’re killing me,” he says against your neck, his warm breath making you squirm.

you lean back and look at him with an amused smile. “i haven’t even done anything yet, love.”

“that’s exactly my point.”

you shake your head at him, still grinning as you lean over to the passengers seat and open the glove compartment. taking out a condom, you pull oscar’s dick out of his underwear before getting yourself out of your own. you rip off the wrapper, rolling the latex onto him before placing a quick kiss to his lips.

your hands land on his shoulders for support while his sit at your hips, and you take a deep breath before sinking down on him slowly. you throw your head back once he’s fully in you, pausing for a moment to adjust to the stretch.

“shit,” oscar groans, a hand moving up and down the side of your body. “what a fucking sight you are.”

you look at him, your gaze softening as it focuses on your boyfriend. he looks so calm, yet so full of desire, with his head resting against the chair.

“in this light, in my sports car, so needy…” he sighs. “i can’t believe i’m the only one who gets to see you like this. i’m so lucky. the luckiest man in the world.”

if your cheeks hadn't been so warm already, they would've heated up at his words. you don't have the power to answer him, letting all your strength go to pulling yourself up before lowering down again. it's still so slow, but neither of you mind – you have all the time in the world.

you lean towards him, placing your head against his shoulder and draping your arms around his neck. you feel the chuckle vibrating through his chest but you don't care, too busy rolling your hips against his. "you're doing so good, baby. just a little more."

"my legs are getting tired," you groan, stopping with him fully inside of you. "help me, please."

"have a little faith in yourself," he says. "i know you can do it."

a whine leaves your mouth as you keep moving, but you can feel your thighs starting to give out and your movements getting sloppier. oscar decides that he's had enough of teasing you so he moves his hands lower to rest under your butt, lifting you up before letting you down slowly. you're so thankful, and you're about to tell him that when-

his hands squeeze your skin as he buckles his hips, matching your tempo. the sensation in the pit of your stomach grows stronger and stronger while he's thrusting into you from below. and oscar's low pants right next to your ear? they make you finish in no time.

you completely collapse against him, your breath uneven and high-pitched. your boyfriend helps you ride out your orgasm while also chasing his, and within seconds, it washes over him like a tsunami. trying to breathe properly, his fingers caress the skin of your thighs to help you come down from your high.

"love?" he asks once both of you seemingly have calmed down a bit.

your mind is so clouded with lust that you can barely even register the fact that he's talking to you, but you still manage a small nod against his shoulder.

"i'm so lucky to have you," he whispers against your skin, leaning in to place a couple chaste kisses to your cheek.

any other day, or maybe even later tonight, you would argue that you're the lucky one. but right here, right now, everything is too perfect, and you're alright with him thinking that he's lucky. at least for an hour or two.

[momsavemesoul1]

Love is Not a Choice.

Love,

It’s a feeling like no other.

Is it a feeling? 

Or is it something we feel or choose? 

I can’t quite decide.

Of course, when you love,

You don’t wanna lose,

You just wanna provide,

To give, 

Or to supply.

I promise when I say this,

It wont be a lie, 

But love is not a choice.

When you said you loved me that faithful day,

My heart could just explode. 

While I can’t remember the day, 

I know I wrote it down somewhere,

From the minute you said hey,

To the last little tear from when you said goodbye.

You said that you tried,

While I cried,

Begging for you to stay.

I know things will be okay,

But I just can’t get over, 

How you said your love was a choice.

That you chose to love me,

That you chose to keep me around. 

Maybe it wasn’t great timing for you,

But your love seemed quite profound. 

I know love isn’t a choice,

And that your love for me at one point was real.

This might not seem important,

But for me it’s a big deal. 

What makes you think that love is a choice?

That love can be easily turned on and off? 

Love is not that simple,

I can promise you that. 

Love is getting butterflies before you even see them,

Love is loving all parts of the rose, 

Even the stem. 

Love is seeing stars in your lovers eyes, 

Even when it’s bright outside.

Love is seeing the world in a different perspective,

Even when things seem a bit ineffective. 

Love is knowing that things don’t come easy,

Especially when its something that makes you kinda queasy. 

But when you get through it all,

You’ll know if it was worth it when,

You feel like you can fall,

And your person will catch you.

You might wonder,

How do you know this?

You might look at my age, 

And wanna dismiss,

The things that I say, 

But please don’t miss this when I mention, 

I felt like this at one point. 

When the world could crumble and as long as I had my person,

Everything felt like it would be okay.

And while things are not the same,

That feeling never went away. 

I know my forever person is waiting for me, 

And when they come, 

Bells will ring,

And birds will whistle. 

Even with all the heartbreaks I’ve been through, 

Nothing will stop my heart from feeling love.

Ah yes,

Love.

Love

Is more than just a feeling.

It is certainly not a choice.

Love is an emotion,

But also a devotion,

To someone or something,

A passion within. 

A drive that keeps you going,

An intensity that not all can handle,

But this sensation is substantial.

So even though you told me,

Love is a choice,

I know deep down,

That was just a voice,

Keeping you from away from me.

