#but I think she was good too! will have to hear more but I’m optimistic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riality-check · 1 year ago

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More roadie shenanigans, keeping feedback from this post in mind! part 1, part 2

ao3

It’s before the second show, and they’re already fighting.

“You can’t chicken out,” Gareth says.

“I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good, because I’ll tell Wayne if you do,” Jeff says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Shut up and get out of here!” Archie says, pushing Eddie toward the tech booth. He complies, but not without another scathing look over his shoulder.

His friends laugh because of course they do. They’re assholes, but, luckily, they’re the same kind of asshole that Eddie is.

He straightens out his shoulders, breathes, and prepares to grovel.

Robin and Steve are setting up just like they were at the last venue. It looks like a mess of cables and boxes from Eddie’s perspective, but Steve and Robin work with ruthless efficiency, alternately talking and signing when their hands aren’t full.

“Um,” Eddie says. G-d, he’s never been this awkward in his life. But this matters, like, really matters to him, and he’s gotta do right.

Neither of them pay him any attention.

“Excuse me?” he says a little louder.

Robin turns around. When she sees him, her expression instantly sours.

“Hello?” she drawls, sounding bored out of her mind.

Steve turns around, too. When he sees Eddie, his face-

Well, Eddie isn’t sure what that expression is supposed to mean. If he had to guess, he’d say mild annoyance.

Mild annoyance shouldn’t look that hot.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry,” he says, making sure to talk clearly and loud enough to be understood. He’s not an idiot, he knows that shouting is rude, but he makes sure he can be heard over the general chaos of setting up for a new show. “It wasn’t any of my business, and even if I meant well, it’s not an excuse.”

Steve’s face softens a whole lot as Eddie stumbles through his apology, and then he reaches up to his ears to take out ear plugs.

Huh?

“Mind saying that again?” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie is. So confused.

But then Steve laughs. “You should see your face, dude. I got the gist. Apology accepted, we’re cool.”

Okay, that makes Eddie feel better. A lot better. But he’s still confused.

And his mouth always moves faster than his brain.

“Why are you- why do you have- what-”

Robin rolls her eyes fondly. “This idiot,” she says, pointing at Steve, “always tries to do the first show without the ear plugs he needs-”

“Not this shit again,” Steve mumbles.

“-because, as it turns out, your ears do a lot more than just hear. Like balance-”

“You’re one to talk about balance, Buckley,” Steve says, giving her a light shove. She nearly topples over if not for the fact that he immediately grabs her arm to steady her.

Eddie thinks he might know even less than he thought.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says, and Steve and Robin stop bickering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and Robin elbows him.

“I want to,” Eddie insists. “What’s your favorite song? We’ll play it at the end of our set.”

Naïvely and terribly optimistically, Eddie hopes Steve might say something that’s already in their set list, or maybe another one of their songs.

From the way that Robin and Steve are looking at each other conspiratorially, he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“No,” Steve says, laughing and shaking his head.

Robin sneaks a glance at Eddie, smirks, and starts signing at Steve.

The only thing Eddie understands about the conversation as their hands move is their facial expressions: Robin with a smirk, and Steve trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s so cute. He gets this little crease on the side of his mouth that Eddie wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Slow the hell down, buddy.

“Fine,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns back to Eddie. “Pretty Fly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you just apologize to me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “It’s just that my bassist and lead singer have been gunning for this song for, like, 6 months. Archie chomps at the bit for fun bass lines, and Jeff just thinks it’s funny as-”

“Slow down,” Steve interrupts.

Right. He talks too fast.

“I’ll play it, but it means caving to my asshole friends,” Eddie says.

Robin cackles. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I love a good bass line,” Steve says. His face is softer again, and Eddie thinks he loves that expression.

He checks his watch. “Soundcheck is soon, so I’m gonna head back. Sorry again.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie loves how Steve says his name.

“We’re good, okay?” he continues, small smile on his face.

“Well,” Robin chimes in. “After the apology song you will be.”

Eddie laughs. He really likes her now that she’s warmed up to him.

“Noted,” he says.

He heads back with a final wave and ducks backstage, where the band is tuning their instruments.

“Well?” Gareth asks, tightening his snare.

Eddie grabs his guitar, closes his eyes, and sighs. “He wants us to play Pretty Fly as an apology.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Archie roars, and Jeff gives him a high five.

“No way-”

“Gareth, I know-”

“You dick-hungry traitor.”

“Hey!”

“The fucking Offspring, Eddie? Punk? Are you shitting me? Punk just because you want a shot with a hot guy?”

Archie starts plucking out the bass line. Gareth throws a drum stick at his head. Jeff beams it back at him and misses.

“It’s one time,” Eddie says.

“Unless your cute roadie likes it enough,” Jeff teases.

“He’s not my anything.”

“Not yet,” Archie adds.

“Not ever.”

“Fucking pessimist,” Jeff says.

A tiny crashing sound makes them all turn toward the drum set, where Gareth is lightly thumping his head into the hi-hat.

“I’m gonna have to do the backing vocals for Pretty Fly,” he mutters.

“Your fault for sounding like a pre-pubescent chihuahua.”

Gareth throws his other drumstick at Jeff. “I’m not begging you for shit.”

“Do it for the bit,” Archie says. “You love doing it for the bit.”

Gareth picks his head up. “I do love doing anything for the bit.”

“Soundcheck in five!” someone calls.

“Thank you five!” Eddie yells back. Shit, he’s gotta tune his guitar.

Soundcheck is a breeze, and, after that, the time flies. Before he knows it, they’re out onstage, playing their usual set list.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. The energy, the lights, the sounds, G-d, all of it. There’s nothing like being onstage and playing until his fingers hurt, nothing like joining in on the backup vocals, nothing like hearing the crowd roar with them.

It’s perfect. Touring is everything he dreamed of and more.

Eddie wants to do this for the rest of his life. They’re gonna headline one day, he knows it, but this is an amazing start.

What Eddie doesn’t want to do is talk, at Jeff’s request.

“Okay, okay,” he says, getting the crowd to quiet down. “We’ve got two more songs. The first one is one we’re playing because I fucked up.”

“And because he finally caved to us,” Jeff adds.

The crowd laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. Eddie laughs with them.

“So, Steve, consider this the final part of my apology-”

“And my peak embarrassment!” Gareth adds.

The crowd laughs again, and Eddie sighs, fondly long-suffering. “Let’s do it.”

The backing vocals are fucking embarrassing. Eddie’s with Gareth on that one. They suck, and he feels himself flush for reasons other than the heat.

But he imagines Steve smiling as he watches the show, and Archie is clearly having the best G-ddamn time on the bass, and Jeff is basically cackling his way through the song, so it’s worth it.

They get through it and then their closer without a hitch.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff tells the crowd. “Y’all were amazing, so keep that energy up for the other opener and for the main act!”

The crowd roars, the lights black out, and they make their way backstage.

In the green room, on Eddie’s guitar case, is a note.

Apology more than accepted. Here’s my number in case you want to apologize again. Or maybe grab a coffee.

Text, don’t call. In case you haven’t noticed, my ears don’t work.

-Steve.

Eddie has never added a contact faster in his life.

I think I saw a 24 hour diner down the road. Hopefully they have good coffee.

Steve’s response is immediate.

Do you really think I care about the quality of the coffee?

You could be a coffee connoisseur for all I know, Eddie types back.

I don’t know a lot. Hence the date.

Date.

Woah.

Eddie tries to get his heart rate under control and text Steve back. He’s never been good at multitasking though, so by the time he’s able to formulate words again, the lights have gone down and the second opener is on. Steve’s working, and he shouldn’t be bothered.

Besides, Eddie should probably use the time between now and the end of the show to think before he speaks for once in his life.

Yeah fuck it I’ll keep the tag list (or you can follow the shiny new tag #gi;pe au): @vampireinthesun @paperbackribs @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @omgshesinsane @bestwifehaver @marklee-blackmore @gleek4twd @steddiestains @chaoticvictorianspirit @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @alienace @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @punctualhowell @pluto-pepsi @voidpacifist @sunfloweringstories @anaibis @evillitteguy @hallucinatedjosten @avi17 @b-u-g-g-y @shinekocreator @l0st-strawberry @brassreign @abbiecadabi-blog @rainbow-freckle @gregre369 @rehfan @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

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simphornies · 9 months ago

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Hello! Could I please request a Vox x GN! Reader where his crush/ or significant other is very similar to Charlie and how he deals with that? And by similar to Charlie I mean very happy go lucky, chatty, and sometimes just bursts into song for no reason? Maybe even how the other VEEs respond to it too could be mentioned? Thank you!~ :3

A/N: Decided to mix these two requests together since it worked together

Word count: 1.5k (1,546)

Smile! [ Vox x GN!Reader ]

You were constantly the smiling upbeat one in the entirety of the VVV building. Your presence lit up a room as soon as you skipped in them. Every employee looked forward to seeing you everyday and ever since you became an honorary “Vee” the productivity went up greatly. Many compared you to Charlie Morningstar in terms of personality. In fact, the two of you got along well when you met before you worked for the Vees. You were both ecstatic upon realizing how well you two mixed, like soul siblings.

Every single day you’d have little sticky notes with cute drawings on them of the Vees. They would be plastered in the offices and became a sign that you were around and about. It became a little collection hunt and you had even implemented a little game that inspired sinners to make sure they were always doing something. You made sure they’d get a little treat (varied honestly, you once gave a brand new VoxTek phone away) if they collected a certain amount and they’ve reached their quota.

To the Vees, you were too cheery, too kind and too optimistic. They actually hated you at first. You always interrupted anything they were doing and talked for hours. Velvette and Valentino were wary of how “weak” you seemed. But they grew to like you.

Valentino enjoyed how easy you made everyone to control. All he knew was that everyone seemed more compliant after you talked with them. You helped him get more souls and employees. He was the second one that had gotten used to you. He never asked how you did it because he knew he’d be late to another shoot if he talked to you.

You helped Velvette keep her employees in a good enough mental state to really rock the runway the way she wanted them to. You eased their tension with praise balancing out the strict, harsh nature of Velvette. Like Valentino, you helped make them more compliant by talking to them. Velvette liked the songs you’d burst into when you’re inspiring the models right before a show. She was the hardest and last one you impressed. But as soon as you did, the two of you would talk non-stop about all the latest drama in Hell.

Vox was the first one you impressed. The main reason you even started working to begin with. Vox’s sales went up with your charisma. He didn’t really question how you weeded out the worst workers, he never asked. They always just disappear after you talk to them. He never showed it but he loved listening to you talk about anything and everything. He loved hearing your voice, as annoying it was at times when he needed to do work but he loved it. Loved your energy. Everyone eventually did.

So when there weren’t any sticky notes and when the halls were quiet, everyone was on the edge. Velvette tried to talk to you, but you kept walking as you shrugged her off while you were muttering to yourself. Valentino was going to rant to you but you didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Y/N! How are you this fine, hellish morning?” Vox laughs, stepping in front of you. “You don’t seem like yourself today, what’s wrong?”

“Vox. Do you remember our business in the greed ring with Crimson?” Your voice was stern.

“Uh…” He paused to think, “The little red one? With the hat? What about him?”

“Well, he attempted to scam us out of payment and he is here now to negotiate terms.” Your voice shook slightly with anger. “I’m on my way to talk to him.”

“I’ll come with you! I’ve always been curious how you get them to listen more.” He steps aside, clearing your path.

“If you say so.”

He was right behind you as you opened the door.

“Oh finally! Welcome! I’m not in a rush or anythin’.” Crimson said, squinting.

Vox saw your eye twitch.

“Lovely morning, Crimson!” You smiled, sitting across from him. You set out some papers on the desk, sliding it over to him. “You know what you’re here for.”

“Look. I said I’ll pay but I neva said when.” He laughs, “Money’s tight in the family.”

“Ah of course. I understand. Greed Ring and all, however.” You get up, “You’ve been due for at least one payment for the last three months. Those cameras aren’t cheap.”

“Look.” He crosses his arms, an imp behind him wearing a cowboy hat moving up closer behind him as if ready to attack. “You’ll get ya payment when ya get it. You think some overlord and his little pet is gonna scare me? Do you know what happens to anyone that crosses me?”

You cracked your neck and continued to smile sweetly at him.

“Holy rope. Angelic dagger. And I bet you carry six rounds of angelic steel bullets in that gun.” You hum, “Striker, was it? Your little pet’s name? See, here at VoxTek enterprises, we don’t like our funds going into anything that we can’t get our pay back for. You promised us a book in exchange for support, however you haven’t even been close to touching it.”

Vox sipped on his coffee, kinda wishing he had some popcorn.

“Yeah? What’s it to ya? You’re basically a fuckin�� blue blood.” Striker hissed.

“Flattered! But no. Just smarter. And quicker.” You snapped your fingers and shadows held the two imps in place. They immediately resisted to no avail. “Careful! They’re connected to the outlets! Unless you want a couple of fried limbs, I don’t recommend moving too much. The electricity might slip through the hold. Oooh like that!”

A jolt went through them, making them scream. “See. I was just like you. So low in power. But I was smarter. I made a deal. A deal that shared Vox’s power to me.” You giggled, one of your eyes spiraling as you stared at them. “Weapons on the table please.”

Without hesitation, weapons clattered on the table. “Lovely! Thank you. Now, please hold a hand out, both of you.” They mindlessly obeyed.

“You’ll start to pay off your debt. You’ll give me your soul. You’ll never set foot in here again unless you’re summoned. And you’ll never do business with us any longer. Deal?” Your upbeat voice made Vox start to question where you got this behavior from. “It’s a deal or you die, simple choices honestly.”

They shook your hand as a chain wrapped around their necks. They snapped out of it as soon as the deal solidified.

“Wh-what the—” Crimson felt the tug at his neck and growled at you, “You little shit what did you do? Some cheap blue blood magic bullshit?”

“I’m just smarter, quicker. But oh!” You clapped your hands together, “Thank you so much for agreeing to the deal! How lovely of you to cooperate! Now please get the fuck out of my sight!” You grinned.

They were thrown out by security and Vox just looked at you like you were crazy. I mean, you were, but he wasn’t really expecting that. He was intimidated, slightly aroused and even more in love with you.

“When did you—Is that what you do? Where did you learn that from?” He questioned, a little intimidated. "I can't deny that was...kinda hot."

“Oh! I learned it from Alastor, Charlie and Vaggie! Charlie told me to always be kind!” You nodded in approval of her advice, “Vaggie told me to never take shit! And Alastor—”

“Alastor?”

“Yes, Alastor. Alastor taught me to take what I need no matter the cost!” You held your head up high proudly.

“When the fuck did you talk to Alastor?” He glitched.

“Oh like a while back. He mentioned you like once, I looked you up, I thought you were hot. He made fun of me for thinking you were hot. I punched him, and survived somehow. Met you. Made a deal and now we’re dating!”

“Okay okay. Pause. Go back. You learned from Alastor, and you NEVER FUCKING told me?!”

“Oh. Yeah! I tried to tell you once but then you went all singing mode and you’d go on a little rampage or whatever. It got repetitive so I just never told you. Oopsies. Haha. Anyways that’s done! That’s all for today! Don’t forget you only smiled at me like 3 times today!”

You skipped out of the room after giving him a kiss as he was rebooting in the meeting room. You continued your day as always, as if nothing ever happened.

“Ugh what’s with the looks? Why is everyone so tense and uncomfy? Go go! Keep working! You know you guys are gonna get in trouble if you don’t work! You guys know what happens when we don’t meet quota!”

Employees scrambled around to continue what they were doing. Vox was the first one to meet you and he was the first one to find out you didn’t ease the employees’ nerves, you scared them into submission and he honestly doesn’t even know how many souls you have. He didn’t wanna pry too deep into it. Velvette got word of your tactics and wanted you to show her how it’s done, so you accompanied her to her next meeting.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #mention of alastor

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theorphicangel · 9 months ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

Synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

Taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne @strawberryjuice9 @beezusvreeland @faretheeoscar

series | previous chapter | next chapter

chapter 3: war and anything but peace

“Are you still upset by that review?” Lyla prompts, chewing her morning toast loudly in front of you.

You groan aloud in response to her comment, auditory proof that if it wasn’t obvious enough by your body language and mood for the past forty eight hours, yes, you were still pissed.

That bastard almost cost you your job. Your very first job in fact since you had made it to college and he had almost made you lose it.

“I swear if I see him around on campus today, there’s no promise that I’ll stop myself from drop-kicking him.” you warn in a low tone as you peer into the fridge searching for something to eat.

Your shoulders drop in disappointment as the bare white corners of the refrigerators grimly greet you and your hungry stomach, guess you’ll just have to go grocery shopping later.

But for now you think that you can settle on an omelette to satisfy your needs. You take what you need and head over to the counter to prepare your breakfast.

The meeting on customer etiquette wasn’t too bad. Steve was…nice about it in a slightly condescending way. You just wished that you were given a chance to explain yourself from your own perspective, to try and prove that you weren’t actually trying to be rude.

Although, an upside of the meeting was that you’re now being taught on how to use the machines properly in the cafe.

“He almost cost me my job, Ly’.“ you note to your roommate, cracking two eggs into a bowl before whisking.

“Ah see, key word: almost.” She points out gleefully. “From an optimistic point of view, you still have your job right?”

You huff as you whisk, muttering. “Barely.” Your motions fastened quickly, gripping the whisk tightly. The thought of him proudly posting that comment makes you want to rage and you do so, letting your anger out on the current task of whisking eggs.

You groan aloud again, pouring the beaten eggs into the pan. “I just still can’t believe he did that to me. He barely fucking knows me.”

“Mhmm, like you’ve been saying for the past two days.”

“He’s publicly humiliated me, and now the whole campus knows that I’m the shitty barista at the cafe.”

“Not everyone–” Lyla quips up, a light smile drawn over her lips. “No one reads google reviews, if he really wanted to hurt you he’d go on yelp.” she snorts.

“Lyla, that’s not funny.” you deadpan, turning to face her.

She raises her hands, seated at the table. “Okay, okay, it’s not like I’ll give him any ideas, I haven't even met the guy myself.”

“It’s hard to miss him.” you mutter under your breath, specifically referring to his height.

“What was that?” Lyla posed, not hearing your response.

“Nothing, nothing, m’sorry I just…it was really embarrassing having to be talked down to by my manager about not doing my job properly, like it was so condescending. If I mess up one more time, then I thinkI’m gone for good Ly’. Even MJ was surprised to hear me come back.”

“Maybe you should get revenge.” Lyla notes, finishing up the last of her toast.

“What? Like murder him?”

“Woah, woah, hey there missy I wasn’t thinking about going that–“

“I was joking Lyla.”

A silence creeps in between the two of you, the sound of the eggs frying and Lyla’s crunch of toast being the only sounds in the room. As the scent of the omelette rose in the kitchen, you let yourself get carried away by your thoughts. Only a little bit. You know you said that you wouldn’t think about it anymore but you just can’t stop thinking about wrapping your hand around his large, veiny…

“I think you’re burning your omelet.” Lyla interrupts suddenly and as a result forces you to unconsciously squeak out your ongoing thoughts.

“Neck!” you say aloud.

“What?”

“What?” you repeat after her, dazed and confused.

“I said I think you’re burning your breakfast, babe.”

“Oh shit—”

Following your public mishap, you’ve returned to work. Eager to start over on a new leaf. MJ shows you all the basic tricks and shortcuts needed for the job which you note step by step in your head.

It goes smoothly, once you clock in. You make sure to smile at every customer, greet them with a cheerful tone, and try hard to put in all of your efforts to make up for what happened last week. So far it looks like no one really knows about the bad review online and you loosen up at the thought.

Lyla was right, you think. You had absolutely nothing to worry about.

MJ agrees too, praising you a few hours into your shift. “You’ve seemed to handle it well. Most people would have crumbled for good after having a talk with Steve.” You nod eagerly at her words, your eyes brightening up slightly.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do if he comes in again?” She asks, referencing back to your crude insult directed at him.

