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therealcocoshady · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him.

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans.

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence.

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked.

You mean… on a date ? You clarified.

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile.

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel !

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned.

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team !

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand.

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked.

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin.

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk.

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ?

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams.

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone.

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh.

You’re adorable, he chuckled.

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!!

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips.

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked.

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing.

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious.

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in.

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke !

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down.

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved.

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family.

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed.

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you.

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls.

What are they saying now ?

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them.

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it.

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart.

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have.

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out.

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis.

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest.

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began.

Family matters, Stevie specified.

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ?

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made.

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ?

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ?

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled.

Too much love, Stevie joked.

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face.

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile.

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence.

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me.

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk.

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face.

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ?

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs.

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement.

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays.

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans.

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained.

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled.

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side.

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked.

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said.

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it.

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked.

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it !

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ?

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ?

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ?

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk.

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked.

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine #daddy's spaghetti

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crossfandomskylines · 22 days ago

Text

His Escape

Pairing: Glen Powell x Female Reader

Summary: When Glen's confidence is shaken after a night of professional disappointment, he finds solace in the unwavering support of the person he loves most.

Word Count: 10,178 (I swear I tried to make it shorter)

A/N: This idea came to me after seeing Glen lose in his category at the Golden Globe Awards. I just wanted to hug and comfort him to make him feel better. And this fic kind of spiraled from there. I hope you guys enjoy! I'd love to hear what you guys think with Hearts, Comments, Reblogs, and Asks!

The soft glow of your living room lamps bathed the space in a warm, golden hue. You were curled up on your couch, legs tucked beneath you, wrapped in the comfort of a thick, knitted throw blanket. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, thanks to the candle flickering on the coffee table, its flame swaying every so often.

The TV screen dominated the room, showing the glitz and glamour of the Golden Globes. Celebrities in their designer gowns and sharp tuxedos glided across the red carpet, dazzling under the flash of cameras. A bowl of popcorn sat mostly untouched at your side, as your attention was split between the broadcast and the phone clutched in your hand.

Your heart swelled as you scrolled through the latest message in your group chat with Glen’s parents. His mom had sent another photo, this one of Glen standing between her and his dad, both of them beaming with pride.

Glen looked dashing in his perfectly tailored Armani tuxedo, the classic black tuxedo pants paired with a velvet jacket and dark silk shirt. His hair was styled just how you liked it, a little messy but still polished enough for the occasion.

His mom had texted with a string of heart emojis, followed by: He’s so nervous, but he won’t admit it.

You smiled, your thumb hovering over the keyboard as you tried to think of a response: He looks amazing as always. I hope you guys are having fun!

As you hit send, a pang of guilt settled in your chest. You should’ve been there with him tonight, standing at his side as he posed for photos, whispering encouragements in his ear as the nerves crept in.

But you both knew it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. Glen’s career was reaching a critical turning point—offers were coming in from every direction, interviews piling up, and every move he made seemed to generate more buzz.

A relationship, especially one that wasn’t yet public, could shift the narrative in ways neither of you were ready for. It wasn’t about shame or secrecy; it was about protecting what you had from the relentless scrutiny of the spotlight.

Together, you’d decided that attending an awards ceremony like this, arm in arm, might raise more questions than either of you wanted to answer. For now, it felt safer, simpler, to let the world see him as the rising star he was while keeping the quieter, more intimate parts of his life—of your life together—untouched by flashing cameras and prying eyes.

The camera panned to Glen on screen, standing in front of a wall of golden lights as a reporter asked him about his nomination. His trademark smile lit up his face, but you could tell he was deflecting, steering the conversation toward the incredible team behind the project rather than himself. Classic Glen.

Your phone buzzed again with another message from his mom: He’s putting on a brave face, but I can tell he’s feeling the pressure set in.

You bit your lip, the guilt growing heavier. It wasn’t just that you wanted to be there for him—you wanted him to know, without a doubt, how proud you were of him, win or lose. But tonight, all you could do was cheer him on from a distance, wrapped in the quiet solitude of your apartment while he navigated the glitz and glamour of Hollywood without you.

The red carpet coverage cut to commercial, and you leaned back against the couch cushions, staring at the string of fairy lights framing the window. You could hear the faint hum of cars passing on the street below, a reminder that life outside the Golden Globes went on, unaffected by the whirlwind of fame and accolades.

Your phone buzzed again, and this time it was a photo of Glen sitting at the table during the dinner portion of the show, laughing at something his dad had said. It made you smile despite yourself.

His mom wrote: We’re so proud of him.

And you couldn’t agree more.

The TV screen switched from commercials back to the show, and you adjusted your position, clutching your phone tighter as the awards were about to begin. The show unfolded on the screen like a surreal dream. You’d always watched the show in previous years, but this time felt different—personal. Every category, every speech, every camera pan to the glittering faces in the audience felt magnified. Your heart thumped faster with every passing moment, knowing Glen’s category was drawing closer.

The presenters for Best Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy strolled onto the stage, their polished banter filling the room. You sat up straighter on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest as the tension in your body mounted.

“And now, here are the nominees for Best Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy,” one of the presenters announced with a dazzling smile.

The screen flashed to a montage of clips, each showcasing the nominees in their most memorable scenes. When Glen’s face appeared on the screen, your heart fluttered.

“Glen Powell. Hit Man,” the presenter’s voice rang out, and the camera cut to Glen at his table. He smiled and nodded graciously, his parents beaming proudly in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, too. He looked so composed, so effortlessly charming, but you knew him well enough to catch the subtle tension in his jaw, the slight shift in his posture. He was nervous.

The montage continued, the other nominees’ clips playing in turn, but your focus never truly wavered from Glen. When the camera returned to the presenters, your grip on the pillow tightened.

“And the Golden Globe goes to…” One presenter paused for dramatic effect, carefully opening the envelope. The room on screen held its collective breath, and so did you.

“Sebastian Stan!”

Your heart sank.

The room erupted in applause as the camera cut to Sebastian, who stood with a grin and made his way to the stage.

Glen was on screen for a fleeting moment, clapping politely, the practiced smile on his face flawless. But you could see it—the flicker of disappointment in his eyes before the camera moved on.

You exhaled a shaky breath, a wave of sadness washing over you. You knew how much this meant to him, how hard he had worked for this role, and how much he hoped to win. He really thought tonight was going to be his night.

As Sebastian began his acceptance speech, you couldn’t keep your eyes on the screen. Instead, you stared at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip as you debated what to do. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him how proud you were, but words over text didn’t feel like enough.

Just as you were overthinking your next move, your phone buzzed in your hand. A text from Cyndy lit up the screen.

Hey, sweetheart. I don’t know if you’re watching, but Glen didn’t win. I can tell he’s trying to act like it’s fine, but I know he’s disappointed. I think seeing you would help him.

Your heart skipped a beat. The thought of being there for him, even after such a hard night, sent a surge of determination through you.

You quickly typed back. I was just thinking the same thing. Where are you guys heading after the show?

Her response came almost immediately. We’re going to an afterparty. I’ll send you the address. I’ll help you get in. Let me know when you’re on your way.

You smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for Glen’s mom and her unshakeable support. Thank you, Cyndy. I’ll head out soon.

Setting your phone down on the coffee table, you stood and glanced toward your bedroom. The thought of seeing Glen filled you with equal parts excitement and nerves. While you wanted to comfort him, you also wanted to make an impression, to make him proud to have you stand by his side - just in case anyone important saw you with him at the afterparty.

You walked into your closet, flipping on the light and staring at the dresses hanging neatly on the rack. For a moment, you hesitated, fingers trailing across the fabrics as you considered your options.

Glen had spent the evening surrounded by Hollywood’s finest, women dressed in designer gowns that were probably worth more than your monthly rent. While you couldn’t compete with that, you wanted to feel confident.

One by one, you pulled dresses from their hangers, holding them up in front of the mirror. A black cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline? Too plain. A sequined number you’d worn to a wedding last year? Too much sparkle.

You sighed and kept flipping through your wardrobe until your fingers landed on the one: a sleek, champagne colored midi dress with a subtle sheen that hugged your curves and had an exposed back just enough to feel elegant but not overdone.

You held it up and smiled. This would work.

The dress hung on the back of the door as you moved to your vanity, sitting down in front of the mirror. You quickly pulled your hair out of the messy bun it had been in all evening, brushing it out until the strands fell in soft waves over your shoulders. A quick spritz of heat protectant later, you reached for your curling iron, adding a few polished curls to frame your face.

Once your hair was done, you leaned closer to the mirror to do your makeup. You didn’t want to overdo it, opting instead for a soft, natural look. A little concealer to brighten your under eyes, a sweep of blush for color, and your favorite mascara to make your lashes stand out. Finally, you dabbed on a neutral lipstick that complemented the green of your dress perfectly.

Sliding into the dress, you smoothed the fabric over your hips and stepped into a pair of classic black heels. You took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of the dress and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Not bad,” you murmured to yourself with a small smile.

Grabbing a clutch that matched your heels, you slipped your phone, keys, and a tube of lipstick inside before heading back into the living room.

You double-checked the address Cyndy had sent and tapped out a quick message. I’m on my way now. Thank you for helping me with this.

Her reply came quickly. Of course, sweetheart. Drive safe. Can’t wait to see you!

You smiled at her warmth, then grabbed your coat and headed for the door. The warm California air greeted you as you stepped outside, a sense of purpose settling over you as you climbed into your car. As you pulled onto the quiet streets of your neighborhood, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and determination. Glen needed you tonight, and you were ready to remind him that, no matter what, he was never alone.

The valet opened your door with a polished smile, offering a courteous "Welcome, miss," as you stepped out onto the pavement. The warm glow of string lights twinkled above the entrance of the upscale Los Angeles venue, the faint hum of chatter and laughter drifting from the rooftop above. The building exuded an understated luxury, with sleek, modern architecture softened by lush greenery climbing its walls.

Clutching your purse tightly, you took a deep breath and stepped inside. The interior was as elegant as you imagined—soft lighting, marble accents, and tall glass windows that offered a breathtaking view of the Los Angeles skyline. The faint clinking of glasses and the melodic hum of a piano playing somewhere in the background added to the ambiance.

As you made your way to the elevator, you smoothed your hands over the fabric of your dress, trying to calm the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. You weren’t used to settings like this—where the air practically shimmered with glamour and the scent of expensive cologne and champagne filled every corner. But tonight wasn’t about you fitting in. Tonight was about Glen.

The elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open to reveal the rooftop space. A wave of cool evening air greeted you as you stepped out, the view from up here absolutely stunning. The city lights stretched endlessly, a glittering sea of gold against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

But your attention quickly shifted to the crowd.

Clusters of people were scattered around the rooftop, their elegant attire shimmering under the soft glow of fairy lights and the flickering flames of heat lamps. Actors, actresses, directors, and producers mingled effortlessly, champagne flutes in hand and smiles that seemed almost rehearsed.

Your heart raced as you scanned the crowd, searching for Glen. The nerves you’d managed to suppress in the car started to creep back in, your stomach twisting as you imagined how he might react to seeing you. Would he be happy? Surprised? Would he think you’d overstepped by showing up unannounced?

Your heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as you weaved through the crowd, offering polite nods and tight smiles to the strangers you passed. Every time you thought you spotted him, it turned out to be someone else—a man with a similar build, or a suit that reminded you of Glen’s.

And then, you saw him.

He was standing near the edge of the rooftop, his back to you as he leaned casually against the railing. Even from a distance, you could tell something was off. His shoulders weren’t as relaxed as usual, his posture slightly stiff. He was talking to someone—an older man who looked like a producer—but his responses seemed polite and detached, his smile barely reaching his eyes.

Your heart clenched. This wasn’t the Glen you knew, the one who could charm a room with his laugh and light up any space he walked into. Tonight, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Swallowing your nerves, you adjusted the strap of your purse and started toward him. Each step felt like it took an eternity, the noise of the party fading into the background as your focus narrowed in on him.

You stopped a few feet away, hesitating for a brief moment as you tried to find the right words to say. But before you could speak, he turned, his gaze landing on you—and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

Glen’s expression shifted from surprise to pure, unguarded joy in the blink of an eye. Without a second thought, he turned to the producer he’d been speaking to, murmuring a quick, “Excuse me,” before striding toward you, closing the distance between you in just a few long steps.

Your nerves barely had a chance to settle before Glen was there, standing right in front of you. His hands found your waist, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, one hand slipping up to cradle the back of your head while the other slipped around your waist. You could feel the tension in his body melt away as he buried his face in your hair, his shoulders relaxing for what seemed like the first time all evening.

“You’re here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and disbelief.

Before you could respond, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes scanning your face as if he needed to confirm that you were real.

And then, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was tender but unrestrained, a mix of relief, gratitude, and love that made your knees feel weak. The rest of the rooftop faded away—the noise, the people, the shimmering lights of Los Angeles below. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said softly, his hand still gently cradling the back of your head.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against the lapels of his suit jacket. “I had to be here for you.”

It wasn’t until you heard the faint sound of someone clearing their throat that you realized the two of you were still standing in the middle of a crowd. Glen blinked, his eyes flicking around as if he’d only just remembered where you both were.

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn’t seem embarrassed—if anything, he looked proud. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to his side as he turned to the curious onlookers with a sheepish smile.

“Guess the secret’s out,” he said lightly, his tone warm but unapologetic.

As Glen pulled you closer to his side, the buzz of the rooftop returned, whispers and murmurs rippling through the crowd. You could feel curious eyes on you, but your focus stayed on Glen. His arm remained secure around your waist, a steady reassurance amid the growing attention.

Before anyone else could approach, you saw a familiar face in the crowd: Cyndy. Glen’s mom was beaming as she made her way over, her husband, Glen Sr., right behind her.

“There she is!” Cyndy exclaimed, her voice warm and welcoming as she pulled you into a quick hug. “I told you this would be just what he needed,” she added with a playful wink at Glen, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

“You knew about this?” he asked, a hint of mock betrayal in his tone.

��Of course,” Cyndy said with a grin. “She needed a little help getting here.”

Glen shook his head, his smile softening as he glanced down at you. “I should’ve known. You two are always teaming up on me.”

“It’s for your own good,” you teased, earning a chuckle from Glen Sr.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful she’s here,” Glen Sr. said, clapping his son on the shoulder before turning to you. “You look stunning, by the way. Good luck keeping this one under wraps now.”

Glen laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah, I think that ship’s sailed.”

As his parents drifted back into the crowd, giving the two of you a moment, Glen leaned in, his voice low. “You ready to meet some of these people?”

You nodded, your nerves fluttering again. “Lead the way.”

Glen kept you close as he guided you through the rooftop, introducing you to directors, producers, and fellow actors.

“This is my girlfriend,” he said each time before introducing you by name, the word girlfriend rolling off his tongue with ease and pride.

You exchanged polite smiles and handshakes, offering kind words to those you’d only seen on magazine covers or in movie credits. It was surreal, but Glen’s steady presence kept you grounded.

At one point, you found yourself standing in a small circle with a director Glen had worked with in the past. The conversation flowed easily, but you could feel Glen’s hand lightly rubbing your back, a subtle gesture that let you know he was still thinking about you.

“Glen’s mentioned you before,” the director said with a knowing smile. “He wasn’t kidding when he said you were incredible.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced up at Glen, who looked entirely unbothered by the compliment.

“She is,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart skip.

The sounds of the party started to fade into the background as Glen guided you to a quieter corner of the rooftop, away from the buzz of laughter and clinking glasses. The cool evening air swept past, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine from the planters lining the terrace.

You leaned against the glass railing, the glittering Los Angeles skyline sprawling behind you like a postcard. Glen stood close, his arm brushing yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, simply soaking in the stillness that contrasted with the lively atmosphere just feet away.

He turned to you, his expression softer now, the guarded mask he’d worn all evening completely gone. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice carrying an undercurrent of emotion.

You tilted your head, your brows knitting together. “For what?”

“For being here,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “For coming tonight, even though I know how much you hate this kind of scene. I didn’t realize how badly I needed you here.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. Reaching up, you rested a hand against his cheek, your thumb brushing the faint stubble along his jawline. “You don’t have to thank me, Glen. I wanted to be here. I hated thinking about you going through all of this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second.

“It was a rough night,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I knew not winning was always a possibility, but...” He trailed off, exhaling deeply.

“But it still hurts,” you finished for him.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. And trying to act like it doesn’t... it’s exhausting.”

You stepped closer, your hand sliding from his cheek to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

“You don’t have to act with me,” you said softly. “You’re allowed to feel however you need to feel. I’m here, okay? Whatever you need.”

His arms came around you then, pulling you into his chest. You melted into his embrace, your face pressed against the soft fabric of his jacket. He held you tightly, like you were his anchor in a storm.

“I feel better already,” he murmured against your hair, his voice laced with a hint of humor but mostly gratitude.

You smiled, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. “Good. You’ve accomplished so much, Glen. You’ve made me, your parents, everyone who knows you so proud.”

A small smile curved his lips, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You always know what to say,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

You shrugged, teasing him lightly. “I like to think of it as one of my many talents.”

His chuckle was soft, but genuine, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Well, it’s one I’m grateful for.”

The quiet moment lingered, the world around you dimming as you rested in Glen’s arms. His hands brushed lightly up and down your back, grounding you in his warmth. The skyline twinkled behind him, but all you could focus on was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

After a while, Glen broke the silence, his voice low and soft. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you sure? I mean, this is your night.”

He shook his head, a playful glint flickering in his tired eyes. “This party stopped feeling like mine a long time ago. I’d rather be somewhere alone with you.” He paused, his expression turning gentler. “Come stay at the hotel with me?”

Your heart fluttered at the quiet sincerity in his voice, and you nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” you said, your smile widening.

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a soft and unhurried moment, as though he wanted to savor every second of it. When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What for this time?” you asked, your smile turning playful.

“Just for being here for me,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Your fingers intertwined with his, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Always.”

Glen smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he straightened up, pulling you a little closer as he turned toward the door. Without another word, he led you across the rooftop, weaving through clusters of partygoers with effortless ease.

The crowd parted as you passed, some people glancing your way with fleeting curiosity. You caught sight of Glen’s parents near the bar, and Cyndy offered you a subtle wink before turning her attention back to the person she was speaking with. You couldn’t help but smile.

Glen held your hand tightly as he guided you to the elevator, his thumb brushing small circles against your skin. Once inside, the doors closed with a quiet chime, and the noise of the party finally melted away.

He let out a quiet sigh, leaning back against the wall of the elevator, and pulled you into his side. “This is better,” he said, his tone light but filled with contentment.

You chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’ll take a quiet elevator ride with you over a crowded party any day.”

He laughed softly, his hand drifting up to play with a strand of your hair. “Good. Because tonight, it’s just you and me.”

The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the rooftop party. Glen stayed close by your side, his hand brushing against yours as you waited for the valet. You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, the promise of a quiet, uninterrupted night with him tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

When the valet pulled your car around, Glen stepped forward, handing over a tip and reaching for the keys.

“I’ll drive,” he said with a grin, giving you a playful nudge.

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you insist on driving my car?”

“Just humor me tonight,” he said, flashing that perfect smile that made your heart skip.

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh but handed over your keys without argument. Glen opened the passenger door for you, holding it until you were comfortably seated.

Your cheeks warmed at the gesture, and you offered him a soft smile as he closed the door and rounded the car to slide into the driver’s seat.

Once he was settled, Glen adjusted the mirrors and pulled away from the valet stand, expertly navigating the quiet streets of Los Angeles. His posture was relaxed, but his hand gripped the wheel with quiet confidence. The faint hum of the engine filled the silence, mingling with the soft music playing from the car speakers.

After a moment, Glen reached over, his fingers brushing against your knee before resting gently on your thigh. His touch was warm, grounding, and the weight of it sent a small shiver up your spine.

You glanced over at him, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminating his profile. His focus was on the road, but there was an unmistakable ease in his expression, as though the weight of the night was beginning to lift.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” Glen said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car.

The compliment caught you slightly off guard, and you felt the warmth rush to your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly, placing your hand over his, trying to steady the sudden flutter in your chest.

His fingers tightened gently on your thigh, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your dress. The simple motion sent a shiver up your spine.

“I mean it,” he added, his voice lower now, carrying a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. “Took my breath away when I first saw you tonight.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out at first. His gaze shifted briefly from the road to meet yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he caught the faint blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Glen,” you murmured, glancing down as your own smile crept in, embarrassed but undeniably warmed by his words.