I know I can be a bit much from time to time,

Even so much, 

I’m starting to rhyme,

Just to show you that love is more,

That love is sitting on a couch, 

And feeling at home.

I loved you so much,

Even when you made me feel so alone.

I wish you could see now how much I’ve grown,

How I’ve flourished,

And nourished this lovely soul,

This amazing person I’ve learned to console.

And even though I’m writing to you about how love is not a choice,

In spite of everything you said, 

I’m better now,

Really.

I’ve learned to turn this heartbreak into words,

Words on a page that I can turn at any given moment. 

I just choose to keep writing until I feel this chapter is over, 

And even though it’s hard I won’t lose my composure,

Love is not a choice,

Love is not a choice,

Love is not a choice!

Love is dancing in the rain and not worrying about getting sick,

Love is holding the car door open and not getting upset. 

Love is the passion that flows out when your screaming how you feel,

Love is forgiving and moving forward even when it doesn’t seem real.

Love is crying and hugging it out,

Love is not having a single doubt,

That your love is real.

And with this final stanza, 

I say my final words,

On love,

On feeling,

On choice and all above,

I think I’ve made my point when I say,

That love is the way,

You go about life,

For the people you care about, 

No resentment or strife.

I hope whoever listens to this knows,

That we have the potential to grow.

We have the ability to turn the page, 

So on I go, 

To my next big stage.

[world-at-dawn]

Call me existentialist

I feel like a new person but I catch myself also feeling as the same teenage girl I was years ago. Maybe It should really be different, a new, older, better version of me. Being reckless left and I wonder where did it go, many times I want to explode into old behaviors and find more of the fun I used to have. Does everyone feel this way? I started watching Sex and The City, the relationship/party scenery leaves me with this bitter taste in my mouth, I'd like to confess that is not Tequila. This show is all too confusing, it makes you wish for and want to run away from it at the same time. Can someone take a day to answer all my life questions? Is about to be 4AM and I am here, 11 years since I created my first Tumblr, feeling but hopefully not writing, like a teenage girl. It is hypocritical of me to say I don't miss some aspects of it. I used to feel so much, accompanied by it, my poetry had a lot of passion and a lot of pain. Now days I am numb to all, not happy, most of the times not sad. I am just meh. I think that is a perfectly descriptive word for a generation of 20 somethings trying to figure out how to exist, where to go and what to eat. Capitalism, please don't drain me so dry. Can I have time to process my feelings before the older folks call me spoiled? If you could spare some, give me time to digest my food. A 30 minute break every 6 hours sounds just enough to throw some food down you throat and wish you had a few more hours to rest your mind. I know I am just another set of functioning arms and legs but please, could I be allowed to become more? I know what you may be thinking, too existentialist. But forgive me, I started off on the wrong foot, at the wrong time, unexpectedly, on somebody's schedule.

4:10AM 06/27/22

[lipstickbisous]

“ you are what’s important right now. “ witu andrew!peter pretty please?

this scene instantly popped into my head, thank you! i love this!! this was longer than my other requests but idc

priority - tasm!p.p.

SUMMARY: you will always mean more than the world to him.

WARNINGS: slight angst, clueless!peter, mentions of loneliness, touch deprivation, breaking up; eventual fluff

the following works are my own writing. do not plagiarize or copy and paste my works onto another platform. message me about credit.

MASTERLIST

This was the third night you were alone in the apartment you shared with Peter. There was even an imprint on the couch from how long you stayed up on it waiting for him. But you'd fall asleep at 11:00, three hours before Peter would arrive home through the window in your bedroom.

You'd always been okay with Peter's secret occupation. By day, he was a normal college student with an internship at The Daily Bugle and by night he was the crime-fighting vigilante dressed in red and blue. Just because you loved him so much, you adapted to his lifestyle--or, at least, tried to.

But it was hard sleeping, eating, and spending your time alone.

"More than half of your time was spent at work and school, so you would've loved to spend the few hours you were given at home with Peter. Sometimes, the only time you saw him was for a quick kiss goodbye in the morning or a short breakfast in which he left for work either.

You thought you two had been perfect. Sure, your lives had differences--one major difference--but you always believed that you and Peter were the couple to work through it. But either he was blind to your pain or ignorant to it. You didn't like either.

This couldn't be the end, right? Your relationship might've been short, but you and Peter's personalities flowed so perfectly that it felt like you'd been together for years.

It was one in the morning on a Friday night. You'd pushed away all thoughts of projects and work for the sake of seeing your boyfriend's face before falling asleep. In fact, you found it impossible to fall asleep that night. The thoughts were running through your mind, buzzing so loudly it kept you awake.

"(y/n)?" Peter's voice was gentle but being the first sound that directly hit your ears, you jumped in fear. Looking up at him in this setting almost didn't feel right. Since when did he give you more than a glance? "Hey, baby, you okay?"

He sat next to you on the couch. You noticed that you were curled up with his favorite blanket covering your pajamas. "Um," You don't even remember changing your clothes. "Yeah."