Sure, you had thought about a way to get revenge. In fact you had compiled a list of ways to get him to delete the review, that’s the only way that you’ll truly be able to move on from the situation.

Hesitating, you think about your answer before you speak, choosing from the list of possible methods to convince him.

“I’ll kill him with kindness.” you say, smiling before you hand the next customer a drink.

MJ hums. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll make him regret it.”

That’s all you get the chance to say before the devil himself walks into the cafe. MJ gives you a nudge, signaling you to get back to the till and take his order. This is the first time you’ve seen him since you’ve found out about the review.

Pulling on a fake smile and exaggerating your cheerful tone, you greet the tall and brooding customer in front of you.

“Good morning, what would you like today?” you greet, an eager smile on your face.

Miguel cocks up a brow, peering down at you. You don’t seem bothered in the slightest. He wonders if you’ve even read the comment yet.

“Coffee, milk, no sugar.” His face remains deadpan. You hum lightly, tapping his order into the till. You watch him pay, swiping his card without a second glance.

“I’ll bring it right over for you.”

MJ prepares his order for him whilst you get through the rest of the queue.

Just like before, you walk over to his table, isolated from the rest of the people in the cafe. You figure that he’s a loner in general and judging by his behavior, it’s not hard to see why.

“The nerve that you have.” you murmur, practically placing down his coffee with aggression. So much so that the hot liquid overspills on the table.

“Excuse me?” He frowns, his brows furrowed deeply, creating a crease.

Awh. He’s playing innocent.

“Your review. I saw it.”

He takes a moment before speaking again, his frown now switching back to a sort of smug face.“I was wondering if you saw that.” He mumbles. “What’d you think about it?”

That smile. That goddamn smile. You think you picked up his eyes lighting up just as the pure mention of the review. What a sadistic man.

You hold back a smirk as his eyes meet yours. They’re playful, teasing. He barely knows who you are yet plays into the temptation of learning how to push your buttons.

You batter your eyelashes on purpose, remembering to stick to your method of kindness.

“Anything else I can get for you, Miguel?”

His name slips easily from your mouth in a sultry tone. You weren’t really expecting that to come out of you and judging by the way that Miguel’s eyes widened slightly, you think that he wasn’t expecting it either. He sort of likes the way you make his name sound like that.

“Nope I’m good for now, nena. Pretty good service today, maybe last week was a fluke.”

“Maybe it was.” you say and suddenly your hopes are raised. Here’s your chance.

“Perhaps my service is good enough to take down the review now?” you propose, a smile printed across your face falsely. You take out a tissue from the metal box on his table and lean down to wipe away the split remnants of his coffee.

Your face is so close to his, you can practically feel his eyes bore into your skull as you wipe his table clean.

Miguel is so focused on you that he doesn’t even notice the words slipping from his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” You glance up, now eye-level with him as you’re half bent over the table. Miguel leans closer to you, his face just a few centimeters away from yours. Your stomach fills with anxiety and apprehension but you’re not really sure why. His eyes never leave yours and you’re fighting every single muscle in your body to keep your own latched onto his own brown and intimidating eyes.

Miguel hums lowly, his voice low and rough as he whispers. “But you’re gonna have to try better than that if you want the review taken down, nena. I can practically smell the desperation from you. It’s…sad.”

Right there and then you swore that you have never wanted to kick a guy in the balls. His cocky attitude, the way that he looks down at you when he stands from his table,

You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes. You stand up fully, crumpling the paper tissue in your hand. “Fine. Keep your stupid review.”

“What?”

“Keep it up. You’ll regret it.”

Miguel snorts, clearly judging you. “Should I be scared?”

“I dunno’…should you?” you say, tilting your head. This time you’re not afraid to keep eye contact with him. He doesn't scare you and you shouldn't let him know how intimidated you are by him.

The two of you observe each other for a few seconds, waiting to see who’ll back down first. Your fists are clenched by your sides, your body and mind screaming at you to look away.

And unfortunately, you give in to your natural instincts.

Miguel opens his mouth to say something to you, probably something to tease you even more until his phone buzzes in his pocket. He immediately pulls it out and reads an incoming message that’s popped up on his home screen.

That frown that you once saw at the beginning of the conversation had now returned. This time his expression seemed a little more…unsettled.

“I gotta go.” He says abruptly, before downing his latte. Your eyes can't help but notice the way that his Adam apple moves as he drinks the beverage, causing the uneasy tension to return back to your stomach… again.

“You should get back to work.” He mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t keep the queue waiting because then you’ll actually start living up to the review y’know?”

You’re quick to open your mouth to voice back a quick-witted reply when MJ calls out your name. You turn back to see her glancing over at you from the coffee machines.

“Hey! A little help here?”

Your shoulders sag at the thought of leaving your task unaccomplished. Shuffling away from his table, you move back to your station, entirely missing the way that Miguel turns back to look at you before he leaves.

Looks like he wins this one.

For now.

You - Nil

Miguel - 1

lmk if you would like to be tagged! tysm for reading <3

#angel writes #under no circumstances fic #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara

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writeforfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Roardin

Find my CoD Masterlist

Title is the song “Roardin” by Marcela Bovio. Highly recommend listening to it before/during/after reading.

This idea started as musing on this headcanon from the amazing mind of @soapskneebrace and she gave me permission to run with it. And then, uh. This happened. I... have no idea how. This one got away from me. There was an entire subplot that I cut. Gaz wasn’t even supposed to be here BUT HE IS. Look idk I’m just gonna yeet this and run.

Soap x plus size f!reader

You’ve loved Johnny for a long time, but you’re convinced the feeling is not reciprocated. So you keep it to yourself and, well, at least he’s still your friend.

Warnings: Swearing, some very unhealthy mental state on reader’s part, they’re both idiots, idiots to lovers.

Word count: 7.5k

The first time you met Johnny was at a party. Your friend Emily had promised you it would be a lowkey thing.

So of course there were twenty people.

You ended up sitting on a chair, watching Emily flirt with one of the others. You were trying not to be bitter, but it was hard when you felt so alone. You didn’t know anyone but Emily, and you weren’t great in big social situations like this. So you sat and watched people, holding a cup of beer that was slowly growing warm in the balmy night.

Someone dropped down into the chair next to you, and you blinked at him. He was handsome, dark hair kept short, blue eyes bright.

“Doin’ alright?” he asked, smile kind, gaze focused on you.

You were so startled you blinked at him, owlish. And then you nodded. “Yeah, just, uh.” You shrugged, ducking your head a little. “More people than I anticipated.”

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Aye,” he murmured. “Me too.”

"Who are you here with?" You glanced at him, cautiously optimistic. So far he was nice.

"Eric, the blonde over there." He nodded in the correct direction. "You?"

"Emily." You looked around for her.

And, as if summoned by her name, she appeared at your shoulder. "I don't think we've met," she said, flirty smile in place, holding out a hand to your conversation partner.

"John." He shook her hand and then looked at you. But you were too slow to respond, too startled - Emily had already moved in, smile bright as she started talking to him.

And you leaned back in your chair, feeling frumpy and boring in comparison. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You weren't the most personable person, you couldn't stop and talk with anyone. You didn't have the same kind of social battery that Emily did.

So you mentally wrote the night off as a loss and contented yourself with being on the outskirts of this conversation. Which was becoming more flirting by the moment.

Yeah. You were definitely sidelined, especially when you noticed Emily shifting closer to him, tossing her hair back behind her shoulder, eyes bright and confident.

Maybe you'd get lucky and she'd drop you off at home before she went home with him, or something.

After half an hour of listening to them flirt, you'd had enough. You stood, touching the back of Emily's shoulder with two fingers to get her to pay attention.

"I'm gonna get a ride home," you said, gaze flitting to John and then down to the floor. "It was nice to meet you."

If he responded, you didn't hear it, already heading for the door.

You wouldn't be missed.

You would have liked to talk to John a bit more before Emily stole him away, but you knew you didn't hold a candle to her. In so many ways.

You were used to playing second fiddle to her.

You honestly never expected to see John again. Not unless Emily nabbed him as more than just a bed partner for the night, but you weren't sure that would happen.

So when someone sat across from you at the coffee shop, you felt yourself stiffen and prepare to make an excuse to leave.

Until your gaze met brilliant blue again.

"Oh," you murmured, blinking at him. "Hi."

"Hi." His smile was warm but still soft, and a little bashful. "Hope ye don't mind, spotted you as I got m' drink."

"Not at all." You smiled, a little thrill zinging down your spine. He'd actually chosen to sit with you! "Just unexpected, that's all. How are you?"

"Oh, dandy. Enjoying my time off while it lasts." He winked, leaving you little doubt as to how he was enjoying. "You?"

You shrugged. "Wishing I knew more languages to cuss out this paper," you said, light and cheerful.

“School?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

“Mmhm.” You sighed at your laptop. “It’s annoying.”

He chuckled. “Anything I can help with?”

“That depends,” you said slowly, blinking at him. “Know anything about Paradise Lost?”

“Not really. Had to read a bit of it, but not much.” He looked sheepish now.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shut your laptop. “I’ll figure it out later. I’m an expert procrastinator at this point.”

He snorted and then grinned at you. “Oh, aye? Not one to get things done early?”

“I try, and then things happen, and then I end up doing them last minute.” It was your turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hunching a little.

He laughed, playing with his coffee. “Well, you get it all done.”

“I do.” You relaxed a little at the lack of judgment. “Are you studying?”

He shook his head a little. “Military.”

“Ah.” You blinked. It made sense, looking at him. “What do you think of it so far?”

He made a complicated expression. “I’m glad I joined,” he said, firm and sure. “There are… ups and downs. Like any job.” His lips twisted.

“Understandable,” you agreed, leaning back in your seat. “You’re on leave, then? How much longer do you have?”

“A few more days.” He shrugged, watching you from under his lashes.

“I hope you get to enjoy.” Your smile was small but genuine. Your phone buzzed on the table, and you looked down to check it, making a face. “Dammit. I’m sorry, I have to go, apparently my apartment is flooding?”

He blinked at you but nodded. “Good luck,” he said, watching you shove your laptop into your backpack.

You murmured your thanks to him and took off. Well. There went your mood. And also some good company.

You didn’t let yourself really register the disappointment, though, pushing past it and shoving it down to think about never.

Surely, that would be it. He only had a few days of leave left, he’d said so himself. There was no way you were going to see him again.

You saw him again.

Normally you didn’t really go out, preferring to stay in the quiet solace of your room. But your room was temporarily off limits while repairs happened from the flooding, and you were all off-kilter, so you decided to go out at the invitation of a classmate to a local pub.

Dinner, you said. And one drink. Your classmate (a really nice girl named Claire) agreed eagerly. (Which surprised you - you were too much of a wet blanket for people to get excited about going anywhere with you.)

The two of you sat at the pub and chatted. It was nice. It was easy. You had some musical tastes in common, which helped.

You both settled your bills and then she waved at someone. “A couple friends of mine are here, do you want to come meet them?” she asked, happy and eager.

You turned to look, and blinked when those same blue eyes met yours across the room. What were the odds? You recognized the blonde next to him - Eric. From the party.

What a small world.

“Sure,” you agreed shyly, ducking your head briefly. But you gamely followed Claire over to the table, introducing yourself and settling into your seat, shoulders hunched to try to take up less room.

For a little while, you just sat and listened to the others, content to fade into the background. But slowly, John nudged you into adding your opinion. It was odd, but in a nice way. You didn’t mind.

And when you finally checked your phone and realized the time, you made your excuses. You had to get up in the morning.

“Do you want me to drive you back?” Claire asked, a little concerned.

“Nah, it’s not that far to campus.” You smiled. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, yeah?”

“Of course!” She beamed at you.

To your surprise, though, John stood when you did. “I’ll walk you back,” he murmured. “And I’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”

“Right.” You grabbed your things and waved once more to the table before you headed out, John a few respectful steps behind you. The air was chilly as you stepped out of the pub, and you paused a moment to adjust. “I’m okay to walk back on my own if you’d rather just grab a ride,” you offered, looking at John.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I offered,” he pointed out. “How’s the, uh, Milton thing coming?”

“Oh, I’m still procrastinating,” you admitted, ducking your head as you started walking. “My current plan is to bang it out on Saturday.”

He tipped his head back to laugh, beautiful and bright. “Aye, that’s a plan,” he agreed, fingers just touching your elbow as you crossed a street.

You took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “You know… If you ever got bored… you could text me sometime.” The offer came out smaller than you intended, and you winced at yourself. No wonder nobody bothered with you.

“Sure,” he agreed, so quickly you lifted your head to blink at him. He was already pulling out his phone. “What’s your number?”

You rattled it off, and moments later your phone buzzed in your pocket with a new text.

“Ah’m not always the best at texting,” he said, a hint of nerves entering his voice. “But, uh.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Like I said, if you’re bored or want to chat or whatever. I get it.”

His smile relaxed at that and he nodded.

“Well, this is me.” You stopped outside the residential area, turning to look at him. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“My pleasure.” He shifted a little closer to you, eyes bright.

For a moment, you two simply stood and looked at each other, the air thick between the two of you. Then a door slammed and loud laughter echoed from an open window.

“Have a good flight, and stay safe, okay?” You smiled at him, one hand reaching out and then retracting.

But he held out his arms and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled and stepped into him, hugging him. And oh, he was warm and he was a good hugger.

You stepped back before things edged into longer than socially acceptable, and his hands slid from your back.

“I’ll text you,” he promised. “Good luck with your paper.”

You nodded and let him go, waving briefly before you turned to head to your building.

Honestly, you half-expected him to fall through. It was easy to not expect much of people, a well-developed defense mechanism.

It was hard to be disappointed when you didn’t expect anything.

So when he texted you the next day to say he was back on base, you were pleasantly surprised.

And he didn’t stop texting, either. Sometimes he wouldn’t for days or weeks, but he always got back to you when he could, hours long conversations making up for the necessary silences.

You didn’t see him in person though for months. When he finally had leave again, he was busy - going out with friends, hiking, playing football.

You even managed to see him a few times. Out at a bar one night, Emily once again dragging you out. He talked you into going hiking with him and a few of his buddies. (That one you regretted a little, feeling self-conscious around them.)

But you began to notice more about him.

John had a lot of friends, and he seemed to be pretty casual with most of them. Friendly bumps or hugs were normal for him. Despite how often he went out, he never arrived to events with a date, always on his own.

But he often left with someone on his arm. Often a girl - one time a guy. (Thinking very briefly about that had left you warm and flustered for the rest of the night.) Emily went home with him a second time, and she gushed to you about him the next day.

But there was no expectation of more. Just sex.

You had no idea how they did it, but, more power to them. As long as everybody was happy with that arrangement, you weren’t going to rain on their parade.

Months turned into years, and you watched as some of his friends drifted away due to time and distance and whatever else. Most of your friends were transitory, in and out of your life. You watched as he changed his hair, growing out a single stripe for a mohawk. You watched as his confidence settled into something proven without being boastful. You watched as he hid demons and nightmares behind smiles, as his job took him around the globe. (Which you only knew because he’d text you sometimes about the views or the weather. Never anything identifying, but you hoarded those dregs of information anyway.)

You always sent him a birthday text, even if he didn’t respond to it for days. He often missed yours, which you brushed off. But he didn’t miss holidays, either showing up a few days beforehand (he always spent the actual day with his family) or sending you gifts.

Your friendship had settled into something deeper, something that lasted. Something that withstood the time apart and the silences and the rigors of his job.

You, however, stubbornly ignored that your feelings ran deeper. That you cared for him, too much. More than you should. More than he cared for you, certainly. But you held your silence and ignored the longing and did your best to simply be there and be the best friend you could be.

Which, really, was easy in some ways. The two of you just got on, had from the very start. Arguments were rare between the two of you, and you were always able to pick right back up where you left off around his absences.

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable pattern, but it was a pattern, one you were content to hold. It was enough to be in his orbit, to circle around him. It was enough.

So seeing a text from him made you smile, even in the slurry slushy rain-sleet of December.

Gonna be home for three weeks. You got time?

You read the message twice. Three weeks was longer than normal, even with the holidays around the corner. Maybe he needed some extra time to recover from something? But you could find out, you didn’t need to push now.

For you? Always.

Well. That had probably been too honest. But it had been months since you’d seen him, and he was often silent on top secret missions. So, yeah, too honest but undeniable.

Should be back in two days. See you soon.

You hummed and put it out of your mind for now.

But if you ended up cleaning your apartment… well. That was just in case, really. And it needed to be done. So there.

(Even in the privacy of your own mind, you weren’t fooling anybody.)

Two days later, your phone started buzzing with an incoming call, and you picked up with a grin.

“Not dead yet?” you teased gently in what had become nearly a routine for the two of you.

He chuckled, the sound soothing the ball of anxiety that sat in your chest every time he went silent. “Not yet,” he agreed. “How are ye, sweets?”

“Oh, the usual.” You smiled a little. “You?”

“Mandatory leave,” he answered on a sigh. “Got some company, though. One o’ my mates is here for a week ‘fore going home to his family.”

“Sounds like fun,” you agreed, glancing at your calendar. “Work is still the same for me - any time after 5:30 or so I’m open, or weekends.”

“No plans?” Johnny asked as gently as he could.

You huffed. “No. No plans.”

The words sat between you, heavy and thick, for three heartbeats. Then Johnny clicked his tongue.

“Won’t do,” he said with cheer that felt a little forced to you. “I’ll fix ye right up!”

You laughed softly. “Just whatever you have time for,” you assured him. “I’m fine.”

“Ye’re home alone with reruns on doin’ nothin’ exciting,” Johnny predicted, and damn it all, he knew you too well.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Your gaze skittered down to the floor.

“Then come out with Gaz and I. Tomorrow. We can meet at our pub.”

Your lips twitched entirely against your will. “What time?”

“After work.”

You huffed a little laugh. “Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” The grin was clear in his voice. “See ye soon, sweets.”

“See you soon,” you agreed, reluctant to hang up but knowing you had to go. Well. More like you had to let him go. But you made yourself hang up.

Now you just had to get through work and you’d be able to see arguably your favorite person on the planet. And one of his friends. Who also worked with him.

No big deal.

You still showed up at the pub after work, looking around for Johnny.

All you saw was a bright grin and that mohawk before arms grabbed you in a tight hug, absolutely uncaring of the rest of the pub. You squeaked as Johnny picked you up for a quick twirl, something you protested feebly. You were not some teeny dainty thing, you didn’t want him hurting himself.

“There’s my sweets!” he crowed, finally setting you down. “Come meet Gaz.” Keeping hold of your hand, he led you over to a table in the back, where a dark-skinned man was already sitting waiting. “Gaz, this is my sweets.”

You rolled your eyes and gave Gaz your actual name, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiled at you, easy and warm. “This idiot doesn’t shut up about you.”

“Oh really?” You turned to Johnny with a teasing smile.

Johnny shrugged, shameless. “Hard not to when ye send me packages,” he said, ushering you into a seat and finally releasing your hand. “I’ll grab this round, aye?” And he was gone before you could protest.

You huffed a little laugh, shaking your head. “I hope he actually shares and doesn’t just dangle the packages in front of you,” you said, grinning.

“Sometimes,” Gaz said with an easy shrug. “Sometimes he just hoards things.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like him,” you agreed, fondness bleeding into your tone, even as you turned a little to look for him. He was easy to spot, leaning up against the bar, probably flirting with the admittedly very pretty bartender (who looked mostly amused). The sight didn’t even hurt (much) - you were just happy to see him.

“How long have you known him?” Gaz sounded curious, and you snapped your gaze back to him.

“Oh, years now.” You smiled. “Met him when I was in college and got dragged out to a party.”

He chuckled. “Haven’t gotten rid of him since?” he teased, though the way he looked at you was sharp, assessing.

“Why in the world would I do that?” You shook your head, amused. “He’s a good friend. One of the best.”