“What?” he teased, his smirk growing. “Just being honest.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply be in each other’s presence. The city lights blurred outside the windows, and you found yourself memorizing the quiet details of the moment—the way his hand felt against your skin, the gentle hum of the car, the serene look on his face as he drove.

As he turned onto a quieter stretch of road, Glen glanced at you briefly, his smile soft and genuine. “I know I’ve said it already, but...thank you for being here tonight. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

You squeezed his hand. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the upscale hotel, its glass façade glowing softly in the dim light of the early morning. Glen handed the keys to the valet with a quick thank-you before coming around to your side. He opened your door and offered his hand, helping you out with a small, knowing smile.

The lobby was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional murmur of staff or the faint sound of soft music drifting through the space. Glen’s hand found the small of your back as he guided you toward the elevator bank. You leaned into his touch, your earlier nerves melting away under the warmth of his steady presence.

Inside the elevator, the air felt electric, charged with unspoken anticipation. Glen pressed the button for his floor, then turned to you with a crooked grin.

“Almost there,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

The soft ding of the elevator signaled your arrival, and the two of you stepped into the quiet hallway. Glen led you toward his room, pulling the keycard from his pocket. The lock beeped softly as he swiped it, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you in first.

The suite was spacious and elegantly designed, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights. But you barely had time to take it in before Glen shut the door behind him, letting out a long breath as he slid his blazer off his shoulders and tossed it onto the back of a chair.

His eyes found yours, and without hesitation, he crossed the room to pull you into his arms. His embrace was firm yet tender, his hands settling on your waist as he held you close.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s stopping you now?”

Glen chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, before closing the small distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that started out as gentle and unhurried, his touch familiar and comforting.

But then, something shifted. What began as a tender gesture grew more fervent, his hands sliding up your back with a quiet desperation. His fingers splayed against your skin as though he needed to feel you, to anchor himself.

You noticed the change immediately—the way his lips slowed, pressing against yours with an intensity that wasn’t just passion but something deeper. He lingered at the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses along your jaw and down the curve of your neck. His breath, once steady, hitched against your skin, and the muscles in his back tensed beneath your touch.

Your hands instinctively moved to soothe him, running up and down his back in gentle strokes, but you could feel the tension coiling tighter in his body with each passing second. Glen’s arms wrapped around you as though he were holding on for dear life, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck.

“Babe?” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the faint hum of the city outside. “Glen?”

There was no response, only the unsteady rise and fall of his chest against yours. You frowned, shifting slightly to pull back, your hands moving to cradle his face as you searched for his eyes.

“Hey… are you okay?” you asked softly, concern threading through your voice.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His eyes stayed shut, and his jaw clenched as if he were trying to hold something back. Then his breath hitched again, and he exhaled shakily.

“I thought…” His voice broke, barely above a whisper. “I thought tonight was going to be different.”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. Your heart twisted at the quiet vulnerability in his tone.

“I thought I was going to be enough,” he murmured, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze.

Your hands stayed on his face, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. “Glen,” you said softly, your heart aching for him. “You are enough. You’re more than enough.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes clouded with doubt. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way? I wanted it so badly, but it’s like… it’s like I’m stuck. Like I’ll never reach the level everyone expects of me.”

His voice cracked, and you felt his shoulders tremble beneath your hands. You held him tighter, your fingers slipping into his hair as you tried to soothe him.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, tilting his face so he couldn’t look away. “You don’t need an award to prove anything to anyone. You’re already incredible, Glen. Directors, writers, everyone you’ve worked with—they see it. They know how talented you are. And so do I.”

His eyes searched yours, uncertain and raw. “You’re proud of me?”

You smiled softly, brushing a kiss to his forehead. “More than you’ll ever know. You’re at the top in my eyes, Glen. Award or no award.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His grip tightened around you, and you felt the last of his tension slowly melt away as he let your words wash over him. The quiet of the room wrapped around the two of you, and for a moment, there was nothing else—just the softness of his breath against your skin and the steady thrum of your hearts beating in sync.

Glen’s arms loosened around your waist, and he exhaled a long, shaky breath. His forehead brushed against yours one last time before he pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on your hips for just a moment. The vulnerability in his eyes was still raw, his walls lowered in a way that made your chest ache for him.

Without a word, Glen stepped away, his movements slow and deliberate. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering there as though trying to ground himself. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his face, casting shadows that only seemed to deepen the exhaustion etched into his features.

He made his way to the bed, his steps heavy, as if the weight of the night clung to him with every stride. Lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress, Glen sat with his back to you, his shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward. For a moment, he just sat there, silent and still, like he was carrying the weight of something too big to name.

You stood where he left you, watching him in quiet concern. Your heart ached at the sight of him—at the way he seemed to have shed every ounce of energy and emotion he’d held together so tightly throughout the night.

Without a word, you crawled up onto the bed behind him, your knees sinking gently into the soft covers. You moved behind him, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders, your fingers beginning to work away the tension that had settled there.

At first, Glen didn’t move, his posture still stiff, his head slightly bowed, but he let you in, letting your hands ease the strain from his muscles.

After a few minutes of working the knots in his back, you softly spoke, “Glen... take your shirt off. Let me help you fully relax.”

He let out a quiet breath, his shoulders rolling in a slight motion of surrender. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, each one opening with a slow and deliberate motion, his body still tense under your touch. When the last button came free, he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, the fabric slipping off his arms. You continued your gentle massage, your fingers now tracing the lines of his back, finding the tension in his muscles and working it away, piece by piece.

Glen let out a long, deep sigh as the stress of the evening began to melt away under your touch. He leaned into you, his body responding to your calming presence, and with a final, quiet release, he relaxed completely. His head tilted back, falling softly against your chest, the weight of his head resting there as you continued to soothe him with your touch.

You smiled down at him, feeling his breath steady and slow as you ran your hands up and down his back. The sound of his quiet breaths was a comforting rhythm in the room, the weight of his exhaustion now balancing with the calm you provided.

With his head resting against you, he looked up at you, his eyes soft, almost vulnerable. You smiled at him, your heart swelling as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“You okay?” you whispered, your fingers still gently running through his hair, the touch tender and caring.

Glen closed his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I am now.” He let out a soft chuckle, and for a moment, the stress of the night seemed to dissipate entirely, replaced with the warmth and safety that surrounded the two of you.

You rested your chin on top of his head, continuing to hold him, your presence grounding him in a way nothing else could. The room felt peaceful now, as if time had slowed just for the two of you, and for a fleeting moment, everything was right.

You continued to gently rub his back, letting the soothing silence linger between you two for a while longer. Glen’s body was finally at ease, but you could sense he needed more—something to fully relax him after the rollercoaster of emotions he’d been through that night.

“You should go shower,” you suggested softly, your fingers still tracing light, comforting circles along his back. “It’ll help you feel better, relax a little more.”

Glen’s eyes fluttered open, and he hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked up at you. There was an unspoken question in his eyes—whether or not he was ready to let go of the emotions, the strain, the weight of the evening.

“Will you join me?”

The question hung in the air, but it wasn’t a forceful demand—more of an invitation. He was searching for comfort, for something to take his mind off the self-doubt that still lingered beneath the surface. The tension was still there, just beneath the calm exterior.

You nodded without hesitation, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Of course.”

Glen stood slowly, pulling you with him as you both made your way to the bathroom. The lights were dimmed, casting a warm, inviting glow over the room. The sound of the shower running softly filled the air, and as he adjusted the water temperature, Glen turned back to you, his eyes still carrying that mix of weariness and something deeper—a need for connection.

His hands, warm and gentle, reached for the zipper of your dress. His fingers brushed your skin as he slowly unzipped it, the motion deliberate, almost reverent. He didn’t rush—each movement was careful, as though he was taking his time to savor this small, private moment. The dress slipped off your shoulders with his guidance, the fabric pooling at your feet.

A soft breath left his lips as he looked at you, his fingers trailing over your skin. You felt his presence like a warm embrace, his touch so tender that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re so beautiful," Glen whispered, his voice low and full of admiration as his lips brushed the back of your neck. The kiss lingered there, a simple act that spoke volumes. He pulled back just slightly, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. As it slid down your arms, his lips found their way to your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along the curve of your skin.

"I love you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, sending a sense of calm and affection flooding through you. He was careful, slow, making sure you felt every touch, every kiss, his words filling the space between you as much as his touch did. "I love you so much," he repeated softly, as if needing you to feel the depth of his feelings.

With a gentle tug, he guided your underwear down, his fingers grazing your legs as the fabric pooled at your feet. He never once broke eye contact, his gaze full of reverence, his actions unhurried, as if savoring this quiet intimacy between you.

His hands slid up your back, holding you close for a moment, before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You turned toward him, your hands gently brushing his chest as you reached for his belt. The leather felt smooth under your fingertips, but as you tugged it through the loops, it caught slightly, the metal latch catching on the fabric of his pants.

Glen raised an eyebrow and, with a smirk, he reached down to effortlessly pull it free, tossing it aside with a soft chuckle. You couldn't help but smile at the playful glint in his eyes, his confidence radiating through every small action. The serious, vulnerable side of him from earlier was still there, but seeing this side of him, the Glen who was comfortable, even mischievous, made your heart lighten. This was your Glen again—the one you had fallen in love with.

His smirk deepened as he caught your eye, and you felt that same familiar pull in your chest. Without hesitation, you popped open the button on his dress pants, the soft sound of the fabric giving way to the cool air in the room. With a quick motion, you shoved the pants down his legs, your eyes never leaving his.

As you moved to slide his underwear down as well, he stepped out of the fabric, leaving the two of you bare before one another. The feeling of the air on your skin, the way his body seemed to react to the same sensations, only deepened the connection between you.

Glen’s hand reached for yours, his fingers curling around yours as he gently pulled you toward him. With a final glance, he led you into the shower, the warm water cascading down as the door closed behind you.

The warm water from the showerhead cascaded over your bodies, the steam rising around you as Glen pulled you closer. He guided you back against his chest, your back now pressed against his solid form. The heat from his skin radiated into you, his arms wrapping securely around your waist, holding you close as the water continued to fall.

You leaned your head back against him, allowing the sensation of his embrace to ground you, and closed your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. It was moments like this, quiet and simple, that made everything else fade into the background. The chaos of the world, the stress of the night—it all seemed distant when you were wrapped up in the warmth of him.