Peter didn't need super senses to tell that something was wrong. You were his girl and he always read you perfectly. "You sure?" He leaned forward and put a comforting hand on your leg. You were so touch deprived you shivered away from him. Peter felt his heart crack.

You waited to answer, trying to look away so you wouldn't notice the heartbroken expression he wore. Your eyes were most definitely watering by now. When you were glancing around to avoid eye contact, you noticed his spider-suit underneath the thin sweatshirt he wore. You cracked.

A sob rang through the air, your eyes squeezing shut to relieve themselves of your tears. Peter instantly reached over to console you, wrapping arms around you and rubbing the skin over your wrist and hands. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you." Did he?

You began to cry more when you noticed that his hands weren't even touching you. You were so desperate for contact that the barrier of his suit between you two made you feel even weaker. "Please, don't cry, (y/n)," Peter ran his other hand through your hair to pull you to him, setting his head on top of yours. His gentle shushes and coos had been so missed by you that they felt distant. "Talk to me."

"I'm always so alone, Peter," you sniffled. While you were still fragile, you could feel the sadness turning into anger. You tried to contain it from exploding on him because Peter never deserved that. "It's been so long since you've hugged me like this."

"What're you talking about, baby, I hug you every morning," he laughed in a lame attempt to lighten the mood, but your tears didn't stop.

"And it's a quick hug," you added. "You hug me and say goodbye. And then most times, I don't see you until the next morning." You were thankful that you weren't fighting. It wasn't an argument, just a simple discussion of confusion, miscommunication, and heartbreak.

Maybe it really was just a horrible case of 'right person, wrong time', only you weren't so sure there ever was a 'right time' with Peter. He had a duty to the people of New York that started long before you two met. Who were you to demand him to give it all up?

Peter's heart is racing, you can feel it through his chest. "I know I've been busy with work and school," He was clueless. Even as you were spelling it out, he couldn't read you so perfectly anymore. That made it hurt even more.

"It's not that, Peter," it was becoming harder and harder to keep the anger back. "You know it's not that."

This was hurting him you too, you tried to remember that. Peter sat back in exasperation and stressfully rubbed his eyes until they were red. "Yeah," he agreed. You noticed his eyes were starting to water too. "This." Peter motioned to the suit he wore under his hoodie and sweatpants.

You crossed your arms and sat up with him. "Yeah." Both of you looked at the floor, unable to look at each other or to find answers. It was a long moment of more silence. You hated the silence. "I can't ask you to stop, Peter. This is your job, you established that. It's not my place to tell you to quit."

He finally looked at you. "If I don't quit," he gulped. "That means you leave."

It wasn't that difficult for him, but it was more than difficult for you. "Stop, please. I can't ask that of you." You stressed, throwing your head into your hands.

"You don't have to ask, baby," he gently held your shoulder and kissed the back of your neck. Peter's heart split in two at the sight of your distress, especially when it was clear now that you'd been feeling this way for a while. He wondered why you wouldn't just come forward to him a lot earlier, but he soon realized that even if you had tried, he wouldn't have gotten the hint.

You idiot. he thought to himself. "You're making it seem like you or the world is a hard choice," Peter laughed and he didn't no why. There was nothing light about the situation. "I'll always choose you, (y/n)."

"It's your job to fight crime, Peter," you sighed. "You save people. Giving that up for one person is stupid."

Peter slid onto his knees in front and cupped your cheeks so you were forced to look at him. Staring into brown eyes that you barely saw anymore was overwhelming for your senses. "You're more than just 'one person'," he reassured you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "(y/n), you are the world to me. It's not even a choice."

"I'm sorry that I haven't been here," a single tear fell from his pretty brown eyes. "I've been so stupid that I haven't seen you hurting. But, please, I wanna fix it, baby. Let me fix it, I promise I will." Peter was literally on his knees, begging you to still be his. "I love you so much." He rasped.

Your lips quivered to hold back a sob. You laced your hands through his hair and brought your foreheads together. "I love you, too, Peter." You whispered, realizing neither of you had said it to each other in a while.

"I'm gonna do better. I'll put the mask away-"

"Peter, no." You widened your eyes.

"Just for a little bit," he cautioned, taking your hands into his. "Not forever. But I'm spending my time on you for now." Peter was slightly rambling, but it was to reassure you that he was still deeply in love with you. Ending your relationship would mean ending his world. "And if there's some threat, I'll fix that too, but you are my first priority."

His thumb rubbed yours and the feeling of his hands was so unfamiliar—but it didn’t make you sad anymore. You were happy and glad to have your Peter back. “Promise?” You sniffled.

“I promise, baby,” his lips curled into a small smile full of comfort. “Come on. It’s late now, we should get some sleep.” He helped you rise from the couch, walking you to the bedroom and letting you lay down. Still in his clothes, he sat next to you as you began to cuddle into the pillows. “Tomorrow, I’m not leaving you for one minute. You’ve always got me.” He whispered.

Your tired eyes began to close as you smiled. “I love you, Peter.” You mumbled while drifting off to sleep.

Peter kissed your forehead and cradled your head. “I love you, too.”