Gaz nodded slowly but didn’t have a chance to say more before Johnny was back, putting down drinks in front of you.

“Here ye are,” he said with a grin and a dramatic wave of his hand. “Take yer pick, sweets.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Gaz grumbled good-naturedly, making you laugh even as you picked your drink.

“Something like that,” you agreed, grinning. “So, what was your favorite thing this time?” You took a sip of your drink, watching Johnny go off about some cafe he’d found on assignment in some other country, and how much it had annoyed someone he called “LT” when he stopped there for every meal one day.

From there, the rest of the night was easy. You didn’t drink much, aware you still had to work the next day, but you relaxed. Gaz was funny and nice and interesting, much like Johnny. You ended up giving him your number at the end of the night and promising to send him packages too, so Johnny wouldn’t be the only one having fun.

Johnny’s overly dramatic clasping of his heart sent you into peals of laughter again.

And when you needed to go, both men stood to see you out, offering to walk you home, which you gently turned down.

“You gonna come tomorrow?” Johnny asked hopefully. “Arranging a football match.”

“If you want me there, I’ll be there,” you agreed. “Just text me where and when.”

“Copy that.” He smiled, warm and beautiful under the street lights, everything you wanted and couldn’t have.

“See you tomorrow, Johnny.” But you couldn’t resist darting in for one more hug, just one. Just to get a whiff of him to take home with you. He barely had time to respond before you were pulling back, bright smile in place as you took off for home.

You couldn’t let yourself linger or you’d do something damn foolish.

To your surprise, Gaz checked in to ask if you got home safe. He really was sweet. You reassured both him and Johnny that all was well before you went to bed.

You had plenty of time to get to the football game after work, since most of the players also had to work. You’d brought an extra sweater, in case you stayed out later than you meant to and got cold, and found a place to sit and wait.

“Sweets!” Johnny jogged up to you, beaming, Gaz not far behind. “Been waitin’ long?”

“Just a few minutes.” You smiled up at him. “Did you two keep out of mischief today?”

“Sweets, I am hurt! Destroyed! Me, mischief?” Johnny pressed a hand to his chest, staggering back two steps with an exaggerated look of hurt.

“She knows you too well,” Gaz drawled, and ducked the swat aimed at his head.

“I take that as a no,” you said, laughing, watching the two tussle. “Save some of that energy for the match, I need some excitement today.”

“Bad day?” Johnny paused, one arm still wrapped loosely around Gaz’s neck, focus shifting to you so fast you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

“Just long.” Your smile felt brittle, small, and you tried to force it to be better. To be a better shield. “It’s fine, I’ve been looking forward to watching all day.”

“You don’t play?” Gaz asked, and you could have hugged him for keeping Johnny from fussing.

“Oh, no. I’ll kick a ball around, but I can’t keep up with an actual game.” You shrugged easily, gaze falling to the grass. “I’m just here for moral support when Johnny loses.”

Johnny puffed up, successfully distracted. “That was once! One time!”

Other people started showing up, and Johnny was quick to introduce Gaz around. You stayed where you were, waving to some people you knew, content to be on the edges of things.

And of course Emily was there, with a few other women, all standing in a group chatting on the edges of the unofficial field. You hunched into yourself, gaze skittering away from her.

You shouldn’t have come. But it was too late now.

You kept your gaze on Johnny instead. It wasn’t hard. He was so vibrant, laughing and cursing and jostling the others. It was never a hardship to watch him.

The game broke up eventually, and you weren’t sure which team had won. Or even if there had been real teams. But they all seemed happy, trooping together to the side with the women to talk about dinner plans.

You did not miss the way Emily curled a hand around Johnny’s arm, leaned in close to him, flashed a pretty smile at him. You swallowed and looked away when he nodded, barely having to dip his head to get closer to her.

You didn’t need to watch. You already knew where this was going.

Thanking all your lucky stars that you’re quiet and invisible when you want to be, you gathered up your things. It was time to go.

“Leaving already?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Gaz’s question, hand flying to your chest. “I didn’t hear you come up,” you said, a weak defense for the way your heart thundered in your chest.

“Sorry. Habit.” His lips twisted as he gave you a quick once-over. “Seriously, though, you out? They’re talking about getting food.”

“Some of them are.” You smiled up at him, holding your extra sweater tight to your stomach. “It’s okay, I’ve got food at home.”

He looked over at the group, his brow furrowing a little. You didn’t need to, but you followed his gaze anyway to see Emily and Johnny stepping away from the group.

Just as you knew would happen.

Gaz’s jaw clenched and then he looked back at you with something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Come have dinner with me. My treat, yeah? We can have a nice quiet time of it, if you like.”

You opened your mouth to refuse him… but nodded. He didn’t really know anyone else here, and Johnny had kind of abandoned him too. “Yeah. Okay. I know a nice place, if you like Italian?”

“Sounds good to me.” He held out his arm in a gallant move, which at least got you to smile.

The two of you were quiet as you walked, you steering, him simply keeping pace.

“So,” he finally started, quiet, gentle, “how long have you been in love with that idiot, then?”

You debated lying to him. He couldn’t know that for certain. He was taking a shot in the dark, testing his accuracy. But you knew as soon as you glanced at those brown eyes that there would be no lying. No getting out of this. So you deflated, eyes closing briefly, even as you pulled your shoulders in, sinking into yourself. “I’m not sure. A few years?”

“You haven’t said anything?” He rested his free hand over yours, squeezing gently. Offering silent support.

“No.” You shook your head, almost desperately. “No, and I’m not going to.”

He stopped, pulling you to a stop with him. “Why not?” He looked genuinely bewildered.

You stared at him. “You’re joking, right?” You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms tight over your chest. “I mean, look at me. It’s obvious.”

He continued to look confused, gaze darting over you. “Explain it to me.”

You shook your head, taking a step back. “Maybe I should just go.”

“Whoa, hey, no.” He held up his hands, frowning a little. “I’m sorry, that was too much. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You breathed in slowly, letting the cold air burn down your throat and in your lungs, holding it for just long enough to begin to feel the sting before you let it out in a whoosh. But his pleading eyes got to you, and you sighed. “Alright, yeah. Okay.”

“Thank you.” He stepped closer again and offered his arm again, looking hopeful. You tucked your hand in his arm again and finished leading him to the restaurant. But the silence between you now was tense, stifled.

“This is it.” You nodded at the restaurant just up ahead, gaze immediately dropping to the ground again.

The two of you got seated at a table in the back, because the owner knew you, and sat for a few moments, your shoulders winding tighter with each passing heartbeat.

“Hey.” Gaz ducked his head a little, trying to catch your gaze. “I’m sorry. I won’t push. Alright?”

You nodded, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Okay.”

“Tell me about your job?” He tipped his head a little. “Or a hobby.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair, since I know probably too much about your job.” Your lips twitched in almost humor but you drew in a deep breath to start talking.

It didn’t take long for the space between you to ease again, and dinner was more relaxed. The two of you carefully danced around the subject of Johnny and your feelings, but Gaz had plenty of amusing work stories that he could share with you. (And some pictures. Your favorite was the one of their captain slumped in his chair at his desk fast asleep. You wanted to drape a blanket over him and leave him cookies. When you told Gaz as much, Gaz looked surprised and then undeniably fond.)

Gaz paid, ignoring your arguments, and then offered to walk you home.

“I hope he at least left you a key.” It was the first time you’d directly brought up Johnny since before you’d arrived at the restaurant.

“Yeah, I’m set.” Gaz shook his head a little. “Don’t worry about me.”

You huffed. “You don’t know me well, so I’ll give you a pass on that this time,” you grumbled. “I am physically incapable of not worrying about my friends.”

He ducked his head, smiling, and then shook his head. “You must worry a lot, then.”

“Fair bit, yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“I know I said I’d leave this alone…”

Your heart dropped. Well, you’d known that was too good to last. “What do you want to know?”

“How often has he done that?”

“What, go home with someone?” You shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve kept track.”

“How often does he do it when you’re out with him?” Gaz looked down at you, concerned.

“Not all the time. And he knows Emily, they’ve, um, hooked up before.” You looked away, shrugging, fighting down your discomfort.

Gaz blew out a breath, muttering something you couldn’t understand. “If you ever want to talk,” he offered slowly, carefully, “I’m here. Yeah?”

You stopped, then, frowning at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re sweet, and you deserve to have someone support you.” Gaz shrugged. “Since that idiot is too blind to see what’s right in front of him, I’ll do what I can.”

You held his gaze, frowning just a little, looking for any signs of teasing or deceit. But you found none. So you nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

He just nodded, smiling a little, and walked you the rest of the way to your apartment building in silence. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” You took one last look at him and then went inside.

Life would be so much less complicated if you could just… fall out of love with Johnny. You’d probably even be happier for it.

But you couldn’t. It was out of your hands - your heart had decided and didn’t seem to be budging any time soon.

With a low groan, you gave up and flopped face-first into bed. Maybe you’d manage to smother yourself. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this.

Johnny texted you over the next couple days, but didn’t invite you anywhere. You knew one day he dragged Gaz off on a full day hiking adventure - you advised Gaz to bring chemical heat packs, because Johnny always forgot.

But this was a good thing. A little space to get your head on straight again, to shove that longing back in its box where it belonged. Where you could absolutely bury it.

Saturday you didn’t get an invitation. You just got knocking on your door, too bright and early. You stumbled over to the door, bleary-eyed, and yanked the door open to yell at whatever fool dared disturb you this early.

Only to be met head-on with Johnny’s puppy dog pout.

You glowered for a solid four seconds before you sighed and left the door open, going to the kitchen instead. You needed caffeine.

“I brought you some,” Johnny bribed, following you in. “Here.” He held out a to-go cup. You could tell from the smell it was just the way you liked.

“What do you want, Johnny?” You took your cup, curling around it, not quite awake enough to be embarrassed about your state of dress.

“It’s Gaz’s last day here,” he said, looking hopeful. “Was hopin’ you’d spend it with us.”

“You have plans?” you asked on a sigh. You already knew you’d say yes.

“Nah, figured we’d figure it out as we went.”

“Fine. Let me get dressed.” You took your cup with you into your room, shutting the door pointedly.

This was going to be an absolute disaster, you could tell. But you were going to see it through anyway. Because you were a damned fool.

Johnny was quick to grin when you rejoined him, pulling you along in his orbit as he led. His mood was contagious, and always had been. Before long, you were no longer grumpy, smiling along and letting the other two lead.

The day really wasn't a total disaster. Actually you had a lot of fun. You went on an easy hike, tried a new place for lunch, explored an art museum, and had finally stopped back at your pub for dinner and a few drinks.

Gaz excused himself for a minute and Johnny leaned into your space, comfortable and easy.

"Y'know, he might fancy you," he murmured with a conspiratorial wink. "If ye wanted to…" He wiggled his eyebrows, playful and suggestive.

But you just stared at him, blank at first, but with growing pain. "He doesn't fancy me."

Johnny snorted. "Think I know him a bit better’n you do, sweets."

You shook your head, disbelieving. He could not possibly be this blind. "He doesn't fancy me, Johnny. I know. We had a conversation."

"You–what? When?" He leaned forward, eyes bright, clearly expecting gossip.

You scoffed a laugh, looking up at the ceiling. "After the football game, when you left with Emily."

He looked away briefly, jaw clenching. "Oh."

"Yes, oh." You shook your head, looking at your half-finished drink and knowing you weren't going to finish it. "He and I talked a lot that night. He's nice. He's a good friend. But we both know he and I won't go anywhere."

"Oh? Ye ken, do ye?" He leaned in, a challenge in his eyes. "How do ye ken?"

"Because I love you, you absolute dafty."

The words escaped entirely without permission, and your eyes went wide. The world froze. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. You just stared at Johnny as his eyes went wide too, uncomprehending.

You didn't wait for reality to set in. You fled. Someone may have called after you, but you could barely hear through the rushing in your ears, your heart pounding so loud against your ribs that it hurt.

You didn't stop until you were back in your flat, shaky hands locking the door. Which was about when reality set in. You'd told him. You'd told him. And there was no way to laugh it off as a joke now, no way to take it back or stuff it back down.

Somehow, you ended up in the shower, pressed against the wall, gasping breaths humid and heaving.

You weren't sure you'd ever recover from this.

But you forced yourself to move. Because what else was there to do, now? You couldn't go back. You couldn't take it back.

You had to move.

In this case, that meant finishing your shower. Cleaning up your clothes. Putting on your baggiest sweatshirt, the one that made you feel okay because it was simultaneously like being hugged and being hidden, and curling up on the couch. And turning your phone on silent so you could ignore it.

That wouldn't work forever, and you knew it. But it would work for now. You just needed it to work for now.

Sunday was a blur. You barely remembered what you did. You had no idea what you ate, if you even ate. When you did dare to check your phone, you had a dozen missed calls and even more texts.

You ignored the ones from Johnny for now. Just the thought threatened to send you back into a panic spiral.

But Gaz should be safe.

Soap told me. That was definitely a way to do it.

Let us know you're home safe, yeah?

I get it if you don't want to talk. You don't have to.

Flying out today. Text me when you can.

Let one of us know you're safe or he might break down your door.

Please.

You breathed slowly, reading through them again. Nothing about how Johnny felt, how he'd reacted.

You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

I'm fine. I'm home. I hope you had a safe flight. Sorry I didn't see you off.

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it, and promptly hid again.

One more day and Johnny would be going to visit his family for the holidays.

You left a full half hour earlier than normal to go to work, anxious and keyed up and unable to sleep.

But you couldn't break your habits, not entirely. You scrolled past all the texts Johnny had left you, too anxious to read most of them, and sent him a quick text.

Have a safe trip, John.

You put your phone away again before the temptation to read through his texts got the better of you at work.

But you couldn't hold off once you got back home.

Most of his texts were check ins, requests to call him or text him, let him know you were okay. A few were apologies.

But one…

Sweets please call me, please. We can talk this out. I'm a damn fool but I swear I'll make it up to you.

And that? Well, that could really go either way, couldn't it?

You buried your face in your pillow and cried. Just a little. For lost things and broken things. For things you couldn't have.

Two more days of work and then you had the rest of the year off. You could make it two more days without breaking down.

Have you talked to Soap yet? Gaz asked via text the next day.

Not yet. You were a little ashamed to admit it. But only a little.

Call him. We had a long talk last night. It will be okay.

You stuffed your phone away again before your hands could start shaking any worse, anxiety and insecurity surging.

You dragged yourself home from work Wednesday and froze.

Johnny was standing outside your flat, shoulders hunched, hair wild like he'd been pulling on it. He spotted you and froze, expression torn between hope and fear.

"Johnny?" You approached slowly, keys in hand. "You're… here?"

"Aye." He scratched the side of his head, shifting his weight. "Talked to my ma. And Gaz. Ma told me to, uh. Fix this."

"Fix?" Your heart went cold at the thought, and you shook your head. "It's hardly your fault, Johnny, you don't have to–"

"Please." He put one hand over yours, light as a feather. Just enough to make you realize your hands were shaking even as you tried to unlock the door.

You'd always been terrible at telling him no. So you swallowed and nodded, pushing open the door for the both of you.

"Can I get you anything?" You glanced at him as you put your things down, kicking off your shoes.

He shook his head, watching as you buzzed around for a minute, putting things away and getting water for the both of you anyway. You couldn't bear the look in his eyes, the quiet grief there.

So you tried to head it off.

"Really, Johnny, you don't have to fix anything. I'm… I'll be okay."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He watched you now, gaze pinning you in place.

"Not if I could help it." You gulped. "It was… you didn't reciprocate, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't want this exact thing to happen."

"What made you think I don't have feelings for you?" He spoke slowly and carefully.

"John." You shook your head. "I've seen the kind of woman you go home with, and they don't… look like me."

He winced. Actually winced. "That's not…" He trailed off, anguished eyes meeting yours, struggle clear on his face.

"It's okay." You even managed to smile. "I know I'm not exactly the standard of beauty, and I'm not anyone's first choice. I understand."

"But ye are!" He jumped to his feet, pacing in front of the couch. "Sweets, I never ask those people over ta mine, ye ken? They ask me."

You blinked. That was… surprising, granted. But it didn't change much. "Okay?"

He sighed, short and sharp, tugging at his mohawk again. "I did flirt with ye."

"What?" You blinked at him, absolutely stupefied.

"In the beginning. Tried flirting. Ye dinnae seem open to it, so ah stopped."

"You… with me?" You were still stuck on that, brain whirring, trying to go back through your memories of your early friendship with him.

"Aye, with ye." He looked sad for some reason you didn't understand.

"When?!" You stared at him, flabbergasted.

He huffed a little laugh. "Plenty." He stared at you, halted several steps away. "Ye didn't ken?"

"I had no idea." You slumped a little.

He snorted, a little wet, and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Any idiot would be lucky to have ye."

"Any idiot…?" Hope curled around your heart, delicate but growing every moment.

Johnny crossed the room, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands bracketing your thighs. "I would be lucky," he amended, looking up at you earnestly.

"You don't mean that." Tears pricked in your eyes, and you blinked rapidly.

"I do." Slowly, carefully, one hand migrated to your knee. "I really do."

You gasped at the intensity of his gaze, trembling a little. "But I'm…" you trailed off, hands clenched tight in the hem of your shirt.

"Beautiful." He sat up on his knees, leaning in closer. "Warm." His other hand landed on your other knee. "Kind." Both hands squeezed gently. "One o' the sweetest people I ken."

"Johnny…" You stared at him, lips parted, hope and longing and disbelief all swirled up together in your chest.

"Please, sweets." He shifted closer to you, hands rubbing restlessly but never progressing past the tops of your knees. "Lemme show ye, prove to ye I mean it."

"Okay."

You weren't sure who moved first, you or him. But it ended the same: kissing him, one palm against his jaw, the other in his hair, while he pressed as close to you as he could get. You slowly spread your knees and he moaned softly, immediately shuffling into the space presented, still on his knees.

"So sorry, sweets." He kissed you again, one hand lifting to the back of your neck, holding you where he wanted you. "Ah'm an eejit."

"We both are," you whispered, thumb stroking over his cheek tenderly.

"Now, sweets, won't hear a word against ye." He pulled back, grinning when you tried to chase his lips. "Got it?"

"Fine, but please don't stop." You tightened your grip in his hair, trying to pull him back to you.

Another several minutes were lost to kissing that slowly calmed from desperate to just lovely, slower and exploratory and open-mouthed and messy.

"Come home wi' me," Johnny murmured in between placing sweet kisses along your jaw.

"What?" You felt a little fried, like this was the best kind of dream, or like you had short-circuited and needed to reboot.

"Promised Ma ah'd ask."

"She's okay with this?" You felt bashful suddenly, dropping your gaze to your knees.

Johnny laughed softly, nuzzling right at your pulse. "Threatened to kick me out, actually," he said, humor in his voice now. "If ah messed this up."

You hid behind one hand, hot and flustered and trying to hide just how pleased you were.

"Nah, none o' that,'' he clucked, pulling your hand away from your face. "Wanna see ye, sweets."

And how could you say no to those eyes? "I mean…. If you're sure she's okay with it…"

"More than okay," he reassured you, leaning up again to press his forehead to yours.

"Then… okay." Your eyes suddenly widened. "I'll have to pack, and I don't have gifts for your family!"

"Ach, donnae fuss," he grumbled, though he was grinning. Beaming, really. "You are a gift."

"That was awful." But you relaxed again, smiling.

"Mm. Might'a been." His grin turned predatory, short nails scratching lightly against the back of your neck to make you gasp. "Now, how 'bout I show ye what we've both been missing…? Show ye exactly how beautiful ye are."

Doubt flashed, a big blinking light in your brain. But there was nothing in his eyes but sincerity and desire, nothing harmful in the way he looked at you, not a hint of doubt in the way he kissed you.

So you breathed in slowly, wrestling down your inner demons, ignoring their cries and screeches. And you nodded.