His breath, steady and warm against your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed your cheek, soft and slow, before trailing along your jawline. The gentle caress of his kisses made you feel cherished, like the world had slowed just for the two of you.

As his lips moved to your neck, you couldn’t suppress the soft sigh that escaped your lips. His kisses were light at first, like he was savoring every inch of your skin. Then, his hands slid to your sides, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to the pulse point on your neck.

You turned slightly, your face now angled toward his, and you could see the tenderness in his eyes—the way he looked at you as though you were everything he needed. His hands moved up to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, before leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips.

As the steam continued to swirl around the two of you, Glen reached for the bottle of shampoo, his movements slow and deliberate as he squeezed some into his palm. He worked it into his hands before gently lifting them to your hair, his fingers massaging the lather through your strands.

The soft pressure of his hands on your scalp felt soothing, almost like a tender promise. The moment was so serene, so simple, but it filled the space between you with an intimacy that went beyond the physical.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the lather built up, your hair sliding through his hands like silk. A soft smile played on your lips as you couldn't help but tease lightly, “You know, I was supposed to be helping you relax, not the other way around.”

Glen paused for a moment, his hands stilling in your hair. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, a quiet affection in his words.

“Taking care of you helps me relax,” he murmured, his fingers resuming their gentle motion through your hair. “When I’m with you, everything else fades. All the noise, the pressure… it just disappears.”

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, catching his gaze. The tenderness in his eyes made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling that quiet joy that only came from knowing you were so deeply cared for.

You and Glen took turns lathering soap and washing each other off. His hands slid over your skin with a gentle care and you mirrored the gestore for him, tenderly tracing over his toned and muscly form.

When the last traces of soap had been rinsed away, Glen’s hands moved from your shoulders, gliding slowly down your sides before they settled at your waist.

Then, without a word, he leaned in. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the softness of the kiss almost a question, a gentle exploration. But as his lips coaxed yours open, something shifted, deepened. The kiss became more urgent, more consuming, and you couldn’t help but respond in kind, meeting his intensity with your own.

His hands roamed lower, tracing the curve of your body as his tongue slid into your mouth, eager and searching. A soft gasp escaped you as you felt the warmth of his touch slide over your skin, igniting a familiar fire within. Your hands found their way to his neck, fingers tangling in his wet hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened further.

The sensation of being pressed against the cool wall of the shower was sudden but welcome, sending a shiver down your spine as the contrast of cold tile and Glen’s warmth consumed your senses. His hands found your hips, steady and deliberate, before sliding down to hook beneath your thighs. In one smooth, effortless motion, he lifted you, his strength leaving you breathless as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist.

His arm cradled your face, the other anchoring you securely against him. You felt completely surrounded by him—his body, his heat, the faint smell of his cologne lingering despite the water. His lips were back on yours in an instant, claiming you with a passion that left no room for hesitation.

As the water streamed over both of you, his lips broke from yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him access to your neck, where his kisses grew deeper, more purposeful. Each press of his lips sent waves of warmth through you, his stubble brushing lightly against your skin. When he reached the spot just below your ear, you couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you, and Glen’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin.

“God, I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, making your stomach tighten with need.

His lips traveled lower, brushing over your collarbone before returning to your mouth as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you for too long. Your hands found their way into his hair, threading through the damp strands and tugging just enough to elicit a low groan from him. The sound sent a thrill through you, and you felt him press you more firmly against the wall, as though he needed you closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His kisses moved lower, trailing along your shoulder as he adjusted his grip, one hand sliding up your back, the other tracing the curve of your thigh. The heat of the water cascaded over both of you, blending with the heat building between your bodies.

The way Glen looked at you—his gaze dark and intense, yet filled with so much affection—left you completely undone. He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave.

Your only answer was to pull him closer, your lips finding his once more as your hands roamed over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. Glen responded immediately, his hold on you tightening, his kisses growing deeper and more fervent, as if he were pouring every unspoken word into them.

Glen shifted slightly, his hips pressing firmly against yours, pinning you against the cold tile wall, and a soft whimper escaped your lips.

Glen froze for half a second, his eyes locking onto yours, and then his lips curved into a grin that was equal parts mischievous and adoring.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as his lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. He wasn’t in a rush; he wanted to savor every second, every little sound you made, and the way your body responded to his touch.

His kisses trailed down the curve of your neck, lingering in spots he knew would make your breath hitch. You felt his fingers tighten slightly on your thigh, his touch grounding you while simultaneously setting you aflame.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. The way his words, his tone, his body all combined left you dizzy in the best way.

Your hands slid over his shoulders, down his chest, your fingertips tracing the firm lines of muscle as if committing them to memory. You could feel the tension melting out of him under your touch, replaced by something far more intoxicating.

“You have no idea how much I needed this—how much I needed you,” he admitted, his tone softening just slightly, adding a layer of vulnerability to his intensity. He leaned his forehead against yours, his lips brushing yours in a feather-light kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice steady as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer. Glen closed his eyes for a moment, as if grounding himself in your words, in you.

When his lips met yours again, it was slower, deeper, his movements more purposeful. Every touch, every press of his body against yours, felt like a reminder of the connection you shared, of how deeply he trusted and cared for you.

The moment he began to press into you, your breath hitched, and your nails gently dug into his shoulders. The slow, deliberate stretch was almost overwhelming, a sensation so powerful that it sent shivers through your entire body. Glen let out a deep, unrestrained groan that rumbled from his chest, vibrating against yours.

“God,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his head dipping to rest in the curve of your neck. “You feel... incredible.”

Your body adjusted to him, every inch of him fitting perfectly, as though you were made for this—made for each other. The moment you were fully joined, the air between you shifted, charged with something deeper, something more profound than physical attraction.

You let out a shaky exhale, your hands threading into his damp hair, holding him close. “Glen…” His name was barely a whisper, but it carried so much—desire, love, reassurance.

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. His eyes, deep and intense, were filled with something raw and vulnerable, a mix of need and devotion. “S-shit sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against the sharp lines of his jaw. He began to move then, slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every sensation, every reaction. Each roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, but it was more than that—it was connection, intimacy, the kind of closeness that words could never fully capture.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, the rhythm as natural as breathing. His lips found yours again, desperate and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your bodies were slick from the water, your skin sliding against his in a way that only heightened the intensity of the moment.

The rhythm of Glen’s movements grew more intense, the slow, deliberate pace giving way to something deeper, more desperate, as the fire building inside you threatened to consume you completely. Your breaths came faster, mingling with his in the humid air of the shower, each gasp and groan echoing off the tiled walls.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails pressing lightly into his skin as the pleasure coiled tighter in your core. You could feel the tension mounting, like a wave rising higher and higher, ready to crash over you.

“Glen,” you gasped, your voice shaky, filled with need.

He groaned in response, his grip on you tightening as his forehead rested against yours.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady. His eyes locked onto yours, a mix of passion and adoration blazing within them. “I’m right there with you.”

Your head fell back against the tile, a soft cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped and the wave of ecstasy washed over you. Your body trembled against his as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, your hands slipping into his hair, holding him close.

The sound of your release seemed to push Glen over the edge. With a low, guttural groan, he buried his face in your neck, his movements faltering as his own climax overtook him. His body tensed, his arms tightening around you as if anchoring himself in the moment.

For a few moments, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the steady stream of water cascading over you both. Glen’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his chest heaving against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

You ran your fingers through his damp hair, your touch gentle and soothing as the tension in both of your bodies began to melt away. “Are you okay?” you whispered softly, your voice laced with tenderness.

He nodded against your shoulder, his arms still wrapped around you. “More than okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin in a lazy kiss.

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes finding yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet affection between you. He reached up, brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch lingering. “You make everything better,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “And you make everything better for me,” you whispered against his mouth.

As the water continued to flow over you, Glen shifted, his hold on you gentle as he helped steady you back onto your feet. He kept his arms around you, though, as if reluctant to let you go.

“Stay like this a little longer?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

You nodded, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other, the water washing away everything except the quiet, unspoken connection between you.

Minutes later the warm water slowed to a trickle as you and Glen stood together under its embrace, reluctant to part from the cocoon of closeness you’d shared. But the chill of the air creeping into the shower reminded you both that it was time to leave.

You reached for a towel, wrapping it snugly around yourself before handing another to Glen. He took it with a small smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He quickly dried off, his movements unhurried, as if savoring the quiet moment.

As you toweled your hair, you couldn’t help but notice Glen watching you. His gaze was soft, his features relaxed in a way that made your heart swell.

“What?” you asked with a light laugh, arching a brow at him.

He just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing. Just… you.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t press him further. Instead, you turned toward his open bag near the bed, slipping on one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of his boxers since you didn’t have any clothes of your own to sleep in. The fabric smelled faintly of him, comforting and familiar.

Glen was already pulling on a pair of boxers, his toned frame catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp as he moved toward the bed. He crawled onto the mattress with an easy grace, sinking into the covers with a contented sigh.

You finished adjusting the hem of the shirt before turning to find Glen propped up on one elbow, his eyes locked on you. He patted the empty space beside him, then crooked a finger, his voice low and inviting. “Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate, crossing the room and crawling onto the bed beside him. Glen shifted, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours as he nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing softly against your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet intimacy of the moment saying more than words could. But when Glen shifted again, his gaze meeting yours, the sincerity in his expression made your breath catch.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever won,” he said, a playful smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

You let out a soft laugh, swatting at his chest. “I didn’t realize I was a prize to be won.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You are. The best one.” His voice softened as he continued, the teasing fading into quiet gratitude. “Thank you for being here tonight… for always being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your chest ached with love for him, and you reached up, gently cradling his face in your hand. “You don’t have to do it alone, Glen. Whatever it is—disappointments, stress, doubts—I’m here. Always. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

His eyes softened, and he gave a small nod before resting his head against your chest. You began threading your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as you combed through gently. Glen let out a deep sigh, his body completely relaxing against yours.

The quiet rhythm of his breathing matched the rise and fall of your chest, and as the tension melted from him, you couldn’t help but reflect on how much you loved being this for him—his safe space, the one person he could let his guard down with.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with every ounce of your heart.

His arms tightened around your waist, and he turned his head just enough to press a soft kiss to the side of your ribs. “I love you too,” he murmured against your skin, the words warm and heavy with truth.