"Yes, Johnny."

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #f!reader

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crystalandparrot · 6 months ago

Text

RC9GN x Reader

Part 1, Part 2

“Hey, (Y/n),” Bucky spoke, spooking said girl out of her stupor as the two walked to school.

"Huh?" (Y/n) question.

"How come you only ever talk to me? I'm sure other students would love to hear your ideas." Bucky said optimistically.

"You really think so?" (Y/n) asked, eyes shining.

"Maybe not, all of them-"

(Y/n) deflated, causing Bucky to wave his hands frantically.

"But that's because they're not for high schoolers! I mean the home alarm, your staff, those goggles on your head—"

"Hey, these goggles help me log important information and — okay, I see your point." (Y/n) deflated again.

"What if you made something to impress them?" Bucky asked with a snap of his fingers.

"Something to impress them..." (Y/n) thought out loud. "Oh! What about my mechanical spider limbs?" With that, eight mechanical limbs popped out of (Y/n)'s hoodie, lifting her off the ground and flipping her upside down.

"You look like Invader Zim," Bucky chuckled, walking past the, once again, deflated girl. The arms retracted suddenly. With quick thinking, (Y/n) flipped and landed on her feet, surprising Bucky. "Do you know any more cool moves like that?" He asked.

"I prefer to show off my intelligence rather than physical prowess. Sure it's nice to have the ability, but my superpower relies solely on my brain!" (Y/n) said as she pushed open the doors to the school.

"Then you should put that brain to good use," Bucky held out his hand for a fist bump.

(Y/n) reciprocated the fist bump and the two parted ways. (Y/n) walked to her science class, which she always had for 1st period on Mondays. Mrs. Driscoll greeted her with a grin.

"(Y/n)! Any new inventions?" Mrs. Driscoll asked with stars in her eyes. She puppeteered her late husband's skeleton to 'talk', "Your inventions are positively humorous!" Mrs. Driscoll laughed and smacked Jerry's chest.

(Y/n) smiled and placed her satchel on Mrs. Driscoll's desk. As she did so, Randy Cunningham and Howard Weinerman happened to walk in. "Mrs. Driscoll, I present to you," (Y/n) held up a small box with a crescent-moon-shaped attachment, "the, still in Beta, the C.R.A.V.E.S, a system that, when placed against the user's teeth," (Y/n) put the device against Jerry's teeth. The machine beeped, "it tells you exactly what they were craving! For example, your husband was craving...scallops?" (Y/n) looked at the device in question.

Mrs. Driscoll sighed lovingly, "That was my Jerry."

(Y/n) shivered, she tucked her device away and walked to her seat at the back of the room.

"Who's that shoob?" Howard whispered to Randy.

More students began trickling in when Randy leaned close to Howard, "I have no idea, but she's pretty smart."

"A smart shoob is still a shoob," Howard said, pointing his pencil at Randy. Inside Randy's bag, the Nomicon quietly blinked red from behind its Math book cover, facing the direction of (Y/n).

As the final student, Bash (fashionably late as always), trickled in, Mrs. Driscoll began writing in the blackboard. "Welcome back, students!” She puppeteers her husband once more, “I hope your Spring Break was a bone-afide success!”

“Ha! Word play.” (Y/n) chuckled to herself. She sat at the back of the class, the two seats next to her empty while all the other seats were taken.

“And as a Welcome Back, I’m assigning your first projects of the next semester!” Mrs. Driscoll announced.

The students all groaned with the exception of (Y/n), “Oh, goody!”

“And since the school board has cut funding for the science department…again…this time you’ll be working in groups of three.” The words seemed to echo around the room. None of the students (with one exception) listened to the rest, as they were too busy deciding who to add to their group. Friends will be split, enemies made, alliances formed in blood… “You can now find your partners-“ with that, hell broke loose. Kids jumping over tables, holding back their friends to prevent a steal, throwing dangerous objects. It got to a point that Mrs. Driscoll hid herself and her husband under the desk.

“Cunningham! Save me!” Howard screamed as he was pulled into the wave of students.

“Hold oh, Big H!” Randy, without hesitation, jumped into the sea. His leg caught the strap of his backpack as he jumped, forcing the contents to be spilled all over the floor. The Nomicon hummed and blinked as students stepped and kicked it to the back of the room, the mask caught in its pages. With all of the abuse, the cover even came off, revealing its true cover to the world.

With a metallic THUD, the Nomicon hit the metal cabinet next to (Y/n). The girl let out a noise of surprise and looked up from her notebook. The Nomicon blinked softly as (Y/n) picked it up. Her hands traced the delicate patterns on the hard leather book, the feeling not uncomfortable to her hands like she imagined it would be. With a bit of remorse (Y/n) held the book away from her, “Oh, exotic book, what secrets you must hide—but alas! It is my code of honor to not open a book that does not belong to me…unless of course bought or received from a trusted source.”

The Nomicon flashed red, humming loudly.

(Y/n)’s eyes shone, “Maybe there’s an exception for glowing mystic books,” (Y/n) ran her fingers over the pages that begged to be opened. The Nomicon’s flashes got faster and louder, its pages flittering as they waited to be opened.

“Has everyone found their partners?” Mrs. Driscoll asked.

(Y/n)’s head shot up and with a sigh, she tucked the Nomicon into her satchel, the flap open to make for an easier grab. “Soon, my precious.”

In the middle of the room, Randy and Howard sat, rubbing their heads in pain. “Oh, good. Randy and Howard, you’ll be joining (Y/n).” Mrs. Driscoll announced once she saw they the three were, in fact, without partners. “(Y/n) has the highest grade in the class, so even you two should get a decent grade.” She chuckled.

“What?! But she’s a shoob!” Howard moaned.

“A shoob with the highest grade in the class! Howard, we can use this!” Randy whispered, excitedly. Both of the friends grabbed their bags and walked to (Y/n) at the back of the class.

“I don’t follow.” Howard whispered.

“We’ll act like total shoob’s, say we don’t know how to do the project, she’ll get annoyed with us, do the project and — BOOM, automatic A.” Randy smirked. The two sat down and a sudden flash of red distracted Randy. He looked down, spotting his Nomicon in (Y/n)’s bag. He nervously chuckled, “I-is, is that my book?” Randy asked, pointing at (Y/n)’s satchel.

“Huh?” (Y/n) looked down, at her bag. “Oh, it flew to the back, I didn’t know who it belonged to.” (Y/n) gently took the book out and traced the cover again. Shaking her head, she handed it back to Randy, “Where did you get it? I’d love to read it sometime, I’ve never seen anything like it.” (Y/n) spoke quickly, enamored by the book.

“Oh, it’s nothing just a little family history book. Old baby pictures, family trees—Really boring stuff, I’ll just take it off your hands.” Randy hurriedly took the book back, and shoved it in his own satchel. The Nomicon flashed brightly and loudly, angry at the turn of events.

“You bring family history books to school?” (Y/n) asked flatly.

“I-it’s for our History class! Some extra credit thing that you definitely don’t need!” Howard back his friend up, grinning awkwardly.

(Y/n) looked between the two skeptically, “Right…” with a quick hand, she opened her notebook to a fresh page and began writing, “So, ideas for our project?”

“Yes! Our project!” Randy grinned, winking at Howard.

“Totally love that project! I can’t wait to…do our project!” Howard added in a fake excited voice.

(Y/n) sighed out of annoyance, “You don’t know what the project is, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Not. A. Clue.”

(Y/n) gripped the bridge of her nose, “Super,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She angrily closed the notebook and stood. “Why don’t I work on the project and you two do the report? All you have to do is write what the robot does AFTER I give it to you.” (Y/n) commanded as she pointed to Randy and Howard.

“But what do we—“

“You write down what it does!” (Y/n) took a deep breath, “I will give you a list of what it does. All you have to do is write a well written report.” (Y/n) began walking out of the room, “Even though my robot will be A plus guaranteed,” she whispered cockily.

“Those who are building, go to Mr. Smith’s metal shop for your basic design! Everyone’s who’s writing a report please go to the library!” Mrs. Driscoll announced after seeing (Y/n) leave.

“Automatic A—“ Howard started, raising his hand.

“Here. We. Come!” Randy punctuated each word with the next step in their secret handshake. They ended with their signature turn and pose.

The Nomicon angrily blinked, catching Randy’s attention. Picking up his bag, Randy held up a finger to Howard, “Give me just one second,” he whispered. He ran out of the room and into a Janitor’s closet. “Alright, Nomicon, I only got a few minutes before Driscoll realizes I’m not in the library, so be quick about it—“ the Nomicon flew open suddenly, causing Randy to lose consciousness and ‘Vloomp’ into the Nomicon.

Randy screamed as he fell through the artistic clouds and through the painted leaves on the two dimensional tress. With a couple of bounces, Randy finally landed against a tree trunk. “What the juice, Nomicon?!”

A painted scholar walked through the trees, smiling at Randy. Or at least, to the person behind him.

A painted ninja stepped through the trees behind Randy and walked up to the scholar. The ninja gave the scholar a piece of paper, and folded his arms. The scholar read the paper and nodded at the ninja. The trees fell backwards, blending into the floor as more of scene became exposed. The scholar walked to his small house. The sun rose and fell in flashes, showing how long the scholar was in his house. The sun rose once more, staying in the air as the scholar left the house, this time with a small box. He presented it to the ninja and began talking. No words or letters left his mouth, the only thing Randy could hear was soft flutes as the scholar spoke.

The ninja waved his hand and took the box, smokebombing away. The trees on the other side of Randy fell, blending into the floor, further increasing the scene. There was a small town with a large flying serpent terrorizing the village. With a puff of smoke, the ninja stood in front of the serpent. He opened the box and pulled out a smaller box with a button. The ninja looked at the box in question then pressed the button…nothing happened. He pressed it again and again…still nothing. The serpent AND the townsfolk all laughed at the ninja as he sulked. Colorful words flew out of the box and presented themselves over the ninja’s head.

“Neglect the brain and the heart becomes vulnerable.” Randy read aloud. “Uh, that scholar clearly sabotaged the ninja! I mean, who gives someone a box that doesn’t do anything?” Randy asked.

The ninja and scholar looked at each other unimpressed. The ninja pulled out his sword and the scholar…why is he holding a Bō staff? The two quickly ran to Randy and simultaneously attacked him.

With a gasp and a bump to the head, Randy left the Nomicon. He rubbed his head and looked behind him to see the shelf he bumped his head on.

Randy peeked his head out of the Janitors closet and rushed out before anyone could see him, bag in hand.

“AHHHHH!!”

“Someone get the Ninja!”

“Help!”

Randy gasped at the sudden cries for help. With no one in the hall, this was the perfect time to put his Ninja suit on.

“Looks like it’s Ninja o’clock!” Randy reached into his bag…except…

Randy’s heart fell into his stomach as his hand missed the soft fabric of the mask. He glared down at the bag, and upon not seeing the mask immediately, Randy overturned his bag and emptied the contents. The only object that was matching to the mask in color was the Nomicon.

“Sweet cheese, I lost the Ninja mask!”

————————

I swear I can hear the music starting and cutting out at the end. Also if you saw the lesson in the first chapter before I edited it, no you didn’t.

#randy cunningham x reader #randy x reader #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn x reader #rc9gn #rc9gn au #howard weinerman #heidi weinerman #theresa fowler #bucky hensletter #randy cunnigham #bash johnson #julian #rc9gn nomicon #ninja nomicon #nomicon

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lynzishell · 11 months ago

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Prev // Next

Author’s Note

A few things to understand about Dawn:

She very much lives in the future. It’s what makes her such an optimistic person, and able to shove away the pain of the past. She’s always looking forward. So, when the future is uncertain, she gets a bit frantic.

She would much rather spin out on tangible problems like time and money than face the deeper, more abstract feelings trying to surface. If she’s spinning on the details, then there’s no room for the emotion to come through.

And if she can figure out all those little details and have a plan, then she can go back to living in that future place and keep those nasty emotions buried deep where she believes they belong.

But, as I’m sure we all know, what you don’t face will come back around one way or another.

Transcript:

Phoenix: What are you doing? Dawn: I can’t sleep. Phoenix: What time is it? Dawn: A little after two. Phoenix: Come here, come back to bed. Dawn: I’m too restless.

Phoenix: What’s on your mind? Dawn: Nothing. Everything. Phoenix: Do you wanna talk about it? Dawn: [sighs] I don’t know yet. But since you’re awake, can I ask you something? Phoenix: Of course.

Dawn: What do you want more: to get married or have a baby? Phoenix: What kind of a question is that? Dawn: I just mean, we’re gonna have to prioritize. The fact is, we only have so much money in savings. If we have to go through IVF, then we can’t afford to do that AND have a wedding.

Phoenix: Told you we should’ve eloped. Dawn: I’m serious. Phoenix: I know, I’m sorry. Dawn: So, if we can only do one now, which would you choose? Phoenix: I- I don’t know. I think I’d choose baby, but if it’s important to you to be married first, then— Dawn: No, I don’t care about that. I think I just worry that if we put it off now, then it might never happen. Phoenix: What do you mean?

Dawn: Like, if we go through this process and it’s successful, that’s great, but then we have this baby taking all our time and energy and money and we’re on our own and how do we even save and plan for a wedding while doing all of that? And there’s no guarantee that it will even be successful, so what do we do then? If we put our savings into this and it doesn’t work? Do we save again for a year and be right back where we are now? I hate that it has to be so hard. Maybe it’s better to focus on getting married now because we know in the end that day will be wonderful and happy and then we save and try for a baby after. But we’ve already waited a year to start this process and I don’t know if I want to wait another. I was so happy and excited and now I’m freaking out and I don’t know what the right answer is.

Phoenix: Dawn, sweetie, breathe.

Dawn looks up at him, tears stinging the backs of her eyes threatening to betray her.

Phoenix: Come over here.

Dawn: What? Phoenix: I know it’s not what you want to hear, but there is no right answer. All we can do is take things one step at a time. When is your appointment? Dawn: I don’t know. I was going to call them tomorrow.

Phoenix: Good, go ahead and make the appointment. Let’s see what your doctor says, and then we can decide what direction we want to go. We don’t have to figure it all out now, okay? Dawn: Okay. Phoenix: Is there something else? Dawn: No. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk anymore tonight. Phoenix: Alright. We don’t have to.

Phoenix: It’s all going to work out though, I promise. Dawn: How do you know? Phoenix: Because we’re in it together. Dawn: [grins] Is that the best you’ve got? Phoenix: That’s all I’ve got.

#i was going to add a bit of prose to get into her head #but the truth is she's not aware of these things herself #it's not conscious #it's her mind's way of protecting her #defenses that were built up from the time she was a child #anyway hoping that helps give perspective as we move forward in this chapter #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Chapter 2: Don't Know What You've Got Till it's Gone

Collaboration with the Dustin to my Suzie, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie are getting closer, and his friends can't help but notice something between you two. But when you receive devastating news, the pressure of being his upbeat, optimistic Sunshine becomes too much to handle.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, description of Eddie's scars, controlled use of pain medication, angst

WC: 6.6k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“Yeah, well, next time I tell you not to be a hero, you’d better listen to me.” A man’s voice stirs you from your sleep. You gently roll over onto your side and see fuzzy shadows behind the curtain that separates you and Eddie.

“Hold on, Harrington,” Eddie pushes himself up slightly, an edge to his voice. “What do you mean by next time?”

“He’s still out there,” a younger voice pipes up. “We wounded him, but—” He stops abruptly, turning his stocky frame towards the curtain. “Hey, can your roommate hear us?”

“She can!” you chirp, and utterances of shit and shut up fill the room. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone about your nerdy D&D secrets.” Eddie had spent the better part of the last few days explaining the ins and outs of the game, taking far too much pride in his Dungeon Master status for a man pushing 20.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Eddie calls out. “You decent? Want you to meet my friends.”

“Sorry, did we wake you?” A girl asks, but your view of her is obstructed by the curtain. “We have a tendency to be a little…”

“Loud?” The older of the guys offers. “Obnoxious? Grating?”

The boy shrugs. “That’s just the way we roll, man.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” The first guy retorts.

“I’m all good, Eddie,” you say. Now that you’ve given the all clear, the older boy tugs back the curtain. You recognize him as Steve Harrington, who graduated with you last year.

“Steve,” he says, sticking out his hand for you to shake. “And, FYI, I do not play Dungeons & Dragons.”

You can’t help but let out a snort of laughter as you shake his hand and introduce yourself. “A shame. Eddie makes it seem like such fun.” At your sarcastic tone, Eddie flips you off, but you ignore him and continue. “We, uh, actually graduated together.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, eyebrows shooting up so high they almost blend into his perfectly coiffed hair. “Huh. You think I’d remember that.”

“I mean, it’s understandable you’d forget,” you say with a shrug. “You had just lost the last basketball game of the season.”

“Ouch,” Steve says, holding a hand over his heart. “But that doesn’t excuse the four years we were in the same class.”

Wincing, you give Steve another shrug. “More like seven. We went to middle school together, too.”

“Well, shit,” Steve says, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I was a douchebag.”

“Was?” a feminine voice chimes in. Steve rolls his eyes and turns to the side to reveal the younger guy and a girl your age that are sitting next to Eddie’s bed.

“Robin, right?” you ask. She perks up in her seat, seeming pleasantly surprised that you know her name.

“Yeah,” she says.

“You’re in band, right? I’m friends with Vickie, and I know she’s mentioned you a few times,” you explain.

“R-Really?” Robin asks, eyes widening.

“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, watching an unmistakable grin grow from cheek to cheek. You’ll have to follow up on that another time if you have a moment alone with her. “And you are…?” you start, turning towards the curly haired boy hoisting himself up on crutches, braces adorning his teeth.

“Dustin Henderson,” he affirms. “Artificer: Master Inventor and future Hawkins High valedictorian.” You shake his hand, giggling as the three older friends roll their eyes in unison at his introduction.

“Don’t forget ladies’ man,” Robin taunts, and Dustin hoists up two middle fingers in response, fumbling to keep the crutches secured under his arms.

“Sunshine here is a ballet dancer,” Eddie says, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of love. You watch as Steve and Robin exchange an amused glance, with the former mouthing Sunshine and the latter just shrugging. “She does, um, pointe?” He looks at you hopefully.

You nod. “Yup! I’ll be right back at it as soon as this bad boy heals up.” You gently pat your leg, grimacing as even the lightest touch sends sharp pains down to your toes.

You talk with the group for a few more minutes, swapping gossip about people from your graduating class, until Mandy knocks on the door. “It’s time for your appointment with the surgeon,” she says politely.

“Surgeon?” Eddie asks, brows crinkling in confusion.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, leaning on the nurse as you maneuver into the wheelchair. “Just, um, protocol with this kind of injury. Make sure everything’s good and all that.” He seems to buy this answer, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. “It was nice talking with you all!”

Once you’re out of the room, Dustin turns to Eddie. “So,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Sunshine?”

“Shut up, Henderson,” Eddie grumbles, throwing a pillow at the boy.

“Yeah, be nice to him,” Robin teases. “That nurse just took his sunshine away!”

“So, are you involved with this sunshine?” Steve asks, an amused expression written all across his face.

“No, not like that,” Eddie says, suddenly finding the hem of his scratchy blanket fascinating. “Just friends.”

“You guys get along well,” Robin says, more statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“And she’s beautiful, yeah?” Robin asks, raising her eyebrows at Eddie.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” she asks.

Eddie groans, dropping his head back against his pillow. Never mind the fact that Steve “ladies man” Harrington–an actual ladies’ man, not like Henderson–is in the room, but Eddie’s never been particularly comfortable talking about his experience—or rather lack thereof—with girls. There’s also the fact that he was literally attacked by bats from an alternate dimension, barely escaping hell with his life intact. And you’re so bright and sunny and the total opposite of what Eddie brings to the table.

“It’s just that she… I mean, I… you see, we—.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Munson. Stop playing games. We all see the spark,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly.