And as the night stretched on, you stayed like that—entwined, at peace, and content in the knowledge that no matter what came next, you had each other.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x Reader #Glen Powell x You

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hitlikehammers · 2 months ago

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regular-guy!Eddie absolutely did not expect the emotional gut-punch of the ✨RED CARPET INTERVIEW✨ from famous!Steve's movie premiere (or: Part Nine)

He kinda already knew that, and sure he feels exactly the same but…

Fuck if hearing it out loud isn’t something else.💛🎥

<<< back to the obligatory dose of lingering insecurity // back to the beginning

It’s a whole eight-and-a-half hours since Steve left, and Eddie’s opening the door to a delivery guy who’s holding a box from Eddie’s favorite bakery. Eddie didn’t even know they did delivery, but like—

He shouldn’t even be fucking surprised anymore. He’s not surprised by how his heart fills, and trips over itself for how clumsy it gets when it’s a giddy-lovedrunk fool like the rest of him, beating Steve-Steve-Steve through his veins, stumbling like it’s never moved before which is true in a way, maybe the biggest way, because this territory of loving his Stevie demands blissfully, and consumes entirely, all that Eddie is in a way he’s never known before, or feltbefore so yeah, yeah his heart can just shiver madly with it as long as it goddamn wants.

(And it wants forever, so.)

And this is apparently who Eddie is, now, what he’s be reshaped into for the love of Steve Harrington. And fuck, but he wouldn’t trade it; wouldn’t change it for anything.

His pulse does an extra little tumble when he unfolds the note waiting for him in the fold of the box:

you are what my heart is for

for always, if you’ll have me

~S <3 <3

He doesn’t fight the way his face stretches into a smile, so soft and just, just…so in love, right, and he laughs with the size of the warmth flooding him when he opens the box to see his favorite donuts—Boston Cream and chocolate glazed—nestled alongside enough varieties of the flakiest, butteriest croissants to feed a small army. He shakes his head and checks the clock: not too late for a coffee, so he goes to the machine and—

Finds it all set up, ready to brew. Cup set next to it and everything, complete with a post-it with another <3 scrawled in the middle, stuck to the handle.

Eddie cannot fight the way his eyes prickle as he switches the machine on and takes the note from the mug, holds it to his chest like it’s precious.

Because it is precious. This feeling, this…this this, is so fucking precious he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know how he found something this profound, this invaluable and dear to its core, to his core, he’s, he just…

If his fucking coffee gets a couple tears in it, he figures that’s just, like, the taste of true fucking love, so he’s actually really goddamn grateful for it.

Maybe it makes him heartsick a little, for how much it already feels like his home is empty without Steve, just for a few hours now, but…he thinks maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be, how he’s supposed to feel.

He…he’s not going to willingly sign up for this feeling way again, though. He’s gonna get over his bullshit and give in to what it feels like to love this big and complete, fuck his discomfort and his hangups, he’s never letting his world feel this dull and bereft again if he can fucking help it.

Maybe he googles tuxedos, then…maybe he googles ‘what do men wear to the red carpet’ because maybe it’s just really nice tailored suits, he doesn’t fucking know, he just knows he’s going to fucking get one, he’s going to buy it himself and have it ready for the next time Steve asks him to come with him, so he can show his Stevie that he’s in this in every way, no caveats, no heartbreak, even the little temporary going-to-work kind.

Then he looks at the clock, bites at his lip, and decides no, it’s not took early to search for the most unhinged network to have started their coverage of the premiere.

Because seriously. He was always gonna fucking watch his boyfriend be amazing, and beautiful, and just…

Everything.

—

Eddie nearly drops his pain au chocolat when he sees Steve’s perfectly swooped hair peek on-screen in the so-far-kinda-interminable premiere coverage. Like…Eddie knows he’s watching with a deeply single-minded goal, but seriously.

How are these other people taking up time that could just be Steve, instead?

Insanity.

“Steven,” the interviewer greets him in that over-friendly way the press has with celebrities, that Eddie always thought was weird as fuck because it’s not like those vultures were the famous people’s friends.

“I hate to say this because it feels cliche,” the woman smiles that sort of apologetic-but-only-because-people-are-watching smile that’s fucking nauseating; “but you’re looking exceptionally striking tonight,” she nods to his outfit, and ‘striking’ is an understatement but then she once-overs him head-to-toe and…

Fuck.

Fuck, but Eddie did not anticipate the welling of rage in his limbs, the protectiveness that surges in him laced with a potent possessiveness he should maybe be ashamed of but…no, he’s fucking not, because his Stevie isn’t a pice of meat and he’ll fucking fight anyone who treats him like a paycheck or a prize or a—

But Steve laughs, and it sounds real, so…Eddie can let it slide.

For now.

“Am I?” Steve asks, playful almost, coquettish—he’s got a handle on this, has these bastards eating out the palm of his goddamn hand and if his masterful command of the encounter from the jump, here, isn’t sexy as fuck, leads to something wholly different but just as red-hot as the protective ire in Eddie leaping through his blood all over again? Well.

Fuck him, then, because: dayum.

The interviewer laughs, comfortable, and Eddie gets the impression that maybe they’ve done this dance before; a lot of times, even. There isn’t camaraderie, there, but there’s a…collegiality.

Eddie will table his desire to key the interviewer’s car and…stuff.

For now.

“Is it weird to tell you you’re glowing?”

Steve does what Eddie imagines is the movie star equivalent of the snort that he lets loose so often, so freely, so unguarded in Eddie’s home, next to Eddie and it’s like his smiles that don’t reach his eyes versus the ones that do.

And Eddie’s fucking floored all over again at what a privilege it is, what a gift he’s living, to know the difference. To be able to hold the difference close.

“Maybe,” Steve huffs across the feed, and Eddie watches the little expressive quirks run across his face, framing that blinding smile because fuck, the man is kinda radiant, but then: Eddie knows for a fact that Steve is radiant always, so it’s not a surprise this lady’s pointing it out.

S’just obvious.

“But I don’t mind at all,” Steve adds as the interviewer ducks her head a bit, a little reticent all of a sudden though Eddie can’t tell how much of it’s an act, if it even matters: because Steve’s a master at reading people, at getting the body language and subtler cues just right—the number of times already that he’s picked up something’s off, from a frustrating work call to a headache from a coming storm, before Eddie even processes it for himself is unreal—but Steve always notices, so he leans in kind of conspiratorially as he grins, and invites her to share the energy:

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” and he winks, and she chuckles, and Eddie…

Eddie cannot help but imagine what it could be like to stand next to him. To brush his arm against Steve’s arm as he works the line of cameras. To smile at this woman and all these bloodsuckers and just…watch as they fawn over the man he loves, who loves him and who will go home with Eddie, and trust Eddie with all the intricacies of him that the world isn’t privy to, and Eddie could watch them fall over themselves and just…just know.

He wants that. He wants that…so much.

“Such a compliment,” the interviewer confirms enthusiastically, then tilts her head, her demeanor shifting ever-so-slightly:

“Anything different to credit as the cause? New skin routine?” she asks too innocent, and Eddie’s struck that this must be how the game is played, asking questions without asking the question.

He doesn’t think he could manage that. He’s in awe of Steve all over again if this is what’s demanded of him as a rule, on the regular.

Then he’s in awe of Steve—all over again, again—when Steve’s features soften and then, for the most blink-and-you’ll-miss-it second, Eddie sees the version of Steve that sits next to him on the couch, that strokes Eddie’s hair, that touches him gentle and reverent somehow, that shares his bed.

It’s gone in a second but, the idea that there’s feeling there that, knowing what to look for and how to recognize the known quantity, can leak into the careful public display that Steve allows the world to have of him?

It’s…it’s a heady, powerful thing. It’s fucking intoxicating to witness.

And then the man he loves speaks:

“I don’t think there’s a product money can buy that makes you glow from the inside,” and he sounds so tender, so genuine and fucking, like, just, luminescent with feeling and Eddie…Eddie cannot handle it.

Eddie needs him so much. Needs to reach for him. Needs to hold him. Needs to hold him to his chest and try to fit him inside, needs to make himself small in Steve’s arms to try and fit inside his chest and make a home there forever, he needs—

“Oh,” the interviewer is fucking, like, cooing; “oh, Steven,” and Eddie’s mouth twists instinctually because…okay. Okay, Eddie gets why Steve uses another version of his name for the masses and Eddie thinks he’s only going to use it for really really serious things, if only just to try and salvage the way he suspects this woman isn’t the first, or the worst, to simper around it like it has something to give, rather than exists as something to like…adulate.

Actively.

“You have to know that now I’m obligated to—” she says the words like she knows she’s required to, and maybe, maybe feels some degree of apology for prodding but…not nearly enough degrees.

Not even close.

But Steve just laughs, cuts into her words:

“Of course I knew,” he waves her prevaricating off with such a deft fucking hand, so hot; “I was counting on it.”

And he sounds sly, not quite like he’d played her but not exactly not, like he was pulling the strings all along and she moved exactly where he’d planned for her to.

More…just more sexy. And Eddie’s just really grateful he’s wearing sweats right now and there’s no one to judge him, basically.

“It’s not something I want to hide,” Steve’s saying all soft again, but burning like candlelight and Eddie melts for it accordingly because Jesus fucking Christ: “but you’re only getting the broad strokes, yeah?”

“Broad strokes, excellent,” the interviewer says, nodding like a bobblehead; “that is perfect,” and she’s clearly excited, and Eddie obviously knew Steve was private where he could be but to get this kind of reaction at the admittedly bare-bones he’s laying out as being willing to share?

It has to…mean something big. Has to be a little unprecedented. Maybe Eddie’s heart’s bouncing in his chest, pin-balling against his ribs more than a little for all the implications in it.

Heady, like he said: and then some.

“I met someone,” and Eddie, like: okay.

Okay, he probably could have guessed that’s where it was going via context clues, like, Steve was talking about something personal. Entertainment “journalism” was always rooted in who was fucking who, and…well.

Steve’s fucking Eddie, so, yeah. Context clues.

But tell that to the way Eddie’s heart damn well stops still, freezing all it’s chaotic momentum in his chest in a fucking second once he realizes what’s happening. What is…

Happening, on cable fucking television. On Al Gore’s internet. Fucking…live.

In front of millions. For posterity.

(If Eddie still trusted himself to follow such things—which for the record, after the no-Steve-in-your-contacts disaster, he absolutely does not, okay?—but if he did, he can only begin to imagine the extent of the gifsets, because Eddie found fuckton of a lot of them for the actor-who-he-definitely-didn’t-think-was-his-Steve, and he always did have a pretty good eye for the kinds of events that a fanbase would eat up and make like five-hundred-thousand versions of the same 10 seconds from, and now-definitely-his-Steve is offering a goldmine here, but—)

But see, even if Eddie trusted himself with that sort of thing still, he couldn’t care about it right now, and that would be because his heart’s still decidedly in limbo, twitching maybe with disbelief, with overwhelm, with the gravity of what’s happening because Steve is, Steve is—

About him and—

“I’m with someone.”

And Steve says it with so much feeling, so much…delight and wonder at the fact of it, the mere prospect of it, that it makes sense that the full weight of it hits Eddie as his heart feels like it gasps for air after being held under water, holding so much more inside it in his moment than Eddie thinks, no: so much more than Eddie knows he’s ever felt before and that’s why the way his heart jumps back to beating again is a whole ass the earth-shattering production, because the force of it could crack his ribs or quake the ground beneath him, definitely rocks him where he sits and shakes through his bones because it’s such a, like, volumetric force that cascades through him, that feels like expanding with the breadth of all things and then slamming closed to expel them into the universe to be caught and held by the only person, the only heart and soul that you want, that you need to have your everything—

“I found this incredible human who is,” Steve licks his lips, and Eddie’s hyper-saturated heart probably shouldn’t be able to beat faster when it’s beating with this kind of unprecedented force but it does, somehow, it can because Eddie is that far in love and maybe that transcends all the probablys in the whole fucking world.

“Like, this is amazing,” Steve pivots, gestures at the spectacle around them; “and it’s a privilege, and you know how much I appreciate it, how grateful I am and how much I would never dare to even think about taking any of it as a given.”

“You’ve always been,” the interviewer considers for a second before deciding on her words, and delivering them wholly-honest, and Eddie tries his damnedest to process what she says over the deafening rush of his blood in his ears: “probably the most gracious of your colleagues that I’ve had the pleasure to speak with,” and she shoots him a little grin as she adds:

“Humble, really, which has never failed to be impressive.”

And Eddie feels this…tingling warmth come over him, bubbly and magical like champagne looks in a sunset: he’s so proud, and he’s so…fucking lucky that this man wants him, that this man loves him, that this man lets Eddie love him back, and is willing to…tell the whole goddamn world.

“That is so sad,” Steve grimaces at being called out for being decent as something other than a bare minimum, which Eddie gets but he also knows for a fact that Steve is so much more than decent, and he deserves to be celebrated for it whether or not his own coworkers fucking suck.

Eddie’s gonna make a point to celebrate him. For all that he is and all that he does, for how he is exceptional in all the ways.

Always.

“But, like, you’ve seen that,” Steve gets back to his point, and perks up, goes back to the blinding brightness that pulls Eddie’s heart wide to do the thing where it’s trying to defy physics, to pump the whole unfathomable depth of this feeling; “so you know what it means when I tell you I met someone who blows all of this out of the water. Who puts everything this town, this industry,” he glances around himself again, takes everything in in this encompassing way then shakes his head and grins so true:

“Everything this job has to offer, even at its very best? This person puts all of it to absolute shame.”

And the interviewer is just staring at him, holding her microphone, looking a little dumbfounded, definitely surprised—Eddie knows Steve doesn’t date much, hasn’t been attached to someone romantically for years since a very high profile breakup with the lead from the those 80s-throwback monster movies that Eddie refuses to name, out of solidarity with the man he’s gonna spend the rest of his life with. But the red carpet lady’s thrown for a loop, maybe largely by the subject itself, but maybe likewise by the feeling Steve’s infusing every word with. Unabashed and brilliant.

“They’re so much…more, than all of this, any of this, that I don’t know the word to describe it,” Steve laughs lightly to himself for a second then tacks on:

“If a word for this even exists.”

The interviewer seems to shake herself out of her baffled kind of stupor to nod a little, smile a little—not reluctant, but more kinda…confused.

“Sounds special,” she says, and it’s like she does mean it, but then she adds; “almost like a fairytale.”

And Eddie doesn’t think it’s just his own insecurities—difficult to hold on to in the waves of what his pulse is doing, how his entire body is reacting to Steve’s every word, to the undeniable revelation of just what lives in Steve’s heart in detail, public now and proud of it, kind of fucking unequivocal—but Eddie doesn’t think it’d just be him who picks up the unspoken implication there:

Almost too good to be true..

“I mean every word,” Steve doesn’t even pause to consider that implication, fucking unfathomable saint of a man that he is; “and I am so grateful, I don’t take a breath spent with them for granted,” and fuck if Eddie’s eyes don’t sting because yeah, he kinda already knew that, and sure he feels exactly the same but…

Fuck if hearing it out loud isn’t something else.

“But I found someone who enjoys my company, like, seriously and genuinely enjoys my company, and doesn’t mind at all that I am kind of obsessed with them and want to be with them always,” and if Eddie mouths at the screen same, Stevie-baby, exactly the same with his heart in his throat, no one could even blame him, and he wouldn’t give a shit if they tried; “someone who supports the fuck out of me, who laughs with me, who lets me be stupid and filled with, like,” and Steve grins so big then and chuckles a little buoyant and it’s clear the interviewer is taken aback, had never seen Steve the way Eddie always sees Steve—

“Just, silly joy at the most random stuff,” and Steve’s gaze goes a little distant, a little starry, and Eddie wonders what he’s thinking about, which stupid thing they’ve giggled over’s filled his head just now and Eddie’s chest hurts for how much he wants to reach out and trace those features, wants to kiss the little space between those brows and feel those impossible lashes brush his skin because he leans so close, because he can be that close.

“Someone who takes me out, cooks me dinner, writes me songs, treats me randomly for no reason like I just deserve it as a matter of course,” because of course that should be the standard with Steve and fuck everyone who came before and failed to understand that; there won’t be anyone to come after, though, not if Eddie has anything to say about it: and he’s never going to forget what it means to treat Steve Harrington exactly how he deserves.

“And they let me do the same,“ and Steve sounds so grateful for the give-and-take of them, the way they meet and match, and Eddie just…he wants Stevie next to him right now, and he really and truly knows that after he kisses Steve senseless and they fuck about how much they love each other?

He’s going to promise this man every movie release and awards show and random event he wants for the rest of their lives, if he’ll let Eddie have the honor.

“Doesn’t turn it into like a competition on either side, either, it’s just us both doing what we want to do most in the moment, any given day,” and Eddie is struck all over again at how little time it took, especially given Eddie’s laundry list of hangups, for them both to sink into an established status quo of…not a millionaire and his management-grunt sidepiece, or some fucked up accidental sugar baby, but two men who just…love. As a rule. And show it.

Eddie…kinda didn’t process just how much that was, is, until it’s spelled out: never a competition. Eddie never feels bought when Steve sends him his now-routine gifts whenever he’s away. Steve never makes Eddie feels silly when Eddie makes a point to bring him breakfast in bed just because; kinda makes him feel the opposite, makes him feel like a fucking superhero or something, because they’re just—

“Cherishing each other,” Steve continues, and that’s…that’s it, that’s exactly it; “celebrating, y’know, what it means to feel this way.”

And Steve pauses, a soft smile less curling his lips than suffusing his whole body, softening his features and making him so much like a sun, a brighter star than the event can stand and Eddie’d called it: the world can’t handle that shine all the time. Steve can’t smile with his mouth and his heart and the full force of his everything, lest lesser mortals fall in the face of the magnificence of it.

But then he starts speaking again, and Eddie…Eddie, for his part, maybe falls in a wholly different way:

“I found somebody I want to see tomorrow with, but all of them. All the tomorrows, y’know? Somebody who wants to make my coffee in the morning, just so we can watch the sunrise,” and Eddie sees it as it happens on the little balcony he has, where he’s actually started using the chairs that were mostly for show before but now, now he sits with Steve, and they drink coffee and wake up slow and it’s…it’s perfection and Eddie aches at how much he’s in love with it, in love with Steve and what they have, what they’re making and building and keeping together and—

“Knows just how I like it,” and Eddie does, he makes sure Steve’s coffee has just the right amount of milk, is the perfect temperature—it’s muscle memory now: the knowledge of Steve held sacred in Eddie’s head as much as in his heart; “lets me hold their hand, play with their,” and Steve’s fingers twirl a little and Eddie knows: lets him play with Eddie’s hair, because fuck if they don’t both love that so fucking hard and maybe Eddie reaches for a curl and it’s nothing like having Steve play with it but it’s…it’s something.

“Never waited to call, because why wait,” he says wryly, and Eddie chokes on something between a cackle and a sob because Eddie had feared so hard that he’d lost this, but in truth?

He’d had no idea what he was losing, what he’d have gone without, even when he knew deep down he was maybe losing everything.

So yeah: he hadn’t fucking wasted any time that second go-around.

“Why play games when you can, when,” and Steve stops himself, shakes his head ruefully before thinking better of giving more than he wants to the people watching; “and now we, we’re like,” and this time when he trials off he just kinda sits with it, stares off camera kinda unfocused for a second, but looking so content.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, but not in a way that minimizes any of what he’s said, or any of the feeling behind it; “sorry if it disappoints your viewers,” but Steve doesn’t sound one bit sorry, he sounds sly almost and then:

“But I’m not sorry at all that I found them, this,” and Steve smiles to himself, private-like again when he stumbles upon a reason to underscore the the reality that it’s:

“Us.”

Together. Inseparable. A single entity made of equals given wholly to what it means to love, like this.

Fucking magical, is what it is.

By this point, the interviewer looks a little dewy-eyed herself, and her smile really does read as honest. Like she’s…no one could be as happy as Eddie is, in this. And Steve’s feelings seem…comparable, against all odds but undeniable, though Eddie doesn’t think anyone could be quite as overjoyed by where he’s ended up, and with who.

Like: even if Steve were inexpressibly thrilled about it, and he may well be, the look on his face isn’t vague, but then Eddie…well, he’d just have to be so inconceivably giddy it topples empires; parts seas.

“You’ll head home to them?” the woman asks, and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s smile at that…it reaches his eyes.