“There’s a spark?” Eddie asks quietly, lifting his head from the pillow and infinitesimal amount.

“I knew it!” Dustin exclaims loudly, earning an angry shush from someone passing through the hallway. “Look at the stupid grin on his face! Eddie wuvs his Sunshine!” He leans over to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but gets his hand slapped away.

“I don’t love her!” Eddie hisses. “Now, if you idiots could stop bothering me about this, and we can talk about anything else.”

“Okay, we’ll stop,” Robin agrees, but the mischievous smirk on her face says otherwise, “when you look me in the eyes and can tell me you don’t have feelings for her.”

Eddie lays back down and pulls the covers up over his head. “Goodnight and goodbye,” he mutters, despite the fact that it’s only 10 AM.

Steve yanks the covers back down, laughing when he sees his new friend scowling. “Calm down, man,” he says, sitting down on the starchy blanket, careful not to bump into Eddie. “We’re just messing with you. We’ll behave now.” He shoots Dustin and Robin a warning look, and the two grumble their apologies.

“‘S fine,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m tired anyway, so…” He lets his gaze fall to the doorway.

“Yeah, of course,” Robin says with a small smile. “We’ll visit soon.”

“Get well soon, buddy,” Dustin lowers his voice as quietly as he can—which isn’t saying much, given his normal volume. “The kids of the future are counting on more of your sadistic campaigns.”

As Eddie slips into a medicated slumber, he makes a silent prayer for sweet dreams. Your image appears in his mind, and he can’t deny the warmth it brings him.

Shit, he thinks. Those morons were right. I have a thing for Sunshine. He hopes that he’ll dream of you now that he’s admitted his crush.

No such luck.

The skies are red and gray, strange bursts of some sort of lightning fill the air. Weird shrill squeals fill the dead air. Eddie’s body is full of pain, searing and bleeding wounds making it difficult to breathe. Quick gasps leave his lips, his hands clutching at the ripped shreds of his shirt.

“Eddie! Shit!” Dustin’s voice rings around Eddie. The shorter boy is somewhere in the distance, not too far. “Steve! SOS! SOS!”

Soon, two pairs of hands are on Eddie’s body, trying to help, but only making the pain worse. He tries to steal himself against it, but it’s no use. The tears come, hot and thick as they build up in his eyes. The fear, the desperation, the pain. It’s all too much.

“Eddie?”

It’s not Steve or Dustin’s voice that Eddie hears above it all. It’s yours. But what are you doing in this God awful place? It’s the very last place that Eddie wants you.

“Eddie!”

The darkness in the sky fades, a subtle light beginning to shine through. Then, the next thing he knows, Eddie is blinking his eyes open in the bright hospital room, his face sticky with the trail of tears. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Once his vision is cleared, he sees you being wheeled into the room in the wheelchair you were brought out in. Your face is pinched in concern and it takes Eddie a moment to realize you’re concerned for him.

“Can you wheel me over to Eddie’s bed instead? Thanks,” you say to the transporter, who does as you request. Eddie scoots over and pulls down his blankets, silently offering you the space next to him. Biting your lip, you look around as if you’re debating, before pushing yourself up onto your good leg and holding out your arms for balance. Immediately, Eddie reaches over and takes your hand so you can use him to steady yourself. Shooting him a grateful smile, you’re able to situate yourself on the edge of his bed.

The transporter looks like he doesn’t know if he should be allowing this or not, so he quickly puts his head down and leaves the room with the wheelchair. Eddie helps you get situated next to him before he pulls the blankets up over both of you.

“Another bad dream?” you ask once you’re comfortable.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

“Was it as bad as the first time?”

“At first. But I heard you calling me a lot earlier this time. Got all nice and light again before I opened my eyes. How’d it go with the surgeon?”

“Oh,” you say, averting your eyes. “Nothing special. Just going over X-rays and tests and stuff, ya know?” You clear your throat, anxious to have the subject changed. “You know when you’re getting out of here?”

“Not yet,” Eddie says, sinking back against his pillows.

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out?” you ask.

“Honestly? Get a fucking cheeseburger. This hospital food is shit. I mean, come on. What a man gotta do to get something better than gray mashed potatoes and lime Jell-O?”

“Okay,” you say with a giggle. “After you get some good food, what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Oh, come on,” you say. “What’s Eddie Munson’s big dream? Be a big rock star? World tours? Opening for Ozzy? No—Ozzy opening for you.”

Eddie scoffs, gently nudging your shoulder with his. “Before all…this…happened, I was thinking about moving to Indianapolis after graduation. Get involved in the music scene there.”

“Indianapolis?” You wrinkle your nose. “That’s honestly super boring. You survived an earthquake and you’re only gonna go to the state capital?”

“Fine,” he whines exaggeratedly, smiling as he does it. “How about…Australia? I can be, like, a kangaroo farmer.”

“Is that even a thing?”

“It is now.” His loose, tangled curls brush up against the part of your shoulder left exposed by the pale blue hospital gown. “What about you? New York City? Maybe dance on Broadway, or be one of those…Christmas, kicking girls?”

You snort out a laugh. “A Rockette?”

“Yeah.”

“Eh,” you shrug, pushing away the thoughts of the news you’d just received from the surgeon. “New York’s nice to visit, but I need someplace warm. I’m thinking of going to California.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big Hollywood star,” Eddie teases, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his voice. “And if the movie you’re dancing in needs a band, you know who to recommend.”

“Of course. But do you really think I could get Tears for Fears to play?” His shove is a bit harder this time, making both of you groan as you laugh. “Kidding, kidding. You know Corroded Coffin will be at the top of my list. If you’re not too busy with your own gigs.”

Never too busy for my Sunshine, Eddie nearly blurts out, but he says instead, “will do.” He’s silent for a bit before asking, “Why didn’t you go to California?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you going to college in Indiana and not California?” Eddie tries again. “I mean, you said it yourself: the entertainment scene is much better there than here.” He scrunches up his nose. “Actually, why are you even in college?”

You bark out a laugh at the bluntness of his question. “Um, because that’s what people do after high school?”

“You don’t have to, though,” he quips. “Think about it, Sunshine. College will always be there, but if you wanna pursue dance, you’ve gotta do it while you’re young and, uh, limber.” His cheeks blush a delicious shade of pink.

“Yeah, well.” The truth comes tumbling out before you can stop it. “My parents didn’t think it was a good idea. Just dancing. They wanted me to go to get my degree; build a ‘solid foundation’ or whatever.” You trace invisible spirals into the blanket as you speak. “My dad told me that he could never tell his friends that I danced for a living, because they would, and I quote, ‘think that his daughter was a stripper with daddy issues.’”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “First of all, stripping is a noble profession, and I do not approve of any stripper slander in my home.”

“We’re not in your home,” you point out.

“I do not approve of any stripper slander in my hospital room,” he amends, flicking your forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “And, second, do not tell me that you made a decision about your future based on the opinions of your dad’s old-ass friends.” He groans when you remain quiet. “Seriously?”

“I just didn’t want to upset them,” you mumble. “The only reason they allowed me to study dance is because I’m also majoring in education. I could be a dance teacher.”

“Do you wanna be a dance teacher?”

“Someday,” you admit. “I taught some classes at my studio for the little kids, and I really liked it.” You gnaw at your lower lip.

“But?” Eddie presses, letting his thumb graze against yours.

“But it’s not what I want to do now,” you relent. “Right now, I want to go on auditions and maybe get cast in a play or a cheesy music video or a goddamn commercial and…and dance.”

Eddie gives your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back, not wanting to cross a boundary when you’re so vulnerable. “Then you’re gonna dance,” he murmurs. “We’ll get outta here and move to Cali, and you’re gonna dance.”

A month ago, the prospect of dropping out of school to dance professionally would have you downright terrified. Terrified of failure, of your parents’ inevitable disappointment, of finding out you’re not good enough. But now it only fills you with regret, because that dream became impossible with just the shifting of some rogue tectonic plates.

“Okay,” you say softly, once again wearing your hopeful façade. “Sounds like a plan.” A plan you’ll both easily forget once you’re back out in the real world, faced with the problems you’ve been shielded from within the hospital walls.

The two of you lay there talking about your futures until sleep overtakes you both. Eddie’s the first to drift off; you stay awake for a bit, consumed by echoes of today’s appointment with Dr. Sanoj. What was supposed to be a brief meeting about scheduling your surgery turned into something much more devastating. You rest your head on Eddie’s chest, only allowing yourself to unravel when you hear his soft snores. The combination of the energy expended by crying and the drowsiness from your meds allows you to sleep, still hiccuping from tears as you fall into a dreamless slumber.

Neither of you hear the soft click of crutches as Dustin hobbles back into the room. “Forgot my—son of a bitch, I knew it!” he whispers, slinging his left-behind jacket over his shoulder. “Steve and Robin are gonna lose their shit!”

The next morning, Mandy arrives with breakfast and medication. In front of each of you, she places a plate of runny scrambled eggs, fruit that is described as “fresh” but most certainly is not, and a small carton of orange juice. It’s strangely domestic, and you can’t help but imagine you and Eddie eating together in your shared home. You’re making pancakes or waffles or frittatas—anything better than the food in front of you. Eddie’s frying up bacon, wearing an apron that says Kiss the Chef, and you do, over and over and—

The rattle of your pill cup snaps you from your fantasy, and you dutifully swallow the pastel tablets with a swig of juice.

Eddie grins when Mandy gives him his meds. “Hello, beautiful,” he croons, making grabby motions with his calloused hands.

“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson; no more painkillers in this batch,” Mandy says, laughing at his pout despite herself. “Dr. Franklin wants to speak with you; he’ll be making his rounds in a few minutes.”

“Oooh, Eddie’s in trooouble!” you sing-song, flashing a grin at him.

Rolling his eyes at you, Eddie downs his pills and leans back against his pillow. “Would be used to it. Was in Higgin’s office enough.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you say with a sigh. “Did you go down to the cafeteria while I was asleep and make some big dramatic speech on one of the tables? At least tell me that someone videotaped it for me.”

“You’re hilarious,” he says, tossing his empty paper cup at you. The giggle you let out has his stomach feeling tingly, and he’s sure it’s not from the medications.

There’s a knock on the open door to your room and an older man steps inside, a clipboard tucked under his arm. “Hey, Eddie. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks, doc,” Eddie answers. “What’s the word?”

“Well, glad to say everything looks good. All lab results are normal and you’re healing up nicely. Of course, some injuries still have a ways to go, but there’s no reason you can’t be home for that.”

Eddie’s immediately thrilled. Finally, being able to get out of the hospital where he’s been poked and prodded and it’s impossible to get a good night’s sleep because of all the beeping equipment and nurses constantly checking on you. But as soon as the excitement came, it went. Because leaving the hospital also meant not spending most of the hours in the day by your side. No waking up to your laughter as he tells shitty jokes over your shitty breakfasts. No more saying, “I told you so” when Shelby confesses to the other twin, “I’m still in love with you” on your daily soap opera binges. No more constant sunshine.

“That’s great,” Eddie tells the doctor, his heart not behind the words. “When am I sprung?”

“Should be good to go tomorrow morning. I’m just gonna head back to my office, dot the i’s, cross the t’s, put my name on the X. You know, all that official mumbo jumbo. I’ll have Mandy get everything together. Your prescriptions, your discharge papers, and whatever else you’ll need.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie says, nails scratching at the blanket in his lap.

“Any questions for me?” The doctor asks. When Eddie shakes his head, the doctor gives him a smile and pats Eddie’s leg.

“Oh, I have one,” you say, raising your hand from where you’re tucked up in bed. “When is he cleared to shower? It’s like sharing a room with a donkey.”

The doctor lets out a small chuckle. “Eddie, you are officially cleared to take a shower. If you think of any questions, just tell Mandy. She’ll make sure I get the message.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Eddie nods his head at the man as he steps out of the room. Eddie turns his head to see you grinning at him. While it’s a beautiful sight, it now gives him a melancholy feeling.

“You’re being freed!” you call. “You can go get that cheeseburger tomorrow!”

“Should I sneak one into you?” Eddie asks, his smirk not packing its usual punch.

“Oh, please do,” you say. “God, I can practically taste it.”

“Or smell it? Like, how apparently you’re smelling me?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. Part of him is a little embarrassed because the two of you were sitting so close together just last night.

“You’re not that bad,” you tell him. “I probably smell vile.”

Not a chance, Eddie thinks. “All right, well, I guess I’ll go take a shower then.” He stands up from the bed and over to the small pile of clothes Wayne had brought him the other day. Just some old t-shirts and comfortable pajama pants to sleep in, but it was still nice to have a touch of home.

Once Eddie has closed the bathroom door behind him, Mandy comes in to check your vitals.

“Heard the good news,” she says as she reads the numbers of your blood pressure. “Gonna be weird having a room to yourself? You guys have been inseparable.”

Your face heats at her words and you look down at your lap as she scribbles something into your chart. “S’fine,” you say with a shrug. Mandy looks down at you, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Uh huh,” she says as she clicks her pen. “Well, all your numbers are good. They stay this way, you’ll be headed to the operating room before you know it. Need anything?”

“No,” you say, downcast eyes on your blanket.

A bang from the en suite bathroom has both you and Mandy craning your heads in that direction.

“I’m good!” Eddie shouts. “Just dropped the shampoo!”

It makes you chuckle and Mandy shakes her head, fondly. You think she’s going to miss him, too.

“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” you say to Mandy as she heads out the door. Sighing to yourself, you cuddle up in your blankets and decide to have a five minute pity party. Not only are you facing multiple surgeries over the foreseeable future, but Eddie won’t be here by your side to keep your spirits up. Sure, maybe he calls you his sunshine, but you’re positive he isn’t aware of how much he brightens your days too. The water turns off in the bathroom and you quickly wipe your hands over your cheeks, trying to catch any pesky tears that may have slipped free.

The curtain in the middle of the room is opened—it’s only ever closed anymore if a doctor or nurse needs it to be for some reason. It allows you to see the bathroom door open, but before you see him, you can hear Eddie mumbling to himself.

“Man knows how to do laundry. What the hell is this? A fucking toddler shirt?” When you finally see him, your breath is caught in your chest—for two reasons. One, the teenage girl in you can’t help but respond this way to seeing the guy you have a crush on without his shirt. Two, you’d never really heard the whole story of why Eddie had to come to the hospital, and seeing the puckered and pulled flesh of his chest makes your heart ache. There’s bruising leaving purple and brown spots on top of red and pink gashes that are healing. It looks painful and searing against his otherwise pale white skin.

You know better than to stare. Obviously he’d assume you’re just staring at the scars, not admiring the small but sculpted muscles beneath them. It takes a Herculean effort to pull your gaze from his body and look down in your lap.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles as he stomps over to his pile of clothes. He rummages through them until he finds another shirt. He’s quick in slipping it on, then turns towards your bed. Taking the few steps over in your direction, he sits down on the bottom corner of your bed. When you look up, there’s half a smile on his face as he plays with a small white cloth in his hands. “Believe it or not, this used to be a shirt that fit me.” He holds the cloth up and you see it’s a Guns N’ Roses shirt that’s been shrunk until only a child could fit into it. “My uncle must’ve shrunk it. Guess that’s payback for all the times I turned his white shirts pink because I left a pair of red boxers in the washer.”

“Led Zeppelin is better anyway,” you say, gesturing to the shirt he’s currently wearing.

“So, uh,” Eddie says, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with the too-small tee. “You saw the scars, huh?”

“I did,” you say in a quiet voice. His cheeks turn red and it breaks your heart. “No, please don’t be embarrassed, Eddie. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Shutting it again, Eddie shakes his head. “I, um… they just. They’re—what I mean…”

“Eddie, take a breath. It’s okay.” You go to reach for his hand, but you can’t bend enough due to your injured leg. Eddie shifts so he’s facing you and leans the rest of the way so you can take his hand. “There’s no scar you could have that would make me think any less of you. Plus, you haven’t seen my leg. It looks pretty gnarly.”

“Gnarly?” Eddie asks, looking up at you underneath his eyelashes, the tiniest smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m preparing for that California life,” you tease him. “Gotta fit in with the surfer dudes.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “As soon as you get the OK, I’m booking our tickets.” He shoves the pillow out of the way and sits on top of the blanket. “I can’t afford first-class, so coach will have to do.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not a diva—yet,” you add, excited to play along with the fantasy game he has going on. “I can handle a few hours with the common folk.”

“And we thank you for gracing us with your presence.” Eddie’s eyes flit back to your leg. “When do you think you’ll be good to go?”

Dr. Sanoj told you that between surgeries and recovery, it’ll be at least six weeks, but you bite back that information. “Any day now,” you lie. “Just waiting on those discharge papers. But you know how that can be, with all the sign offs. Everyone’s gotta cross their t’s and dot their i’s.” Good God, shut up, you think.

“Cool,” Eddie nods. He looks deep in thought, tongue poking out in concentration. “Yeah, all right. I can make it work.”

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully at his commitment to the bit. Your pain meds start to kick in, and you drift off into a hazy sleep.

While you’re passed out, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Oh, she’s asleep,” Eddie hears a woman’s voice softly murmur. There’s a slight creak as she sits in the chair next to your bed. “My sweet girl. Mom’s here.”

Your mom. Eddie uses his elbows to push himself up, pulling the curtain back a few inches.

“Um, hi,” he says, not realizing how nervous he is until he actually starts talking. “Are you Sunshine’s mom?”

The woman’s brow crinkles. “Sunshine?”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah, I, uh, I call her Sunshine,” he stammers, nodding in your direction.

“Then, yes, I’m Sunshine’s mom.”

“She, um, she’s—I call her Sunshine because she brightens up my day. Probably the only person in this building who doesn’t hate my guts, let alone like me.” He wants to stop talking, but he can’t. “I have these nightmares, y’know? From the, uh, earthquake thing. And she always pulls me outta them. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I go home tomorrow.”

Your mom gives Eddie a sympathetic smile, gently stroking your hand, minding the needle poking into it. “Well, she’s always telling me how much you make her laugh. Lord knows she could use some happiness in her life.” She sighs. “I just hope her new roommate is as kind as you.”

“At least she’s getting outta here soon,” Eddie offers, “so even if she has a shi—bad roommate, it won’t be for long.”

“Six weeks isn’t exactly ‘soon,’” your mom says. Her gaze doesn’t leave your face, so peaceful in your sleep.

“Wait, six weeks?” Eddie nearly chokes on his own tongue in surprise. “No, she told me that the doctor should clear her in the next coupla days.”

Your mom shakes her head. “She’s got three surgeries to fix that broken femur, plus recovery time. The reason it’s only six weeks is because she’s young and healthy.”

Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Why would you lie to him? Get him pumped up about the prospect of moving to California, living out your dreams together, for it to all be bullshit?

Tears prick at his eyes. Maybe this was all just a joke, a stupid prank on your part. Make the Freak think that someone actually cared about him, laughing behind his back the whole time.

Maybe it’s best that he’s leaving tomorrow. Then he won’t have to listen to you drag him along for your own sick entertainment.

You wake up around dinnertime, stretching your limbs as much as your limited mobility allows. It’s a far cry from your usual limber exercises, but it’s enough to get the blood flowing through your body.

An episode of Wheel of Fortune plays from the TV in the corner, but it’s blocked by the curtain. Eddie probably closed it while I slept, you think. That’s pretty much the only time you two keep the room divided; every now and then, you forget and wake up to the sight of Eddie Munson sleeping next to you.

“Eds? You awake?”

“Yup,” is his terse reply, with no enthusiasm behind it.

You open the curtain with a grin. “Are you grumpy because your novelas aren’t on?”

“Nope.” He keeps his arms crossed over his chest, left ankle draped over his right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, frowning. “Did something happen while I was sleeping?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie finally allows his gaze to meet yours. His usual friendly doe eyes are clouded with anger. “Your mom stopped by.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Did she say something that upset you? I told her that all the murderer stuff wasn’t true, and she believed me—believed you.”

“Actually, we talked a bit about you.” The acid in his tone is enough to burn.

“What about me?” you ask, only becoming further confused by this conversation.

Eddie huffs out a humorless chuckle and licks his tongue across his teeth. “Really thought you had me, didn’t you? Think you could pretend to be all buddy buddy with me just to mess with me? Get in my head?”

“What? Who’s in your head?” Part of you wonders if this is all some medicine-induced stress dream. “Eddie.” You push yourself up as best you can, leg aching and body suffering from general soreness from being cramped in the bed for so long. “What are you talking about? What did my mom say to you?”

This time when his eyes cut to you, there’s more than anger there. There’s fury, pain. The sight makes your heart ache, and the fact that this look is directed at you is making your head spin.

“Just a couple of days, huh?” Eddie pushes himself to the edge of his bed so his legs hang off the side. His glare burns your skin and you feel yourself wanting to shrink down and out of sight. “That’s how long til the doctor will clear ya?”

Part of the puzzle of why Eddie was mad was starting to kick into place. Shit, you think. Mom must’ve said something about the surgeries.

“Eddie, I—.”

“Lied? Yeah, you did. But what’s that matter when you’re lying to The Freak?”

Guilt gives way to anger in your gut as he throws this accusation at you. Not once, whether in high school with him or after, did you think of Eddie as a freak. You’ve never agreed with those who called him names and treated him as lesser than.

“I didn’t lie to you because I think you're a freak, Eddie.” It comes out strangled between all the emotions vying to be expressed through your voice.

“You sure about that?” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, and it’s hard to see a trace of the laughing and smiling Eddie you’ve become so close with.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you grit out. “I lied becau—.”

“Well, what possible other motive could there have been?” Eddie questions. His hands are gripping the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning almost as white as the linens.

“If you would just listen to me!”

“So you can lie some more?” Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “Well, screw California.”

Confusion is suddenly back in your mixture of emotions. California? Why bring up that joke now? Unless…

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. “You were actually serious about going to California?”

“What?” he practically barks out. “You weren’t?”

“Eddie, I thought that was a joke,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “Some made up fantasy to get us through spending all our time in these four plain-as-fuck walls.”

“Of course you weren’t really going to do that with me,” Eddie says, a sneer curling his lip.

“Because I didn’t know it was real!” you try to explain.

Eddie throws up his arms, grimacing as it tugs on his stitches. “Why wouldn’t it be real? Is me having a future that unbelievable?”

“What the hell are you on?” you hiss. “Eddie, you need to finish high school. And I need to get my bachelor’s degree. We can’t just be fucking off to California like it’s no big deal!”

Eddie bites his thumbnail before responding. “Let me get this straight. We narrowly escape death during this…earthquake…and you wanna just go back to our normal lives? Like we weren’t given a second chance to live?” He’s pacing around the room now. “My neighbor? Max Mayfield? Harrington told me that she’s blind now. She’s fucking blind and in a full body cast!”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, but he continues frantically walking back and forth without acknowledging you.

“And Jason Carver. Jason fucking Carver! I hated that son of a bitch, and now he’s dead. All those times he was a piece of shit to me and I wished something would happen to him, and now it did.”

“That’s not your fault,” you try. “You didn’t cause the earthquake.”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s all I thought about: death and sadness. And then I met you.” His eyes are shiny with tears. “Someone who liked spending time with me, who believed in me, who had these crazy dreams just like I did. A…a friend.” He wipes at his face clumsily, embarrassed to be crying. “But you’re just like the rest of them, huh?”

“That’s not fair—”

“Y’know what’s real fuckin’ funny?” Eddie smacks his hand on his bedside table. “The other day, Harrington said that we—you and I—had some kinda ‘spark’ between us.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Guess he’s just as full of shit as you are, Sunshine.” When he says the nickname now, it’s full of venom; there’s no trace of the sweet, goofy guy you’ve gotten to know.

“Eddie, if you would just let me—” But yet again, Eddie doesn’t let you attempt to explain any of the situation. The fact that a part of you somewhere deep inside is fluttery because Steve saw a spark between you and Eddie is something you have to put away to examine at a better time.

“Good luck with your surgery,” Eddie says. “Too bad the doctors can’t cure bitch.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, the air being knocked out of you. Your mouth opens and your lips move, but no sound comes out. There’s a crack in your heart, but it quickly feels like it’s been soldered closed with the anger bubbling up inside of you. Your lungs reinflate, the blood pumps heavily through your veins, and your fists clench where they rest in your lap. The urge to lash out is strong. And at this moment, you’re so very weak.

“You know what, Eddie? Fuck you. And hey, good luck getting to California with those murder charges on your record.” The moment the words tumble out of your mouth you wish you could take them back. Eddie stepped over the line, but you ran right past him. “Shit, I didn’t—.”

Suddenly you’re not looking at Eddie anymore. He’s pulled the curtain closed, the last glimpse you get of him is a raging fury in his eyes. And you can hardly blame him. The only thing that stares back at you is the gauzy white curtain still swaying from the forceful yank.

“Eddie…” The television volume gets turned up to an ungodly volume, making you cover your ears and impossible to have a conversation over.

You spend the rest of the night with your ear pressed to the pillow in an attempt to drown out the baseball game he’s watching. Given his penchant for yelling about the absurdity of sports, you doubt he’s even paying attention to it, but the broadcasters’ monologues about fastballs and strikes curtails any attempt to speak to him. You barely touch your dinner, and Mandy tuts at you worriedly, but you insist you feel fine.

In reality, you feel nauseated. You said a horrible thing to a wonderful person, and you really hurt his feelings.

Maybe we can talk it through in the morning, you think, trying not to get your hopes up. Maybe we can apologize and move on.

When you wake up the next morning, his bed has been slept in, left unmade while he’s probably in the bathroom. The curtain is pulled back; an excellent sign that he’s ready to hear your apology, and possibly forgive you. As soon as he comes back, you’ll give it a shot.

“Gonna be quiet around here for a bit without your buddy, huh?” Mandy says from the doorway. She walks over to Eddie’s bed and starts stripping the sheets. “You get to say goodbye?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ll have to catch him before he leaves.”

Mandy’s brows furrow in confusion. “Honey, his uncle came and got him an hour ago.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “He didn’t tell you?”

All you can do is shake your head.

“Probably didn’t wanna wake you. I’m sure he’ll stop by and visit.” Mandy curls the sheets into a ball and tucks them under her arm. “I’ll be back with breakfast and meds.”

As soon as she’s gone, you burst into tears. Eddie left without saying goodbye. He left thinking you don’t care about him or believe in him. He left without his Sunshine.

taglist: @thebrookemunson, @mystars123, @h-ness1944, @hazydespair, @ajkamins, @aysheashea, @jasminelafleur, @brittney69, @arsonfrogger, @brassreign, @lunarzstarz, @aftermidnightwriting, @justtryingtobecreative, @micheledawn1975, @kailynn-exe

#albl #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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light-yaers · 1 year ago

Text

Take Care: Chapter Two

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: I couldn’t wait. I wanted to get the ball rolling more before I slowed down, so here’s the second chapter for you all! Mwah

Word count: 7k+

Chapter Two

Well, Chris. That was certainly a disappointing start to the season for Richmond.

Indeed, Arlo. Arsenal were all over them. It seems that new coach Ted Lasso’s tactics aren’t cutting it just yet.

I think that’s probably unsurprising, especially from him being a NFL coach in the States before this. Have Richmond bitten off more than they can chew, do you think, Chris?

I don’t know, Arlo. But without Jamie Tartt the team wouldn’t have clinched even one goal, so I hope Lasso knows to utilise the young striker a lot more.

Very right, Chris.

I’m always right, Arlo.

That’s debatable, Chris. Remember the prediction of 2004?

We don’t talk about the prediction of 2004, Arlo. I told you that in confidence.

Defeat settled around the stadium. As far as first ever football games went, yours had gone to shit. The guys had played to oblivion, but Arsenal had been better. You sat in the box next to Keeley, feeling the commiserations from the home crowd. They would go home in a sulk, for sure, and you didn’t blame them. You were feeling it yourself, even, despite all that you didn’t know about the sport.

You and Keeley left the owner’s box together, heading down the stairs. You went to take a left, heading for the car park, when Keeley stopped you gently. “What, going home already?”

“Is that not a normal thing to do after a game is over?” you asked.

Keeley snorted. “Not today. It’s Sam’s birthday, you wally. I’m driving Jamie home, too. So come on! Don’t be another debbie-downer from the crowd.”

You followed her down another set of stairs, headed for the locker room. As you approached, you could hear Coach Lasso. He blasted an optimistic pep talk to his guys, but if you’d been sitting in that room after a 3-1 loss, you wouldn’t want to hear it personally.

Keeley turned the corner first, as you whispered behind her not to interrupt. She rolled her eyes at you, entering the locker room and leaving you outside. You let out an annoyed sigh, bobbing on the spot with anxiety, before you finally plucked up the courage to show yourself.

“Hard luck, boys,” Keeley said first, going to sit upon Jamie’s lap.

You emerged in the doorway, arms crossed. To your surprise, the sunken faces of a few players perked up at your arrival. Isaac sat up straighter when he saw you, as did Sam. They both sent you small smiles through their frowns of defeat.

“Well, hey!” Ted said. “Good of you to join us.” He gently squeezed your shoulder, showing you it was okay to come in.

You sent a look of sympathy around the room as you entered, before your gaze fell upon that of a dishevelled Roy Kent. “Sorry about the loss, guys,” you said, not knowing what else to add.

“It’s a shame,” Sam began. “This was your first football match, was it not?”

A collective groan went around the room, only making you feel worse. You raised your hands defensively, widening your eyes. “No, no, don’t feel bad!” you let out, panicking. “Listen, it’s taken me my whole life to watch a football game, alright? And despite the outcome of this one, I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Your gaze skimmed Roy’s again, and you pooled all your genuine feelings within that one look. He sighed heavily, but some tension was relieved from his shoulders.

“Well said,” Ted spoke up. “I know this isn’t the outcome we all wanted, but we take it in our stride, and we move on. Besides, we have a cake to eat for Sam’s birthday here!” he exclaimed. Isaac clapped Sam on the back, and a few smiles trickled around the locker room. “So, grab a slice, get some sugar back in your systems, and let’s do better next time.”

You stayed with the guys in celebration, as Coach Beard pumped some tunes into the locker room. Jamie was the only one who stayed visibly pissed off. Keeley jumped off his lap as he grabbed his bag, leaving the room with her on his tail closely.

You watched them leave, but couldn’t stay on them for long. Ted shoved a plate of cake into your hands, taking you by surprise. The guys milled around too, coming up to ask about the match and what you made of it. You hated to admit it, but this was nice. This was the first time you felt properly involved with the team, despite Isaac’s birthday the week before. That hadn’t felt as familiar, but this did. These were people you knew now, in all their boyish glory.

You sat down in the middle of the room, on the central island. You listened to Colin’s jokes, and Richard’s stories from back home in France. Sam opened a few stray presents that had appeared in his cubby over the course of the day. What had you constantly turning your head, however, was Roy Kent.

He sat by his cubby, sorting through his things silently, a plate of cake untouched by his side. You had the urge to go and sit next to him, but you didn’t know the reason for it. There was a huge sense of respect for Roy within the walls of this stadium, but when it came to socialising, Roy usually sat out. You set down your own slice of cake, standing up abruptly in the middle of a story by Bumbercatch. You headed for Roy, and sat down next to him before he could protest. You crossed your legs and leaned back into the cubby next to him, crossing your arms comfortably. Roy stopped sorting his things, just to look at you for a moment, before he continued.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“No,” you said, leaving it vague. “Was just wondering why you had an aversion to your teammates being social, is all.”

Roy rolled his eyes and let out a sound between a groan and a growl. It was like a mid-ground. “I don’t have a fucking– aversion– to social events with the team.”

You shrugged. “Okay.”

Roy froze. “I don’t.”

You shrugged again, more aggressively. “I agreed with you.”

“Yeah, but you’re fucking lying. You think I avoid them.”

“I don’t think you do. You do avoid them.”

“Oh,” he looked at you like he’d just stood in dogshit. “Just– fuck off– with your assumptions, and your–” he waved his hand in front of his face, then in front of yours. “Your fucking face.”

You scoffed. “My face?”

“You always look like you know something about me,” he said. “It creeps me the fuck out.”

You raised your hands defensively. “Sorry,” you said. “I can’t help the way my face looks, unfortunately.”

Roy dropped his gaze to the floor. “You know that’s also not what I fucking meant.”

“Was it?” you said, but by this point you were fully fucking with him. You found it enjoyable, especially since you’d squashed your beef, to play with him more. He nibbled on every joke, every dig, that it was impossible to stop making them.

“I– fucking hell–” Roy looked back at you, and you let out a proper laugh.

“I’m fucking with you, Roy. Jesus, don’t worry,” you said, gently resting your hand upon his thigh without thinking. You only noticed when he stopped to look down at your knuckles; that’s when you realised his bare skin was practically burning a hole through your palm.

You took your hand off him, placing it in your lap quickly. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave you be,” you said, genuinely, before you stood. “I know it’s shit, by the way. Losing,” you said, with your back turned to him, before you twisted yourself to peer down at him. “But I meant it. I wouldn’t change this being my first football match for the world.”

Roy took in your words, letting out a soft sigh through his nose. He nodded. “Thank you,” he let out softly. You smiled at him, before you finally left him alone.

Days became more routine. You’d walk to work, grab a coffee on the way, say hello to the boys upon your arrival, before settling into your office. When you weren’t working on articles or website updates, you were looking up football facts, or writing your own novel. Your days at the Dogtrack had become something you were fond of, especially now that you weren’t strangers with anyone there anymore.

Sometimes, Sam would pop his head around the door of your office, and you’d have a catch up about books. You’d been recommending reads to one another for a few weeks now, each of you bringing in books from your own personal libraries for the other to read. It was like a mini book-club of sorts. That, and you just enjoyed the company of Sam Obisanya. He was younger than you, but felt wise beyond his years. You think you latched onto one another from how foreign everything felt– he was in a completely new country, while you were in an utterly new industry. Both of you felt like fishes out of water, sometimes.

You’d become closer with Ted, too, for that very same reason. Between you, your combined knowledge of football was practically comical. God forbid anyone asked either of you to explain the off-side rule, or a handball violation. Beard was an enigma of a man, and someone you didn’t mean to avoid, but just ended up doing. But, with more matches being played and lost, team morale was at an all time fucking low. You could sense it every time you entered the locker room after a long day of training, or decided to join the guys after their Saturday match days. You could never do what they did– all that losing would kill you off before you’d even make it to a win. That was why you took it upon yourself to try and cheer them up in the ways that you could.

You didn’t pity them or stroke their egos. You sat with them, and you listened. Sure, you had no fucking clue what they were saying when they mentioned 4-4-2 layouts, or a football kicking manoeuvre, but still you listened. Sometimes, that was all they needed. It seemed to be helping, and you didn’t mind spending more time with the guys when they simply needed it.

That’s what led you to join them after training one Tuesday, but morale was certainly higher than you’d been expecting. You entered the locker room with a smile, giving Colin a high five upon your arrival. Sam and four others were talking enthusiastically in the corner, and you perked your brow.

“What are they talking about, Colin?” you asked, as Colin pulled on one of his trainers.

“The charity ball. They’re talking about their plus ones, I think.”

“A charity ball?” you asked, peering down at him.

“You don’t know about the ball?” Colin asked back, and you shook your head. He stood abruptly then, clapping the boys to attention. “Guys! This one doesn’t know about the charity ball!”

His alert led the guys to erupt in several different conversations. It was far too much for you to take in, so you raised your hands and let out a chuckle. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, one at a fucking time.”

The room dulled to a stable level. Sam took the lead. “The charity ball is Richmond’s event of the season. Celebrities, cameras, lights, a special performance from a musical artist, all for charity.”

“Musical artist?” you said.

“This year it’s Robbie Williams!” Colin exclaimed, prompting the room to go back to roaring.

You looked to your right and hit Roy’s wandering gaze. He winced at the volume in the room, before he inhaled deeply. “Hey!” he yelled suddenly, shutting the guys down. “I can’t hear myself not think. Also, I fucking hate Robbie Williams.”

“Are you going this year, Roy?” Colin asked.

“‘Course, I’m going. There’s booze, isn’t there?” he said, and all of the guys nodded in agreement.

“We’re just talking about our plus ones,” Sam spoke to you again. “Richard just landed himself a Victoria Secret model.”

“Fucking hell,” you let out, suddenly feeling the smallest bit insecure. It was like you forgot the guys were big name footballers, and when you were reminded of that fact it hit you like a suckerpunch, sometimes. “Good on you, Richard.”

Richard nodded, sat on the bench by his cubby. “She has a kind heart. And, she is smoking hot.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Brilliant,” you muttered.

“Are you not coming?” Sam asked, strolling towards you. “You are part of Richmond now, are you not?”

“Well, considering I didn’t know about it until now, I guess Rebecca hasn’t factored me in. When is it?”

“On Friday,” Colin said.

You winced. “Yeah. I’ve definitely been left off this guestlist.”

Almost immediately, the boys started groaning. They slapped their hands on their thighs and stood up with annoyance. They wanted you to come, and it made your heart warm, definitely, but there was probably nothing you could do.

“I think we all have plus ones now, sadly,” Sam said. He placed his hand over his heart. “Otherwise, I would have taken you as my date in a heartbeat.”

“No, no, I would’ve, bruv.” Isaac chimed in. As if on cue, all of the boys went around the room and reassured you that they would have taken you.

You inhaled deeply and smiled so genuinely that you had to tell yourself to stop. They did this to you often, made you feel special, and welcome, and all of the things that you thought you wouldn’t feel on your placement here. They were kind.

You raised your hands again, trying to calm them down. “Guys, guys! Thank you, all of you. I appreciate you all saying you’d bring me, but it’s fine. I’m grateful for the gesture, anyway.” They nodded at you, all smiling their winning grins, before they went back to packing their bags. “Well, I’ll be off then. See you all tomorrow!” you announced.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Roy said, and the room dropped to silence once more. You halted immediately, turning back to meet his eye. “I don’t have a plus one.”

In the corner of your eye, Sam’s eyes widened. Isaac’s jaw dropped open. Colin’s eyes darted between you and Roy like a tennis match.

You held onto the strap of your tote bag tightly, until your knuckles turned white. “Oh.” You tried to say it nonchalantly, but it came out statically, timidly. You hated the sound you just made so bad that it was a miracle you didn’t melt from your own embarrassment.

“So?” Roy asked.

“So…?” you repeated awkwardly.

“Do you want to be my fucking date or what?” he let out. “They’re right. You’re part of this club. You should get to join us.”

You looked around the room for approval, but it was then that you realised, if he’d only asked you in a different setting, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. It was the pressure of all the guys around you that made it all the more worse. You knew Roy meant it as a kind gesture, not as anything more, but it was still easy for your heart to start pulsing harder beneath your ribcage.

You smiled bashfully, trying to play it off as nothing more. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” Roy boomed, picking up his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up.” He stepped towards you, headed for the door.

You scoffed. “You don’t have to do that. I can meet you there, or something.”

Roy peered down at you sternly. “I’ll pick you up,” he repeated.

“Okay,” you said timidly, giving in fast.

Roy left without another word, leaving you in the locker room. The guys stood around you with gobsmacked expressions, but one glance at them unlocked them from being statues. They went back to their prior conversations, with an underlying hubbub of gossip about what they’d just witnessed.

You left the stadium with two thoughts littering your mind. One, you had no idea what to fucking wear, and two– Roy fucking Kent had just asked you to be his date to the Richmond charity ball.

On the walk home, you called Keeley.

She picked up fast. “Hey babes, you okay?”

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. I do have a favour to ask of you, though,” you said.

“Okay, fire away!”

“I need an outfit for the Richmond charity ball,” you announced.