“Long as I didn’t piss ‘em off too much, with what I’ve said,” and Eddie absolutely does laugh through the heaving sobs of the sort he’s not sure he’s ever experienced before: like the sheer magnitude of feeling in him just has no option but to crest and burst out of him the only way it can, as he giggles at the absolute absurdity of this man, this man, as if Eddie isn’t tempted to sleep in front of the fucking door for however many days between now and Steve coming home—home—so he can leap into those arms and cling and promise him forever, forever, forever in no uncertain terms, making concrete and certain all that they’ve implied in every possible way to now.

“They value their privacy,” Steve sobers a little, serious with it and Eddie loves him, he loves him and he loves so much more and bigger than privacy, than whatever fear lives and breathes in him: it’s nothing compared to the fact of Steve.

“Our privacy.”

“You were impressively discreet, even by your own standards,” the woman reassures him, as if it’s a question, as if Eddie could ever be pissed at Steve for the fucking declarations he’s given, for the care he’s infused in the delivery, just…Steve.

“Even I don’t think I could track this person down,” the lady tacks on and Steve chuckles at that.

“That’s pretty good, then,” he compliments lightly, like maybe he appreciates her actual journalistic skills in a sea of stolen photos and who-wore-it-best.

“Congratulations, Steven,” the woman leans in and seems to think twice before patting his shoulder or something, but definitely looks like she wants to. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Steve tells her then glances over his shoulder, catches something out of sight and waves before smiling not-quite-apologetically. “Looks like I’m needed elsewhere.”

And then Steve’s off and Eddie…

Eddie starts searching for someone who’s better at technology that he is, and has saved the interview start to finish, so he can watch it again.

💛💛💛

on to THE CONCLUSION // part ten >>>

✨or✨

<<< back to the obligatory insecurity // part eight

for @pearynice 🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great

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#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #famous!steve/regular-guy!eddie #fluff #one-night stand #(except definitely not a one night stand at all not even from the very start)#(maybe that's a spoiler but I do not care one little bit at all)#idiots fall into bed then fall in love #you know: tale as old as time #stranger things #gift fic #pearynice #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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anonymousewrites · 3 months ago

Text

Apple of My Eye Chapter Five

Eventual! Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Platonic! Descendants x Reader

Chapter Five: I see the Light

Summary: The Coronation arrives, and it doesn't go nearly as smoothly as people expect.

Mouse Note: Here ends Descendants 1! Harry is coming soon

“At last, here we are, broadcasting live from the coronation where Prince Benjamin will soon be crowned king,” said Snow, smiling at the camera as she reported on the event. “I’m Snow White, bringing you up-to-the-second coverage of who’s the fairest of them all.” A silly catchphrase, but good for TV. “Next up arriving is (Y/N) White.”

The camera switched to the red carpet. (Y/N) stood on it with a smile. They had an off-shoulder, deep blue gown. Sleeves with familiar puffs and red marks made an interesting silhouette. A red corset appeared around the bodice, and the rest of the dress fell in a long skirt of blue.

“And they are looking like they came right out of a fairy tale in this gown,” said Snow with a smile. “And the dress is apparently designed by someone named…Evie.”

(Y/N) bowed and continued walking. They knew whispers would begin at the sound of Evie’s name, but they wore the dress with pride. Their friend had made it. (Y/N) would hold their head high and do it justice.

They stepped into the castle’s coronation room and walked to where various royals and guests were gathered. Smiling politely and greeting each person, (Y/N)’s gaze swept the room. They saw Evie, Mal, and Jay, and they brightened. They smiled and waved, hoping they were feeling better from the incident with Queen Leah. The three VKs looked away from (Y/N).

Keeping their gaze from dropping to the ground in disappointment, (Y/N) turned back to the guests and greeted a few more. Then, Fairy Godmother stepped into the room. A hush fell over the ground as she walked up to the dais solemnly. With great reverence, she pulled a clothe from a glass case.

Her wand gleamed within it.

It was time for the coronation to begin. Fanfare played, and King Adam and Queen Belle entered the room. Behind them, Mal was escorted in to her place. As everyone settled, the choir began to sing.

Ben walked down the aisle stiffly. His head was raised high, and his gaze was level as he presented a truly kingly image. (Y/N) smiled as they watched him, bowing with everyone as he passed. The only person Ben glanced at was Mal with a soft smile, and Mal held the same gentleness in her own smile. Then, as he passed, her face fell.

Fairy Godmother stepped up to the case with her wand. She hugged Queen Belle and then King Adam, giving each a warm kiss on the cheek. King Adam bowed, and Fairy Godmother took his crown from his head. It was time for a new ruler to be crowned.

Ben went to sit on his knees before Fairy Godmother, his parents, the crown, and the wand. He let out a nervous breath. Fairy Godmother lifted the crown above his head, and everyone’s breath caught in awe as it was placed on him. Smiling, Ben kept his eyes on Fairy Godmother. King Adam lifted the cover from the wand. Fairy Godmother lifted it and stepped to Ben with a wide smile.

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of Auradon with justice and mercy as long as you shall reign?” said Fairy Godmother.

“I do solemnly swear,” said Ben with all the honesty in his heart.

Fairy Godmother touched his shoulders with the wand. “Then it is my honor and my joy to bless our new king.” She smiled and lifted the wand.

Jane yanked it from her hands.

(Y/N)’s hands flew to their mouth in shock, and gasps went up in the crowd. Some people screamed and pushed back in the crowd as Jane held the sparking wand tightly. It spat out magic, and it was clear Jane didn’t have control over it.

“Child, what are you doing?!” cried Fairy Godmother.

“If you won’t make me beautiful, I’ll do it myself!” Jane had been pushed too far. Seeing all her insecurities fixed and then ripped away from her—rightfully, she had been mean to Mal and Evie—had forced her to confront her appearance and what she viewed as “ugly.” She couldn’t handle it.

Adam pushed Belle and Fairy Godmother behind himself bravely, and Ben ran to push Mal behind himself. (Y/N) moved in front of the crowd nearest to themself.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” said Jane.

“Take cover!” said Adam.

Instead, Mal ran forward to take control of the wand.

“Mal, be careful!” said (Y/N).

Mal wrenched the wand from Jane and held it tightly. She swallowed, and Jane ran back to the crowd fearfully. Fairy Godmother held out her hand, and Mal’s brow furrowed.

“Mal, give me the wand,” said Ben, stepping up to her.

His parents took a step back.

Wham!

The doors of the hall opened as Evie, Jay, and Carlos ran in from the balcony. They ran up to Mal. (Y/N)’s eyes widened in confusion. What were they doing?

“Stand back!” said Mal.

“Mal—”

“Ben, I said stand back!” said Mal.

“I told you so!” said Audrey, and (Y/N) shoved her back into the crowd.

“Let’s go,” said Carlos to Mal.

“Revenge time,” said Jay.

They’re…working for their parents? (Y/N)’s gaze went to Evie, and she was looking back at them. Her eyes moved away from (Y/N), and their heart ached. Their friends were going to betray them.

“You really want to do this?” said Ben.

“We have no choice, Ben!” shouted Mal desperately. “Our parents—”

“Your parents made their choice,” said Ben. “Now you make yours.”

Mal gazed at Ben. Her eyes went to Adam and Belle. Then she looked at (Y/N). She swallowed.

“I think…” She let out a breath. “I think I want to be good.”

“You are good,” said Ben.

“How do you know that?!” said Mal.

“Because I’m listening to my heart,” said Ben.

“I want to listen to my heart, too,” said Mal softly. She lowered the wand. She smiled slightly. “And my heart is telling me that we are not our parents.” She turned and faced the other VKs. She smiled tearfully. “I mean, stealing things doesn’t make you happy. Tourney and victory pizza with the team makes you happy.” Jay smiled. “And you, scratching Dude’s belly makes you happy.” Carlos smiled. “Who would’ve thought? And Evie, you do not have to play dumb to get a guy.” Evie shook her head in agreement. “You are so smart. And I don’t want to take over the world with evil. It doesn’t make me happy. I want to go to school. And be with our friends. And be with Ben.” Mal faced him with a smile. “Because Ben makes me really happy.”

The crowd awed, and (Y/N) smiled with a happy chuckle. They had chosen good.

“Us being friends makes me happy.” Mal smiled at (Y/N), who nodded in response, and then faced the other VKs. “Not destroying things. I choose good, you guys.” She put her hand out.

“I choose good, too.” Jay smiled and added his own fist.

“I choose good,” said Evie proudly, joining the fist-bump.

“So just to be clear, we don’t have to be worried about how really mad our parents will be?” Carlos had an elated look on his face at the idea. Everyone laughed as he continued, “Because they’re gonna be really, really mad.”

“Your parents can’t reach you here,” said Ben.

“And we’re here to support you,” said (Y/N), stepping forward with a smile.

Carlos grinned. “Okay.” He fist-bumped the other VKs. “Good.”

Mal smiled and looked back at Ben and (Y/N). She nodded. “Come on.”

Nervously, Ben walked up. He stood beside Mal. (Y/N) stood beside Evie. Together, they added their fists to the motion of solidarity. (Y/N) had a giant grin on their face. All of their friends were together, choosing good. It was perfect.

The crowd applauded the sight and display of unity. Belle, Adam, and Fairy Godmother looked on proudly.

Swoosh!

A large green blur burst through the doors of the coronation hall. The gust of wind it created blew everyone’s dresses around, and people let out cries of surprise and ducked. The green smoke circled the hall before coming to a stop on the dais and bleeding away. Maleficent was revealed.

“I’m back!” she sang, holding her wicked scepter high in the air.

Immediately, people tried to scramble away, and the VKs took a step back.

“Go away, Mother,” said Mal, holding the wand protectively.

Raucaously, Maleficent laughed at her daughter’s words. “She’s funny. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re very funny here.” She became serious. “Wand me. Chop-chop.”

“No!” said Ben.

Mal tossed the wand to Fairy Godmother, and Maleficent’s widened in fury at the insolence.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi—”

“Boo,” said Maleficent. Her staff lit up, and a green light blinded (Y/N).

The VKs gasped as everyone was frozen where they stood, unable to speak, move, or act as anything more than statues.

“Sike.” Maleficent grinned. She snickered. “Oh.” She took Adam’s glasses and grinned. “In another time, in another time.” She put them back on, askew. “Evil, like me, don’t you wanna be mean,” she hummed to herself. She took the wand from Fairy Godmother. “Oh, looks like someone needs to pluck their nose hairs.” Maleficent sneered and laughed. “Where shall we begin? I know! Why don’t we start by getting rid of this?” She held out the wand, and Ben’s ring—resting on Mal’s finger—flew onto the wand. “Perfect fit!” She ducked under Fairy Godmother’s arms. “Oh, excuse me, watch the horns, the horns!”

Maleficent paused as she saw (Y/N). “Ohoho, lookee here, EQ is gonna love this when she gets over here.” Evie sucked in a breath, and Mal narrowed her eyes. “Snow White and her kid. What is the name? Something ridiculous like ‘Apple?’ ” Maleficent snickered. Then, she approached Ben. “Oh, Mal. Falling in love is weak and ridiculous. It’s not what want you want.”

“You don’t know what I want!” said Mal. “Mom, have you ever once asked me what I want? I’m not you.”

“Obviously,” said Maleficent. “I’ve had years and years and years and years of practice being evil. You’ll get there.”

“No, I will not,” said Mal firmly. She gazed mournfully at Maleficent. “And I really wish that you had never gotten there yourself. Love is not weak or ridiculous. It’s actually really amazing.”

“I know one thing, young lady,” said Maleficent coldly. “You have no room for love in your life!”

“And now I command, wand to my hand!” The wand sparkled with golden light and leapt from Maleficent’s hand into Mal’s. “It worked!”

“I hardly think so,” grumbled Maleficent, close to pacing. “Frankly, this is tedious and very immature. Give me the wand, give me the wand!”

“Hold on, Mal,” said Carlos as Mal flinched. “Maybe good really is more powerful than evil.”

“Oh, please, you’re killing me,” said Maleficent. Jay lunged to try to grab her scepter, and she just chuckled. “Gaston should be jealous.” She grinned, flicked his forehead, and laughed as Jay fell. “Enough!” She spun and looked at everyone present. “You all will regret this!”

In a swirl of green smoke, Maleficent morphed into the form that Prince Philip had needed a shield of bravery and sword of truth to face—a dragon. She roared and shot fire at the VKs, who gasped and dodged. She growled, circled, and dove at them.

“Mirror, mirror, show your bright light!” shouted Evie.

The mirror lit up, and Maleficent roared as she was blinded. Maleficent crashed to the ground with a huff, and Evie’s friends gathered around her.

“Behind me, E,” said Mal, pushing her best friend back. “Leave my friends alone!” She glared defiantly at her mother. “This is between you and me, Mother.” Maleficent roared. Mal just stared back evenly and clenched her fists. “The strength of evil is good as none when stands before four hearts as one.” Her eyes glowed green. “The strength of evil is good as none when stands before four hearts as one!” Green light fought green light as the mother and daughter stared each other down with the magic in their veins. “The strength of evil is good as none when stands before four hearts as one!”

Maleficent roared and jerked back. Green smoke flew off her dragon body as it shrunk and spun into a tiny form—a lizard. Mal gasped as she broke the magic she’d summoned.

Fairy Godmother gave a little gasp as she started to move again. She looked around herself in confusion, and the VKs let out a relieved laugh.

“What just happened?” wondered Evie.

“I have no idea,” said Mal, kneeling where her mother had been.

“Did you do it?” asked Carlos.

“I don’t know,” said Mal.

“No, no, no,” said Fairy Godmother, walking to them. “Your mother did. She shrank to the size of the love in her heart.” She grimaced and looked at the tiny lizard. “That’s why it’s so itty-bitty.”

“Is she gonna be like that forever?” said Mal.

“Well, forever is a long time,” said Fairy Godmother. “You learned to love. So can she.” She smiled.

Mal smiled back. “I believe this belongs to you.” She held out the wand.

Fairy Godmother took it. “And I believe this—” she picked off the ring “—belongs to you.”

Mal smiled fondly and put it on her finger. They all stood up, and Fairy Godmother looked at each of them.

“You all have earned yourselves an ‘A’ in Goodness class,” said Fairy Godmother.

The VKs laughed.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” Fairy Godmother waved her wand, and everyone came to life.

(Y/N) stumbled and straightened. Adam and Ben both let out silly roars and ran forward. Belle caught Adam and held him back, and Ben ran straight into Mal. She patted his chest as he looked around in confusion.

“Okay, okay,” said Mal. “We kind of got this all wrapped up here.” She smiled.

“You defeated Maleficent?” said (Y/N), laughing in amazement.

“We did,” said Evie proudly, gesturing to the small lizard. (Y/N) smiled, reached out, and hugged Evie. She laughed and hugged (Y/N) back, friends reunited in truth, this time.

Ben let out a joyous whoop, picked up Mal, and spun her around. Mal laughed, grinned, and held his shoulders.

“Next time, I save you, okay?” said Ben.

“Let’s not let there be a next time, okay?” said Mal, smiling. Then, she paused. “I will be right back.”

“I love you. But you are on a major time-out,” scolded Fairy Godmother. Jane looked down, ashamed of herself.

“Don’t be too hard on Jane,” said Mal. “I was the one who put all that crazy stuff in her head.” She smiled at Jane. “You are beautiful inside and out. Your mom and (Y/N) got that right.”

“I guess I did get pretty lucky in the mom department,” said Jane, smiling at her mom.

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Mal.

(Y/N) and Mal watched Fairy Godmother walk off with Jane. “She’s still in trouble, but, hopefully, she’ll learn to see her beauty.”

Mal smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you guys are sticking around,” said (Y/N). They smiled.

“I am, too,” said Mal, grinning.

“We’re sorry. For almost…hurting you all,” said Evie. “Can you forgive us?”

“What do I have to forgive? You chose good and protected us all,” said (Y/N). They took Evie and Mal’s hands and squeezed. “I’m lucky to have friends like you.”

“We’re all lucky to have one another,” said Mal.

“But we’re better together,” said Evie.

(All) “Set it off, set it off, set it off!”

Evie, Mal, and (Y/N) danced in knee-length versions of their dresses as music blasted around them. Auradon Prep was alive with celebration of the coronation. Everyone was dancing to the beat, and they were illuminated by lanterns and fireworks. Ben was carried around on top of people’s shoulders as he laughed and held onto his crown.

Evie grinned, winked, and really started the party.

(Evie) “Let’s set it off! Oh, yeah!” (Mal, Evie, and (Y/N)) “You can make it happen!” (All) “Ohayohay, hey!”

Ben was placed on his feet, and he smiled at the crowd.

(Ben) “Kings and queens, it’s our time to rise, Write the book, the story of our lives This is us, taking back the night!” (All) “Ohayohay!”

Smiling, Ben held out his hand, and Mal danced towards him.

(Mal) “Break the spell, we were born this way, Peace out, forget the DNA, Everybody, raise your hands and say—” (All) “Ohayohay, hey!”

Evie walked down a catwalk and posed as they sang.

(Evie) “Sound the alarm, get on your feet, Let’s set it off and rock this beat, Dance till your heart is wild and free.” (All) “Ooh, oh, oh.”

Spinning and leaping, (Y/N) grinned and waved at Evie, who laughed as Doug danced with her.

((Y/N)) “Feelin’ the power, let it all out, Like what you see in the mirror, shout! We got the keys, the kingdom’s ours!” (All) “Ooh, oh, oh! Ohayohay, hey!”

(Y/N), Evie, Mal, and Ben moved together and threw their hands in the air.

(All) “Let’s set it off! Oh, yeah, Start a chain reaction, Never let it stop! Let’s set it off! Oh, yeah, You can make it happen, With everything you’ve got, Let’s set it off.”

Everyone joined them as they danced, splitting up from groups and cliques into a single mass of dancers.

(All) “Get ready, set it off, We ‘bout to set it off, Get ready, set it off, Ohayohay, hey! We ‘bout to set it off!”

Jay and Carlos danced to where Jane was sitting alone on a bench. They smiled and sat down next to her, singing even through her surprise.

(Jay and Carlos) “It’s time to set this thing off, Let’s make it happen now, Ima make my own future, Ignore all the rumors, Show em how passion sound.”

They offered her hands. Jane smiled and took them. Pulling her to her feet, Jay and Carlos escorted Jane to the dancefloor.

(Jay and Carlos) “They all told me I should back down, Judgin’ me ‘cause of my background, Thinkin’ ‘bout changin’ my path now, Nah, I ain’t goin’ out like that now.”

Jay high-fived Carlos as he got the courage to dance with Jane and spin her around. HE smiled at Lonnie as she passed, and she spun with a wave.

((Y/N), Evie, and Mal) “Feelin’ the power, let it all out, Like what you see in the mirror, shout! We got the keys, the kingdom’s ours!” (All) “Ooh, oh, oh, Ohayohayoh, yeah!”

Everyone whooped as they danced. (Y/N) winked at Doug as he was pulled into another dance by Evie, and they grinned at Jane and Carlos. Mal and Ben laughed at the new sights, happy that more of their friends were finding out what beat in their hearts.

(All) “Let’s set it off, Oh, yeah, Let’s set it off, Start a chain reaction, Never let it stop! Let’s set it off, Oh, yeah! You can make it happen, With everything you got! Let’s set it off”

(Y/N) shuffled with their friends and moved to the beat.

(All) “Get ready, set it off, We ‘bout to set it off, Get ready, set it off, We ‘bout to set it off, Get ready, set it off, We ‘bout to set it off, Get ready, set it off— Three, two, one!”

Evie and (Y/N) led the dance for those in dresses while Jay and Carlos led the dance for those in suits. Everyone laughed and cheered as the music swelled, no one left out from the fun. Mal and Ben ran up the steps to the terrace of Auradon Prep, gazing out at all of their friends.

(Mal) “Oooooh, yeah!” (All) “Let’s set it off!” (Ben) “Oh, yeah!” (All) “Let’s set this off! Start a chain reaction, Never let it stop, Let’s set it off!”

Mal and Ben put their arms around one another.

(Mal and Ben) “Let’s set this off!” (All) “Oh, yeah!” (Mal and Ben) “Let’s set this off!” (All) “You can make it happen, With everything you’ve got!” (Mal and Ben) “Let’s set it off!” (All) “Get ready, set it off! We ‘bout to set it off, Get ready, set it off, We ‘bout to set it off, What!”

Everyone ended with a bow to Ben and Mal as they laughed and smiled. Above them, fireworks went off. Smiling at one another, Ben and Mal leaned in. They kissed. Another cheer went up. For a little while, at least, it felt like a happy ever after.

That finishes movie 1! And now onto Descendants 2 where we finally meet Harry! -Mouse

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