“I was wondering if you were coming! Leaving it pretty close, though, babe.”

“Yeah, well.” You sighed, knowing that Keeley would take the news the wrong way, but still you persisted. “I wasn’t invited explicitly, but Roy just asked me to come as his plus one.”

Keeley squealed like a crying baby. You held your phone away from your face, wincing in pain, until her shrill screams stopped. “Are you finished?” you asked.

“What the actual fuck!” she exclaimed. “This is just like that trope that everyone loves on Twitter.” She clicked her fingers impatiently, trying to remember. “Enemies to lovers!”

You scoffed immediately. “Please, Keeley, you’re making me feel a bit ill. It’s nothing like that. And besides…” You fiddled with your fingernails. “Roy and I would definitely be enemies to friends to lovers, first,” you added quickly. Keeley squealed again, and you winced once more. “Okay, okay!” you yelled. “Back on track. I need an outfit, and I desperately need your help.”

“Lunch break, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile. “This one’s on me, too, babes. I know MA students aren’t exactly dripping in gold.”

You sighed, but you couldn’t help the warm pang that raced through your chest. You really had some great people around you. A month into this placement and it had already exceeded your expectations. Even Rebecca had started warming to you, of all people.

“Thanks, Keeley,” you said genuinely. You could practically feel her golden smile radiating through the phone.

You worked non-stop the next morning, too anxious to stop for even a second. Right before lunch, Rebecca made an unexpected visit to your office. You were mid sip of a cup of tea, and almost choked on it when she knocked on your door and popped her head around the frame.

“Oh, sorry, have I caught you at a bad time?” she said, and you forced yourself to swallow.

You shook your head quickly, panicking. “No,” you croaked, then cleared your throat. “No,” you said, normally. “What can I do for you, Rebecca?”

“Well, I assume you read Trent Crimm’s article about Ted in the Independent,” she said, stepping inside and sitting opposite you. She crossed her legs, and for a moment you were mesmerised at how long her legs actually were.

“Yes, yes I did,” you said, looking at her face, finally. “It was a great article, one that showed off Ted’s true colours, I felt.”

Rebecca’s face flattened slightly. “Yes. Brilliant, wasn’t it. Anyway– I was wondering if you could write something about me.”

You froze, overcome by the overexcited beat of your heart. “Oh?” you managed to get out.

“Nothing major,” Rebecca said, waving at you with reassurance. “Just something for the website, nothing for the tabloids, you know. We all know what they write about me, already.” She fiddled with her perfectly done manicure as she spoke, before she cleared her throat and looked back up at you. “I just thought it might be a nice idea, since my name has been in every paper for months now, having something to do with the club instead of my failed marriage, is all.”

You sighed at her warmly, relaxing finally. “I’d love to write something for you, Rebecca,” you said with a smile. “Though, I’m not really an article writer, just as a warning. More fiction, more novels.”

“I thought your player profiles on the website were incredibly well written,” she said plainly.

Your eyes widened, and she mimicked you, but with a smile on her face all the same. “Oh, thank you,” you let out. “I’ll do it, then!” you agreed.

Rebecca smiled. “Fantastic!” She matched your energy. You shared a few peaceful moments together, which you latched onto after her aversion to you in the very beginning, but you were cut off when you looked at the time.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, grabbing your bag quicky. “Sorry, Rebecca. I actually have lunch plans for once.”

Rebecca followed you in standing. “Oh? A date?”

You scoffed. “No, no. Keeley is taking me shopping before the charity ball.”

“Oh, fuck!” Rebecca exclaimed abruptly, making you jump. “I didn’t invite you, did I? Oh, fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay!” you reassured her, as the two of you left your office. “Roy’s taking me as his plus one, so it’s no trouble anyway.”

Rebecca stopped in the hallway. “Roy’s taking you as his plus one?”

You stared at her bluntly, overly annoyed about the reaction that that simple sentence had garnered over the past few days. You fucking wished Roy had asked you in private, for fucks sake.

“Yes,” you said plainly, annoyed.

Rebecca was taken aback by your bluntness. “Oh. Well, how lovely,” she said.

“I desperately need an outfit, and Keeley is my only hope,” you continued, heading up the stairs to the second floor together.

“Oh, well, now that you’ve said it actually, could I join you?” Rebecca asked. You flicked your gaze onto her, noting the soft way her brows were furrowed in question. You weren’t used to her being so adamant to actually hang out with you, but you weren’t about to exclude her.

“Of course!” you said. “I’m meeting Keeley in the car park, I’ll tell her to wait for you.”

Rebecca nodded in thanks, as the two of you parted ways on the final step. You headed towards the car park to the right, while she sped in her heels to the left, all the way down the corridor and up the stairs, to grab her bag from her office.

Your lunch break turned into a lunch day, but Rebecca didn’t seem to give a shit. The three of you went into several different fashion establishments, none of which you’d fucking heard of. Keeley asked you what you wanted, and what ‘vibe’ fit you, but you had no fucking clue. You’d been in the football world for a month, and you’d already had to branch out and act like someone from a much higher tax bracket. It was exhausting.

As you changed in a dressing room for the thousandth time, Keeley and Rebecca poured all of you a glass of complimentary champagne. You struggled with the straps of this latest number– some sci-fi looking dress where you looked more like a Dalek than a princess.

“How are you getting on in there?” Rebecca yelled from behind the curtain.

“I’m–” You struggled to zip yourself up, feeling like nothing but a sack of tomatoes under some tarp than someone remotely attractive. “I’m… trying. But, this one doesn’t feel like it’s for me!” you yelled back.

“Hmm.” Keeley hummed, standing up and downing her drink. She placed the glass down and headed towards a new rack, full of black jumpsuits. “What’s Roy’s favourite colour?”

“Black!” you and Rebecca yelled simultaneously. “But, we’re not matching or anything,” you added. “He just got me an invite to the ball itself, it’s not a date situation.”

“Isn’t he picking you up?” Rebecca asked.

You shoved your head out of the dressing room, flustered. “That was his idea. It wasn’t up to me.”

“So, maybe he thinks it’s a date, but you don’t,” Rebecca suggested.

You let out a frustrated huff. “God, can we just– not– talk about Roy for once? It’s been constant today, ever since he announced it in the locker room. It’s deeply annoying.”

Keeley grabbed a jumpsuit off the rack, bringing it over to the dressing room. “I don’t know, babe. Seems to me like you’re the one who’s pissed about it all. It’s just a bit fun, ain’t it?”

“Exactly!” you yelled, sticking your hand out to grab the garment from her. “Which is why I hate how much everyone is overreacting about it.”

“Who’s overreacting about it?” Keeley asked.

You stuck your head out of the curtain again, red in the face. “You squealed at me down the phone, Keeley! And Rebecca, you yelled in the hallway! I called my mother last night and she started crying when I told her.”

Rebecca and Keeley winced at you. “Sorry,” Keeley said.

“Apologies,” Rebecca added. “It’s just that, well, I don’t think anyone ever expects Roy to actually be a gentleman.”

You slipped on the jumpsuit that Keeley handed you, and looked at yourself in the mirror afterwards. To your surprise, it was good. It reminded you of the jumpsuit from Fleabag, a bit of cleavage shown off, just to make it sweet.

“I don’t get that,” you started, ruffling up your hair into something semi-presentable. “Roy is a bit of a gentleman. He went to my lecturer and explained that he’d been an arsehole, and ultimately got me the grade I deserved. He drove me home a few weeks ago, too. And, yeah, he gave up his plus one spot for me which was… sort of sweet, I suppose” You twisted yourself in the mirror, happy with the reflection you saw.

You pulled open the curtain and stepped out of the dressing room. “So, yeah, I’d say he is a gentleman.” You turned to Keeley and Rebecca, and both of them were frozen to their spots. You were taken aback by their wide-eyed and open mouthed expressions. “What… is it too much?” you asked, peering down at your body.

“It’s perfect,” Rebecca said, in awe of you.

“I think Roy fancies you,” Keeley said, biting at her fake nails.

You let out a colossal sigh, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror again. You couldn’t be bothered to keep looking, not when you felt great in something you’d tried on, finally. You had Rebecca’s seal of approval, too, which was absolutely good enough for you.

“This is the one,” you said, turning to the retail worker. “I’ll take it.”

By Friday, things had settled down. If it weren’t for your stern glares at the guys when they teased you, then they would have only continued, but you made yourself clear. You didn’t want to be hassled about this, and you definitely knew that Roy wouldn’t want it, either. You suspected he was already regretting his choice to bring you along with him.

Despite your clear annoyance over the past few days, the atmosphere at the Dogtrack was nothing but great. Training had gone well, with Ted and Beard finally making progress with the team. Rebecca had eased up even more, actually inviting you to join her for lunch the day after she helped you pick your ball attire. On Thursday, you played Cluedo with Higgins, and on Friday, you walked in on the coaches during one of their… special meetings.

You were alerted to them from the abrupt barking, but the noises were unmistakably coming from humans instead of dogs. Hearing the noise all the way from your office, you made your way down the corridor to the locker room. You kept close to the wall as you entered, knowing that Ted and Beard were in the manager’s office, but they weren’t alone. Higgins and Nate were with them, too, and it seemed that all of them had contributed towards the various barks.

“Well, gentlemen, it seems all of us have our wits about us this time around,” Ted announced, in his classic southern drawl.

“Ah, ah, ah, wait,” Higgins added. “I know we formed this group for the balance of men having each other’s backs emotionally, but does that stop us from expanding?”

“Expanding?” Nate asked.

“Further afield,” Higgins said. “You know, like gossiping.”

Ted and Beard gasped. “Well, Higgins, that might just stir a pot that doesn’t need stirring. The kind that your mom stands over the stove with for hours, you know? And as soon as she takes a break, and tells you not to touch it, what do you do? You touch it. And whatever custard or queso or sauce she’s making curdles.”

Higgins deflated a little. “I guess you’re right.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ted perked up again. “But, just because of the unhelped curiosity of man, what was it that you wanted to expand upon?”

You leaned against the wall outside, right next to the manager’s door. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t stop listening. It was infectious and impossible not to want more. Slowly, you leaned even closer.

Higgins cleared his throat. “There is a rumour circulating these halls…” You held your breath, wondering what tea was about to be spilled. “Roy Kent’s plus one for the charity ball has been filled.”

Ted, Beard and Nate all gasped. All semblance of cool that you had turned red immediately.

Without hesitation, you stomped your boots upon the ground like a spoiled child. “Fucks sake!” you yelled suddenly, before you quickly revealed yourself in the manager’s office doorway. The men inside looked immediately shaken, clutching onto their hearts like they were scared they’d jump out of their chests. You huffed from frustration. “It’s not a big deal!”

“Oh, hey!” Ted exclaimed, taking his hand away from his heart. “God, you gave us one heck of a fright.”

“Are you Roy’s plus one?” Higgins returned to the conversation at hand.

You leaned against the doorway, defeated. “Yes. And at this point, I wish I fucking wasn’t.”

“Hey now,” Ted said gently. “Is this what this rumour is, huh? That you’re Roy’s date to the charity ball?”

You shrugged. “It’s been constant this week. I’m surprised you all didn’t hear about it sooner, to be honest.”

“I did,” Beard chimed in. All eyes in the room fell on him, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Great,” you said plainly, before you turned back to the others. “It’s not like it’s a huge thing, or something so out there that it should be discussed. I feel like everyone’s been, I don’t know, whispering about it over the past few days. Keeley squealed at me. Rebecca yelled in my face. My own mother cried.”

All the men in the room winced in unison.

“Can I be completely honest with you all?” you asked suddenly, and as if on cue all the guys stood up straight. Immediately, they started making barking noises and whimpering like dogs, as if they were a gaggle of drama students. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered in response.

“This is a safe space. Speak your mind as much as you wish,” Ted explained.

“Well,” you started, letting out a stress filled sigh. “First of all, he asked me in front of the entire locker room. From the get-go it’s been made out to be a bigger thing than it needed to be, you know? And after that, everyone started acting like it was huge! Like it was so out there that Roy fucking Kent asked the bloody social placement, of all people, to go with him to the charity ball. Rebecca said that it’s because no one expects Roy to be a gentleman, but I know he is one, so that doesn’t exactly make sense to me.”

“So, what you’re saying is, it makes it seem like it’s a huge deal because it’s you and him, instead of just him?” Nate offered.

You widened your eyes at him, nodding in agreement. “Exactly that. It just… makes me feel a bit shit. Like I wasn’t an option that anyone would expect him to pick. Which is fucking stupid because, God, it’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s been blown out of proportion, you mean?” Higgins asked.

You nodded again. “Massively.”

“And that’s frustrating you because it makes you feel judged?” Ted joined in.

You nodded again. “Yep.”

The room fell silent for a moment. It was almost suffocating, alongside the stares of four pairs of eyes landing on you all at once. You felt like a child, it was true, but you couldn’t deny how much this entire ordeal had got to you. You wished people would leave it, wished they’d stop fucking talking about it like it was some huge revelation.

Beard cleared his throat. “You need to fucking own it.”

You snapped your stare onto him instantly. “Excuse me?”

“Own it!” he exclaimed again. “If this is really bothering you, don’t let people know that you care. Stomping your feet about it and getting flustered will only perpetuate their reactions.”

“Are you really saying that my mother crying to me is my fault?”

Ted took the reins. “Not that.” He shook his head. “That’s all on her.”

“When you show up tonight next to Roy, act like you belong there,” Beard continued, leaning forward in his chair to look at you fully. “Because you do belong. You’re part of this club, and the guys all wanted you at the ball in the first place. Don’t let them rattle you.”

You furrowed your brows at him. “How do you know all this?”

Beard leaned back, propping his legs up on the desk casually. “I was in here when Roy asked you to be his date.”

“Ahaaa, so it is a date,” Higgins said, but was promptly shut down by all sets of eyes glaring at him to oblivion. “Sorry. Gossiping is an addiction that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.”

“So, I should own it?” You kept the conversation on track. Beard, Ted and Nate all nodded in agreement. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Fuck it all, right? I’m part of this team, and I deserve Roy Kent’s plus one the same as anyone else.”

“That’s it!” Ted exclaimed, before turning to the rest of the guys. “Well, that was another successful visitor pass discussion. Diamond Dogs, out!” The four of them all went back to barking like dogs, only made worse by Ted and Nate sticking out their tongues, as if they were lapping up water.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you said quickly, immediately turning on your heels to get the fuck out of there.

As you walked back to your office, you took their advice on board. Was it really that simple, just to own it? Act like you belonged, act like it was just another normal fucking day at AFC Richmond? You sighed when you reached your door, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door frame. It was sturdy, same as the rest of the stadium walls and floors, and you would be, too.

You wouldn’t let this ball phase you, wouldn’t freak out about the guys’ reactions, about Keeley and Rebecca’s, and certainly not your fucking mother’s. You’d be hard as nails when you got into Roy Kent’s Jeep, as the two of you pulled up to the venue. You’d smile for the cameras, be comfortable on Roy’s arm as you walked in, and have a brilliant fucking night.

Nothing would go wrong. Nothing.

Roy pulled up outside your door and honked his horn once, twice, three times. He figured that would be enough to get your attention. He fiddled with his tie as he sat behind the wheel, tapping his car's leather interior as he waited for you to open your front door and jump into the passenger seat next to him.

Little did he know, but you’d made the unwise decision to Google the Richmond charity ball while you were getting ready, only to see the prestigious guestlist. It was celebrities galore, millionaires, billionaires, but no MA students who’d been shoved into the club as a last resort. You took back everything you’d said about feeling bad about being Roy’s plus one– you weren’t one of these people, and that was fucking adament by the hoards of paparazzi, and thousands of pounds donated.

Roy honked his horn again, and you flinched on the floor of your bathroom. You leaned against the door, trying and failing to calm down the anxiety that raced within your bones. Roy honked again, and you found yourself groaning. “I can hear you, Roy!” you yelled, knowing that he couldn’t hear you back. “Fucks sake.” You fumbled as you grabbed your phone from beside the sink.

You unlocked it and went to texts, putting in Roy’s name at the top. Your eyes skimmed the last message you sent– the one about your assignment. You still had no idea if he had you blocked, or if other circumstances had kept him away from his phone at that time, but that didn’t stop you from texting him now.

Having a fucking nervy-b. Two minutes.

Roy’s phone pinged suddenly, and he shuffled it out of his inside jacket pocket. It was an unsaved number, but he knew it was you as soon as he opened the message up. Not just from the timings, but from the previous message that he didn’t recall getting at all.

This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.

Roy’s eyes widened. “Fuuuuuuck,” he let out coarsely. He reread both messages, over and over again, before he made the decision to kill his engine.

He jumped out of his Jeep, slamming the driver’s side door shut behind him. He hopped onto the pavement and climbed the steps to your front door. He didn’t hesitate knocking with his knuckles, loudly. The banging reverberated throughout your ground floor flat, startling you as you sat in the bathroom. When the banging didn’t stop, you let out another frustrated groan. You had no choice but to let him in, and get over this small mishap that had got you so inside your own head.

You shuffled your way to your front door and clicked the intercom that came with it. “Can I help you?”

“What the fuck is a nervy-b?” Roy replied through the static.

You bonked your head down against your front door, hating yourself for ever writing a message without thinking. “I’m– it’s–” you stuttered, but there was no good way to say it. “Just come in. I’ll be ready soon.” You buzzed him in, and Roy entered through the main door into your building. From there, you unlatched the lock on your front door and kicked it open for him, before retreating to the comfort of your kitchen.

Roy closed the door behind him, breathing in deeply as he took in his surroundings. Your flat was dainty, but oddly comforting. It reminded him of the flat he had when he first joined Chelsea, all those years before. Albeit, yours was certainly cleaner and tidier, but it still left him with a fond feeling. He stepped further inside, catching a glimpse of you in the kitchen to the right.

“Hey,” he let out, crossing the threshold to approach you. “You alright?” he asked.

You leaned against the counter top, shoulders high and tense, with your back turned to him. “I’m good.” You lied.

Roy arched his brow at you. “I’m not quite sure I believe you.”

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed, before you finally turned to him. “Beard said to own it, so that’s exactly what I’m going to fucking do. None of it fucking matters anyway!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roy took a step closer.

“This! I mean, I’m not a celebrity, I know fuck all about football, and had to get Keeley to help me pick out this fucking outfit, but I’m still going to own it.” You wondered, if you kept lying to yourself, would it finally stick? “Right?” you asked Roy.

He raised his hands slowly, gently. “I finally understand the meaning of nervy-b,” he said lowly.

You furrowed your brows at him in gentle pleading, before you dropped your head into your hands. “I fucking hate Google,” you said, your voice muffled through your fingers.

Roy took a moment to regard you, finally understanding what it was that was getting to you. He could understand why. As a professional footballer himself, a showboater, a performer, he hated being in the public eye when he didn’t have to be. He preferred to be left alone, staying far away from PR deals and interviews. He could relate to what you were feeling, despite all the years he’d had to get used to it.

Slowly, he stepped towards you. He brought his hands forward and grabbed your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. When you peered up at him, it was like a chunk of his lung fell into the depths of his stomach. You were terrified, and Roy had no fucking clue how to make it better.

“If Beard said to own it, then own it,” Roy said gently. “If it makes you feel any better, I fucking hate events like this.”

You sniffed. “You do?”

Roy nodded. “But, it’s a necessary part of the job. By now, though, paparazzi know that I don’t give a fuck about them. They piss me off, so I know how it feels.” His eyes flicked over your face, trying to seek out the right words to say. “About the celebrities, though. Well, I’m a fucking celebrity, aren’t I?”

You scoffed abruptly, taking yourself and Roy by surprise. “Sorry,” you said quickly.

“See? It’s funny when I say it, right? Because we work together, and you thought I was the fcuking caretaker last month.”

“I’m still sorry about that,” you whispered.

“This is what I mean. The word celebrity makes it all the more scary and shit,” Roy continued. “You know all the guys at the club, and they fucking worship you. It’s a bit fucking weird sometimes.”

You laughed properly then, as Roy’s words started to sink into your skull. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” you said, breathing in deeply, and exhaling slowly.

Roy removed his grasp from you and took a step back. “Fucking own it.” He settled on, giving you a once over with his dark eyes.

You let out a shaky breath, expelling as much of your anxiety from your body as you possibly could. You stood up straight, shaking out your limbs. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself, before you headed off towards the bathroom, again.

You worked fast, calmly, to clean yourself up. Roy let himself out and leaned against the hood of his car, the same way you had in the car park a few weeks prior. When you walked out of your flat, shutting the door behind you, you were like a completely different person. No longer were the nerves and anxiety eating you alive. You’d been replaced by someone that knew her worth, someone who stood up tall and proud in her pair of platforms. Someone who, certainly, was going to get cold by the evening, but didn’t factor in a jacket of any kind when picking out this fucking outfit, so she had nothing.

Roy tugged open the passenger side door for you. You muttered a thank you at him, before you both got comfortable in his Jeep. Roy stuck the keys in the ignition, but turned to you before he switched on the engine.

“Ready?” he asked, just double checking.

You nodded. “Let’s fucking get this over with.”

“That’s the fucking spirit.” Roy started the engine, and you were off.

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum

CHAPTER THREE

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #brett goldstein #lightyaers #fanfiction #ff #x reader #reader insert #long fic #writeblr #ao3 #archive of our own #wattpad #angst and fluff #enemies to friends to lovers

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whosscruffylooking · 2 years ago

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The Beginning of Us Part 2 (Joel Miller x Fem! Reader)

A/N: Here is part 2! Next chapter brings the ultimate heartbreaks, so I will be spending a little extra time on it. Also, if anyone wants to be added to the tag list for this series please let me know!

Series Masterlist

Warnings! Spoilers for TLOU Episode 1, mentions of death, mention of panic attack, angst.

Word Count: 3.9k

»»————-　♡　————-««

*September 26, 2003* ~Later That Evening~ "So, the answer would be 783?" Sarah appears unsure. You give her a reassuring nod, "Exactly. Great job. You know, as much as I dread going to work every day, I'm so glad I don't have to do homework anymore." The two of you are sitting on her bed agonizing over her algebra homework.

As she piles up all of her papers into her folder, you wander around her room, examining all of the little touches that make the room hers. There is a simple, yet strong feminine touch to her room. A clear representation of the latest teen trends, and yet it is all a reflection of her youthful vibrance.

The poster in the corner of the room catches your eye, "You really do love Halican Drops huh?" "It's my dream to see them in concert one day," she says with a sparkle in her eye. "I think we should go sometime," you wink at her.

She jumps off of her bed, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I saw them once live and they are amazing. It would be even more fun to go with another fellow superfan."

Her enthusiastic expression turns to a more solemn one. Extending your arm out to her you bring her back over to the bed to sit down, "What's wrong Sarah?"

She pauses and takes a deep breath, "My dad is a good man...but he's been through a lot. He has been hurt a lot. Uncle Tommy has tried to get him to date, but nothing ever comes of it. That's why I know you are different."

"W-what?" Your brain stutters for a moment, struggling to process what is happening.

"I know you slept over last night. And before you freak out about that, I just want you to know that it makes me happy to see my dad as optimistic as he's been. He's come out of his shell again. I swear to God everything we talk about somehow comes full circle back to you too. The other day I said I want to go to Disney World and he told me how you have a baby picture of yourself with Mickey Mouse on your fridge. That was my first signal that my suspicions have been accurate."

Leaning forward, you take her hands into yours once more, "Sarah...if any of this makes you uncomfortable at all please tell me. I would never want to overstep or make you feel like-"

"Hey hey hey, I'm so happy about this. Since you moved in a year ago, you've slowly brought my dad back to me. I can see the way he looks at you, it's kind of how he looks at me...but different."

Tightening your grasp around her hands, you draw her into a hug. She settles into your embrace and whispers, "Just don't hurt him." Kissing the top of her head you quietly express, "I'll keep him safe I promise."

»»————- ♡ ————-«« The rest of the night is spent waiting on Joel to get home. You and Sarah intensely watched the clock as the hours passed by, wondering when he'd get back.

Finally, the door-knob to the front door begins to shake and you can hear Joel mutter a curse word when he realizes it's locked. "Well, you locked the door for once, good job," he acknowledges Sarah once inside. "That's because I made her," you stare down at her. Nothing can hide the disappointment on her face. She'd wanted so badly to spend the day celebrating her dad, and nothing had gone according to plan.

The young girl kindly reprimands her father for coming home past the time he'd promised AND for forgetting to bring home a cake, she makes him swear to make up for it tomorrow. Eager to move past the awkwardness and save Joel a little embarrassment, you signal to Sarah to give him his watch.

"Fixed it for you," her hopeful eyes look to his in search of commendation and gratitude. He tricks her into thinking that the watch wasn't properly fixed and you watch the two of them with such admiration, for the beautiful bond they have. The ability to have a deep father, daughter relationship and yet be each other's best friends was so endearing. You never want to come between them, but you'd be honored to have a front-row seat to their little family unit.

"Where'd you get the money for this?" He inquires.

"Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs," she says in all seriousness.

You and Joel laugh in unison, your eyes meeting briefly before turning your attention back to his daughter.

"Actually," she rests her head on your shoulder, "Y/N helped."

There is a pleased look in his eye, as his gaze meets yours. It's as if some element of peace washed over him and pure contentment settled into his rough features. It's been years since a woman showed him this much kindness, and you'll be damned if that job ever goes to someone else. »»————- ♡ ————-«« Sarah had fallen asleep to a movie, her head laying in Joel's lap. The two of you kept stealing glances throughout the movie. You feel his fingertips graze your shoulder and you turn to him, resting your head on the back of the sofa.

"Hi Joel," your pupils dilate.

"Hi beautiful," his eyes twinkle, fixated on studying every detail of your face.

Very quickly, you learn that your conversations do not need words to feel meaningful. The tilts of your heads, the shrugs of your shoulders, the serene sighs of surrender when you feel completely at ease with one another. Both of you are soothed by each other's presence and it is evident even in the voids of quietness. In those moments you can fully savor the company of the other and thrive off of the respect and admiration that radiates from you. There is a feeling of safety and confidence that stays between you and has existed since the beginning of your friendship.

The sharp ringing of the phone snaps you both back to reality. He answers it. You can't make out the words but can tell it is Tommy on the other line. With a heavy sigh, Joel falls back against the couch in defeat.

Damn it Tommy. You got yourself locked up again, didn't you?

Joel turns to you, jaw clenched with annoyance, forehead furrowed in disappointment. He wants to stay here with you a little while longer.

You offer to remain at the house and make sure Sarah is taken care of while he picks up Tommy. He takes her upstairs to tuck her into her bed. Dragging himself back downstairs, he rolls his neck from one side to the other in an endeavor to relieve the kinks. Stifling a yawn, you meet him halfway in the living room.

"We'll be here when you get back."

Although his expression was pensive, it eases slightly as you pull him out of his thoughts and back into the present with you.

"Thank you for staying with Sarah. Hell, sleeping over two nights in a row...things are getting serious." He gives you a goofy smile.

"Go!" You let out a short laugh and shove him out the front door. »»————- ♡ ————-«« As the hours rolled by, your sense of urgency grew. Joel should have been back with Tommy by now. Eager to distract yourself you turn on the television and aimlessly channel surf until you discover a movie that piques your interest. Another hour of watching the front door, willing Joel and Tommy to walk through it, passes by.

Drowsiness begins to overtake you. You take your eyes off of the television screen not wanting to exert any more effort into looking at it. Each muscle in your body begins to release the tension of the day, one by one as you settle onto the couch. The faint buzz of the television lulls you to the edge of sleep in mere moments.

Jolted awake by the deafening rumble of helicopters passing overhead, you fight off the dream that is still clouding your mind. Everything from your eyelashes to your feet feels heavy. Resting your eyes once more, you grant yourself another moment to enjoy the void of unconsciousness.

That moment is interrupted by Sarah shaking you awake.

"Y/N, what's going on? I think I can see explosions outside..."

Groggily sitting up, your vision finally focuses on the TV just past Sarah. The channel that was airing a movie not too long ago is now distorted with static. Sarah picks up the remote and changes the channel.

"STAY INDOORS! Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions."

"What the f-"

Your attention shifts from the national alert to the sound of scratching at the window. The Adler's dog is loose and attempting to get into the house.

Okay, this night CANNOT get any stranger.

"It's Mercy! We need to see if he's okay," Sarah rushes to the door. You grab her arm, "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea. I think we need to stay inside right now and keep the doors locked."

"But he never gets loose. What if something is wrong with the Adlers?"

Suppressing the dread that is developing rapidly within you, you swallow your fear for Sarah's sake. You have to keep things calm and safe for her.

"Alright," you smooth your hand over her hair, "I'm gonna go over to my house and grab my nursing kit okay? Let me go check on them, but you do not, and I am so serious right now....do NOT leave this house by any means. Understand?"

She was too frightened to even lift her head, rather she stared out the window at the distant flares of light coming from the city.

You kneel to her level and hold her for a moment, "Everything is going to be alright okay?"

"Can I see if Mercy is okay?"

Conceding, you cautiously open the door and allow Sarah to clutch onto the dog. "Remember Sarah, do not leave the house."

Your pulse beats in your ears, as you turn to face your house. Although your mind is intent on making the trek across the street, it is as if your feet are cemented to the ground.

You tell yourself that being a little nervous is a completely normal reaction to what is going on. But that's just it, what IS going on?

God Joel, where the hell are you?

»»————- ♡ ————-««

"Damn it Tommy can you drive any faster?"

Tommy's grip on the wheel tightens, finding an odd comfort in the grooves between his fingers.

"Joel, I am going as fast as I can okay? They will be fine. Sarah is a smart girl and she has Y/N who won't let anything bad happen to them."

Joel could not wrap his mind around any of the events that transpired once he left his home to go get Tommy. One second he was in the comfort of his living room, within arms reach of the woman he'd just spent the most incredible night with. And his daughter, the embodiment of his heart and soul, was safe asleep on his lap. Next thing he knows, he and Tommy are being chased by a stampede of rabid-like inmates at the Travis County Jail. He could no longer restrain the tremors in his hands, shaking in an irregular rhythm.

"You really care about this girl don't you," Tommy's voice manages to break through the wall of thoughts blockading Joel from thinking clearly.

Recalling the night before, he is transported back to the moment when you pulled his shirt over his head and started grazing your hands across his chest, down the ridge in between his abs. It was a sensory overload, every nerve ending in his body tingled with anticipation. The two of you collapsed onto his bed, your bodies trembling as you bonded with every motion, each passionate touch leaving a flaming sensation on your skin. Your hearts raced in tempo with one another, like a symphony crescendoing to its epic finale.

"I do. This is the only time since Sarah's mom left that I've felt alive. Young again, invincible." Joel has never felt so certain in his life about someone, not even his ex-wife. Being with you is effortless. In your presence, he feels weightless. Like a drug, you drew him in slowly, tempting his every desire. At first, he took you in, little by little. And without detection, he became addicted. »»————- ♡ ————-«« Emerging from your home, nursing kit in hand, you prepare yourself for whatever you might face at the Adler's home. Surely it is nothing too grave, and yet you can't help but wonder why her kids didn't come to get you or call 911 if something happened to Nana?

Passing Joel's house, panic passes over you, causing the fine hairs on the back of your neck to rise. The front door is still open. Your mind races faster than your feet as you rush into the house. The endless possibilities as to what could've happened to her plague you.

You are confident that if anything happens to Sarah, Joel will strangle you with his bare hands...and not in a pleasurable way. Even if you told that stubborn girl not to move a finger from where you left her. She reminds you so much of yourself though. Curiosity can be so enticing at times that it blinds a person. Especially someone with as honorable of a heart as Sarah's.

"Sarah!" You frantically call out in each room.

Where are she and that damn dog?

Joel, hurry up. Please.

After surveying the entirety of the house to no avail, your chest tightens, and your lungs feel as though they have been wrung out of oxygen. Unsure of whether or not your lack of oxygen is due to the running or the panic attack creeping up on you, you take a moment to gather your thoughts. Mind over matter. Where would she go?

The dog. The damn dog. She's at the Adler's.

The next few seconds are a blur. You are uncertain how you got to the Adler's doorstep so swiftly. It felt like you were practically flying. Similar to Joel's home, the front door is open.

This girl needs to learn how to not only lock doors but actually CLOSE them.

A sickening sensation flares through your body as you peer into the still home. There go the hairs on the back of your neck again, but this time, the tingling sensation snakes down your spine and arms too. Instinctually, you know not to go in there. But, Sarah is in there and she matters more than any gut feeling or self-preservation right now.

"Sarah?"

Apprehensively, you venture deeper into the house. That's when you lay eyes on her, frozen in the kitchen. Unclear as to what she is fixated on, you join her in the doorway. That's when you see it. A trail of blood leads directly to Mr. Adler, his mouth agape and his limbs contorting. At first, the sight does not phase you. As a nurse working in an emergency room, you handle bloody wounds day in and day out. It's not until you look closely at where the blood is coming from that your fears reignite.

Is that...a bite wound?

A guttural noise captures your attention. Following Sarah's line of sight, terror sucks the very breath from your lungs. There is Nana, atop Mrs. Adler. Another river of blood floods from the daughter-in-law's neck.

Nana's raspy breathing slows to a more even tempo as she raises her eyes toward you. Vine-like appendages protrude from her mouth, attaching themselves to Connie's neck. The drumming of your heart, deafening and irregular, obscures your mind with fear.

Fight? Or flight? First, get Sarah as far away as possible.

Latching onto Sarah's arm, you tug her behind you.

One word. "Run."

Keeping your eyes on the gasping old woman, you ready yourself to prevent her from reaching Sarah at all costs. You listen intently for Sarah's footsteps pounding out of the house until you are positive she's made it outside.

You can feel the flight responses taking over your body, flooding you with increased adrenaline.

Nana stumbles to her feet as she releases a splintering screech. That is when the adrenaline ceases full control over your body, sending you hurdling towards the front door. Whatever creature has possessed the once docile elderly lady, is now hot on your heels. Her bone-chilling snarls signal you to her presence behind you.

Just as you begin to fear the worst outcome, you see him.

"Don't go," Joel's pleas echo in your mind from mere hours ago.

The thought of being wrapped up in his secure embrace once more drives you to push your legs harder.

Anguish pierces his voice as he calls out your name. Even so, it translates into a calming melody that brings some clarity to your mind.

"Get behind me..." He motions you over to Sarah.

As you hold her trembling frame, you turn back to Nana who is collapsed on the ground. Her limbs are mangled and her eyes are void of any life. Suddenly, the sharp cracking of her bones churns your stomach. Like a rabid animal, she growls and sprints toward Joel on all fours. Rising to her feet and closing in on him, she flails her arms wildly.

"What are we doing Joel!?" Tommy exclaims.

Without hesitation, Joel swings the wrench clutched in his fist and lands one solid blow to the side of the woman's head, sending her motionless body to the ground. Sarah screams and you quickly shield her from the sight of her father standing over their neighbor's corpse...or at least the shell of what she used to be.

Joel rushes to his daughter's side and caresses her cheek, looking her over to make sure she's safe and in one piece.

"You killed her," she cries in disbelief as she collapses into his arms.

He tightens his grip on her, "Baby, I'm sorry." He pulls away and stares into her eyes with strength and focus, "It's not just the Adlers. But we're gonna be brave and we're gonna get out of this."

Not just the Adlers? The helicopters flying towards the city...whatever took control of Nana did not die with her, she was merely the introduction.

Feeling lightheaded, you lean against Tommy's truck. He rushes to your side and holds you up, "You got that nursing kit of yours?"

"N-no. Inside," you point to Joel's house.

One by one, generators and streetlights begin to explode. Sparks of orange and gold, light up the sky over your neighborhood.

Joel ushers Sarah into the car and turns to face you. For a brief moment, time stands still. His pupils dilate, as he looks at you, the woman who made the future look like skies as clear as sapphire. Yet, he recognizes a shift in the atmosphere. A shared dread hanging over you like a dark, impenetrable cloud. His hands tremble, searching for yours to steady them. He twitches, his body responding to your delicate touch.

"Don't go." He implores you. His signature phrase to you. That in itself could be your new love language.

Attempting to open your mouth to speak, no words flow out. A simple nod is all you can manage. With that permission, he hurries you into the truck, meanwhile warning another one of your neighbors to stay inside and lock her door. Once Joel is inside, you lean forward and drape a reassuring hand on his shoulder. A subtle, but significant sign of solidarity. He laces his fingers with yours and holds you in place against the back of his seat.

As aggressively as Tommy floors the truck into motion, he brings it to a screeching halt. The headlights of the truck illuminate the Adlers stumbling onto the street. Their limbs are just like that of Nana's, wrenched and fidgeting.

"Get your seatbelts on," Joel declares.

Tommy warns, "Hold on..."

His foot finds its way back to the accelerator with no delay. Bracing yourself for the unthinkable you turn to Sarah, "Come here." She folds into your lap, a whimper escaping her lips. The Adlers charge at the truck simultaneously. Connie soon disappears from view as the truck plows over her and sideswipes Danny.

Closing your eyes, you do everything in your might to hold down the bile rising in your throat.

Sarah sits up and wipes a few stray tears from her eyes, "Daddy-"

"We don't know," Joel interrupts.

You shake your head in disbelief, "The Adlers, they were infected with something, some kind of parasite maybe?"

"That's what they're saying on the radio, some kind of virus," Tommy confirms.

"Are we sick?" The young girl persists.

"No. Of course not," Joel's fearful tone turns to a more frustrated one. As a father, his instinct is to protect his daughter and provide her with comfort, but he has no clue what kind of threat lies ahead and can't give her satisfying answers. You tighten your hold on his hand, and he gives you a firm squeeze.

Joel's brother slows the truck as you spot a family pulled off onto the side of the road.

"Tommy, don't," you state firmly. The family shouts after you in desperation.

"But they have a kid."

"So do we," Joel glares at Tommy.

It's officially every man for themselves. Each outsider you bring into your safety net becomes a variable. An unpredictable risk that could put you and the people you care most about in grave danger.

Beams of crimson light glow in the distance, a vast sea of unmoving taillights. Seems like everyone in Austin had the escape plan as you, sending Tommy into a frenzy.

"It's okay, just think it through, we'll think it through," Joel says in repetition, not just for Tommy, but also to ease himself.

Coming from the opposing direction, panicked vehicles race towards you, and away from the perpetual gridlock that hundreds of other cars are trapped in.

Looking out the window into the vast, empty land that stretches for miles uninterrupted, you have a plan.

"Tommy, the field. It's the perfect detour. Cut across it and we will end up on the west side."

Speedily, he veers off onto the barren land. A stampede of cars follows behind you. The collective rays of the headlights light your path to....another dead end. The highway is infested with army vehicles crawling along it.

Tommy and Joel bicker over what the next move should be. Joel opts for a small town on the north side.

"And then what?" You interject.

Joel steadies himself against the dash, the unstable terrain tossing your bodies left and right.

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can."

Sarah's eyes gloss over. "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go."

"Hey, hey look at me. We are going to be fine. As long as the four of us stick together, we will be fine. There will be somewhere for us to go and find safety. I promise you, we won't let anything happen to you," you place your hand over your heart and affirm to her.

The dilemma is, you don't know if you can even accept what you promised Sarah. This isn't some influenza you can shelter in place from. The battle is against mankind's worst enemy, man. But not normal men, men being transformed into monsters.

"I-I believe you." Sarah's faith in you is unshakeable, "And I love you too Y/N."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Tag List: @midgetpottermills @erenswiffe

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal one shot #the last of us imagine #the last of us

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